Connor's Gambit Read online

  Connor’s Gambit

  By

  Z. Gottlieb

  Copyright © 2016 Z. Gottlieb

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise without permission of the author, copyright owner. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  I want to thank Susan Lennon for the beautiful digital painting that she did for my book cover. Connor’s Gambit is her first book cover and I am thrilled with the job she did.

  I want to thank my family and friends who supported me during the past four plus years to write this book. I would like to thank my first readers John Thorp, Karen Elliott, and Pamela Kleibrink Thompson who provided me with both recommendations to make the story better and encouragement to reach this point where I could publish it for others to read.

  I want to also thank and dedicate this book to my husband, Bruce, who consistently supported me through the process, allowing me to write and never complaining about my lack of vacuuming or not making dinner. In addition, he kindly helped me with the last round of editing, supporting me again when he could have devoted more time to our taxes. It sincerely means more than the simple words I have stated on this page. Thank you for being in my life.

  Prologue

  Staring through the shuttle porthole next to him, Admiral Velslun Griken watched the fleeting dark shadows on the ground. Amongst the shadows flickered occasional streams of electrically powered lights from the primitive planet below. With the Fleet’s current conflict cycle, the stress he had long felt was now showing on his face. The Aneplé conflict was all he thought about lately. Without drastic change, the conflict and the stress would only get worse.

  This was Griken’s fourth conflict. He feared not only were the repetitive battles getting old, but also the Fleet was not up to the challenge this time. The Council of Interplanetary Governors or CIG had sent him on this errand to this backwater planet to change the direction of the conflict. He doubted it would make a difference in the conflict’s outcome. Again peering into the porthole, he saw the grim expression harden into visible anger. Griken turned away and reclined, his seat automatically adjusting to his body’s new position. Yet he could not relax, thinking about why he was on this planet.

  Griken closed his eyes, thinking about the treaty that was signed fifteen solar cycles ago between the CIG and the Aneplé Alliance, after the last conflict. The treaty included a disarmament agreement, reducing weapons and platforms. However, the Aneplé insisted upon a treaty addendum listing key individuals to be demoted or retired. Victim number one on the Aneplé’s list was CIG’s Fleet Admiral N’Klaftin, Griken’s mentor, who questioned the wisdom of entering into the treaty.

  Admiral N’Klaftin had been right. CIG was now suffering the consequences of the flawed agreement. The admiral had been close to predicting the future when he said, “It’s unlikely the Aneplé will accept the losses or terms in the treaty. It won’t be too long before they return. When they do, they will be ferocious.”

  Thinking about the recent damages and losses, Griken was furious with the bureaucrats at CIG who had allowed the Fleet to deteriorate to its current state. At least they were now recalling to service the more effective battle leaders whom they had previously agreed to discharge.

  Griken had been tasked with convincing the admiral to return to the Fleet. He knew the admiral well enough to know it would take more than just Griken to convince him to return. The visit might be a waste of everyone’s time. In addition, since arriving at the planet, Griken had his own professional concerns on the wisdom of trying to convince N’Klaftin to return to the Fleet, since the admiral had chosen to exile himself to a primitive planet under “observation”. At least Griken now understood why he had not heard from N’Klaftin or his daughter, Nee. He derived his affectionate nickname for her from her last name rather than using the same name as her father. They obviously were not in a position to tell him they had settled on a planet that had not been announced yet. If they had wanted to maintain contact, they would have chosen a different planet that would allow easier communications.

  Griken turned and gazed back out of the shuttle’s porthole. Other than the shuttle’s low-pitched hum, he found the shuttle uncomfortably quiet. Needing to distract himself, he turned his attention to the tablet on his lap and placed his index finger on it. A small hologram of Rnuefcan System with its ten planets and satellites appeared above the tablet. He tapped and gestured through a few of the war-gaming maneuvers his staff had sent him.

  Griken shook his head in frustration as he watched the ship icons exploding on his hologram. His concentration was definitely off. He was also failing miserably at attempting to keep himself busy before they arrived at their destination. Unable to focus on the upcoming deployment, he gave up, and gestured to the hologram to disappear into his tablet. Griken checked his internal chronometer and was relieved the pilot would have them at the destination fairly soon.

  Commander Kiraine Janeque finished reviewing the Fleet notifications and turned back toward Griken. “Admiral, I have prioritized the Fleet’s notifications that have arrived since our transit to this planet. I have forwarded a few to the Department Chiefs for action and your tablet for information. They do not require your immediate attention.”

