Guardians of the Galactic Sentinel 1: The Deimos Artifact (3 page)

Chapter
2.
Emergency Leave.

Federation New Slovenia Colony, Wonderland Star System, June 25, 2676.

With their pulse beam weapons destroyed and their makeshift barriers breached, the opposition in Zack's section of the rebellious village was broken. Soon, instead of shooting at the Federation soldiers, the enemy were surrendering. There were a couple of instances where a small knot of enemy soldiers thought they were dug in securely enough to have a chance if they kept fighting. The error of this course of action was quickly revealed when a well-placed plasma burst from one of the hovercraft or a grenade launched from one of the Marine pulse rifles took down the inadequate protection. Death or surrender followed soon after.

A little over an hour later, the planetary militia were still rounding up a few stragglers but the battle, for all intents and purposes, was over. As he stood down and leaned against the back of the hovercraft, Zack was surprised to see that his armor had picked up scorch marks from at least two separate pulse weapon strikes. In the heat of battle, he hadn't noticed when either strike had occurred. Good thing for him that the Federation's battle armor was some of the best available.

Zack received a communication from the hovercraft commander over the radio in his armored helmet.

"Good work babysittin' those militia boys and keepin' 'em from gettin' into too much trouble, Lynton," said the commander, "We are to wait here while the militia finishes mopping up. You, on the other hand, are to report to Major Stanford back at HQ immediately."

Zack's heart leapt in his chest; could it have something to do with his hearing? "Any idea why?" he asked, not knowing if he really wanted an answer.

"What makes you think they'd ever tell me anything?" replied the commander, "HQ just said the Major has some news for you and you should get back there right away. There's a medical evac unit leaving here with some of the wounded in about five minutes. They can give you a lift."

"Thanks, Charlie," replied Zack.

Zack found the medivac unit without any trouble and hopped on board. Within ten minutes, he was on the ground back at Federation HQ and had reported to the heavily armored shuttlecraft which served as a temporary headquarters for the Federation forces. He announced who he was to the guards at the door and was, for a change, quickly ushered inside.

Major Stanford was sitting at a cramped desk in a small cubicle making entries on an electronic tablet. To one side of him was a video monitor, with the sound off, that showed a live feed from the village that Zack had just come from. Zack stopped in front of the Major's desk and rendered a smart salute.

"Corporal Zachary Lynton reporting as ordered, sir."

"Ah, Corporal Lynton," said Stanford, returning the salute without getting up, "At ease, Corporal. Have a seat. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

"Bad news, sir?"

"Yes, son. I'm sorry to be the one who has to tell you this, but your Uncle, Marvin Pangbourne, passed away just over a week ago."

Zack thought about the man who had raised him for several tumultuous years before he had enlisted in the Marines. He and his uncle had not corresponded much at all during the time that Zack had been in the military and the two of them had lost touch. Understandably somewhat shocked, he felt a sharp pang of emptiness followed closely by a not insignificant measure of guilt.

"Uncle Marv? Dead?"

"Some kind of aircar accident out on Haven," said the Commander, "I'm sorry, Lynton, I don't have any details at all. As his sole heir, they need you to go back to Haven to take care of his affairs."

"Is that going to be allowed, sir?" asked Zack.

"Already been approved," replied the Major, "It might not hurt for you to get out of here for a while and give things a little time to cool down."

"Cool down, sir?"

"Yeah, turns out this Lieutenant Dawson, the one who wrote you up for your actions last week, comes from a pretty powerful family. His old man is a Senator from the Central Planets. We're trying to get the Lieutenant to back off on you but, at least so far, he hasn't budged. We'll work on him some more while you're gone. In the meantime, things should be fairly quiet here on New Slav for a while. You've been granted thirty days family leave to take care of this."

"I...I don't know what to say. Thank you, sir."

"Yeah, I know; these things can be pretty tough."

"Yes, sir," replied Zack, "I really don't know where to begin."

