Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series Read online

  Heart Of Steel

  By J.S. Hawn

  Special Acknowledgment

  A special thank you to Amanda my talented cover artist. See more of Amanda's work at: http://amandacavazosweems.com.

  Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we fly,

  To add something more to these victorious years;

  To honour we call you, as free men not slaves,

  For who are more free than the sons of the stars?

  Heart of steel are our ships,

  Solid lads are our men,

  We always are ready: Steady, boys, Steady!

  We'll fight and we'll win again and again.

  -Solarian Navy March

  Prologue

  Atlantis, Tao, Ceti Commonwealth

  Government Center, First-Chairman’s Office

  September 19th 844 AE

  Atlantis Capital, city of the Ceti Commonwealth, would have made Plato weep. When he had written his epoch all those centuries in the distant past, the philosopher had described an earthly paradise, where men of reason had built a Utopia by leveraging not just high technology, but also the best aspects of their reason. This Atlantis was not that. Instead, it was a monument to what happened when men stripped away their ethics, their sense of decorum, and their very humanity, leaving only a cold calculus. The mega towers of Atlantis rose as far as the eye could see radiating out from Government Center, the tallest star scraper of all. Everywhere the atmosphere was thick with smog as a million factories belched in continuous everlasting toil. Mega towers, though spartan in design, had their outer walls illustrated with a multitude of colorful advertisements. Many for the Commonwealth's plethora of State Owned Mega-Corps, others pure propaganda. On one of the towers nearest to his line of sight, First-Chairman Conrad Ragiv noticed the advertisement displaying a line of well muscled men and woman with chins upthrust holding tools and farm implements. Above them the Commonwealth's golden Hammer and Cog was the slogan, ‘Work Brings Freedom, Freedom Brings Prosperity.’ Gazing out the thick plexi glass window, not for the first time Conrad marveled at what had been built by the men and women who had occupied this office before him. Through Neo-Collectivism, the Commonwealth had purged humanity of its greatest weaknesses and created the final society. It was a state where the sphere of public and private was abolished, where everyone worked for the collective good. Certainly strong measures were needed to ensure that disruptives couldn't damage this ideal society. The Secret Police, the Mental Hygiene Enforcement Units, the midnight raids, the work camps, they were the antibodies of the state against the virus of disruption and selfishness. Conrad planned one day to share the perfection of the Commonwealth with all mankind, but three things stood in his way. One, was the rest of the Standing Committee. For fifteen years they had allowed Conrad a free hand in domestic policy, but had curtailed his foreign ambitions the reason being the second obstacle, the Solarian Republic. The Republic. Conrad sneered at the very idea of Republicanism, an obsolete institution which put those less worthy on the same footing as those who were born to rule. The Commonwealth had no need for elections or votes. Each of its citizens from high officials to the lowest labourer were selected for placement in their career track based on undisputed data collected from their time in the cradle to their 18th year. From the moment of their birth, sensors monitored health metrics, leadership aptitude, and academic performance. Using these data metrics combined with genetic profiling, the selection committee could place each citizen on a career track they were best suited to, and then let them rise and fall on their own merit. In the back of his mind, a small part of Conrad's mind that hadn't been completely overtaken by the propaganda that had been spoon fed to him since birth, he acknowledged that often the progression upon one's career track or promotion to a higher track wasn't based on merit, but rather on how well one was able to play the political game. Conrad dismissed these thoughts almost before they occurred. To doubt the perfection of the Collective Common Good was the highest treason. Despite the obvious inferiority of the Republic form of Government, they were the nation which most directly challenged the Commonwealth's ability to dominate the Outer Worlds. They had already broken the Commonwealth Navy once, and they had positively dared the Commonwealth to try again. Therein lay Conrad's third problem, the weakness in the Commonwealth. The Mega-Corps and Combines had a good deal of sway since they administered the resources the state lent them, including the nation's population. Many of the Mega-Corps, like the Standing Committee members, were skittish of renewed conflict with the Republic or anyone else. The military agreed. They were more fixated on the sleeping giant of the ETO and cauterizing the running sores of resistance that was the Xi District where insurgency simmered even after twenty years of Commonwealth rule. Conrad could not and would not challenge the Republic directly, nor did he think he would live to see it’s final defeat, but he could plant the seeds of its destruction.

