Colony (Terran Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  The President continues, his tone one of disappointment, “With you being denied your place on the Terran, and your face known to most spy agencies,” he shrugs his shoulders, “We decided to approve your request.”

  Peter’s jaw drops, and his mind races, “I thank you all.”

  Pavel grins at Peter’s reaction then adds, “As for your secondary request,” He gazes around the room, “Should you be successful, we are all in agreement. You will be permitted to retire.”

  Peter is completely speechless, Emma may yet get her wish as well. He has been single and self-reliant for a long time, but the thought of being with Emma pleases him. His thoughts are dragged back to those in the room as one by one, questions and concerns are raised. He is patient and meticulous in his answers and leaves nothing out of his account.

  Finally, once everybody is satisfied, the President stands and offers some final words, “Good luck, comrade Petrovich.”

  Vengeance

  Radclyf grins as he reads an email from Peter, he is pretty sure his email is being monitored. He chuckles at the thought of a known KGB agent sending messages to him. Can only imagine what Dowling Street is going make of this. The message rambles on about how much Peter enjoyed his time with Radclyf and Hayato when they were all on board the Terran. The email continues on.

  I won’t be able to see you in England or visit France for quite some time, and with the weather about to turn, I’m not sure what I am going to do. My comrades seem content for me to do some sightseeing, not sure exactly sure where to go, perhaps I shall start with an old friend of ours.

  Yours Sincerely,

  Peter

  Radclyf sits up at this last comment, his stocky frame rocks his chair forward heavily. He puts a hand to his mouth in surprise, then glances at the time. Well, I had better put in for some leave then. Looks like the old boy has done it after all, never should have doubted it.

  On the other side of the world, and far into the evening, Hayato nods his head somberly at a similar message from Peter. Once the leader of an elite anti-terrorist unit, his position is now a distant memory. He spends quite a bit time considering his options while he mulls over the contents of the email. Gazing around his new office, he grins when his eyes fall upon all the paperwork on his desk. What am I even doing? This is not for me. His thoughts drift back to one of many conversations that he, Radclyf, and Peter had, about what they would do should they ever return to Earth.

  Neither Radclyf nor Hayato are actually surprised when their requests for a leave of absence are immediately approved. They, along with Peter, are almost an embarrassment to their countries, as they all belonged to, what were once secret branches of their respective governments.

  Hayato stares at the doorway to his office, his senior officer’s back is retreating into the distance. I am to take Chokichi with me? Now that’s odd! It’s also odd that he would be here this late as well. Frowning at the perplexing situation, he picks up his phone, and in a brief conversation, makes arrangements for both of them to fly in the morning.

  Radclyf is extremely surprised when Paul and Henry meet him at his locker. Paul stares firmly at Radclyf, cheekily saying, “Did you really think you could get away, without us knowing?”

  Radclyf grins, “I’m just doing a little sightseeing you know, be quite boring really.” He lifts his eyes to the ceiling, as if there were actually someone listening to them.

  Henry shrugs his shoulders, “Well, I almost feel as if they don’t want me around here anyway. Besides we’ve all got tons of leave, may as well use it. Don’t you reckon Gov?” He turns to Paul at the question, and bumps his elbow playfully.

  Paul nods his head in agreement, then shrugs his shoulders at Radclyf, “Besides, our leave has already been approved. What else are we going to do?”

  Radclyf shakes his head slowly from side to side, “Right oh then, the last ferry leaves in few hours. No gear, civvies only.”

  Location:

  Luxembourg Palace

  Paris

  France

  The two older men stroll through the well kept gardens, they casually and quietly tip their hats as others walk by. Both men, though well advanced in years, walk with energy and purpose in the evening light.

  The oldest of the pair, Anton, breaks the silence, “I’m not sure of the wisdom in giving the Russians the information we obtained from our operative aboard the Terran.”

  The second man, Gilles, pauses, then gazes off into the distance before replying. “I understand your concerns my friend, but the report contained nothing that they would not have already known.”

