After Moses: Wormwood Read online

  AFTER MOSES

  Wormwood

  Michael F. Kane

  After Moses Wormwood

  by Michael F. Kane

  www.michaelfkane.com

  © 2020 Michael F. Kane

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: [email protected]

  ISBN: 978-1-7341723-2-4

  Cover by Evan Cakamurenssen

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Parent’s Guide

  Chapter 1: The Warlord of Metis

  Chapter 2: Lanterns in the Firmament

  Chapter 3: Allies and Enemies

  Chapter 4: Harbor of Disquiet

  Chapter 5: The Spider’s Clutch

  Wormwood: Part 1

  Chapter 6: The Eye of War

  Chapter 7: Heartbeat

  Chapter 8: This Mortal Coil

  Chapter 9: Splintered Bonds

  Wormwood: Part 2

  Chapter 10: Summer’s End

  Chapter 11: Machinations

  Chapter 12: Merely Human

  Wormwood: Part 3

  Chapter 13: Scylla and Charybdis

  Chapter 14: Devils at Odds

  Chapter 15: The Gates of War

  Chapter 16: Mere Humanity

  Wormwood: Part 4

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Author Bio

  Acknowledgments

  As always I must thank wife, Heather Kane, and my mother, Stephanie Kane. They’ve both spent countless hours in editing and for that I am forever grateful. How they’ve put up with three of these things at this point is beyond me.

  Next I must thank my writing group. Jordan Kincer, Conner Poulton, and Nathan Hewitt have read, critiqued, and given me a hard time when needed. I’m quite sure After Moses would not exist without these guys.

  Finally, I must say thank you to the God that made me. Being a creator, He saw fit to make me in some ways like Himself. Made in His image, I too have the desire to craft new worlds with the breath from my lips.

  Parent’s Guide

  I include a parent's guide in my novels to let parent’s know what kind of content their kids are reading. By all means skip this if you you’re not in that category. Potentially minor spoilers ahead.

  Violence

  Typical science fiction violence. Gunfights, physical scuffles, and ship battles. One character is shot and attended by a doctor. The wound and treatment is described in realistic terms. A graphic death in a previous book is retold.

  Language

  Infrequent mild language, limited to hell, damn.

  Alcohol/Tobacco/Drugs

  A few scenes take place in bars where alcohol is present. Characters have a wine over dinner.

  Sexual Content

  Nothing of note.

  Other Negative Elements

  Yhe story centers around terrorism and corruption in government. Evil men are after all drawn to the corridors of power...

  Chapter 1: The Warlord of Metis

  The Ceres Incident marked the beginning of a new age, or perhaps the ending of the old. The detonation of a nuclear weapon over the dwarf planet opened the eyes of the colonials to the fact that the universe was changing. Pieces that had been slowly shifting into position for many years were now in play.

  The solar system would soon succumb to the chaos.

  The story of mankind isn’t a story of nations or politics, at least not entirely. It’s a story of individuals and how they shaped that history through the centuries. A story of ambition and pride, love and loss. And in those days, bitterness. Bitterness as civilization ground to a halt and loved ones were caught between those great wheels.

  But this is not a story about the end of humanity. For those trapped in the web of that era were extraordinary men and women. Rather, it is the story of how one age of history gave rise to the next and the hardships endured in the birthing pains.

  As in the Ceres Incident, the crew of the Sparrow was again the fulcrum on which things turned. As they began a new phase in their journey, they were caught between the twin hammers of the colonial governments and the Abrogationists.

  But that is a story we even teach to children now.

  Aleksandra Iwanski

  Author of The Ages of Humanity

  Died 204 AM

  “SO WHAT WAS THIS GUY’S name again?”

  Matthew Cole turned to look up at his partner, Abigail Sharon. Her exo-suit shone pale in the half-light. “You were at our briefing. You know his name.”

  She scratched the back of her head. “I don’t know. I think I’ve forgotten.”

  He turned back to the imposing stone wall in front of them and the squat keep beyond. Framing all of that, the enormous disc of Jupiter filled the sky, a gigantic sentinel from this close vantage point. Say what you want about Metis, but Jupiter’s closest moon of note had a spectacular view of its massive overlord. It blotted out seemingly half the sky. The striped reds, oranges, and whites of the gas giant’s endless storms wove a hypnotic pattern across its surface. Metis, an irregular lump of dirty ice a little less than forty miles at its widest, spun its way around Jupiter at a ridiculous speed. Matthew dreaded looking at how much fuel it had taken to match orbit with the dust speck.

  “You haven’t forgotten, and you know it well,” he finally said.

  Abigail chuckled. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

  He groaned. “You had better get this out of your system now because you’re going to get us killed once we step into those walls.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just say it once with a straight face.”

  He frowned. “His name is Warlord Dan, and he—” Abigail snickered. He just raised an eyebrow and continued. “And he rules this moon with an iron fist.” He turned and gestured at the small city of thirty thousand they’d just walked through. Filled with crumbling lives and dilapidated brick buildings, it was like stepping back in time three centuries. Electricity was a luxury for these poor souls.

