Hello everyone I hope that you are having a glorious day. My new novel, the Mojave Kid is now on presale until January twentieth twenty twenty-four. Order your copy now while it is only ninety nine cents. After its release date the price will go up. The Mojave Kid is a prequel to my novel, Tale Spinner and the start of an exciting new series. Check out the brief description below.
They say that truth is stranger than fiction-but then again one man’s truth is another man’s fiction.
When sixteen-year-old John Jamison wakes to the sound of a gunshot in the middle of the night, he rushes outside to help his father fight off a band of bushwhackers who are attacking their farm in Missouri. The bushwhackers kill John’s father and bash John in the head with the butt of a rifle. They burn down their cabin with John’s mother, his little brother, and his sister inside. While John is unconscious, they steal all the livestock plus they take their hired hand, a freed black man known as Mr. Tibbs, and head south to sell the livestock and to sell Mr. Tibbs as a slave.
When John recovers he heads south to take revenge and to free Mr. Tibbs. John’s quest will draw him into the Civil War take him down to Texas then to the High Desert of Southern California where he will have a violent confrontation with Clay Beckett and his band of bushwhackers. Along the way, John fights off hostile Indians, helps drive cattle to Denver, and becomes a man. Along his travels, he starts to realize that things are not always as they seem and begins to doubt the very foundations of his existence.
Click the link below to order.
Check out the first chapter of the Mojave Kid.
Chapter One
A loud gunshot woke sixteen-year-old John Jameson from a sound sleep. He heard loud voices coming from outside of the log cabin. Rolling off his straw mattress he jumped to his feet. Dressed in his cotton nightshirt, John ran out the doorway of his bedroom and down to his parent’s room. His heart pounding he saw his mother leaning against the headboard of her bed holding John’s eight-year-old blond-headed little brother and his red-headed little sister to her breasts her eyes wide with fear.
“What is it, Momma?” John asked.
“Bushwhackers. Don’t go out there. Let Poppa and Mr. Tibbs handle it,” his mother pleaded.
John paused for a second. His momma rarely called him John. Most of the time, she called him Johnny. Anger surged through him as he charged across the room to the wooden box in the corner of the room where his father kept his 1851 36-caliber Navy Colt. “Did Papa take his Colt?”
“No, he took the shotgun,” his momma said, trying to comfort the younger children.
“Papa will need my help. I’ll be damned if I let some damned bush whackers raid our farm.”
Grabbing the Colt he ran for the front door. Cocking the pistol, he banged open the door. An evil-looking mountain of a man with long greasy hair and a wicked scar that ran from the center of his forehead and across his right eye stood with a rifle pointed at his father. Goosebumps beaded up on John’s exposed skin. Another one of the bushwhackers rushed up from Mr. Tibbs’ small cabin holding a revolver against the back of the middle-aged black man’s head. Five more sat on horseback with bandannas covering their faces.
“Put the gun down, Mister. We’re confiscating the livestock and we’re taking this nigger!” the man yelled. A cold breeze tickled John’s face.
“You can take the livestock but leave my man here! He’s not a slave. I bought him from his former master’s estate! I gave him his freedom! He works for me! He’s a free man!” Ron Jameson, John’s father yelled.
The man with the gun on Mr. Tibbs pulled his arms behind him and tied his hands together.
“Imagine that! A free nigger!” One of the men on horseback said.
“I ain’t lettin’ you take him!” Ron Jameson yelled.
“Shoot him Clay!” a redheaded man with stringy hair sitting on horseback yelled.
“No, Papa!” John said charging forward.
“Johnny Boy don’t!” Mr. Tibbs screamed. He struggled to get free, but the man behind him brought the butt of the revolver down on the top of his head knocking him out cold.
“Johnny, get back!” his father hollered.
John fired off a wild shot that buzzed past the big man’s head, his father started to raise the shotgun, but the big man on the ground fired his rifle, hitting Ron Jameson in the center of his forehead. A rifle bullet tore through his head splattering blood bone and bits of brain matter onto the cabin’s front door. The big man turned his rifle toward John, but by that time John was almost on top of him so he smashed the butt of the rifle up against his head. The Navy Colt went flying and John’s world went dark. He fell to the ground in a state of unconsciousness.
Clay Beckett glanced around. “Gather the livestock, and tie the nigger to one of the horses. We’ll sell the livestock in Nashville to the bluebellies and sell the nigger down south. Then set fire to the house. Throw that Yankee campaign hat on the ground along with one of those Yankee uniform shirts. Most folks in this part of Missouri have Southern leanings. We’ll make them think that some Union boys bid this.”
Ten minutes later, with the Jameson cabin and barn ablaze the bushwhackers rode southeast toward the Mississippi River as a full moon shined down over the town of Hannibal Missouri, and the surrounding countryside.
