Resolute (Guild Series Book 4), page 1
Copyright © 2020 Tim Rangnow
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1-952412-06-6
Cover design: Christopher Doll
Published By: Vagabond Publishing
Printed in the United States of America
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Acknowledgements
About The Author
One
Anton Meyers was watching the display on his desk, nervously rubbing a finger over his upper lip. The Guild took control of Aldrin dome a few weeks earlier, when the Coalition administrator failed to do anything to help people stricken by the bombing attacks that had occurred. He then approved operations to scout and clear the almost deserted Armstrong dome in preparation for expanding the Transport Guild’s influence to both domes on Luna’s surface. He was still a little shocked at how well things seemed to be going, with their nascent militia working to restore order and engineering teams getting the systems in the mostly abandoned Syndicate dome operational ahead of schedule.
Now he was waiting to discover the results of an even more ambitious project. The kind that could either solidify support behind the Guild, or turn the system away from them completely. He’d discussed the plan with captains of the Guild freighters at length. There were fourteen ships remaining in their small fleet, providing fourteen voices with differing opinions when they met with the president of their Guild. Not surprisingly, several of those voices had been against the proposed operation, but most showed support.
Captain Frost, on the Vagabond, was one of those who were enthusiastic about the idea. His opinion was becoming more respected, as the other captains observed his many actions in the fight against the Syndicate cruiser that threatened to wipe away anyone with differing views from those of the ruling Executive Committee. Frost’s approval had swayed a few others who were uncertain, until even those not in agreement bowed to the will of the group.
Meyers was no fool, however. He kept those dissenting voices foremost in his thoughts, and retained their ships in orbit around Luna when the action started. Ostensibly, to provide a defensive screen in case the Syndicate decided to send the Indomitable their direction when they saw an opportunity to reduce an already minimal threat. He also worried about the Coalition reaction, but with that government having lost their fleet he wasn’t concerned for any retaliatory actions in the near future. The only Coalition frigate left, Waterloo, was currently in orbit around Luna and working alongside the Guild.
The Coalition government, led by a prime minister in his third and constitutionally final term, had responded to sudden Syndicate aggression slowly. In the beginning, Meyers thought perhaps they were too locked into stagnation after twenty years of cold war. But now, a growing suspicion that the prime minister was actively sabotaging his own government in exchange for some kind of payoff from the ultra rich leaders of the corporate Syndicate had been all but confirmed. Bomb fragments found while clearing the transit tunnel between Aldrin and Armstrong had revealed the device to be a Coalition Marine explosive that was tightly controlled. DNA samples found inside the casing pointed the finger squarely at a new minister high in the government. Theodore Poul, Minister of Propaganda.
Even before that proof was found, Meyers had shared his growing suspicions and the reasoning behind them with the Minister of Defense, Rinde Brighton. During their video conference, the connection had been severed and he’d been unable to get in contact with Rinde again. It had taken several days, but he finally got word from agents on the ground that the Defense Minister had been arrested on charges of treason and sent to a factory complex that served as a work camp for political dissidents and journalists who’d tried to publish the wrong stories. It was a place that Meyers had discovered a few weeks earlier during his research into the prime minister. A dark hole that people disappeared into without trial or a chance to state their case.
The door to his office opened, the only walled-off space in the Guildhall that had served as the administrative heart of the Transport Guild for their twenty year existence. The hubbub and clamor from the dozens of desks crammed into the wide open area filled the room before the woman entering pulled the door shut behind her. Dexterity Avila, more mature than her twenty five years would lead you to believe, had risen to become the vice president of the Guild and the person Meyers leaned on most.
“Any news yet?” she asked, walking over to the small desk on the opposite side of the room. He’d had it brought in, along with secure server cabinets and other things Dex needed to do her job, when he realized the days of the Guild being a collection of simple freighters carrying cargo from one place to another were over. Events were pushing them to become something more.
“No, not since they began their descent.” Meyers turned his eyes back to the holo display floating in the air at eye level.
“It hasn’t been that long. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”
Even as Dex was speaking, the display flashed with a connection request. Meyers stabbed at the screen, accepting and sending the feed over to the main display on the wall that he and Dex could both see. The face that appeared on the screen was a familiar one after the events of the last year. Youthful, only a year older than Dex, framed by wild dark blonde hair with startling blue eyes gazing into the camera. Erik Frost was smiling, a mixture of triumph and joy. “We got them,” he said simply.
Meyers slumped in relief, releasing all the tension he’d been carrying since giving the orders to start the rescue operation. “Did you encounter any difficulties?”