  Conrad felt a stir behind him.

  “You're late,” he said without turning.

  “I was early sir, but you seemed to be in one of your wise introspections so I did not disturb you.”

  Conrad turned to look at the, well ‘man’ wasn't quite the right word.

  Ames, as he was called, was the by product of a lab. He looked normal enough. Six foot even, slim but well muscled. Of course the ‘improvements’ were well hidden, though apparent to the trained eye. His fingernails looked too sharp to be normal and could in fact extend into claws. His skin had an odd yellow hue to it, which was because he could shift his skin tone to change color. His face seemed squished and malformed because he could change it by consciously rearranging his muscles and bone. His greatest attribute though was his brain, which allowed him to spin plots within plots, keeping the Rahya, the Commonwealth's dreaded black ops force, one step ahead of its enemies. It was a pity the rest of Ames brothers and sisters had been malformed and unstable, but Conrad's scientists assured him that in another generation they could perfect the stable strain. Still, Ames wasn't the assassin he’d been designed to be, but instead the mastermind of Conrad's plan to destabilize the Outer Worlds and remove the Commonwealth's rivals. The Solarian Republic, the Free Worlds League, the Federal Republic of Outer Worlds, and the Novya Slavic Confederation. That plan was beginning to bear fruit.

  “Your report, Ames?” Conrad asked.

  “Sir, the New Helsinki incident has proven more successful than we thought. Colonial propaganda has catapulted those who have long sought conflict with the Solarians into political power. The Solarians may not want war, but events are carrying them toward it. What's more, the detonation of multiple WMDs on a Client world has given strength to those who wish to remove what they see as the Solarian ‘Yoke’. As we speak, Henry Francisco and his Merican Ultra-Nationalist fanatics are consolidating their foothold in the League Parliament. If the Solarian Premier asks the League to act on its treaty obligations and come to the Republic’s aide during a conflict, the League President won't have the votes and it will trigger an internal crisis, one Francisco and his people stand ready to exploit.”

  Conrad smiled, it was so easy. New Helsinki had been his most direct intervention, but even then all that the Rahya had done was make the proper introductions. The faction which now had power over the whole Colonial Confederacy had been more than eager to cooperate, and had come to believe it was all their idea, which was fair since it mostly was. It was a shame that one of the agents they had sent had been lost, but she was expendable just as everyone was in the service to the Common Good.

  “When?” Conrad asked.

  “My sources say that the Colonials will move by
the end of the month, and when they do it will be a far bloodier and violent war than the Solarians ever suspected,” Ames replied.

  Conrad let a grin slide across his lips,

  “The final transfer has been made then?”

  “Yes, there were some issues with the local mission. The Customs Enforcement Chief couldn't be bought, so he was disposed of.”

  “And you're sure the Solarians are not aware?”

  “Nothing is certain First-Chairman, but there is one advantage of the Agent-04116 loss at New Helsinki. The Solarian OMI leader General Cain will focus her attention on us, and will allow her attention toward the Colonials to lapse.”

  “You're sure of that?”

  Ames smiled, though with his malformed face it looked more like the smile a sculptor would carve on a clay dummy, than an actual human smile.

  “As I said First-Chairman, nothing's for certain, but that is the beauty of your most exalted plan. Even if she looks, our hands are clean in this war. We have tipped the boulder over the hill, and now we must let it take its natural course.”

  Conrad returned the mutant’s smile.