"There's a shuttle leaving for the orbital station in a half hour. We've taken the liberty of booking you passage on a liner currently refueling at the station. It really is about the fastest way to get you all the way out to Haven. You should be there in less than a week. I apologize, the bean counters would only authorize a third class ticket, but you've got to remember this is the Federation Military. We all need to make sacrifices."

"As you say, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You've been in continuous combat for nearly two years, soldier. You might take some of this time to get a little R and R as well." The Major paused for a moment and added, "For what it's worth, Zack, I think you did the right thing last week even if you do get in trouble for it. Strictly off the record, you understand?"

"Thank you, sir,"

"Make the best of this opportunity, son. Dismissed."

Zack numbly got up and gave the commander another salute, "Thank you again, sir."

He left the commander's temporary headquarters and headed for the shuttle pad. His luck seemed to be holding as the next set of events came off without a hitch. Within an hour and a half after he arrived at the New Slovenia orbital station, he was safely onboard the liner and comfortably settled in his small but perfectly adequate cabin.

Chapter
3.
Financial Meltdown.

Near the Haven Orbital Station, Barnard's Star System, July 3, 2676.

The gigantic starship cruiseliner "
Princess of Bellerophon
" had been decelerating gently but relentlessly on her way into the Haven Colony system for most of the early hours of the morning. She would be docking at Haven's orbital station in just over two hours. There she would drop off about two dozen passengers and perhaps pick up a like number before topping off on reaction mass and heading out on her way to the most remote destination on her route which was to be the posh Orbiting Casinos of Novo Reno.

Zack found himself almost alone on the dimly lit observation deck on the top side of the
Princess
. Most of the passengers would probably sleep through the brief, early morning stop at the backwater colony world. Things were different for him; Haven had been his home world and he hadn't returned here since he'd gone into the Marines almost four years ago. The badly-needed respite from combat that he was currently experiencing had provided him with both time and opportunity to reflect on a few things.

He was almost finished with his first four-year term in the Federation Navy Marine Corps and, up until the events of last week, had been intending to re-up. Now he was beginning to wonder if he should seriously consider some other options. This business with his recently deceased uncle's affairs had also been nagging at him. What did he know of complicated finances and investments? Not only that, he was feeling more than a little remorseful that he hadn't been more diligent over the last several years in corresponding with the man who had been his legal guardian. He was also feeling a little lost. Marvin Pangbourne had been Zack's sole remaining relative.

The Navy had been able to book him their customary free passage on the huge liner at the last minute, for which he was grateful. He had little in common with any of the other passengers and hadn't felt much like socializing. Instead, he had spent much of the journey on the darkened observation deck gazing out at an ever-shifting tapestry of stars slightly distorted by the sublight drive field of the huge ship, a view he never seemed to get tired of. He had also spent a fair amount of that time looking inward. As he reflected on the last several years, he had to admit that the Marine Corps had been good to him even if the duty was difficult, dangerous and often outright terrifying.

Much of Zack's time in the Corps had been spent in combat against rebellious populations on one colony world or another. Many of the colonists were, by nature, fiercely independent and resented any kind of Federation intrusion into their everyday lives. More than anything, they hated Federation taxes. After his nearly four years in the Marines, the various conflicts actually appeared to be heating up rather than settling down.

The situation on New Slovenia, with someone boldly supplying the rebel forces with Soviet weapons, represented a new and disturbing development. When confronted, the Soviets claimed that a sizable shipment of their weapons had been high-jacked and they didn't know who was responsible, providing them with an effective, if only barely plausible, alibi. If the same thing was happening on some of the other colony planets, things could only get worse. Not to mention more hazardous.

Zack had originally been trained in engineering which, oddly enough, had qualified him for a berth on one of the Marine Corps' armored hovercraft. On the first hovercraft he'd been assigned to, Zack had been given secondary roles as backup engineer and, probably his favorite, backup gunner for the craft's twin pulse-beam gun emplacement.

