Gabriel's Redemption Read online

  Hugh had talked much more infrequently, and had seemed antsy being cooped up in the armored diplomatic groundcar, gritting his teeth at each jounce of the suspension. On board the aircraft, he now seemed relaxed, almost serene, obviously more at home in the air, and Gabriel guessed he had seen a lot of action in his time. He sat with his eyes slitted as Javier continued to ramble on in falsetto. He was too large to be a pilot, so Gabriel pegged him as former drop trooper. From his apparent young age, probably a veteran of the recent Aguaguerras Conflict in Brazil.

  Gabriel had just started to drift off with the drone of the engines when Hugh spoke up, interrupting Javier’s discourse on his recent stock purchases. “Commander,” he rumbled. “Javier tells me you are the same Gabriel from Eden.”

  “That’s right,” Gabriel answered with a weary voice. “But I’m retired now, at least until you guys showed up.” He rubbed his eyes, hoping the agents would get the hint to let him rest for the hour-long flight. And the last thing he wanted to talk to anyone about was Eden.

  “Dishonorable discharge, that’s what they say,” said Javier, nudging Hugh with his elbow. “But we know the true story.”

  Gabriel opened one eye and pinned Javier with his stare. “Is that so?”

  “Of course,” the falsetto continued, an odd paradox with the low-pitched throbs of the pulsejets. “You were railroaded. You and your team never had a chance, it was a suicide mission. No way out of that school, no way to save the kids, your team, even yourself. But you did three out of those four, and they pinned the remaining mess on you.”

  Gabriel opened his other eye and leaned forward. “You don’t know shit. Leave it be,” he said in a low voice. After a long few seconds of staring, he leaned back and closed his eyes and crossed his arms to indicate that the discussion was over.

  He could still smell the scorched wood and melted metal, and hear the moans of his wounded men, as they placed the last charge and pulled back. His leg tingled unconsciously where the Geltex had burned through his armor. The dull thrum of the pulsejets became heavy weapons fire as he finally drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  The supersonic flight from Jamaica to Toronto was mostly uneventful, save for a detour around a drug interdiction mission over the Bahamas. Gabriel had his neuretics hack into the pilot’s conversation as the Coast Guard requested fire support on a drug runner’s submarine that was armed with surface-to-air missiles. The Combat Raven’s pilot had regretfully and politely declined, her mission being not only at the behest of the office of Naval Intelligence, but also completely off the books. Gabriel closed his hacked pipe just as she was instructing the ECM tech to wipe clean the Coast Guard’s systems of their presence and all data and voice transmissions.

  At Mach 3.2, flight time was just under an hour, landing at Toronto’s Downsview Naval Aerospace Station just after eight in the morning. Upon touching down, the Combat Raven was met by a tow vehicle, which quickly hauled the aircraft into a secure hangar, its fuselage ticking as it cooled. The hangar doors slid shut and two armed sentries took up station outside.

  The hatch popped with a hiss and the three men emerged onto the wheeled stairs the ground crew had rolled in. Hugh descended the stairs first, jacket open and eyes scanning. Javier followed, and waved to the figures emerging from a door at the far end of the hangar.

  Gabriel paused at the top and zoomed his right eye to scan the arriving group. Two people in officer’s uniforms, one man and one woman, flanked by NAFN Marines. His neuretics automatically began searching its memory to pin down the woman, but the man he knew on sight, and his skin crawled. Vice Admiral Llewelyn MacFarland, better known to friend and enemies as Dredge.

  Gabriel’s implant flashed a dot in his Mindseye periphery, signaling a match found in its search, but Gabriel shunted it aside and shifted his focus to MacFarland. Once his direct commanding officer during the Canary Islands invasion of 2168, then-Captain MacFarland had sent then-Lieutenant Gabriel and his team into a meat grinder later called Francisco’s Stand. MacFarland sat back in a safe and secure command tent while his men fought an unwinnable battle, suffering 90% casualties before the cease fire.

