A Vow to Sophia Read online

  Onja watched the tiny numerals spinning in her optics, her breath coming faster. Her threat board was still clear. Maximum optimal range was five thousand miles, and she was closing on fifty-four hundred. As the numerals spiraled downward she took a deep breath, let half of it out, and gripped her laser control.

  Landon felt a rising sense of alarm, as if things were happening beyond his control. This whole thing felt wrong, somehow; he'd engaged the Sirians twice before, both times at close range with asteroids all around him. This was different, and scary. His gunner sounded very sure of herself, but she'd never done this before, so was he making a mistake by trusting her?

  Landon almost jumped as a laser beam flashed above him, streaking out across space toward the enemy he couldn't see. It flashed again, then again.

  "Goddammit!" he shouted. "What the fuck're you doing!"

  The laser flashed a fourth time, then he heard his gunner issuing orders to the AI.

  "Input! Shields up, full Ladar sweep, execute! They've seen us, Major! Full power! Let's get the rest of them!"

  He heard the turret whining.

  For a dumb five seconds he could hardly believe his eyes. His Ladar went to full power and his HH was suddenly alive with enemy signatures. He counted fourteen, and saw ghosts of four others that looked as if they'd been destroyed.

  "Range forty-nine hundred! Let's go, Major! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

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  

  

  by

  John Bowers

  AKW Books

  Washington

  An AKW Books eBook

  Published by Kalar/Wade Media

  Copyright 2009 by John Bowers

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by AKW Books, an imprint of Kalar/Wade Media, LLC, Washington.

  You are granted a non-exclusive license to this work. You may make copies or reformat it for YOUR OWN USE ONLY. You may not resell, trade, nor give this work away.

  Created in the United States of America

  First Publication: January 2009

  Second Publication: February 2010

  Third Publication: November 2011

  Fourth Publication: September 2013

  Cover design & composition: Howard Milligan

  Cover art: Joseph Bowers and Howard Milligan

  Photography: Mayer George

  Star background: Sololos

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the imagination of the author and any resemblance to any real person, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The name “AKW Books” and the AKW logo are trademarks belonging to Kalar/Wade Media, LLC

  Dedication

  For their inspiration and encouragement, to my high school English teachers:

  1963 Mrs. Marsha Helland, Tulare Western High School

  1964 Mrs. Willie Tomlinson, Tulare Western High School

  1965 Miss Prudence Oleson, Tulare Western High School

  1966 Mr. G. Douglas Palmer, Caruthers Union High School

  Acknowledgements

  Janey Milligan, the very first person to read (the very first draft of) A Vow to Sophia

  Victory Crane, for starting SF Novelist.com workshop

  The writers at SF Novelist, including (but not limited to) the following: Don Muchow, Daniel Needles, Goeran Kilbo, Richard Womack, Thierry, Bruce Davis

  Bruce Davis, for turning me on to Kalar/Wade Publishing

  Al and Verna of AKW Books

  My wife Faith, and the kids: Ian, Joseph, Erin

  Prolog

  Monday, 3 October, 0214 (Post Colonial Calendar) — Reina, Vega 3

  Adam Pedersen was about to commit treason.

  He mounted the marble steps and strode toward the main entrance of SE Headquarters. A Confederate guard was on duty at the door, crisp and impressive in his gray uniform. Adam ignored him as he stepped through into the cool interior. The automatic weapons-scan bathed him in blue light for a brief instant. He turned right toward the Civilian Affairs desk, stopped and stood waiting until the uniformed woman deigned to look up at him. She was new at the desk, but her clear blue eyes held the same superior disdain common to everyone in the SE.

  "Yes?" she said finally.

  "I need to see Major Buckner."

  "And you are?"

  "Adam Pedersen."

  "Is Major Buckner expecting you?"

  "No."

  Her eyes narrowed with suspicion; she spoke briefly into her headset, then nodded.

  "Major Buckner will see you immediately."

  Adam didn't bother to thank her; it would be words wasted. He rounded her desk and headed down the corridor toward Buckner's office. Buckner was the liaison between Adam's company, NordTek, and the Sirian Space Fleet.

  Buckner might as easily have been at home watching the Glads on a holovid. He slouched back in his chair with one boot on his desk, a glass of Lightning in his hand. His ebony uniform was slightly rumpled.

  "Pedersen, come on in!" Buckner bellowed as Adam entered. "Take a seat. Something must be wrong; you never come to see me unless you want something."

  "I could say the same to you, Major." Adam didn't smile. He detested Buckner and everyone else who wore the ebony. Buckner was about thirty, stocky, slightly florid, and outwardly jovial, but that was a cover. His real personality was much darker.

  "So what's the occasion? Care for a shot of Lightning?"

  Adam ignored the offer and remained standing in front of the desk.

  "My daughter is missing," he said bluntly.

  Buckner was taking a sip of Lightning and didn't answer immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at the slender blond man before him.

  "That so?" he asked finally.

  "She's been missing for three days."