  “Good, I’ll review them when we return to CIG space,” Griken responded. “Any word on the situation in Elstanis Sector?” Commander Janeque’s home planet was located there. The Sector’s planets were centers for agriculture and had been categorized as having little strategic value to the Aneplé. Given its distance from the Aneplé borders, the sector had been left unprotected. There had been no indication the planets were at risk. Both CIG and the Fleet were taken by surprise when the Aneplé chose to attack there and easily overwhelmed the planets’ defenses with minimal force. The Fleet responded to the incursion by sending two squadrons to the sector to reclaim the planets.

  Kiraine, barely holding her voice steady, “Admiral, the news is not good. The squadrons have been unsuccessful in dislodging Aneplé’s foothold in the Elstanis Sector. It looks like a loss of near thirty-five percent tonnage at this time.”

  Griken looked at his aide’s reflection on the windshield, staring intently at her pad. Pain filled her voice. While he didn’t have specific information on the commander’s f
amily, the Aneplé were infamously cruel in their mistreatment of prisoners, whether military or civilians. The Aneplé’s interest in the agrarian planets baffled Griken. “Commander, when we return to the battle cruiser I’ll ask Intelligence, off the record, if there is any word on the status of the civilians.” Griken was aware Kiraine had already heard of her family’s disposition when she self-reported the Aneplé contact. She shared with him she had been told they were alive and in good health at the time. The unwanted contact had made it clear her family’s continued good health would depend upon her actions in the future. The Fleet’s responses to the Aneplé’s current activities had been one disaster after another. Elstanis looked to be no different. Griken didn’t want to dwell on the Aneplé contact’s insinuated threat to his aide.

  “Thank you, sir,” Kiraine responded quietly.

  The pilot announced, “Admiral, I have located our targets. They were not at the designated landing site. The primary target is in the middle of a body of water. I’m currently hovering over him.”

  That’s odd, thought Griken. The station commander had assured him the pilot had sent advance communications and the admiral would be expected at the normal landing site, not someplace surrounded by water. “Can you land near him?” Griken asked while staring down into the blackness below. He wondered if the pilot or his aide could see anything below them through the front windshield.

  “Sir, I don’t recommend a water landing at this time. I can’t guarantee it would be safe. I don’t have enough familiarity with this body of water to know if I have the appropriate safety equipment. The sensors aren’t showing anything remarkable in the area other than a small watercraft. I’m concerned about the lack of lighting in the area.”

  “I can’t see a damn thing back here. Can either of you see anything through the front windshield?” Griken took a deep breath, filled with frustration. If this mission was that critical, the station should have provided him with a fully equipped shuttle. “Is there an area nearby where you can land safely?” Griken continued to look out of his porthole.

  “Sir, there are several areas nearby I could land the shuttle, but they are not secure. I can, however, provide you with a visual,” the pilot offered.

  “Follow protocols,” Griken ordered as he turned to face the screen attached to the back of the pilot’s seat. Griken could not believe what he was seeing. This was going to be a catastrophe.

  His aide, who was monitoring the sensors, asked, “Sir, do you think a rescue is needed?”

  Griken was not sure what was stranger, seeing the former Fleet admiral sprawled out on a chair holding a box, unconscious and oblivious to the shuttle, or considering if he should rescue him. As odd and disturbing as the sight was, he wasn’t convinced the admiral needed rescuing at this time. N’Klaftin looked visibly aged from living on this planet; he may have shut down the rejuvenation function in his chip. What an utterly foolish thing for him to do, since breaks in rejuvenation occasionally resulted in long-term damage related to aging. Griken had a fleeting thought that CIG was crazy to want him back, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he met with the admiral face to face. Griken wondered if going native had taken a toll on the admiral. This really could be the end for the old dragon. “Commander, are you getting any readings on his vital signs?”

  “Admiral, he appears to be sleeping. However, there is a native next to him on the craft.”

  This is getting better and better, Griken thought before he barked the order, “Wake him up, now.”

  “Sir, you want me to wake him up?” the pilot asked.

  “Yes. Now,” Griken ordered again, frustrated he had to repeat himself.

  The pilot turned on the shuttle’s bright landing lights and held them on the admiral for about thirty Earth seconds. Commander Janeque observed, “The pilot’s actions appear to have elicited a response. Admiral N’Klaftin’s vital signs are currently normal.”

  Griken was relieved, but he questioned the protocols the pilot had followed and wondered why she didn’t send an encrypted message to his chip. “Good, get us out of here. I want you to land at the original landing coordinates and remain in stealth mode when you land. I’ll wait for the admiral to show up.”

  “Yes, sir,” the pilot responded.

  Kiraine stared at the monitor watching N’Klaftin and the native quickly shrink as their vehicle flew away from the lake. Kiraine wasn’t convinced the answer to the Fleet’s problems would be Admiral N’Klaftin. Nonetheless, the Fleet needed a shot in the arm.