  Three years later, MacFarland had cheerfully busted Lieutenant Commander Gabriel back down to Lieutenant Junior Grade for what he termed “insubordination”, but what most others called justice. This after Gabriel caught MacFarland personally working over some locals in Brazil, locals he had labeled in the official paperwork as insurgents, but were in reality poor farmers suffering through the same water crisis as the rest of South America. They were trying their best to eke out a living, but happened to be in the way of MacFarland’s off-the-books golf course for his officers; only Gabriel’s whistleblowing had saved their village.

  And then there was the Eden disaster… He descended the metal steps, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes as the group approached. The only reason MacFarland had ever kept his rank was because of his father-in-law’s political connections within the NAF and various multinational corporations, who some say were the real power behind the world’s governments. And here he is, a damned Admiral of all things, in charge of Naval Intelligence, running the same old power plays.

  He reached the bottom of the steps, Javier and Hugh flanking the railings, and brought up his neuretics’ search results. Lieutenant Renay Gesselli, NAF Naval Intelligence. Four year degree from Princeton in political science, doctorate from University of Barcelona in communication. Currently stationed at Alizares Naval Base in Mexico City, department listed as classified, no further information. Interesting, thought Gabriel. His neuretics didn’t hit too many roadblocks they couldn’t overcome. He made a mental note to burn through later.

  “Commander Gabriel, good to see you again, son!” boomed MacFarland as the group reached the foot of the stairs. The Marines stopped next to the SpecFor agents and stood at parade rest. “Didn’t think we could find you, eh?” He held out his hand.

  Gabriel glanced down at the outstretched hand, considered whether to go for the combat knife strapped to his ankle and lop it off, then thought better of it. “Dredge,” he said with barely contained rancor. “And this is?” he queried, turning to Gesselli and letting the hand hang in space.

  MacFarland frowned and took his hand back. “Commander Evan Gabriel, this is Lieutenant Renay Gesselli, my chief of staff.”

  “Commander, a pleasure,” Gesselli said in a lilting tone. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m looking forward to working with you on this.” She held her hand out, which Gabriel took politely.

  “I’m looking forward to finding out just what the hell is going on,” he replied, motioning behind him with his chin. “Your men didn’t say a word the entire trip.” He heard Javier clear his throat and Hugh shift on his feet.

  “Yes, right. Well, we don’t have a lot of time,” said MacFarland gruffly. “Let’s get up to my office. I have a holo briefing set up, it’ll fill you in.” He spun on his heel and walked back in the direction they came in. The Marine escorts quickly fell in step behind him. Gesselli gave Gabriel a wry smile, almost a smirk, returned his hand he had neglected to release from hers, and turned to follow.

  Gabriel pursed his lips in a frown, more curious than annoyed at this point. He looked over his shoulder to the two SpecFor men who were still standing at the stairs.

  “You’re on your own, Commander,” said Javier. “We’ll wait for you here. Sorry again about that, uh, discussion.”

  Hugh inclined his head in a troopers’ casual acknowledgement. “See you soon, sir.”

  Gabriel shook his head and slowly followed the retreating officers.

  Gabriel followed MacFarland and Gesselli into the briefing room, a sparsely-decorated circular chamber with a long holotable at the center surrounded by a dozen or so high-backed leather chairs. The dark walls were covered in a heavy fabric, obviously sound and signal dampening, with only a few portraits of past NAF presidents adorning them.

  “Please take a seat, Comma
nder,” said Gesselli, indicating a chair with a flexscreen tube on the table in front of it.

  Gabriel caught the slight emphasis on his previous, and no longer technically valid, rank. He detected a tone of what, sarcasm? Malice? Annoyance? Something was under the surface there, he was sure of it, but he knew it would take some time to figure her out. Being drop-dead gorgeous was throwing him off his game a bit.

  Gesselli sat across from him and cast a quick smirk his way as he eased into the chair. The leather was crisp, seemingly brand new, crinkling a bit as he shifted his position. He picked up the tube and rolled out the flexscreen panel, which remained blank, revealing nothing of the upcoming briefing.