“No, sir. The first groups of factory workers were waiting on the tarmac as you expected. One of the agents with the group that boarded reports that guards have been putting up resistance, but none of them expected prisoners to fight back after so many years of drudgery and depression. They got complacent.”
“In this case, complacency is good. I want to rescue every one of those poor souls.” Meyers glanced at his display again, noting the approach of the freighter and their estimated time of landing at the Aldrin docking facility. “How is our special guest doing?”
“Very well. He took the opportunity to clean up and change into the suit you provided. He’s in the cargo bay now, checking on the others and making sure they have the food and water they need after so much deprivation.”
Meyers smiled in admiration. “Yes, I would expect nothing less. It’s that compassion and concern that makes him the ideal candidate. Safe travels, Erik. We’ll meet you at the docks when you land.”
The screen went black, and he glanced at Dexterity to see a radiant smile on her lips. He knew only part of that was from the success of the first stage of the operation. The rest would be from seeing the man she loved, and knowing he was safe. “Is everything ready for their arrival, Dex?”
She turned toward him, blushing slightly when she saw his knowing grin. “Yes, sir. We’ll have everything set up and ready to go as soon as the Vagabond is on the ground.”
“Excellent work, as always. We have a couple of hours, so let’s run through everything one more time. I want this to go smoothly. After all, this is going to be make or break for the Guild. If we fall flat on our face from the starting gate, no one will take us seriously going forward.”
On the way to the recently repaired and expanded docking facility a few hours later, Meyers took time to stop in the central square. A fifth militia squad had recently been formed with the latest recruits, and Captain Fitz was running them through the early stages of their training. Tom Fitz had been a crew member on the freighter Telemachus eight years earlier, when that ship had taken a shipment to what had been called a “black site”. It turned out to be the Syndicate cruiser, in the early stages of construction, and the crew had broken the restrictions against getting a view of their destination. After seven years spent on the Indomitable, first as a prisoner and then as a reluctant Marine grunt, Tom and a couple of others had aided in the escape of the Vagabond. Now, he was putting those years of Marine training to use, leading the newly formed militia.
The militia captain noticed Meyers watching, and offered a nod before turning to bark at one of the recruits who had stumbled through the exercise. Meyers had offered the job to Tom on impulse after he returned on the Vagabond, but it had proven to be an excellent decision. Even the earliest militia recruits, jaded veterans of the Coalition and Syndicate Marines and ground forces, had come to respect Captain Fitz and accept his comma
Beyond the men and women in training, he could see the dome administration building. It was empty now, with the last of the Coalition government workers having fled to Earth once the docking facility was repaired from the bombings. The building was taped off, with two militia guards on patrol around it at all times to keep any looters or curious explorers away. Meyers knew he’d have to make a decision soon on what to do with it. The Guildhall was bursting at the seams, and he could use the extra space for his growing organization.
Dex exited the Guildhall, staring down at the tablet she always carried to continue her work whenever she was walking somewhere. He snorted in amusement, wondering if he’d need to force her to get an assistant to take some of that work off her plate. She might need two, if things worked out as he hoped.
“Everyone is ready at the docking facility,” she told him. “We have stations set up to process the new arrivals, and I managed to get eight of our representatives off the desks to escort our arrivals to their new homes in Armstrong.” She raised her head long enough to glance toward the transit tunnel. A second bombing had caved it in, killing two thirds of the Coalition Marines in the process, but it was now cleared and operational once more.
Armstrong dome had been victim to a bomb, as well. A massive explosion that had scooped a crater out of the central square and damaged the life support equipment. The Syndicate Marines and administration had fled, along with the most important citizens, leaving the other survivors to fend for themselves. By the time Meyers was able to send in scouting teams, very few of them were left. One of those survivors, a man named Cullen who had served as a Marine years before, now worked alongside Captain Fitz with the militia.
Once the dome was reclaimed, teams of engineers had repaired the reactor and life support functions. Groups of volunteers still worked to prepare the surviving buildings to accept new residents, while also clearing the debris left from the bombing. It was work that would take months to complete, if not years, and Meyers knew he couldn’t devote too many resources to it with other projects in the works that were of greater importance.
As soon as the freighter touched down on one of the two rebuilt docking pads, Meyers and Dex were standing near the airlock. Nervousness and impatience battled within him. Nervousness that their most important guest wouldn’t be receptive to his ideas, and impatience to get started on work that he felt would set the system back on its feet. It was a relief when the airlock began to hiss as the door slowly opened.
The first man to step through was tall and gaunt after the stress and deprivation of the previous weeks. His tightly cut black hair was going gray almost as fast as Meyers’ own, but his dark skin still showed only a handful of wrinkles. His brown eyes were alert and inquisitive, darting all around the docking facility before landing on the two people waiting to greet him.
