The Bitter Fruit (Beyond the Impossible Book 6) by Frank Kennedy

Author:Frank Kennedy [Kennedy, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-07-02T16:00:00+00:00

22

Battle cruiser Ajax

Pinchon

B ONJU MADE THE ADJUSTMENTS to the tether program with five minutes to spare. He didn’t know whether it would work. If it did, he betrayed his son. If it didn’t, at least he had given Royal another twenty-five minutes. Or did he? The time disparity between Alpha and Beta universes was a conundrum he never solved. He wouldn’t have a true sense of it unless he returned home.

“I’ll run a simulation,” he told Lt. Stafford. “Inform Capt. Chinois he can stop his ridiculous countdown.”

Stafford proved open-minded, even fascinated by the program. In another lifetime, the man might have made a good assistant.

“Captain,” the Chief of the Nav said. “We’ve adjusted the code. We’ll throw it into a practical sim to confirm the changes.”

Chinois broke from a spirited huddle of several officers surrounded by holos with reports from the planet.

“How long?”

Bonju spoke for Stafford.

“Nine minutes.”

“Stretching the band, Taron.”

“I’d rather not risk another disappointment.”

“Hmmph. Run the sim. Lt. Stafford, if you’re not satisfied by what you see, do not hesitate to inform me.”

Chinois returned to his company. His interest in something other than returning home piqued Bonju’s curiosity, especially since Hoija spent so much time in his midst.

Stafford set the holosim into action.

“What’s going on up there?” Bonju asked.

“Data dumps from the snakes. The intel must be remarkable coming from a city this size.”

“I never saw them in action back home before the fleet jumped in. They arrived in the night, I was told. Gone within the hour. The fleet arrived by midday and dropped battalions all over the city.”

“No doubt to take out the most sensitive locations before a total ground assault. Standard procedure.”

“Is that what you call it? Mass murder is standard procedure.”

Stafford’s eyes narrowed and his jaws tightened.

“We limit kills. The Risen Church wants Converts, not corpses.”

“Ah. Were you ever an FG?”

“I was trained as a navigator.”

“So, you’ve never seen the casualties up close?”

“The Resistance? The Heretics? The Blasphemers?”

“In another words, anyone who doesn’t wear the scorpion.”

“Anyone who doesn’t believe in the true God.”

“Like my son.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He’s being held somewhere on this ship. If the sim fails, the tether fails. Moon will be executed. Not because he’s a resistance fighter or a heretic or a blasphemer. Just because he’s my first-born son.”

Stafford focused on the sim.

“Pre-worm sequence is checking out. So far, so good.”

“Just because he’s my son.”

“Look, I don’t know your story, but it’s not too late for you or him. You’re well connected.” He glanced toward the perch, where Hoija pointed toward a series of images with great excitement. “Surely, Gen. Taron can speak on your behalf.”

“She did, before Empress Chastain herself. I was there.”

“What?” His jaw fell. Whether it was dismay or jealousy, Bonju didn’t care. “You earned an audience?”

“We did. I assume you’ve never …”

“No, no. It’s an honor I always thought beyond my reach.”

“She’s a very old woman, and she has a cold, brittle heart. I’ve never met a more profane creature.”

The insult dug deep. He dried up any goodwill with Stafford, not that he particularly cared.

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