  “That is probably true,” Anton replies. “Besides, perhaps the Russians will give us a copy of their report,” he adds skeptically.

  Walking on, Gilles abruptly changes the subject, “I seriously doubt we’re strolling through these gardens at night to discuss this particular matter, however.” He turns his gaze to Anton, then raises his eyebrows questioningly.

  “Quite, quite.” Anton glances around to make sure they are alone, and then speaking in a subdued tone, states his concern. “It has come to my attention that the renegade Radclyf, and two of his men have boarded a ferry bound for France.”

  Gilles sighs, “Ah yes, I am aware of this.”

  “WHAT!” Anton says loudly, then quickly glances around to see if anyone heard his outburst. Regaining his composure, he says with disbelief, “You knew of this, and have done nothing?”

  Gilles stops walking again, then smiling at his old friend says, “Please do not think me the fool, they’re being followed.”

  Blinking in disbelief, Anton asks, “You do not wish to have them arrested and tried for their crimes?” He is flabbergasted at the composure in Gilles’ voice.

  Gilles, still smiling, replies, “That would draw unnecessary public attention to the facility they attacked, and perhaps the research being conducted.”

  It is Anton’s turn to sigh, “Does our intelligence agency have any idea as to what they’re up to?”

  Gilles frowns, “No, and more disturbingly, I have just received a report that Hayato, along with one of his team members, has booked a nonstop flight from Tokyo to Berlin.”

  Anton’s jaw drops as he wonders. How does he get his intelligence? With conviction he states, “This can’t be a coincidence.”

  Giles nods in agreement, and adds, “Which is why I have already placed agents at the destination airport, and informed those who are watching Cindy to be on alert.”

  “Good,” Anton replies.

  “Should we keep our Chinese allies appraised of these developments?” Giles asks, as they continue their walk.

  Anton pauses at the question, then says with a slight hesitancy, “I would rather wait and see what develops. This may be nothing, but I seriously doubt it.”

  The two men continue to stroll around the gardens. Their discussion ranges from the starship Terran, to France’s new aircraft carrier, and then finally on to more personal matters. Both men complete the evening laughing happily, as they recount the antics of their grandchildren.

  Location:

  Deutsche Academy der Wissenschaften

  (German Academy of Sciences)

  Halle an der Saale,

  Germany

  Cindy should be happy, but she is barely content these days. Her position has been all but reinstated, along with a massive office, and a large team of geneticists at her disposal. The current project is the spores that infected them aboard the Terran. Initially, she is alarmed to discover that the spores caused permanent brain damage to everyone. But as their understanding of the spores expands, she becomes more puzzled than alarmed.

  It took a few days of wrangling, but finally, Doctor Nelson decided to hand over all of his findings. In addition to his research material, he arranges for the transportation of four comatose survivors. The remaining three unfortunate victims are to spend the rest of their existence at the Australian facility under Doctor Nelson’s care.

 
; Cindy stands, dressed in full decontamination gear at the underground facility’s biohazard receiving dock. The infected crewmen are being transported individually, and in total secrecy, each with their own military escort. Someone else decided that four small teams would be less suspicious than one large group. Cindy has no idea who made this decision, nor what methods were employed in transporting the infected. Not knowing these details bothers her greatly. She is still trying to get used to the fact that she does not run everything, and that not everyone reports to her.

  Cindy warily watches over the proceedings, counting the crews silently as they arrive, one, two, three... She frowns, then shrugs her shoulders as she recalls her instructions, I guess the last one will be here later on, she muses.

  But the last team does not arrive, and it never will. Somehow, somewhere between Australia and Germany the small military team, along with its infected victim, vanishes. Cindy informs her superiors, and is perplexed at their apathetic response.

  Radclyf, Henry, and Paul, arrive the next day, once briefed by Cindy, they are equally perplexed at the total disappearance of the team and their living cargo. Once concerns of a worldwide epidemic are allayed by Cindy, she and Radclyf sit down and talk.