While he had spent a portion of his time fulfilling each of those roles in the twelve-man crews of several subsequent hovercraft, Zack had also seen plenty of time as a ground pounder. Most of his combat time for the first year or so had been spent wearing a set of light duty semi-powered battle armor, toting a pulse rifle. The individual hovercraft units often operated solo and though the machines were extremely formidable, you couldn't go inside a building with one. That activity required boots on the ground.

Partially through an extraordinarily high rate of attrition and partially by demonstrating a high level of competence, Zack had been awarded a battlefield promotion to the rank of second lieutenant and given command of his own hovercraft just over six months ago. True to form, he had excelled in that role as well. The attack he'd been leading on the village wherein he had ordered the highly effective but controversial missile attack had been his first assignment as a unit commander. Since he had been at least temporarily busted back to corporal after the incident, it could well have been his last. He couldn't help but wonder if his somewhat unconventional promotion to Lieutenant also had something to do with the unreasonable attitude of the officer whose orders he had elected to disobey.

The planet of Haven looked exactly like it had when he left. Four years was a long time when you had just turned twenty-five years old and Zack had changed a lot during those four years. It was, he was discovering, not that long at all in the life of a planet. His electronic slate lay in his lap as he watched the planet, now big enough that it filled almost the entirety of the large overhead viewport, continue to grow in apparent size. He tapped the slate to life and brought up the email that had all but forced him to come back to Haven. He couldn't suppress a frown as he read the message over yet again...

"
My Dear Mr. Lynton:

We were greatly saddened by the death of your Uncle, Marvin C. Pangbourne. Please accept our heartfelt sympathies upon your loss. Because of your uncle Marvin's somewhat sudden and unexpected demise, he did leave a number of his financial dealings unresolved. As his sole heir, you have been bequeathed all of his personal belongings and the contents of several bank and investment accounts, some of which contain assets of substantial value.

If you would be so kind as to contact our offices, we would be more than happy to assist you in resolving these matters. Unfortunately, there are a number of items of physical property and several business dealings that we will not be able to attend to, unless you are able to meet with us in person. Legal protocol dictates that your actual, physical signature or thumbprint will be required for several of these transactions.

Looking forward to meeting with you.

Sincerely, Horatio T. Alberts, Attorney at Law,

Schweitzer, Hamilton and Alberts, LLC. Haven Commonwealth, Barnard's Star System
."

Zack looked up from the tablet and absently watched as the Haven Orbital Station, a modular construct as large as a city, continued to expand in the view from the observation deck. What kind of mess had Uncle Marv left behind? Hopefully nothing that couldn't be handled in a few days, maybe a week or so. After which Zack would be back on his way to rejoin his unit...in some capacity or another. He closed down the tablet display and took one last good look at the blue and white glory of Haven before leaving the observation deck and heading for his tiny third-class cabin to gather up his handful of belongings.

Half an hour later he was among the first to arrive in the passenger waiting area near one of the large airlocks on the big liner. Soon after the docking tube from the orbital station was secured to the liner and the pressure equalized to the station, one of the crewmen opened the exit to the waiting area and waved to Zack that it was okay to disembark.

"Thank you very much for traveling with us, sir," said the young, scrubbed-looking crewmember, "How was everything?"

"Everything was fine." replied Zack, his duffle over one shoulder and a Marine-issue backpack over the other.

"Very good, sir! I hope you'll choose the
Princess
next time you travel."

"You can count on it," said Zack, though he wondered if he would ever be able to afford such an extravagance on his own. He stepped into the docking tube and was surprised to find that the station authorities had managed to equip it with simulated gravity. Last time he'd been through a docking tube out here at Haven had been to board a Federation Naval vessel. Such luxuries as gravity in a docking tube would have been deemed beyond frivolous by the military. Civilians wealthy enough to travel on a luxury liner, it seemed, were treated somewhat differently, even in a backwater system like Haven.

Once onboard the Orbital Station, Zack went to the nearest wall-mounted viewscreen to check on getting a shuttle down to the planet. A shuttle was necessary because the Haven colony couldn't afford a space elevator, at least not yet. His luck seemed to be holding, there was one scheduled to depart in a little over an hour and it was docked only a few gates away.