  "Why are you coming to me?" The joviality was gone, the voice now low and wary. "Sounds like a matter for the police."

  "I've been to the police. To them it's just one more tick on a dog's ass." Adam had learned that colloquialism from the Sirians themselves. "They have hundreds of missing-girl reports, so one more isn't going to excite them."

  "And you came to see me because…?"

  "Because I know you, Major. I do business with you. I thought perhaps you'd do me the favor of looking into it."

  "I'm not in law enforcement, Pedersen. I'm in military procurement. If I were to get involved I'd be off my official turf. Not to mention that I have neither the time nor the resources to look for your girl."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. I figured that, since the SE is the primary occupation authority on Vega, you might be able to light some fires under someone. After all, this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. When I agreed to build components for your fighters I was assured that my family would be exempt from this sort of thing. That's the only reason I signed on."
<
br />   Buckner watched him as if he were holding a bomb. "That's the only reason?"

  "You didn't really think I was loyal to Sirius, did you?"

  "I rather hoped you were loyal to Vega…."

  "I was, but that Vega no longer exists. The SE has let me down, Major. First, my wife and my oldest daughter were taken as slaves, in spite of their 'exemption', and now my only remaining child has disappeared."

  "I already explained about your wife and the other girl," Buckner said. "It was a special order. Special orders supersede exemptions. It's regrettable, but I can't do anything about it."

  Adam only stared at him.

  "So how do you figure the Sirian Elite Guards is responsible for the little one going missing?"

  "Well, I think it's rather clear that some of your men probably took her. After all…"

  Bucker's boot slid off the desk and hit the floor with a thud. He straightened up angrily.

  "Bullshit, Pedersen! If the girl had her exemption card with her, no SE man would dare touch her! We're very specific about that."

  "It's what the SE does, Major. They take slaves. If one of them needs a couple of bodies to fill out a shipment, you think an exemption card will make any difference?"

  "Damn right I do! We have rules." Buckner glared for a moment, then reached for a stylus. "How old is your girl?"

  "She just turned twelve.”

  “Well there you are. We don’t take slaves younger than thirteen.”

  “Not even for a special order?”

  Buckner scowled. "Give me the information and I'll see what I can do." He looked up. "But don't get your hopes up, awright? If she's been gone for three days, odds are you'll never see her again."

  Adam swallowed visibly, blinking the emotion from his eyes.

  "What's her name?"

  "Onja. Onja Pedersen."

  * * *

  It was midnight when Adam peered out from an alley to check for curfew patrols. Across the street, outlined against the night sky, the Temple of Sophia sat majestically atop a pyramidal mound of earth, surrounded by lush gardens and gushing fountains. Marble steps led up to it on all three sides, and Adam made sure the street was clear before he hurried across and began the climb, starkly aware of the ringing sound his shoes made against the marble. Both moons were up, one in full phase, casting a silvery light from two directions. Had it not been for the danger of discovery, he'd have enjoyed the beauty.

  He reached the temple and stepped between the pillars, entering the Sanctum, where he descended the steps between rows of seats to the dais in the center. Goddess Sophia stood proud and serene, her multi-hued garments rippling with color and light, her eyes seeming to follow him as he approached. Incense burned at her feet, and candles flickered around the base of the statue. Adam reached the dais and knelt on one knee, ducking his head as he made the Sign of the Cult, a triangular motion that touched both shoulders and his heart.

  "Bless this endeavor, Sophia," he said quietly. "Grant success to my mission. Sophia's tears."

  He stood, gazed up at the goddess for a moment, then turned. When he entered, the Sanctum had been empty. Now two people approached, one a woman of indeterminate age, the other a young girl. The girl gazed up at him with wide, sky-blue eyes, her porcelain features clouded and unhappy. As the girl approached, the woman stopped a few feet short, her eyes on Adam. She appeared serene and untroubled. Adam knelt again as his daughter stepped up to him.

  "Daddy, I don't want to go!"

  Adam took her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. His heart swelled as he took in her innocent beauty: the snow-blonde hair, the blue eyes, the full lips, the tears glittering in her eyes.

  "It's done, Onja," he said huskily. "I already reported you missing. You have to go now, or everything will be lost."

  "Daddy, please! I don't want to leave you! You are all I have left!"

  "Onja —"

  "Daddy, I have to stay! I made a vow!"

  "What kind of vow?"

  "A vow to Sophia. I vowed to find Mother and Sonja and set them free!"

  "Honey, you shouldn't have done that."

  "But I did! And now I have to follow through. If you send me away, I won't be able to keep the vow!"

  Adam looked up at the priestess, but she said nothing, though her lips moved silently as if chanting a prayer. He hugged the girl briefly and kissed her again.

  "Onja, listen to me. I love you more than you will ever know, but you absolutely must be on that ship tonight. It may be the last chance to get you off the planet. The money is already paid; the SE is already notified. If you're discovered… Onja, if they find out I lied to them I'll be executed! Do you know what that means?"

  Tears spilled down her cheeks and she nodded.