***
John came to as the sky turned purple in the east and stabbed its warm fingers across the land. Dry crusty blood covered his face, his head throbbed and his stomach churned. Shivering from the cold, he rose to his knees but then fell back down. The smell of burnt wood filled the air. On his hands and knees, he threw up the contents of his stomach. Struggling to his feet, he stood on shaky legs taking in his surroundings. His father lay where he fell. The cabin and barn were burnt to the ground. He stood in a daze for a few seconds. Then he thought about his momma and his little brother and sister. “God no!” he said to himself and ran through the hot ashes of the house. Burning the souls of his feet, he ran back, found the Union Army shirt, went to the well, tore the shirt in two, and soaked both pieces in water. After wrapping the wet pieces of cloth around his feet, he headed back to what was left of the log cabin. Sifting through the rubble, he found the bodies of his mother and siblings. John carried them away from the cabin and laid them next to the body of his father. He picked them up one at a time and carried them over to an old oak tree that offered shade. Finding an old shovel leaning against the pole corral where they kept the livestock, he carried it over to where he left the bodies. He stuck the blade of the shovel into the dirt, and only then did the tears begin to roll down his face. He was halfway through digging his father’s grave when he heard a wagon pull up into the front yard.
“Ho!” a grey-headed old man in the wagon box yelled pulling back on the reins. John looked up and saw, Mr. Kirkpatrick along with his wife Fran, and their two daughters. Alisa was fourteen with straw blonde hair. Polly Ann was twelve with dark brown hair and green eyes. Their son Todd, who was one year younger than John, jumped down from the bed of the wagon. Mr. Kirkpatrick owned the neighboring farm a few miles down the road. He climbed down from the wagon box and hurried over to where John struggled, digging in the stony ground, limping on his bum leg. “Johnny. What happened? We saw the smoke and came as fast as we could.”
John paused, wiping tears and dirt from his eyes trying to control the fury rising inside him. “Bushwhackers. They kilt Pa, fetched me upside the head with a rifle butt, and set fire to the cabin with Momma, Jimmy and Becky still inside. They took Mr. Tibbs.”
Mr. Kirkpatrick laid a hand on John’s shoulder and felt a shudder pass through the boy. “Johnny, go over to the wagon and let Fran tend to your head. I’ll dig these graves.”
John shook his head and started digging once more. “No, they were my kin. It’s my job.”
“At least let me help. Go over to the wagon and let Fran see to your head.”
John nodded and set the shovel aside. Mr. Kirkpatrick reached his hand down, John took it and Mr. Kirkpatrick helped him out of the hole. “Go on now. Let Fran and the girls tend to that head. Get some water too.”
When John reached the wagon, Mrs. Kirkpatrick held out her arms. “Come here you poor thing,” she said pulling him to her breasts. “How can people be so cruel?” When she held him against her womanly flesh, the tears started once again. “It’s going to be all right Dear. Let it out.”
The girls gathered around and put their arms around him. Tears rolled down their cheeks. “I’m so sorry Johnny,” Alisa said. Todd stood back his eyes wide. He glanced over at the bodies on the ground.
“I’ll go help Pa with the burying,” he said.
“No you don’t, Todd Kirkpatrick. You say right here,” his mother said.
By the time Mrs. Kirkpatrick and her girls had finished cleaning the wound on John’s head and bandaging it, Mr. Kirkpatrick had finished digging the first grave. Mrs. Kirkpatrick sent Todd over to the well to fetch another pail of water. She put the dipper down into the pail and gave John a drink.
“Son fetch them blankets,” Mr. Kirkpatrick said and grabbed another shovel from the bed of the wagon. John and Mr. Kirkpatrick turned and headed back to where the bodies lay.
“Pa I want to help,” Todd said.
Mr. Kirkpatrick paused turning back around. “No Son. Me and Johnny will handle this. You stay with your mother and sisters.” Mr. Kirkpatrick helped John wrap the body of his father into a blanket and lower it into the grave. “You fill this one in and I’ll dig the next hole.”
After they had finished filling in the last grave, Mr. Kirkpatrick put his arm around John’s shoulder and led him back toward the wagon. “Son with this war goin’ on there’s so much evil in this world. I don’t know why the good Lord allows it. Our farm is only three miles down the road. It very well could have been us that the damned Bushwhackers hit. I could have been lying dead on the ground like your Pa.”
John brushed the sweat out of his eyes with the palm of his hand. “But it wasn’t. It was our farm. Their tracks lead toward the river. I’m going after them sons of bitches.”
“In your nightshirt? Son you’re dirty, you’re tired and sweaty, you got no clothes or no shoes. Come back to the farm with us. Todd’s got some old clothes that you can wear, I’ll have Fran heat you a bath and then fix you up something to eat. I have a tanned deer hide that I can make you a pair of moccasins from. You stay with us. After we get back to our place I’ll ride into town and speak with the constable. We’ll let the law handle this.”
“It seems to me that there ain’t much law in this part of the country.”
“Ain’t that the truth? With half this state on the side of the Union and the other half, on the side of the Confederacy, trash like the ones that kilt your family think they can run hog wild.” John sighed and climbed into the wagon bed. The girls sat on either side of John and put their arms around him. He breathed in their fresh scent. Todd leaned up against the wagon’s tailgate.
“You can stay in my room with me. I got some old clothes that might fit you,” Todd said.