  “I can see that,” Abigail said. “But his name is Dan. And hearing you say Warlord Dan will never not be funny. We’re going to topple this clown, right?”

  He sighed. “You know that’s not the job.”

  “That’s not what you said about that bomb.”

  “This isn’t the same thing,” he snapped. “We can’t fix everything.”

  They walked in silence for thirty seconds. The gate loomed large in front of them as they approached it. Abigail nudged him in the shoulder and nearly knocked him over. “But we can try, can’t we.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that right?”

  “You’re the saint, not me.”

  “I’m not—”

  A bright light flicked on, and Matthew raised his hand to shield his eyes. “Stand where you are!” a voice called from above. “What business do you have with Warlord Dan.”

  Matthew heard the soft exhale from Abigail, but she managed to hold her laugh this time. His gaze lifted to the top of the wall, where a pair of guards held the searchlight on them. He didn’t fail to note the guns trained on them either.

  “We have a meeting with the warlord,” he called out.

  “State your name.”

  He glanced at Abigail. “Freelancer crew. Rex Fisher.”

  There was a quiet moment in which the only thing for Matthew to do was rock on the balls of his feet and worry about the decision to use a fake name. Matthew Cole was a well enough known name after all the trouble at Ceres a few months back that they doubted the warlord would agree to the meeting. Which meant inventing an imaginary freelancer named Rex of a
ll things. Ridiculous.

  “Alright. We’ve got you here. Stand where you are when the gate opens.”

  The giant steel door in front of them slowly parted with the groan of old hydraulics. Four more rifle-toting guards stood in the gap. “No need for the hostility,” Matthew said. “We’re here on invitation of the warlord.”

  The lead guard walked up to Matthew and stood entirely too close for comfort. Matthew regarded the uniformed thug with a cool eye. His pressed green military uniform was clean and neat, but he could see signs of wear at the cuffs of the sleeve. Then the stench of alcohol hit him in the face.

  The man sniffed loudly and backed up. He gestured to his men. “Disarm them.”

  Matthew stiffened, but then obediently handed his revolver to the scraggly bearded guard that reached for it. The man stowed it in a pouch on his hip. If things went badly, Matthew would have to figure out how to retrieve it. Which hopefully wouldn’t be necessary. Ideally, there wouldn’t be any shooting. Unless Abigail got her way, that is.

  “Umm... What about her?”

  Abigail crossed her arms. Matthew shoved a thumb in her direction. “She doesn’t go without the armor.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The youngest looking guard was staring at her armor with wide eyes.

  “It means she’d be just a head in a jar without the armor. Do you want to be the one carrying the head?”

  Every set of eyes turned to Abigail. She shrugged. “It’s true. You can carry my shield for me, though.” She pulled her shield from her back and tossed it to the nearest guard. The heavy steel nearly took him to the ground. She gave him her sweetest smile and walked toward the open gate.

  The head guard didn’t look pleased. “Hold it right there. I didn’t say that—”

  “There’s like twenty of you,” Abigail said, giving her eyes a lazy roll. “At this point, you’re keeping the warlord from his busy schedule.”

  The guard turned to Matthew. He only shrugged. “Don’t look at me. She doesn’t listen to me either. She’s right about one thing, though.” He gestured at the gate. “Time’s wasting.”

  He left the befuddled guard and followed Abigail. Given the state of the town behind them, he’d expected a barren fortress of stone and steel. Instead, the interior courtyard was filled with flowering plants, smooth polished columns, and flowing water.

  “Must be a man of fine tastes,” Matthew muttered to Abigail.

  “It fits what we know of him,” she whispered back.

  A man in a distinctly old-fashioned suit and a ridiculous little mustache approached and bowed low. “Greetings, Mr. Fisher. I am Braxton, Warlord Dan’s majordomo. And who is this vision of loveliness that has arrived with you?”

  Abigail giggled. “Name’s Miriam. And this vision of loveliness is Mr. Fisher’s security.”

  Braxton clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Now, if you would please follow me this way.”

  He led them around the central keep through the manicured park area. Matthew noted the mature trees. This place had been well maintained for generations for them to be so old. They passed down a long passage flanked by elms, up a staircase and out onto a veranda. Braxton gestured to a table and chairs. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for His Excellency. He is with the children right now.”

  Matthew resisted the temptation to look at Abigail. So far, so good with the plan. “The children?” he asked, knowing full well what the majordomo meant.

  Braxton smiled. “My master delights in bringing the village children in to see his personal zoo. He has one of the most exquisite collections in the solar system. Perhaps you would like a tour yourself when your business is over.”

  “We might take you up on that offer,” Matthew said.

  “Please, sit and enjoy yourselves. While you wait, may I bring you something to drink? Perhaps a glass of wine from Freeport 12 or...”

  “Two cherry sodas, thank you.”

  Braxton’s lip twitched at that, but his smile never faltered. He bowed once and left. Unsurprisingly, he left the nervous guards. Abigail nodded at the one carrying her shield. “You can just set that down, you know.” The look of relief when he leaned the heavy piece of equipment against the wall was unmistakable. She chuckled and shared a quick look with Matthew.