  Chapter 1

  The light crisp breeze continued to cool the clear night air, giving Brad Johnson an unobstructed view of the night sky. Staring at the vastness of space, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect viewing condition. Well maybe if he was viewing it from the Mauna Kea Observatory in Hawaii or in his Cessna. As far as he was concerned, this was almost as good, considering his location to the nearest town. Brad leaned back in his chair and stretched his shoulders back as he yawned. If he weren’t careful, the soft wind whispering past him and the easy rocking of his boat, Miss Lily, would lull him to sleep. Brad smiled thinking how fortunate life has been for him. He couldn’t ask for anything more. He had a great family, a boat, a plane, and a company he owned with his wife and brother-in-law.

  Brad glanced at the ripples across the dark lake. Either the fish were not interested in his new lures or the lake hadn’t been fully stocked with fish. While it would have been nice to have caught something, as his father had taught him, night fishing was more about spending time with his family and friends and savoring the cool nights, a respite from the day’s oppressive heat. Sitting on the boat was therapy, allowing him to recover from the office work with its constant phone ringing and emails. At the lake, his mind could relax and meander through the worlds of “what ifs.” He never felt his time on the lake was wasted; his better-patented ideas came to him while just staring at the sky either on the lake or on the golf course near his home.

  Brad could have spent all night on the lake. He glanced over at his brother-in-law, Connor, asleep in a chair a few feet away with the spotlight precariously balanced on his lap pointing down toward the boat’s deck.

  Sighing, Brad recognized it was time to call it a night, especially when his “safety net” of an extra set of eyes and ears was not functioning. Their wives, who had set up a mini-camp near the pier with their children, were probably ready to go home, too. The four of them rotated the parental duties to give everyone “lake” time. Tonight happened to be Connor’s and his turn. He treasured the nights when his wife Shinny and he would fish together, but those evenings often didn’t result in many caught fish, either.

  Brad wasn’t upset at Connor for trying to catch a few winks. Thinking about the thirteen years he had known Connor, this was one of those rare moments when he wasn’t working. Brad suspected Connor, always planning, working hard, was watching and waiting for something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the “something” might be. So, he chose to believe Connor’s attentiveness was related to growing their business. Since high school, when he met Connor and Shinny, Connor’s twin sister, who was now his wife, Brad had known they were both overachievers, working constantly at every task they took on. Over time, Brad came to realize Connor’s overachieving was more than just making sure a job was well done. Brad hadn’t understood that attitude in high school. Over time, as he became more aware of Connor’s abilities, he learned to view it as a combination of a special type of awareness and take-charge demeanor. Connor’s ability to plan, along with his need to follow up on everything straight to the finish had been key components to his personality. In the process, Connor swept up Brad, dragging—or was it pushing—him along? Brad didn’t put much thought into it. Trying to analyze something that didn’t need to be analyzed would just give him a headache.

  Not wanting to spend any more time on the lake, Brad stood up and stretched his 6’4” frame. At times, his size seemed overwhelming on his small boat especially wh
en he was fishing with Connor, who was as tall as him. He pulled in his line quietly to let Connor get in a few more winks. He laughed quietly, thinking how Connor and Shinny seemed different when he first met them. Both of them came across smart and industrious, but oddly ignorant of common things. How he laughed at Connor’s disappointment upon learning the drinking age was twenty-one—six more years before he could legally have a beer—or never having heard of trick-or-treating. At the time he had wondered what planet New York was on if the drinking age was fifteen and there was no trick-or-treating.

  He was preparing to leave when a low humming sound began overhead, a sound similar to an incandescent light bulb filament about to blow out. Brad was perplexed since the sound wasn’t natural to Miss Lily or any other boat docked on the lake. He looked around trying to figure out what was making the sound. As the humming increased in intensity he looked around the lake again. He had a gnawing feeling someone was watching them, although the lake looked as empty as when they had first arrived. Brad was about to wake Connor up and ask him what he thought of the sound, when he looked up at the sky. He gasped.

  An airborne wedge floated directly over the boat, illuminated with an eerie green light that was pulsating with the humming. The soft translucent green lighting of the wedge was not reflecting on the lake. Brad did a double take; was what he was seeing real? He couldn’t be sure it was ever possible for light to be contained in a specific area, but that was the reality before him.

  What was that thing? Brad pulled his ball cap off and craned his neck further back trying to get a better view. It wasn’t any type of American military aircraft, unless it was experimental. A foreign power probably wouldn’t fly this far inland, as there were no military facilities nearby. He wasn’t aware of any aircraft that looked like that and could hover like that. Okay, a helicopter could hover like that, but that definitely wasn’t a helicopter. It didn’t have any rotors. From the shape and the way it was hovering, he wondered if it was even from this planet.