“Thank all you all,” John said. Mr. Kirkpatrick picked up the reins and hollered at the mules. The wagon started to move when John saw sunlight reflecting off something metal lying on the ground. “Hold up a minute!” he yelled and then jumped to the ground. He ran across the yard, bent down, and picked something up. He turned back around carrying his father’s Colt and headed back to the wagon. They arrived at the Kirkpatrick farm a short time later. Mrs. Kirkpatrick ordered Todd to kindle the fire in the wood stove and instructed Mr. Kirkpatrick to bring in the old cast iron bathtub. She had the girls bring in buckets of water, transferring the water into a few cast iron pots, and started heating them on top of the wood stove.
After Mr. Kirkpatrick brought in the tub, Fran looked at John. “You might as well take off that nightshirt and get into the tub.”
John looked across the room and noticed Alisa and Polly Ann watching him from across the room. “Turn around,” he said, feeling warmth rising in his cheeks.
“Oh don’t mind them. They’ve seen Todd butt naked a time or two,” Fran said. “Besides, who do you think is going to fill the tub?” John stripped out of his nightshirt and set his father’s Colt on the floor next to the tub.
“Old woman I think I’m going to saddle up one of the mules and take a ride into town to speak with the constable. I’d like to know what he’s going to do about these Bushwhackers.”
“Fat chance of that lazy no account doing anything about it,” Fran said. Mr. Kirkpatrick left. Todd had the fire blazing. “Todd, go fetch John a pair of your old pants and a shirt. You two are nearly the same size.”
Once the water on top of the wood stove was hot, the girls carried it over to the tub and poured in the water. John covered his private parts. “What’ch you two lookin’ at?”
Both girls laughed. “Looks like a little dried-up piece of pork sausage. Tant nothing we ain’t seen before,” Alisa said. John blushed. After several more trips with the water pots, the tub was full. Fran tossed John a bar of soap and he washed the grime off his body. Fran handed John a course wool towel and he dried off. He noticed the girls watching him again. “Turn around.”
They both giggled and took their time doing it. John put on a pair of home-spun trousers and an old cotton shirt. He picked up his daddy’s Colt and tucked it into his waistband. A short time later, Mr. Kirkpatrick rode back up to the farm with the constable from Hannibal. Mr. Kirkpatrick stepped into the cabin. “Johnny, would you step outside for a moment?” John followed him out to the front porch. “Johnny I expect you know Mr. Crawford here?”
“Just in passin’,” John said.
“Tom here is the town constable.”
“Son, I am truly sorry about what happened to your ma and pa,” Crawford said.
“Sorry don’t bring them back.”
“It surely doesn’t. Son, could you tell me exactly what happened?” John told him. “Is there anything else you can remember? Did they call anyone by name?”
John paused. “After they fetched me upside the head with the rifle, I was fadin’ in and out. I could hear ‘em talkin’ but it seemed far away. Someone may have mentioned the name, Clay Beckett. They said something about heading to Nashville.”
The constable’s face turned grave. “Let’s go take a look at the site,” the constable said.
“Son, stay here and get some rest. You don’t need to go back there,” Mr. Kirkpatrick said.
“Yep, you let us handle it from here,” the constable said. A few minutes later, the constable and Mr. Kirkpatrick rode out to the Jameson farm. They stood surveying the ground.
“The tracks lead down to the river,” Kirkpatrick said.
“Shawn, you know as good as I do that these bushwhackers are long gone.”
“Yeah, but if you don’t form up a posse and at least try, they’ll get away for sure. Next time it could be my family. At least now you have a name.”
“Clay Beckett is an evil son of the bitch. Half of these people around here cover for ‘em, It’s catchin’ him that’s the problem.”
“You can’t catch him if you don’t go look,” Kirkpatrick said.
“I got the town to think of. My hands are tied.”
Kirkpatrick shook his head. “Tell that to that boy who lost, not only his momma and papa but also his little brother and sister.”
Kirkpatrick arrived back at the farm with an angry look on his face. He stormed into the kitchen but when he saw John his eyes softened. “Son, why don’t you come out onto the porch and we’ll fix up them moccasins while the women folk are cleaning. Todd, why don’t you come with us? We’ll fix you up some too.”
Todd and John took a seat on the front porch while Mr. Kirkpatrick went to the barn for the deer hide. He had John step on the hide and then traced the outline of his feet. Using an old buffalo skinning knife, he cut out the sections of hide and then had Todd step onto the hide. Once he had enough pieces for two pairs of moccasins each, he cut out strips of hide to sew the pieces together. They spent the rest of the morning punching holes in deer hide and then sewing the top pieces and the bottom pieces together. By the time they were through, each of the boys had two pairs of deer skin moccasins. John and Mr. Kirkpatrick sat out on the porch talking after they finished making the moccasins.
“That constable ain’t going to do nothin’ about what happened is he?” John said.
Mr. Kirkpatrick sighed. “No Son, he’s not, He says he’s got the town to think about.”
“I figured as much.” A crow cawed overhead.
“Son, I want you to relax. Enjoy our home and try not to think about all of this. You could stay here and become part of our family.”
“They took Mr. Tibbs. He was like family.”