  Radclyf has a cheeky grin on his face as he tells Cindy of his trip. “You should’ve seen the French Secret Servicemen that were tailing us. We changed trains at Koln, and noticing that we were being followed, decided to play a little game with them. We boarded our next train, and saw four of them enter the carriage behind ours. Just as the train whistle sounded to depart, we stepped back onto the platform. All four of them rushed to get off the train. We got back on the train as it began to move, and well, it was just hilarious.”

  Cindy shakes her head in disapproval, yet she also has a wide smile on her face, “Aren’t you worried about being followed?”

  Radclyf frowns, “No, are you?”

  Cindy looks at him confused, “Me?”

  “Yes you,” Radclyf says indignantly. “You do realize your every action is being scrutinized by,” he pauses, then coming up with a random number, continues, “at least twelve spy agencies from around the world.”

  Cindy blinks in feigned surprise, “Actually, I didn’t think I was that popular, besides I have been too busy to pay any attention to that kind of stuff.”

  Radclyf stares at her in disbelief, this woman managed covert operations, she must be joking, he concludes, then relaxes.

  Cindy’s face breaks into a broad grin, “Gotcha!”

  “Yeah you got me,” he says reluctantly, “for a second anyway.” Cindy is one smart woman, he gazes at her for a few more seconds, damn attractive too.

  Cindy catches his gaze, then, while smiling says, “Get your mind off it, and tell me why you’re here.”

  Radclyf’s smile vanishes instantly, to be replaced by the cold steely features he has when focusing on a dangerous mission. “I am to wait here for twenty-four hours. Hayato, if he is coming, will be here within that time.”

  Cindy raises her eyebrows in surprise, then quickly puts two and two together. Her eyes narrow as she realizes why they are meeting at her facility. “I still have the means to get you out of here, unseen, but I no longer have the authority to provide military equipment.” She shrugs her shoulders, “I guess they don’t trust me as much as they used to.”

  Radclyf smiles again, “Oh I’m pretty sure Peter will be able to come up with something.”

  Cindy rocks back in a chair, “Ah, now it all comes together. I feel sorry for whoever you’re after, they have no chance.”

  “Revenge is normally not my style,” Radclyf states with conviction, “But, I owe it to the world, as well as my friends, to see to the end of that evil cult, Malak’s hand.”

  Strange Bedfellows

  The brightly colored tour bus, Cindy’s idea, crosses the Polish border into Belarus with ease. The Belarusian border police quickly and efficiently check everyone’s passports, then wave the bus on. Arriving safely in Brest, the bus’ forty-six passengers, men, women, and children, disembark. Happy couples, including Radclyf and the dark-haired woman holding his arm, take photographs of the picturesque sunset. She points excitedly at various buildings, takes more photos, then in her enthusiasm, gives him a quick peck on his bearded cheek. The thick glasses he wears, along with the dark brown contact lenses, have been giving him a headache. But he has to admit, even he can barely recognize the others.

  The five men, Radclyf, Paul, Henry, Hayato, and Chokichi, disengage from the tourist group, then make their way to the city’s train station. Their overnight journey from Brest to Smolensk, in Russia, takes them through the popular cities of Minsk and Orsha. Again this was Cindy’s idea, being a common train route, she felt they could hide in plain sight. Radclyf and Hayato eventually agreed, especially considering the tour bus leg, and the doppelgangers that Cindy has arranged to wander around Berlin. Once the train leaves Orsha, they remove their various disguises and discard the evidence outside the train as it rattles on into the night. With their task at the Belarus border being complete, they retain their fake passports, carefully concealing them.

  The men take turns maintaining a watch throughout the night, while also taking advantage of the train’s sleeping compartments. Arriving at Smolensk, they are refreshed, and ready for their next leg. Two taxis whisk them to Smolensk’s North Airport, where a twin engine charter plane awaits them.

  Stepping aboard the small aircraft, they are surprised by who awaits them. Peter grins from his chair, holds up a glass and says, “Welcome aboard the ‘Technoavia Rysachok Petrovich’ my friends.”

