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The Carnival Road: The Gardeners Episode 3
Por Fred McKibben
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Calificar: 4 de 5 estrellas4/5 (1 calificación)
Longitud: 290 página6 horas
- Editorial:
- Fred McKibben
- Publicado:
- Apr 20, 2019
- ISBN:
- 9780463319369
- Formato:
- Libro
Descripción
The Final Episode in the Gardeners Trilogy
Alex Clark’s honeymoon is interrupted by the re-emergence of Marcus Rogers and his evil band, the Seven Great Families. The group, with the help of a powerful alien nobleman — Ares of Helios — intend to depopulate the Earth and remake what remains in the image of Ares’ home planet, Uor. But Ares’ twin brother, Apollo, is determined to save both Earth and Uor from class-based dictatorships.
Alex and Apollo are both caught in a race against the clock because Rogers has forced a group of noted scientists to develop an Uorian technology into a powerful weapon that will bring the leaders of Earth to their knees. Meanwhile, Apollo has been declared an outlaw on Uor and, reluctantly, becomes the leader of a movement to dismantle a dictatorship that has ruled the planet for thirty thousand years.
Acciones del libro
Comenzar a leerInformación sobre el libro
The Carnival Road: The Gardeners Episode 3
Por Fred McKibben
Clasificaciones:
Calificar: 4 de 5 estrellas4/5 (1 calificación)
Longitud: 290 página6 horas
Descripción
The Final Episode in the Gardeners Trilogy
Alex Clark’s honeymoon is interrupted by the re-emergence of Marcus Rogers and his evil band, the Seven Great Families. The group, with the help of a powerful alien nobleman — Ares of Helios — intend to depopulate the Earth and remake what remains in the image of Ares’ home planet, Uor. But Ares’ twin brother, Apollo, is determined to save both Earth and Uor from class-based dictatorships.
Alex and Apollo are both caught in a race against the clock because Rogers has forced a group of noted scientists to develop an Uorian technology into a powerful weapon that will bring the leaders of Earth to their knees. Meanwhile, Apollo has been declared an outlaw on Uor and, reluctantly, becomes the leader of a movement to dismantle a dictatorship that has ruled the planet for thirty thousand years.
- Editorial:
- Fred McKibben
- Publicado:
- Apr 20, 2019
- ISBN:
- 9780463319369
- Formato:
- Libro
Acerca del autor
Fred McKibben is the author of the highly acclaimed Gardeners trilogy, Hot Times in the Garden of Eden, The Salt Castle, and The Carnival Road. The series has been described as suspense with strong elements of science fiction, politics, history, anthropology and romance. The allegorical story is particularly relevant in the current political environment where the rise of strongman rulers portends losses of individual freedom, knowledge growth, and creativity. The full series is also available as a compilation titled Seven Deadly Sinners.In addition to the Gardeners trilogy, Fred has written The Shadow of Death (2016) and Sweet Dreams (2017). Both are murder mysteries featuring Eddie Rose, a semi-retired insurance investigator.Fred lives in Southern Spain with his wife and two dogs. After many years as a finance executive and entrepreneur, he decided to try his hand at writing fiction. A More Perfect Union (expected release in 2019) will be the first of planned series of historical romance novels set in the early United States.
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The Carnival Road - Fred McKibben
McKibben
Chapter 1
December 8
Washington, DC
Captain Larry Baldwin peered out the small window of the Gulfstream 500 as the jet made its final turn toward the runway at Andrews Air Force Base. The luxurious leather seats had been comfortable enough for him to sleep through much of the long flight from Milan to Washington. Now, he hoped the debriefing at the Pentagon would be short so that he could make the two-hour drive to Norfolk before dark.
He smiled, thinking of the look on Luann’s face when he walked through the door. There had been no chance to call her from Italy. He supposed he could call from the Pentagon before leaving, but who knew when that would be. Anyway, the surprise idea appealed to him. There hadn’t been a lot of surprises in their thirty-five-year marriage.