“That was a good thing that your papa did. Buying’ Mr. Tibbs after Maxwell Tibbs died. Matthew was born on that farm and took his master’s name. When your pa bought him and gave him his freedom, Mr. Tibbs chose to stay on at your farm, so I can see how you would come to think of him as family, but right now you need time to grieve. When I was in town I talked to the minister. On Saturday, he’s going to come out and say a few words over the graves. Half the town will probably be there. After that, we’ll talk again about what comes next.”
John had supper with the Kirkpatrick family that night. Mrs. Kirkpatrick cooked up a pot of venison stew. It was quite good, but John scarily noticed. Now that the shock had worn off, the grief and anger set in. That night they sat around the fireplace and Mr. Kirkpatrick read from the Bible. When he read a passage that said, vengeance is mine says the Lord he looked up at John. John looked down at the floor. Not this time. This time vengeance belongs to me, John thought.
Finished with the bible reading Mr. Kirkpatrick stepped outside to have a smoke from his pipe while Mrs. Kirkpatrick made a place for John to sleep in Todd’s room. That night as they turned off the coal oil lamps and everyone settled in for the night, John tucked his Father’s Navy Colt underneath him and tried to go to sleep, but sleep was long in coming. His mind played over and over again the events that transpired back at the cabin. He knew that the bushwhackers headed south and he remembered them saying something about Nashville, but what if by the time he made it down to Nashville, they were gone? For that matter how was he supposed to get down to Nashville? Maybe if the damned bushwhackers hadn’t of stole the horses I would have a chance, John thought as he drifted off to sleep.
***
John was anxious and irritable for the next two days. He wanted to get on the road. Alisa tried to pull him into the barn and steal a kiss, but he pushed her away. When he told Todd of his plans to go after the bushwhackers, Todd wanted to go with him.
“You can’t go. Your papa needs you here on the farm. You need to keep a sharp eye out in case those bushwhackers come back,” John said.
“Papa can take care of the farm. If we get down south I might join up with the rebs.”
“I thought my papa could take care of the farm too, but those bastards killed him. I’m gonna kill them all.”
“If you do, whatcha gonna do then?” Todd asked.
John paused. “If I can get the stock back maybe I might come back here and rebuild the cabin. Maybe not. I haven’t decided yet.”
Saturday morning they gathered to say a few words over the graves of John’s family. John was surprised at how many people showed up. They arrived in their buggies and wagons. Some were local farmers and others were people from town. The minister rambled on saying something about the Lord giving and the Lord taking away. No reverend, the Lord didn’t have a hand in this. He must have been asleep at the reins. The minister rambled on for another half hour. John was starting to get anxious for it all to be over. When the services ended all of the women from the neighboring farms had to hug him and tell him what a poor thing he was. The people from the neighboring farms and the people from town gathered at the Kirkpatrick farm afterward. They all brought food and had a potluck dinner. After they ate John and Todd made themselves scarce.
That night after everyone had gone home, Mr. Kirkpatrick built a bonfire in the front yard and invited John to sit with him while he smoked his pipe. The smell of tobacco smoke filled the air. “Son, you know you’re welcome to stay here and live with us. You’d be a welcome addition to our family. I thought the best thing was to let the law handle things, but the law has let us down. I know that no matter what I say you’re still gonna try to go after these people who killed your family. Hell if they’d killed my pappy and momma along with my little brother and sister I’d want to go after them too. How are you figuring to get down Nashville?”
“In the woods down by the river where Todd and I plus a lot of the kids around here go when things are slow on the farm, there a lot of logs lying on the ground. I was thinkin’ on lashing a few together with some vines and float down the river to Memphis.”
Mr. Kirkpatrick paused. “Those damned bushwhackers have a three-day head start, but they’ll be driving lives stock. Livestock has to be fed and watered. Then it might take ‘em some time to find a buyer, all though they might be tryin’ to sell to the Union Army. The Army would buy up the cattle and pigs. They need to feed the troops. They’d also buy the horses. I could loan you my mule, Jenny. She’s gettin’ old and tired though. If you went by river it would take you at least four weeks to get to Memphis. If you wanted to go by the river to Nashville, you’d have to float down to the Ohio River and then head upstream till it reaches the Cumberland. That would take some doin’.”
“Once I get to Memphis If I don’t find them there, I’ll head across the country to Nashville.”
“That will take some time as well. What if you don’t find them in Nashville?” Mr. Kirkpatrick asked.
John paused and looked down at his new moccasins. “Then I don’t know.”
“If that happens you come back here. The evil bastards come up here to raid farms and then take their ill-gotten gains down south to sell. They have to leave a trail. You’re good at trackin’ and readin’ sign. Find their trail and then sit back and wait. Eventually, they’ll come by.”
“That sounds like a good plan, Mr. Kirkpatrick,” John said.
“I’ll have Fran rustle you up a grub sack and bed roll. We’ll give you one of Todd’s old coats, plus I’ll loan you a scattergun. I have some extra paper cartridges and mini balls for the Navy Colt plus some powder and percussion caps. You spend the night here tonight and you can head out in the morning. Try not to get caught up in this war going on down south.”
“I’ll try not to Mr. Kirkpatrick and thank you. There’s one thing that might concern you though. Todd says that he wants to come with me. I told him that you needed him here on the farm.”