  Radclyf glances around the small plane, then motions to the cockpit, “Where’s your pilot?”

  Peter’s grin expands, “I thought you could fly anything. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

  Radclyf steps into the cockpit, then familiarizing himself with the controls, says, “You know, it would help if everything wasn’t in Russian!”

  Peter replies, admonishing him, “A plane’s a plane, let’s get into the air.” He taps a small map, indicating their destination.

  Radclyf nods his head in confirmation, “Buckle up then.”

  Flicking a series of switches, Radclyf fires up the plane’s engines, its propellers spin quickly. Five hours later, and eleven hundred miles away, Radclyf dips the plane down below the clouds. The Khankala air base in the Chechnya province sprawls out below them.

  Radclyf stares at Peter doubtfully, “You want me to land, without even contacting ground control?”

  Peter smiles, “Correct,” he states simply.

  Radclyf gazes down at the military base incredulously, “Won’t they just shoot us out of the sky?”

  Peter raises an eyebrow, “I hope not. It would be a waste of a nice little plane if they did.”

  As Radclyf lands on the runway he is still baffled, and wonders incredulously, no one even contacted us, this is very odd.

  Peter leads the group off the plane, then stretches his aching bones. Off in the distance, a motorcade of vehicles approaches at high speed. Hayato turns to Radclyf and shrugs his shoulders, they are both perplexed.

  A black limousine style vehicle pulls up near Peter. An older man wearing numerous insignia steps from it. Radclyf’s eyes widen as he recognizes the man’s rank, what the blazes is a Russian Colonel doing here?

  The Colonel salutes Peter, then failing to get a response, drops his arm.

  Peter pulls a leather wallet from his pocket, and reveals its contents to the colonel. The man visibly blanches at what he sees, causing Radclyf and Hayato to exchange another series of confused looks.

  Peter hands a list it to the Colonel, “I require the following items.”

  The Colonel gulps as he quickly reviews the list, “it will be done immediately, of course.”

  “Oh and Colonel,” Peter adds in an almost casual tone, “we were never here.”

  Only when the Colonel nods, does Peter finally offer him a salute. With
in minutes, the group is alone again, the convoy of vehicles hastily retreats into the distance.

  Radclyf turns to Peter, a frown on his brow, “Are you going to show us what it is you have?”

  Peter grins, “I don’t know, I have been having a lot of fun with this thing,” he says patting his jacket.

  Hayato shakes his head slowly from side to side, “That’s why we weren’t shot down, and that’s why we didn’t have to contact this airport, isn’t it?”

  Peter shrugged his shoulders, “You guys spoil all the fun,” he says teasingly. Reaching into his jacket, he takes out the leather wallet and tosses it to Radclyf.

  Radclyf, then Hayato, inspects the contents of the wallet. Both men are suitably impressed. Paul, Henry, and Chokichi also take turns examining the wallet, each either raising an eyebrow in surprise, or nodding in respect. Hayato examines Peter’s Red Star one more time, then hands it back to him. Offering a light bow, he says with admiration, “I don’t expect they hand those out at the local store.”

  Peter chuckles, “No they don’t, but this thing certainly does open doors.”

  The group of men chuckles at Peter’s joke, while off in the distance, a single vehicle approaches at high speed. Often compared to the American Hummer, the Russian Tiger has seen many recent changes. Its powerful turbo charged diesel engine rumbles as the vehicle pulls up beside them. A solitary soldier exits the vehicle, walks toward Peter, and salutes. The others in the group wait while the two men converse in Russian. A second vehicle, a six wheeled truck, stops next to the first. Two men jump out of the truck, then quickly begin unloading crates, weapons, and boxes, which they place on the runway. Fifteen minutes later, all three men get back into the truck, and leave.

  The six men stare at the huge pile of equipment, Radclyf whistles, “Wow, are we going to start World War three?”

  Peter turns to look at Radclyf and deadpans, “Perhaps we will.”