Zack used his military pass, which was good for most forms of travel on Federation worlds, to book passage. Twenty minutes later he was strapped to a seat in the small passenger area of a standard and somewhat careworn shuttle, his gear secured in the overhead compartment. The trip down to the planet was uneventful and actually rather boring. The utilitarian shuttle didn't have any observation ports and the viewscreen on the bulkhead in the front of the passenger compartment remained resolutely blank for the entire journey.

Fortunately, the trip was also mercifully short.

Freeport, capital city of the Haven colony, July 3, 2676.

Zack disembarked the shuttle at the planet-side station and soon found himself out in the open air in bright morning sunshine. After few minutes spent consulting his personal tablet, Zack found a hotel that was located within a short walk of the Law Offices of Schweitzer, Hamilton and Alberts, LLC
.
, booked a room for two nights and caught a hovercab to downtown Freeport, the capital city of the colony. It was just after ten o'clock on Sunday morning, local time; he wouldn't be able to contact anyone from Schweitzer
et al
until Monday, and he had the rest of the day to himself. After checking into the de Ritz Hotel, which appeared to be anything but, he spent most of the afternoon sightseeing, re-familiarizing himself with his hometown. He discovered that things hadn't really changed all that much while he'd been gone, although nearly everything seemed to be a little smaller than he remembered and much of it looked somewhat shabbier.

Freeport, capital city of the Haven colony, July 4, 2676.

Monday morning at 9AM, found him waiting in the lobby of the Law offices of Schweitzer
et al
for the arrival of Horatio T. Alberts who showed up at 9:10 but immediately invited Zack into his office.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Lynton," said the somewhat portly, middle-aged lawyer, "Would you like some coffee? I assure you it's rather good. I insist on serving only the best."

Zack took a seat in front of an impressive, dark, wooden desk that had a clear, old-fashioned plate glass cover over the rich-looking wood.

"Coffee would be fine, sir," said Zack, his military etiquette still at the fore, "My friends call me 'Zack.'"

"Yes, of course," replied Alberts, "sugar or cream, Zack?"

"Black, sir, it's what I'm used to."

Alberts chuckled softly as he brought two steaming mugs of brew and set one of them down in front of Zack before setting down his own cup and taking a seat in an overstuffed, high-backed desk chair that looked like it was covered in actual leather. The old lawyer took a sip of his coffee and set the cup back down before pulling his own personal tablet out of the briefcase next to his desk.

"Let me see...Zachary Lynton...ah yes, of course, you're Marvin Pangbourne's nephew?"

"That's right, sir," replied Zack.

Alberts scrolled through several pages of material on his tablet. "This is a complicated case, Mr. Lynton....ah Zack. Your uncle had a fair amount of money."

"I had no idea..."

"He also had a fair number of debts," Alberts continued.

"Oh," replied Zack, "Do you know what it was that he was doing for a living?"

"His wife's family was very wealthy to begin with and Marvin turned out to be a pretty shrewd investor, at least for a while. After his wife died five years ago, he became a little...unpredictable."

Zack remembered how difficult things had been for his uncle when Aunt Lisa had taken ill with a rare form of cancer. Unfortunately, she was part of the zero point three percent of the population that didn't respond to modern treatments. Even being filthy rich couldn't save you when your number was up.

"What was he investing in?" asked Zack.

"Antiquities mostly," replied Alberts, "Paintings, sculptures, ancient real-paper books, that sort of stuff. The trouble seemed to start when he began to deal with archeological artifacts."

"Archeological artifacts?"

"Yeah, you know, items that have archeological significance. Ancient Greek and Roman coins, jewelry, statues and other rare items. Some investors will pay a great deal for such things."

"Sounds interesting."

"I have no doubt that it was. Unfortunately, over the last year and a half or so, Marv was on a losing streak. He went through a lot of money and he made pledges that encumbered considerably more."

"It sounds like you're trying to tell me something, Mr. Alberts. What is it?"