Mr. Kirkpatrick took a puff on his pipe. “He’s got it in his head that he wants to go off and fight them Yankees. I’ll keep my eyes on ‘em. Hell, if this war doesn’t end soon both of you boys are apt to get caught up in it. Now why don’t you go in and get some sleep and I’ll fix you up your grub sack and bed roll.”
“Yes ‘em Mr. Kirkpatrick and thank you again.”
“Hell Son. You can call me Shawn. When you get done with this business, you have a place here with us. Now go get you some rest.”
As the sun peaked over the horizon in the east the next morning, the Kirkpatrick family, after feeding him a hardy breakfast saw him off. Mrs. Kirkpatrick and the girls gave him a hug and a kiss. Mr. Kirkpatrick gave him a firm handshake.
“I sure do wish I was going with you,” Todd said.
“You’re needed here,” John said.
“Get that notion out of your head, Son,” Mr. Kirkpatrick said laying a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Remember John when this business is through, you’ve got a place here with us for as long as you want it.”
“Thank you all for what you done,” John said. Their goodbyes finished, John threw his grub sack over his shoulder along with the scattergun and headed across the field toward the woods down by the river.
***
For your further reading pleasure check out the final chapter of the Battle for Europa.
Chapter 25
David Gallagher looked out the porthole to the right of his seat. The submarine descended into the depths of the subterranean ocean. Sweat beaded up, on his forehead. All he saw was blackness for a few seconds and then he saw a flash of movement. Something large, with tiny fluorescent lights covering its massive body, bumped the sub. It caused the captain to steer away from the aquatic mammal. A sense of awe passed through him.
“What was that?” David asked, wiping the condensation away from the porthole so he could get a better look.
“We don’t know for sure. Our scientists think they are mammals somewhat like whales,” one of the guards said. He stopped next to David’s seat.
“What are those lights?” David felt his ears pop when the submersible descended.
“We don’t know that for sure either, but our scientists think they are some type of crustacean. The place is thriving with life.”
“Why haven’t you told anyone? The scientist on Earth would jump through hoops to check this out.” An excited grin crossed David’s face.
“All in due time. We’d like to wait until we get this bit of unpleasantness over with. For now, it’s a state secret.” Two hours later, the submarine ascended. All forward motion stopped and David felt a slight jolt.
“We’re here,” one of the guards, said. “Stand to your feet and prepare to disembark.”
“Where’s here?”
“Mining site D. Your new home.” The guard motioned him to his feet.
The detainees filed down an aisle way, climbed out an exit hatch, and stepped out onto a metal dock. The guards herded them into a turbo lift. The lift ascended for several levels and thirty minutes later, the turbo lift doors slid open.
“Let’s go gentlemen. I’ll show you to your new home,” the guard at the front of the lift said. He stepped out into a busy corridor. The detainees followed and the remaining guards flanked them. Military personnel moved back and forth down the corridor, and everyone was in a big hurry. David heard people talking about an attack. Seeing an open doorway to his left, he stepped through it. The nearest guard, whose attention was elsewhere, didn’t see him. David stepped further into the darkness. His heart was pounding inside his chest and he waited with his back pressed to the bulkhead for the guards to pass. A bead of sweat tracked down the side of his face. He punched the button on the inside of the door and the door closed.
“Computer. Lights on.” Light exploded through the room. He found himself inside a maintenance shop filled with various types of vehicles. All were in states of disrepair. Breathing in the smell of oil and grease, David checked out each vehicle. He found an atmospherically contained Roust About. It was a small tracked vehicle used for maintenance workers on the surface. Someone must have brought it down here for repairs. David punched the green button on the wall next to the turbo lift doors. The doors slid open and he tried the Roust About next. David sat down in the driver’s seat and punched the starter button. The engine roared to life and he moved the Roust About into the turbo lift.
“Which level?” the sultry voice of the turbo lifts’ computer asked.
“Take me to the surface.” The turbo lift doors closed behind him. Twenty minutes later, the lift stopped moving. A large set of steel doors opened in front of him. He shot out of the mining facility and onto the surface. Adjusting the vehicle’s interior temperature, he turned on the vehicle’s GPS, system. A group of buildings was set to the north of his position.
“Now that’s a federal base if I ever saw one. Maybe I can get there and warn them before these damned rebels attack.”
***
Cyrus Bonelli paced back and forth in front of the VID screen feeling too nervous to sit down. The image of Admiral Delacroix filled the screen.
Biting down the taste of acid reflux in his throat Bonelli said, “Admiral. What do you have to report?”
“Mr. President. My marines have breached the main complex. Our airpower destroyed their defensive positions on the surface. Our marines overran their positions guarding the main colony. They are underground now at mining site A. It should be a matter of time.” The Admiral’s com-unit on the lapel of his uniform beeped. “Delacroix.” The Admiral’s face turned ashen. “Are you sure? Yes. I understand.”
“What?” Cyrus demanded. He brought a tumbler of Crown Royal Canadian whiskey to his lips.
“Mr. President. It seems that the rebels sabotaged the entire facility. There was a massive explosion. They destroyed mining site A. All my marines, except for those held in reserve at the base on the surface are, dead, buried under the ice.”