  MacFarland sat heavily at the head of the table and placed both hands on the gray table surface. “I’m sorry at our methods of meeting, but we’ve got a situation that requires the utmost in discretion, and we’re very time sensitive at this point. And you,” he pointed at Gabriel. “Even with the, uh, discharge, you are still bound by NAF covert ops regulations to report.”

  Gabriel glared at MacFarland, eyes locking, until the admiral broke his gaze and rapped the table with his Naval Academy class ring. “So let’s get moving, shall we?” He nodded towards Gesselli.

  “Thank you sir,” she replied with an answering nod. “Commander, this is the 46 Scorpii system, 602 light years from our solar system in the constellation Scorpius, a main-sequence K0-2 orange-red dwarf.”

  Her fingers tapped at her open flexscreen, and the holotank in the center of the table came to life, a glowing pale yellow ball of light rising up out of its surface. An image of a solar system appeared with a primary similar to Sol, circled by six planets and an asteroid belt. The display showed the planetary orbits as looping lines, with the sixth, a gas giant with several large moons, having an irregular path 20 degrees out of the ecliptic plane; the others were in traditional paths. The fourth planet was highlighted and blinking, and Gesselli continued.

  “This icy planet is called Poliahu. It was named after the snow goddess of Mauna Kea, discovered in 2072 by the Hawaiian astronomer Kewe Iohunukonu using the Kepler-3 orbiting sensor array. It sits 104 million miles from the star, just outside the Goldilocks zone of habitability.”

  Gabriel noticed his flexscreen screen had illuminated with scrolling text, charts, and images of the planet. He picked it up and began flicking through pages.

  “You can read full details of the planet and the system later on,” Gesselli said with a sharp tone. “Right now we’re going over the highlights and the reason why you’re here.”

  Gabriel slid the flexscreen closed and tossed the tube back onto the table with a clatter. He leaned back and clasped his hands across his lap. “By all means,” he said drily. Why bother putting this in front of me then?

  Gesselli glared for just an instant, interrupted by MacFarland clearing his throat. “Lieutenant, give the Commander a quick overview of Poliahu and move on.”

  “Of course sir,” she said. “Poliahu was targeted for colonization in 2140, when automated probes found evidence of high concentrations of valuable minerals, most notably uranium and cesium, which I’m sure you’re aware are invaluable to our military. Eight years ago, the Bureau of Colonization awarded the charter to a small group comprised of scientists and miners, who were able to come up with the funding necessary for the lease. It formally registered as a Corporate World with all proper documentation and governance regulations the following year, 2169. ”

  The holo image shifted and zoomed in on the fourth planet.

  “You’ll notice the planet is essentially a ball of snow and ice. It is water-ice, and the atmosphere, while averaging several dozen degrees below freezing, is very similar to our own. So humans can live and breathe without respirators, albeit in environment suits. Combined with a .94 gravity, this makes it an excellent colonization target.” She paused. “But no one will mistake it for Eden.”

  Gabriel stared at Gesselli, his eyes laser-targeting hers at the mention of Eden. He knew damned well that she would know of his past, and was now needling him for a reaction. Instead, he nodded, ordered his neuretics to tamp down his emotional response and calm his heart rate a bit, and said, “Go on.”

  Gesselli cocked her head a bit, the smirk returning, and after a few seconds broke eye contact. Gabriel assumed he passed her test.

  “Interestingly enough,” she went on, her attention back on the holo image, “Poliahu wasn’t always ice-bound. The Planetary Research Council concluded that around a hundred and fifty years ago, a massive asteroid collided with the planet so severely that its climate was thrust into a nuclear-winter type of situation for several years, remarkably similar to the Shanghai event here. But unlike Earth’s collision, Poliahu’s impact also affected its orbit, pushing it approximately 35 million miles further out from its primary, and reducing its tilt to almost zero degrees. This caused it to freeze over, and without that axial tilt, every season is winter across the surface.”

  The holo image ran through a simulation of the event - the bluish-green planet orbiting just under 70 million miles out, an eleven degree tilt, then the asteroid collision, the orbit change, and the planet’s color shifting to its current mottled gray-white. The simulation stirred Gabriel’s emotions. Every human of school age or older had seen video and telemetry of the asteroid impact in Shanghai in 2160. The resulting catastrophe plunged Earth into nearly two years of darkness and cold. Gabriel suppressed a visible shudder at the memory, both of the Dark Days and of the related deaths of his father and cousin.