  "Why did you do that, Daddy? Why do you want me to go? You didn't have to do that! I want to stay with you!"

  Adam's heart fractured a piece at a time as he heard the pain in her voice. For just a second he almost told her the real reason, but stopped himself just in time. She was too young for that, too young to understand. He'd promised himself at her birth that she would never know, and he wouldn't go back on that promise now.

  Yet the ties had to be cut. As painful as it would be, knowing the truth would be much worse.

  "Because," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, "if you stay, they’ll take you too. I couldn’t bear that. I’d rather live without you than see you taken like that.”

  He stopped. She was sobbing harder now.

  “I don’t care. Please, Daddy!”

  "Onja, just go! Be safe, be happy, live your life. Forget about me; forget that stupid vow! Go to Terra and live free!"

  A sharp, metallic sound echoed from the entrance and he stood quickly, fear stabbing him. The priestess wrapped her arms around the girl as a solitary Sirian soldier descended the steps. Adam turned to face him, his heart pounding.

  The soldier stopped a dozen feet away, his rifle slung, one hand on his sidearm. "Adam Pedersen?"

  "Yes."

  "Misty sent me."

  Adam almost collapsed with relief. He released his breath explosively, then regained control and glanced up at the entrance.

  "Did you come alone?"

  "Yessir." The soldier was young, not more than twenty. He glanced at the sobbing child. "This the girl?"

  "Yes. Everything has been arranged. Misty briefed you?"

  "Yessir."

  "And you've been paid?"

  "Yessir."

  "Do I have your word as a Sirian —" He almost choked on the next word. "— gentleman — that you won't harm my daughter?"

  "Look, Mr. Pedersen, we're not all a bunch of foamin'-at-the-mouth baby-killers, awright? I got a little sister about the age of that 'un there, and I sure as hell would kill any sumbitch tried to harm her. Yew unnerstand?"

  "Yes. Thank you."

  The soldier nodded. "We best git goin'. That ship won't wait forever." He crossed the dais to where Onja stood, drawing a pair of E-cuffs off his belt. "I'm sorry about this, Missie, but if anyone sees us you best be wearin' these." He gently turned Onja around, pulled her arms behind her back, and snapped the cuffs in place. The girl trembled in terror.

  "Daddy!"

  "Go with him, Onja. We can trust him. He'll get you to the spaceport."

  "Come on, sweetheart." The soldier started to lead her away. She jerked free and stood back.

  "No! No, I don't want to go!"

  "You best keep the cryin' down, honey," the soldier said. "Too much noise attracts attention."

  "Onja —"

  "Daddy, noooo!"

  "Sophia scorn, Onja!" Adam yelled. "Do what you're told for once, will you! Get out of my sight!"

  Adam Pedersen would carry to his grave the look in his daughter's eyes at the sound of his betrayal. Her tears still fell, but she was silent as the Confederate soldier led her up the steps into the moonlight. When she reached the top she didn't look back.

  Adam watched her go with fr
actured ice in his blood. Tears now fell from his own eyes.

  "Good-bye, my baby!" he murmured. "Be safe. Sophia's tears."

  Book One: Induction

  Chapter 1

  Wednesday, 9 August, 0220 (PCC) — Denver, CO, Terra

  "Gonna be a war, Johnny."

  "Yeah, I know." Johnny Lincoln ducked under the nose of the QuasarFighter and checked the steering jets, then emerged on the other side to check the Pitot tube. His walk-around complete, he straightened to his full five feet ten and took a deep breath. Six white-tipped warshots rested in his missile tubes, three on each side; he could see two of them through the plastene covers over the launch tubes. With any luck, he'd only need one. The gun turret was recessed and locked down; the QF was configured to carry a gunner, but this mission didn't require one.

  Lee Hatley, the middle-aged line tech and former test pilot, closed an access panel where he'd been checking the LOX pressure, and walked around where Johnny stood. "Word on this morning's holonews is that the Sirians walked out on the peace talks last night." Hatley shook his head grimly. "I don't like the sound of that."

  The Sirian Confederacy had originally been settled by White Supremacists from North America. Now, centuries later, they were threatening the entire settled galaxy.

  Johnny took another deep breath and released it, his brown eyes scanning the sleek fuselage of LincEnt's latest fighter, shining in the glare of floodlights. He shook his head ever so slightly.

  "Not my problem, Mr. Hatley," he said. "My job is to make sure this baby will work if we do get into a war."

  "When we get into a war, you mean. It's gonna happen. Your dad predicted it twenty-five years ago, and he was right."

  "Yeah, well, fuck him. When was he ever wrong about anything?"

  Hatley laid a friendly arm across the young pilot's shoulders.

  "Come on, Johnny. What's with you and Oliver? I never understood it."

  Johnny gave the older man a grimace, shook his head, and shrugged.

  Hatley wisely let it drop. "You ready to rock?" he asked.

  "I think so. Everything checks out, but seems like I'm missing something. Just nerves, I guess."

  "Relax, Johnny. This thing is just about perfect. You've worked nearly all the bugs out of it."