A vein pulsated in Bonelli’s forehead. “Take heart. At least those terrorist bastards died with them. I’m sorry about your men, but they died a hero’s death in service to the council.” Admiral Delacroix’s com-unit beeped once more. He spoke into the earpiece and Cyrus Bonelli thought the Admiral was going to pass out. Cyrus felt bile forming in his stomach. “What now God damn it?”
“Mr. President. That was Colonel Barrow commander of the base on Europa. The rebels had some type of escape plan. Barrow says that the base is under attack. He says that he doesn’t think they’ll be able to hold.”
“Tell him he better hold that base or I’ll have his ass God damn it! Give him air support! Fly in more troops. Give him anything he needs!” Cyrus felt a sharp pain shoot across his chest.
“We don’t have much left to give, Mr. President. Wait for one moment. I’m getting another report. Yes. I see. Take evasive actions. Do whatever is necessary. I’ll be in the war room in two minutes.”
“What else could have gone wrong?” Cyrus felt his left arm grow numb.
“Mr. President, I received word from one of my ships patrolling near the asteroid belt. The captain says that they are under attack by a fleet of New Republic ships coming out of the asteroid belt. He says the rebels have some type of powerful torpedo. It slices right through their energy shields. It produces a yield like nothing we’ve ever seen before. They’ve destroyed ten of my ships so far. The captain of that vessel fled in an attempt to save his ship and crew. The New Republic fleet is on its way in force. I have to go to oversee the battle,” Delacroix said and cut the transmission.
“God damn it!” Cyrus Bonelli roared. He threw a glass tumbler against the glass window that overlooked New York City.
***
Shawn Gallagher sat in his new com-center and war room on mining site D. He listened to the progress over the com-net monitoring the attack on the federal base. His com-unit beeped; he flipped a toggle on his console and spoke into a microphone. “Gallagher.”
“Mr. President. I’ve got bad news. I received word that your brother has escaped,” Holliday, said. His voice reverberated through the small speaker on Shawn’s console.
Shawn banged his hand down hard on the computer console in front of him. “Escaped! How God damn it?” Shawn wiped his brown and leaned back in his seat.
“When we moved the detainees, he managed to steal a Roust About and headed out to the surface. I have a security team in pursuit. They are tracking his biosignal on their GPS unit.”
Shawn tried to get his breathing under control. “But we are about to launch an attack?”
“I know. Our military is setting on go waiting for you to give the word. My security chief thinks your brother is trying to warn the federals.”
Shawn let out a slow easy breath, trying to get his temper under control. “You’ve got the green light for the attack. Launch it at once. My brother is secondary to that. Try to apprehend him before he reaches the federal base.”
“Will do sir. My men are on his ass as we speak.”
“And Jerry,” Shawn said.
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Try not to hurt him, if you can.”
“Yes sir. My men will use the minimal amount of force necessary.”
Shawn sighed and cut the transmission.
***
On the surface, David gunned the Roust About, bouncing over a small hill. He saw the lights of the federal facility in the distance. Minute particles of ice and rock flew up into the air in the vehicle’s wake. Something flashed across his windshield. He looked down at the computer screen on the Roust About’s dashboard and saw the radar signature of five tracked vehicles coming up on his tail.
“Son of s bitch!” David yelled. He gunned the throttle. Tiny ice particles spewed into the air and laser fire hit the left rear wheel sheering it off. The Roust About flipped over turning upside down. He hung upside down in the driver’s seat hanging by his safety harness. Before he could unsnap the harness, five men stormed through the airlock. David looked down into the gaping maw of five M-23 Blasters.
***
Admiral Kesler’s fleet of light cruisers spewed out of the asteroid belt and attacked the flank of the federal main battle fleet firing torpedoes and laser cannons. Their space fighters mixed it up with their federal counterparts. Onboard his flagship, Kesler stood, leaning on the motherboard. He looked down at the massive computer screen occupying the entire surface of a long table. A smile spread across his face.
“Come on, come on, take the bait,” he said holding his clenched fist up close to his mouth. He watched several blips on the screen turn to approach his fleet. A computer console nearby beeped. The bulk of the federal forces turned to engage his fleet. Kesler slapped the lapel of his uniform speaking into his com-link. He opened up a channel to all the ships in his fleet. “Launch the antimatter weapons. Hammer the God damned bastards!” he yelled. On the screen, tiny red blips appeared. The honing device in the warheads locked onto the federal vessels. The antimatter torpedoes tore through the shields. They bore through the hulls of the vessels igniting the anti-matter warheads. Blinding explosions forced the bridge personnel to turn away from their viewscreens. A massive debris field formed in orbit and the space near Jupiter. Three-quarters of the federal fleet perished in the initial onslaught. Admiral Delacroix ordered the rest of his fleet to flee.
***
A haggard image of Admiral Delacroix appeared on Cyrus’ VID screen. In the background, Cyrus saw hustle and bustle. He heard alarms blaring and buzzers sound throughout the ship. “Report!” Cyrus demanded.