  “Yes, we’ll let them destroy each other, while we circle like buzzards picking off the choice scraps. In time, we’ll secure a route to the Outbound Worlds through which our trade goods can flow, and our armies can follow. Then one by one the Republic’s vassals will fall under our sway in time. Maybe not your time or mine dear Ames, but in time all of humanity will acknowledge the correctness of the Neo-Collectivist ideology and the Common Good that it provides.”

  Thousands of feet down, beneath the gleaming spire of the Government Center in the causeways and smog choked roadways, the shift whistle blew and millions of men and women as one got up from their toils and progressed to their homes, or licensed entertainment districts for their twelve hours of rest. Millions more replaced them at their labours for their twelve hour shift.

  In one of the numerous shanty towns cobbled together from scraps and refuse where the cast-offs of the Commonwealth hid, they huddled in terror. These were the ‘degenerates,’ the disabled, the homeless, the free thinkers, those who had refused to follow the career tracks they’d been placed on, or the mentally ill. A small sample of the millions who fell through the cracks of the Commonwealth's ever present bureaucracy. Dogs barked and the steady thump, thump, thump, of batons against riot shields began. The residents of the slum knew what was coming. In the Commonwealth, every resource was utilized and that meant every single person was employed. Anyone who wasn't, regardless of the reason why, was a ‘degenerate.’ For them, it would be the work camps, breaking their backs in the dirtiest and worst jobs available mining minerals, felling trees, disposing of radioactive and hazardous waste. The roundup was efficient. Most didn't resist because they knew it would be worse for them if they did. After the Police had done their sweep and loaded the vagrants into the vans, the Firemen started their work. Flamethrowers cut through the gloom of Atlantis’s heavy smog as the slums caught and the flames spread.

  From his perch, Conrad watched as one by one the bright spots appeared across the city. Twenty slums cleared, thirty thousand degenerates re-integrated into the workforce. The model of a society committed to productivity and efficiency. This was the paradise he offered all mankind, and some day history would thank him for it.

  Chapter I

  Singking, Solaria Prime, Solarian Republic

  River Front District

  September 20th 844 AE (Sowing Eve)

  The threat of war had been looming over the Republic for months now. Ever since the New Helsinki incident, diplomatic notes had flown back and forth between the Republic and the Confederacy in a flurry. In the Confederacy, the reaction by rogue elements from within the government in supporting the New Helsinki insurrection of the now deceased Yaguard Swervijik, had touched off a crisis. Three Electors Governments had formed and dissolved, while new elections had to be held four times because no government could be formed. Finally, three months ago a coalition had formed around Louis Dupont leader of the National Front political party and a long time adversary of Solaria. Joining him in Government, was Girard Dufrane of the Right and Order Party as Minister of War, and Simon Kisane also of the National Front as First among Equals in the Council of Consuls. Dufrane, former Governor of Novi Toulouse, had been indicted as condoning the Colonial Fleet's actions. Simon Kisane was far worse. Not only did he applaud the Colonial breach of Solarian territory, but he continuously pontificated to anyone who would listen that it had been the Solarians who had detonated those nuclear weapons, not the rebels. Solarian Citizens on the Homeworld, the Colonies, and even the Provisionals on the Client Worlds had watched the holo feeds and scanned the news sheets all waiting for the Government’s response. Yesterday, the Premier had announced he would address a joint session of the Quorum of Delegates and the Senate on September 30th, after the holiday was over. Most still hoping for a peaceful resolution, thought this delay meant the Premier was going to continue the negotiations. The more astute, though, realized that it was likely the Premier’s mind was made up. If not to declare war, then to raise the temperature. War might very well come, and if it did the Citizens of the Republic would stand by their nation. Every Solarian citizen performed their annual military service, and everyone had at least some idea of what a full scale war meant many having lived through the 3rd Dominion War a generation ago, and witnessing many clashes on the client worlds since. There were the eager youths anxious for their chance at glory, the veterans wary of renewed conflict, and those who wanted peace. Despite these varied opinions, which were common in any society, the New Helsinki incident and the Premier’s handling of it had galvanized the public to unite. Thousands had died on New Helsinki, and a Solarian Navy ship had been fired upon. Someone must be held accountable. Whether that would be a few individuals in the Colonial Confederacy government or the entire nation, was the only question yet to be determined. Now though, wasn't a time to dwell on the horrors the future might bring. It was the holidays and one of the most important on Solaria’s calendar. The Festival of First Planting was officially meant to commemorate the sowing of the first Terra crops in Solarian soil, and over time it had evolved into a national day celebrating life, fertility, and the human experience. The Festival came in two parts -Sowing Eve, which was frequently compared to Mardi Gras or Carnival of Old Earth, and the Planting Day, which was a day of solemn reflection, usually because half the planet was sleeping off their hangovers. Most religions within the Republic had added Planting Day to their calendar as a time to ask for good fortune for the coming year. This year, the events of Sowing Eve were a bit more raucous than usual. The threat of war was looming over the nation. As such, the unspoken theme of this year's celebrations was to eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we may be at war.

