The Independent Worlds (The Sixteen Galaxies Book 2) by William Drayman
Authors: William Drayman
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Independent Worlds with covert control; nobody on Earth will die right now. Besides, we cannot be complicit in Mandy’s death, whatever the cost. To do that would forsake thousands of years of peaceful advancement.”
“Agreed. You’re right, David. I’m sorry.” Nuthros replied. “But, we cannot stay here for any length of time.”
“Just so,” David told him. “However, Truly used the preset exit vector when she went to faster than light. For every ship in the Sixteen Galaxies fleet, that vector is a direct route to Kareetha.”
Nuthros nodded. “The same route that Brantok takes, and he travels directly towards us.”
“Quite,” Truly replied. “I have already sent a desist signal to Councilor Brantok’s ship. As soon as his ship AI, Breetak, receives it, she will drop out of faster than light speed, and I will apprise her of the situation. Once I have completely stabilized Mandy’s condition, I shall place her in a preservation capsule. If Hiram and Chris are agreeable, I shall leave them with Mandy in an escape pod for Brantok to pick up.”
“You can leave me, too,” Jack said. “I’m staying with Mandy.”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Truly replied, “but you must return with us.”
Jack shook his head. “No, you don’t need me there.”
David put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “We don’t need you as a journalist, my friend, but we very much need you as what you were.”
Jack recoiled like David had slapped him in the face. His voice was a hoarse whisper; “No.”
Ron frowned at David. “What on Earth are you on about?”
Jack took a step toward David, who stepped back. “You can’t ask that of me, David; nobody can. I don’t do that stuff anymore, and you can’t make me. I won’t be used that way again by anyone; ever .” He stalked out of the room and over to the viewport.
Nuthros sighed. “I’m sorry, Ron, and all of you. We’ve known about Jack’s former life all along, but he was not aware that we knew. He was the main reason we recruited Mandy and Jack in the first place. He’s lived the life of Jack Short for twelve years, now. But, before that, he was a British soldier who became something of a legend within MI6, the English equivalent of your agency, I believe, Ron.”
Ron shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Chris whistled. “He makes a very convincing American, if you ask me.”
Ron laughed. “If he was with MI6, he could probably make a convincing African tribesman, if he wanted to.”
*****
Chicago, Illinois, 2005
Justin Blake sat in his hotel room and stared at a laptop, his hands steepled under his chin. On the screen was a picture of his three targets; an investigative reporter called Peter Somers, his wife, Marilyn Somers, and their 16-year-old daughter; Mandy.
The daughter was a typical teenager, out and about all over the place. The mother stayed home most days, and the father worked long hours. Jobs like this were tricky; doubly so because of the fact the targets were US citizens on their home soil. It would have to be a three-in-one; any other way would rouse suspicions too easily.
The best method was a fire, he decided. The problem with a fire was the house had a full set of smoke alarms. If he knocked them out, the inspectors would cry foul straight away. So, it had to be quick enough to prevent escape. There was an advantage here, he mused. The house was a two-story, with the bedrooms upstairs. Get a quick burn going near the internal stairs and they had no way to get out. He thought about gassing them first; he hated to burn targets to death. Unfortunately, while the daughter would be no issue, the couple in bed together was too risky. He decided to gas the daughter, at least he could make it quick for her. The smoke might knock the parents out before they burned, anyway.
Justin didn’t enjoy the kill. A few operatives did, but they usually messed it up in the end, because the desire for enjoyment increased with the
“Agreed. You’re right, David. I’m sorry.” Nuthros replied. “But, we cannot stay here for any length of time.”
“Just so,” David told him. “However, Truly used the preset exit vector when she went to faster than light. For every ship in the Sixteen Galaxies fleet, that vector is a direct route to Kareetha.”
Nuthros nodded. “The same route that Brantok takes, and he travels directly towards us.”
“Quite,” Truly replied. “I have already sent a desist signal to Councilor Brantok’s ship. As soon as his ship AI, Breetak, receives it, she will drop out of faster than light speed, and I will apprise her of the situation. Once I have completely stabilized Mandy’s condition, I shall place her in a preservation capsule. If Hiram and Chris are agreeable, I shall leave them with Mandy in an escape pod for Brantok to pick up.”
“You can leave me, too,” Jack said. “I’m staying with Mandy.”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Truly replied, “but you must return with us.”
Jack shook his head. “No, you don’t need me there.”
David put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “We don’t need you as a journalist, my friend, but we very much need you as what you were.”
Jack recoiled like David had slapped him in the face. His voice was a hoarse whisper; “No.”
Ron frowned at David. “What on Earth are you on about?”
Jack took a step toward David, who stepped back. “You can’t ask that of me, David; nobody can. I don’t do that stuff anymore, and you can’t make me. I won’t be used that way again by anyone; ever .” He stalked out of the room and over to the viewport.
Nuthros sighed. “I’m sorry, Ron, and all of you. We’ve known about Jack’s former life all along, but he was not aware that we knew. He was the main reason we recruited Mandy and Jack in the first place. He’s lived the life of Jack Short for twelve years, now. But, before that, he was a British soldier who became something of a legend within MI6, the English equivalent of your agency, I believe, Ron.”
Ron shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Chris whistled. “He makes a very convincing American, if you ask me.”
Ron laughed. “If he was with MI6, he could probably make a convincing African tribesman, if he wanted to.”
*****
Chicago, Illinois, 2005
Justin Blake sat in his hotel room and stared at a laptop, his hands steepled under his chin. On the screen was a picture of his three targets; an investigative reporter called Peter Somers, his wife, Marilyn Somers, and their 16-year-old daughter; Mandy.
The daughter was a typical teenager, out and about all over the place. The mother stayed home most days, and the father worked long hours. Jobs like this were tricky; doubly so because of the fact the targets were US citizens on their home soil. It would have to be a three-in-one; any other way would rouse suspicions too easily.
The best method was a fire, he decided. The problem with a fire was the house had a full set of smoke alarms. If he knocked them out, the inspectors would cry foul straight away. So, it had to be quick enough to prevent escape. There was an advantage here, he mused. The house was a two-story, with the bedrooms upstairs. Get a quick burn going near the internal stairs and they had no way to get out. He thought about gassing them first; he hated to burn targets to death. Unfortunately, while the daughter would be no issue, the couple in bed together was too risky. He decided to gas the daughter, at least he could make it quick for her. The smoke might knock the parents out before they burned, anyway.
Justin didn’t enjoy the kill. A few operatives did, but they usually messed it up in the end, because the desire for enjoyment increased with the
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