Delacroix took a small pill bottle out of his uniform pocket. He tossed back several pills, chewing them up dry. “Mr. President. They deployed some type of anti-matter weapon. Their torpedoes tore right through our shields. I’ve lost three-quarters of my fleet. I’ve ordered the rest of my ships to flee to the asteroid belt.”
Bonelli shook his head. “No God damn it! Tell them to turn and engage!” A vein on the side of his forehead pulsated and a sharp pain shot through his skull.
“Admiral. I’m getting a VID transmission from Colonel Bower. I’ll patch it through.”
The image on Bonelli’s screen split down the middle. The left side of the screen showed the haggard image of Admiral Delacroix. The right side showed the image of Colonel Bower.
“Mr. President. The base is under attack. They have breached the perimeter. My men cannot hold the base.”
Cyrus noticed Bower’s hands shaking. The man is about to break. “They had better hold that damned base or I’ll have you executed! Admiral! I order your remaining ships to turn and fire nuclear-armed missiles at Europa! I’ll turn that moon into so many chunks of ice before I let them bastards get away with this! Tell the so-called president! Never mind! I’ll tell him myself! Patch me through to Shawn Gallagher! If he doesn’t stop this attack at once, I’ll turn the space where Europa once was into a nuclear wasteland!”
***
On the surface of Europa, the New Republic tanks formed up in a parallel line and attacked the federals from the south. The federal main battle tanks came over the earthworks to meet the New Republic forces. The New Republic tanks annihilated their federal counterparts leaving the federal tank force in smoking ruins. Charred bodies and hulks of molten metal littered the battlefield.
The New Republic tanks opened up on the earthworks surrounding the federal base and cleared a path for the infantry. Three hundred yards out, the troop carriers unloaded the troops and they stormed the base. The Federal Marines put up a good fight, but in the end, they were no match for the New Republic forces. With a pathway cleared by the tanks, the New Republic infantry charged onto the federal base.
Shawn watched the scene unfold in real-time at his communication center. He monitored the com-net keeping track of the ongoing space battle. A hopeful grin spread across his face. His com-unit beeped. The following text scrolled across his screen: INCOMING FLASH TRANSMISSION// URGENT. Shawn typed in his coded logged-in on the keyboard and the image of Cyrus Bonelli appeared on the screen. Before Shawn could speak, Bonelli exploded in a triad of rage.
“I demand that you stop this attack at once! If you do not, I have ordered the rest of our fleet to launch nuclear missiles at Europa! I’ll turn your little ball of ice into nuclear slush!”
Shawn laughed. “I wouldn’t try that. We have tanker vessels filled with Hydrogen sitting parked and ready. I’ll have my people put them on autopilot and launch them on a collision course with your ships. This thing is not worth any more people dying. Tell your forces to stand down and surrender.” Shawn leaned forward in his chair.
“Why you insolent bastard! I’ll-” Cyrus heard a noise off-screen. Five men in security uniforms barged in with their guns drawn. A short little man with a bald head followed. “What is the meaning of this? I demand-”
“Cyrus Bonelli, you are under arrest for issuing unlawful orders and for contempt.” Cyrus tried to resist but the security personnel took him to the ground and drug him out of the room in restraints. The short little baldheaded man looked up at the viewscreen.
“I assume you are Shawn Gallagher?”
Shawn nodded and leaned back. “I’m Gallagher, president of the New Republic.”
“I am Floyd Bidwell, interim President of the Council of Economic Unions. Please call off your attack. Tell your forces to stand down. No one else has to die.”
Shawn let out a sigh of relief. “I will if you will.”
Bidwell nodded. “Consider it done. I’m contacting the military commanders now.”
Shawn contacted his military commanders. He ordered them to stop their attack but stand ready. “I put the attack on hold, for now.”
Bidwell clasped his hands in front of his chest. “Mr. President I am prepared to offer Europa a position as a nation-state. You will have full representation on the Council of Economic Unions.”
Shawn shook his head. “No sir. We are a free and independent sovereign nation.”
Bidwell sighed. “Very well. We are willing to grant you your independence. We need to get the Hydrogen and Helium three flowing. I am arranging a peace conference. What are your terms?”
“Have your naval personnel evacuate Jupiter Spacedock. I and two other delegates will meet with your admiral and vice-admiral there.”
Bidwell began to pace back and forth. “Agreed. Representatives from Consolidated Mining would like to discuss trade issues. Other companies would as well.”
“Agreed. I would also like to discuss immigration issues. We have people here who have family on Earth. They would like for them to immigrate to Europa to join them.”
Bidwell nodded and stopped pacing. “We will discuss this at the conference. There is also the issue of the detainees you hold.”
“Once we reach an agreement, I will release them into federal custody. After that, all your ships and military personnel will leave the Jovian system.”
“Agreed. How does zero eight hundred hours tomorrow sound for the conference?”
“Agreed,” Shawn, said trying not to show any emotion.
“Once we reach an agreement sign it and you make copies for yourself, send it over the net. The council will have a look at it and vote whether or not to ratify.”
“What happens if they don’t like it?”
“No one wants to see hostilities resume. They may try to clarify some issues and renegotiate some terms,” Bidwell said.
“Right now you are not in a position to demand terms.”