  Across Singking the streets were flooded with revelers, many in garish costumes or noticeable by their lack of clothing. Many wore heavily painted masks to hide their faces. Parades full of colorful floats wound their way through the city streets on pre-approved routes. Despite the revelry, Solarians couldn't totally abandon their natural affinity for orderliness. Despite a spike in charges of common assaults, drunk and disorderlies, and general hooliganism, the Metropolitan Police commonly noted that crime actually seemed lower on Sowing Eve as most people focused on having some good fun. Still, the one problem that had been given up on years ago was how to manage the traffic.

  “Hey clear the road!!!” yelled Commander Nathan Gopal, XO of the RSNS Minerva out the window of the three wheel inter-module car. As he swerved around a gang of teenagers who were having a chicken race down the center of the street, their topless girlfriends giggling merrily as they bounced on their shoulders.

  “Steady as she goes commander,” said Lt. Captain William Trendale, Commanding Officer of the RSNS Cronus taking a swig from his hip flask.

  “Aye, aye sir,” Gopal responded steering around a gang of spacers giving an impromptu rendition of
“The Girl from Al-Bakar.”

  “Really Nathan you are the worst driver,” called Zeta Chu, Gopal’s girlfriend for these last four months.

  “I know, but you didn't agree to go out with me for my driving skills,” Nathan said with a grin.

  “No,” Zeta replied sighing dramatically, “It was all those fancy medals on your chest. Had I know your lack of skill with motor vehicles, no doubt I would have forbid you from driving my car.”

  “I said I was sorry,” Gopal replied.

  Zeta leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Tell it to the mechanic dear.” Looking at William, “Why did we let him drive tonight?”

  “Three reasons. One, this is a rental. Two, it takes a madman to get anywhere on time or close to it on Sowing Eve, and three, we’ve both been drinking heavily and he slightly less so.”

  “Oh right,” Zeta said giggling.

  The inter-module zigged and zagged around obstacles other vehicles and celebrating crowds until Nathan finally brought it to a stop in front of the address they had been given. It was a narrow, three story brick house with a heavy, wooden sign that said ‘Blue Moon’ hanging over its front entryway. Just outside the door, a group of people milled about while inside the parlour there seemed to be all sorts of lavish and scandalous things happening.

  “Uh, your friend lives here?” Zeta asked her eyes wide.

  A girl who could only be described as a brown haired, brown eyed beauty in the absolute minimum of clothing leaned over the car’s side.

  “Hello spacer!” She said cheerily. “Care for a tumble? We’ve got a discount for groups.”

  Zeta blushed, Nathan laughed, and William smiled before replying, “No thank you madam. We’re here to collect Lt. Captain Pavel for a prior engagement.”

  The girl’s eyes lit up, “Oh you're Johnny’s friends. I’ll fetch him.” She turned and yelled back toward the door where people milled, mixed and drank.