  He inclined his head a fraction of an inch. For once, everything was going surprisingly well. Now it was Grace’s turn to get to work.

  FOR GRACE, THE MOST awkward part was that she was clearly the oldest member of the tour group. At fourteen, most of the kids were half her age. They were bouncing about and jabbering like the monkeys they were hoping to get to see in the Warlord’s zoo. She shoved her hands into her jacket and shivered. It was cold out here. Frost shimmering on the ground.

  “Where are your parents?”

  She looked up at the guard that had approached her and shrugged. “They dropped me off. Said they had stuff to do.”

  “They are supposed to sign you in.”

  “Okay.” Maybe if she stared at him long enough, it would make him uncomfortable.

  “Are you going to go get them?” He shuffled in his boots.

  She could practically taste the victory. “They’re gone. Look, they can sign the form when they pick me up. Are you going to let me into the zoo or not? The warlord wouldn’t want me to miss it, would he?”

  The guard looked around as if worried someone would overhear. “Fine, just don’t tell anyone. Paperwork is very important.”

  Grace resisted the temptation to say any of the half dozen retorts that came to mind and just smiled serenely. A few minutes later, the group was herded through a small side gate. It was like stepping into a different world. A weird, well-manicured one for tourists, complete with bright colors and signs showing the way to animal exhibits. The guards ushered them across a flagstone courtyard to a small podium. Grace hung at the back of the group, aware that she was at least a head above the next tallest kid.

  A man with a graying beard and monocle stepped up to the podium. “Welcome, beloved children of our benevolent Warlord Dan. He is most pleased that you are here. For on this day, he shares his most precious treasure with you. He hopes that you take great delight in touring the zoo today. Now, do we have any first-time visitors to our Warlord’s collection of Earth animals...”

  A bunch of hands went up, and Grace lost all interest. She kept a loose ear out as he gave a stirring and exaggerated history of Metis, about how, as Moses disappeared and the solar system descended into ruin, Dan’s great-great-grandfather seized control of the Jovian Wildlife Park and Zoo, turning it into a blessed kingdom of peace and happiness.

  There was a word for that level of crap. Actually several, but Matthew had managed to beat most of those creative words out of the crew’s vocabulary.

  Grace quietly marveled at the strange forms all the colonies had taken. This one had been built solely for tourists. A few monkeys and an elephant under a spectacular view of Jupiter was all it had, yet somehow it had managed to spawn a dictatorship. Crazy really.

  “And now our wise and most excellent leader, the Warlord Dan wishes to have a word with you, children...”

  That was Grace’s cue. She turned and stepped over to the nearest guard. “Hey,” she whispered. “Where’s the nearest bathroom?”

  He put a finger to his lips. “You’ll have to wait until after the Warlord’s speech,” he hissed back.

  “I’m not going to make it that long.” She squirmed at her knees to get the point across. “Look, Mr., please. Don’t make a girl wait.”

  He bit his lip. Behind them, the Jerklord had taken the podium and was yammering on about how great Metis was. Grace managed to work out a tear that dripped down her cheek. That did the trick. “This way,” the guard whispered. “We have to be back before the tour starts.”

  He led her around a corner near the entrance to a pair of restrooms. She smiled, full of fake gratitude, and hurried in. She gave a ten count and then cracked open the d
oor. The guard had his back turned. Poor guy.

  She reached out and caught him with her bracelets and threw him into the wall. He dropped like a sack of rice. Grace hurried over to him and rolled him onto his stomach. She pulled his arms behind his back and zip tied them together, did the same to his ankles, and then gagged him. With a flick of the wrist, she lifted him into the air and deposited him in the boy’s room.

  Too easy. The warlord’s speech should be finished at any moment now. She crept to the corner and watched as he bowed politely to the children and turned to go. The bored guards herded the children into the park without any more fanfare, unaware that they’d lost one of their own.

  She crept across the now deserted flagstones and followed after the tour group, taking the first turn in the opposite direction and breaking into a jog. She had a destination to reach, deep within the zoo, and time was ticking.

  YVONNE GAVE JUST A touch to the maneuvering thrusters and frowned at the readouts. This orbit was not working out very well despite all the math she’d done to find it.

  “Hey Yvonne,” Davey called into the comm. “Why are we drifting?”

  One final touch of the thrusters and they settled into the corrected orbit. “Because Metis is way too close to Jupiter. If there’s a true geostationary orbit for us to park in above that keep, I don’t have the numbers to crunch it. There, is that any better?”

  There was a long pause. “It looks like it. No, wait. We’re drifting again.”

  She grumbled and pulled up a screen of orbital information again. The plan had been for them to park in orbit above as overwatch, with Davey in the Sparrow’s rear-facing thumper. They would keep it trained below on the off chance that things went badly. Despite how small Metis was, and how subsequently low that orbit was, it was still a long shot to make. At best, Davey might be able to take potshots at a few vehicles if there was a chase. As it was...