Bidwell found a seat. “It’s only a formality. I’m sure it will be minor issues if any. The members on that council live to debate.”
“All right. Tell Delacroix I will see him tomorrow morning at zero eight hundred hours.” Shawn ended the transmission.
On the ground, the New Republic forces stood down. They went into a defensive mode. The remaining federal troops occupying their HQ hunkered down to wait. The New Republic general in command of the infantry allowed the federals to see to their wounded. In space, Admiral Kesler disengaged from the remains of the federal main battle fleet. Admiral Delacroix began the evacuation of Jupiter Spacedock. The forces facing each other on the battlefield and in space seemed to let out a collective sigh. They hoped that the politicians would reach an agreement.
The federal troops and the New Republic forces fortified their positions while they waited for word from the peace council. They used the time to care for the wounded and attend to the dead. In space, both fleets faced off with each other, but no one fired a shot. Both navies used the time to affect repairs and care for the injured. Seventy-two hours after the start of the peace accord, they announced an agreement. President Gallagher and Admiral Delacroix stood before a VID screen and made the announcement. Solar One News immediately transmitted it throughout the solar system.
On the surface of Europa, New Republic ground forces occupied the federal base. The Federal Marines surrendered their weapons and turned themselves over to New Republic control. The remaining federal battlecruisers landed shuttles on Europa. They ferried their troops, along with the detainees, back to the waiting ships. Shawn and his security detail entered the shuttle port. The last to leave the surface of Europa was the detainees. They put on their EVA suits preparing for the walk to the shuttles waiting outside. Shawn caught up with his brother David while he was putting on his EVA suit. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into staying?” Shawn said, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat.
David sighed and shook his head. “Our destinies lay on different paths. You know, when this all started, I hated you for what you did. I didn’t understand it. I don’t hate you anymore. I love you man. You’re my brother.”
“I love you too bro.” Shawn grabbed David in a big bear hug. He pulled away after the hug and wiped his eyes.
“I still don’t agree with what you’ve done, but I understand it. If things were different, I may have even joined up with you guys, but for now, I’ll stick with the Federal Marines.”
Shawn laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I talked with Admiral Delacroix. He told me that the rebels destroyed your old outpost on Mars. There were no survivors. I know you must have lost some friends.”
“Yeah,” David said thinking about Paul Rosenbaum.
“I also told the admiral about your desire to attend robotics school. He said that you have a good record, except for a minor incident involving a fight over a card game. He said that if you agreed to sign up for one more hitch, the military would give you a waiver on your GI rating. They’ll send you to robotics school. They allow military personnel some leeway on their genetics.”
“Thanks. I’ll give that some thought when the time comes.” They talked for a few minutes and said their goodbyes. Shawn watched David cross the tarmac. The detainees arrived on their ships and the remnant of the federal main battle fleet turned their noses toward home. On the surface of Europa, pilots boarded taker ships and lifted off. A cargo fleet carrying hydrogen and helium-3 broke orbit with Jupiter and started their long journey toward Earth.
Shawn and his security detail entered the main assembly hall. Thunderous applause greeted his arrival when he made his way down the center aisle. Miners, military personnel, and government employees greeted him along his way. People patted him on the back and shoulder; Shawn stopped to shake a few hands. He stepped up onto a podium to join the other dignitaries. Reporters shouted questions.
Shawn cleared his throat, trying not to let his voice crack when he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen. The New Republic is now and forever will be a free and independent nation. We are going to send ambassadors to Earth. We will have full representation on the Council of Economic Unions. Not as an independent nation-state, but as a sovereign nation.” Loud applause and cheers interrupted his speech. A grin spread across Shawn’s face. “Next store, in the reception center, we are going to hold the wildest party that anyone has ever seen.”
“Mr. President. What about the future?” a New Republic reporter asked.
Shawn stepped closer to the edge of the platform, closer to the crowd. “I envision a new Europa. Not a rough mining colony, but a modern utopia where we can raise our kids. I envision factories producing goods. Bio domes with botanical gardens underneath. Complete neighborhoods where we can live and grow into a thriving colony.”
“What about mining site A?” another reporter asked, raising his hand.
Shawn crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I would like to build a granite wall around the collapsed mining site. I want the names of every person who died there engraved on the wall. We must never forget their sacrifice. The other portions of the colony damaged by the fighting will be rebuilt.”
“What about our families back on Earth?” another reporter asked.
Shawn crossed the platform to look into the man’s face. “It’s part of the peace accords. The CEU had agreed to let our families immigrate.”
“What about your future with the CEU? Do you think your battle for freedom is over?” a Solar One News report asked.
Shawn spread his arms apart. “Our battle was for Europa, but that’s one thing about freedom. Once one group obtains it, others want it. What does the future hold? Who knows? Tomorrow the battle could be for Mars or Earth. Now it’s time to celebrate,” Shawn said raising both fists into the air. “Let’s go next store, enjoy some good food and some cold beer, because freedom rocks!” The crowd rose to its feet in thunderous applause. Shawn stepped down from the podium. He headed down the center aisle, with his security detail flanking him. The citizens of the New Republic followed.
####
Dave the Miracle Maker 