Meyers stepped forward with a genuine smile of welcome, raising a hand to grasp the other man’s in a firm handshake. “Rinde! You don’t know how good it is to see your face again.”
“No better than it is to see yours, my friend.” The man’s voice was deep, with a strong accent of his native Lagos. It was the city he had been born in, and the place his political career started before he got elected to join the Coalition Parliament and rose to become the Minister of Defense. “I thank you with all my heart for your help in releasing us from that horrible place.”
“If I’d known such a thing as the factory existed, I wouldn’t have waited as long as I did.” Meyers examined him, one hand tightly clenched on his shoulder. “How do you feel, Rinde? Are you strong enough to help me start a revolution?”
Rinde stared at him for a moment, with a searching gaze. “If it will help us to rid the people of the prime minister’s corrupt leadership, then I will give you my full support.”
Meyers chuckled, ushering the man out of the way as other rescued factory workers exited the airlock. They looked around in wonder as Guild representatives hurried forward to point them to the waiting stations where details such as names and biometrics would be entered into the Aldrin servers. Then the new arrivals would be escorted to Armstrong, shown to temporary homes.
“Rinde, you and I both know that the prime minister has done everything he could to remove any opposition. Those who weren’t killed in the bombings will be found among your fellow factory workers. It will take us days to get everyone off the surface, but once we do I feel confident we’ll have enough people to form a government. A rightful government for the people of the Coalition.”
“But we will not be an elected government, President Meyers.” Rinde raised his head, adamant on this point. “Without elections, any government you form will be even less legitimate than that of our prime minister.”
“Perhaps, but would you rather we do nothing and let the Syndicate take control of the entire planet?” Meyers kept his voice low, not wanting those passing nearby to hear their discussion. “That’s what your prime minister wants, to sell his nation to the Syndicate leaders. To take away the freedoms that the Coalition constitution demands and protects.”
Rinde grimaced, recognizing the truth in the words. “I will not make this decision on my own,” he said at last. “Let us see who is rescued from the factory, and then we will all discuss this idea and come to a consensus.”
“Fair enough,” Meyers said, feeling frustrated but understanding the cautious approach. It also made sense to his political nature, knowing that a strong backing of support would go a long way to helping legitimize a competing government. “I’ve set you up with a home here in Aldrin. Dex can show you the way if you’re ready.”
The minister raised an eyebrow, glancing over to the lines forming at the processing stations. “I will have no special treatment, President Meyers. If there is one thing I have learned in these last few months, it is that we must experience the same things as those we claim to represent. I will stand in line with my people, and then I will live among them.”
Meyers sighed, but nodded in agreement. “Very well. Dex, have Minister Brighton’s quarters reset. We’ll have the processors assign him a random location in Armstrong.” She was already working on it as he spoke, fingers flying across the screen of the tablet. “Rinde, I’ll let you get settled in. How about we meet tomorrow morning? I’ll have someone escort you to the Guildhall.”
Two
The Vagabond was completing her third trip to the planet when Erik saw a shuttle burn quickly from the Syndicate orbital station to the Indomitable. He knew the look of a supply shuttle well, and briefly wondered what was being carried to the cruiser from the station. There wasn’t much time for the thought, however, as Mira alerted him to their arrival.
“We’re down, cap. Making connection with the tube now, if you want to show our guests to the exit.”
“I know they’ll be glad to get out of the cargo bay. It looks like a sardine can in there.” He checked the status of the rescue operations, and flipped on the ship’s comms. “Three hour break after this offload, folks. We’re seven back in the queue for another drop to the factory.”
He made his way to the cargo bay quickly, amused to see that once again the evacuees had put themselves into variously sized groupings. As before, a small group near the door were the accepted leaders. They watched him with caution as he approached.
“We’ve arrived at Aldrin dome on Luna.” He spoke to the leaders, but loudly enough for most of the others to hear him, as well. “Six people at a time will exit through the airlocks, so the unloading process may take as long as half an hour. Once you arrive in the docking facility, you’ll be met by Guild representatives. They’ll speak with you about what to expect in the days to come, and where you’ll live. Armstrong dome's life support systems are repaired, and everyone will receive quarters there.”
Erik paused, waiting out the ripple that passed through the crowd as those in the middle passed his words further back. “The Transport Guild is in full control of Aldrin and Armstrong. You don’t need to worry about the Coalition coming after you. None of you will be returning to that factory as long as you’re on Luna. If you do choose to return to Earth, that option will be made available to you in the weeks to come. We can’t guarantee your safety at that point, of course.”