  “What about indigenous life?” Gabriel asked, shifting in his seat, trying to clear his mind.

  “Probes found evidence of previous plant and minor animal life, but essentially nothing land-based survived the freeze,” Gesselli replied.

  “Almost nothing,” MacFarland cut in.

  Gesselli glanced at MacFarland. “Yes, almost nothing. Which brings us to the issue at hand. Commander Gabriel, do you know what dew is?

  “Assuming you’re not talking about what shows up on the lawn first thing in the morning, yes,” he replied.

  Dew was a designer drug that only recently started appearing on Earth, Mars, and colony worlds. It was a clear, odorless, tasteless liquid that, once injected into a user’s tear duct using a microsyringe, overwhelmed the brain’s sensory functions, creating a feeling of incredible euphoria. It also left the user with a near-unlimited tolerance for pain, as it blocked the body’s natural nerve receptors. Users had been known to cut off their own limbs without so much as a wince.

  Typical dew doses would keep the user high for three to four hours, after which the crash was so severe, people would sometimes drop into a coma-like state for up to ten hours at a time. For this reason the drug became highly addictive, as the up so far outweighed the down, use continued to inject it on an almost-continuous basis to maintain that euphoric feeling.

  “Dew has been causing significant problems in our military,” Gesselli said. “And we’re having a harder and harder time detecting it being smuggled in. Several major drug cartels are distributing it, but unlike other drugs such as heroin, cocaine, or bluestim, no one knows its origin or who initially created it, or even its current source. That is until now.”

  The holo image changed again, warping into a head. But not a human head, Gabriel noted with a start.

  “This is an animal from Poliahu, what might be the only surviving land species on the planet.” Gesselli tapped at her flexscreen, and the image rotated and panned back to show the complete body.

  According to the scale shown on the image, the alien stood a little over four feet tall, had two legs and two arms arranged just as a human would, as well as two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth, but the similarities ended there.

  It was covered in a pale green fur, with alternating patterns of red and brown throughout. Each hand ended in a four fingered claw, with a nub that might have been (or would be in a few thousand years) an opposable thumb. The claw had sharp talons on
the end, almost like a bird of prey. The legs were thick and muscular, but the knees bent backwards, and each foot had the same four toed layout as the hands, with no visible nub. Smaller talons graced the end of each toe.

  The face reminded Gabriel of a koala bear, with its small snout, beady eyes, and tufts of longer hair sticking out just above its tiny ears. The face was tan in color, in contrast to the rest of its body. The mouth was closed, so Gabriel wasn’t sure about teeth or what it ate, but it certainly seemed fairly harmless.

  MacFarland rapped his ring on the table again. “That is the source of dew,” he said with a growl.

  Gabriel looked at Gesselli. “This teddy bear is the galaxy’s biggest drug runner?”

  She shook her head. “No, this animal is the source of the drug itself, but it’s humans who are running it.”

  The holo split into two, the alien moving to one side, and an image of a prefab colony complex appeared on the other. The complex was a fairly typical multi-use facility normally seen on more recent colony worlds. It consisted of several buildings for power production, housing facilities, entertainment, research, and the like. They were inexpensive drop-in-place prefabs that all but the most highly funded groups used to start colonizing a new planet, and were easily integrated into the larger colony once it became self-sufficient.

  “The drug runners are the colonists. The entire group, actually. They settled as an independent corporation, not governmentally backed, and provided their own funding. Leases were signed with a portion of the minerals and ores being shipped to the NAF as per the original agreement. All of that continues, and has for several years, so no one questioned it.”

  She tapped her flexscreen. “I just sent you copies of the lease and charter, read through them later.” Gabriel’s closed flexscreen tube bleeked in receipt.

  “Cripes,” he said. “Will you just flash the info to my rets? I don’t plan on carrying one of those around.”

  She tapped another few keys. “There. Just pay attention,” she said.