Freedom's Scion (Spooner Federation Saga Book 2) by Porretto Francis

Author:Porretto, Francis [Porretto, Francis]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

==<O>==

Chapter 17: Quartember 7, 1307 A.H.

“Uncle Doug?”

“Hm?” Douglas Kramnik awoke reluctantly to the faint invocation through his bedroom door. He sat up, blinked, and shook himself awake. “What is it, Ellen?”

“Radio for you.” She hesitated. “It’s Althea Morelon.”

Oh shit. His bedside clock made it 0605. “Is there coffee?”

“Just finished perking. I’ll bring your mug to the radio.”

Kramnik hoisted himself out of bed, pulled on a robe and slippers, and trudged down the stairs to the radio alcove. The microphone was already off-hook. He picked it up.

“Yes, Althea, what is it?”

“Are you still involved with the management of our investments, Doug?”

“Yes, what of it?” Ellen Kramnik rounded the corner from the kitchen with his mug cradled in both hands. He took it from her with a murmur of thanks, took a healthy swallow, and immediately felt some purchase on reality return.

“It occurred to me that that should entitle you to attend meetings of our elders, should you choose to do so. There’s an important one scheduled for 0800 this morning. Might I persuade you to join us?”

“Hm? Why? Will you be there?”

“I certainly will, Doug. So will Martin, Patrice, Alvah, and Bart. I promise you, it’s going to be a lively one. Can I assume you’ll be here?”

It set his nerves to humming. He lowered the microphone and thought furiously.

She couldn’t make it any plainer that there’s trouble afoot. Trouble that could spiral this far out, or farther.

I can’t afford not to be there.

He brought the microphone back to his lips.

“I’ll be there. Meet me at the door, please? I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

“Count on it.”

He set the microphone back on its hook and trotted up the stairs.

* * *

Barton Morelon had begun his morning in his usual fashion: making unhurried love to Nora, rolling out of bed shortly thereafter, and getting washed, dressed, and ready for the labors of the day while conducting a leisurely game of grab-ass with his squealing, giggling wife. It occurred to him, as it sometimes did at such moments, that he was among the most blessed members of all the race of Man. He didn’t let the thought disturb his routine, nor did it show except in the slightly brighter than usual glow of his smile.

When the alien voice erupted in his skull, the thunder of it drove the smile from his face and toppled him to his knees. It elicited a gasp of surprise from him and a shriek of sudden terror from Nora. She immediately descended to her knees and clutched him tightly.

“What’s wrong, love? Are you hurt?”

He tried to speak, stuttered incoherently, and paused for breath. The fear in his wife’s eyes redoubled. Her trembling shook his own torso.

“I’m okay...I think,” he gasped out at last. “There was this really loud voice in my head. It was telling me that there’s something I have to do.”

“What voice? Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did it tell you to do?”

He struggled to focus and recall the substance of the command.

“I lost that last part,” he said after a moment.

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