Baldwin leaned back in the soft leather seat and closed his eyes as he waited for the familiar bump
of the plane’s tires connecting with the runway. Seconds later, as the jet slowed for its turn toward the military passenger terminal, he considered the events of the last three days. A computer hacker had taken control of his ship, the USS Castleberry, and had aimed the destroyer’s fifty-six Tomahawk missiles toward the three most important religious centers in the Western world: the Vatican, Mecca and Jerusalem. At the last second, another hacker had materialized in the ship’s systems to foil the first hacker. As Captain Baldwin had watched the scenario unfold, he was reminded of the computer war games he had seen his grandson play. But in this game, the consequences would shake the Earth.
In the captain’s opinion, the debriefing at the Pentagon would be a complete waste of time. He had already spent hours with investigators while he was still on the Castleberry, then later in Italy. He had told the first investigators every detail he could remember, and then, at the hotel in Milan, repeated the same details to the two men, Alfred and Terrance, who were now accompanying him to Washington. Both men identified themselves as lieutenants, but Baldwin sensed that rank was meaningless under the circumstances. He would endure the debriefing at the Pentagon. He had no choice. But there was simply nothing new he could tell them.
A lean fifty-six-year-old, Baldwin had been recruited thirty-eight years earlier to the United State Naval Academy because the Navy wanted more African American Midshipmen and because the Academy needed a halfback for the football team. During his four years at Annapolis, Larry Baldwin amassed several school records for his football prowess, and also graduated second in his class. If his political skills had been equal to his intellect, he would certainly have made admiral by now, but his habit of speaking a little too frankly to superiors held him back. Still, Captain Baldwin loved the Navy, and he loved being captain of the Castleberry.
The Gulfstream rolled past the small passenger terminal where Captain Baldwin had always disembarked during previous landings at Andrews, then came to a stop in front a private hanger some distance further on. As the flight attendant lowered the door with its built-in staircase, a black Ford Explorer pulled alongside the jet.
Other than talk of traffic and incoming weather, there was little conversation as the black Explorer negotiated its way along Suitland Parkway, then through heavy traffic on I-695 through the city. As the SUV crossed the Potomac and turned toward the Pentagon, a light, cold rain began to fall. The driver maneuvered the Explorer into a covered portico on the north side of the massive building where Captain Baldwin, flanked by Alfred and Terrance, got out and went directly inside.
*****
Captain Baldwin and the young lieutenant named Alfred waited in a windowless conference room on the third floor of the C Ring. Terrance had taken a position in the hallway outside. The room looked cramped and cold, with dark wood paneling surrounding a heavy wooden table and eight chairs. A large, gray projection screen was built into one wall, and a low side table ran almost the length of the opposite wall. Fresh coffee, bottled water, pastries and fruit were already set up on the side table when they entered the room. Alfred took a water bottle and a cookie while Baldwin poured black coffee into a mug with a drawing of the Pentagon on the side.
Just as the two men seated themselves at the large table, the door swung open and Admiral Jeffrey Hayes strode into the room. The admiral had been two years ahead of Larry Baldwin at Annapolis, and while Hayes had been renowned for hazing underclassmen, Baldwin was sure he got more than his share of the abuse. When Hayes graduated, Baldwin had thought he was finally free of his antagonist, but their paths had crossed many times in the succeeding years.
Baldwin and the young lieutenant stood and saluted the admiral as he approached the table. Although he was only two years older than Baldwin, his thin gray hair, pale skin, slumped shoulders and paunchy midsection made him appear much older.
Have a seat, Captain,
Admiral Hayes said with only the slightest of salutes in return. Thank you, Lieutenant,
Hayes said to Alfred. You can wait outside.
Both officers watched as the lieutenant gathered his snack and left the room.
I want you to tell me the entire story, Larry,
Admiral Hayes said as soon as the door closed behind the lieutenant.
Is that really necessary, Admiral Hayes? I’m sure you’ve read all the reports, seen the videos.
Yes, I have,
the admiral allowed. But I want to hear it from you.
Very well,
Captain Baldwin sighed. The episode began early on the morning of December 5. We were cruising north with a small battle group about 110 kilometers off Lebanon. The ship was under the control of the automatic cruising software. Sometime before dawn, the ship made a turn to the west, although the navigation instruments indicated that we were still on a northerly track and still in close contact to the other ships in the group.
No one on the bridge noticed there was no visual of the other ships?
No sir,
Baldwin replied. There is often heavy fog in that area, so it’s not unusual to lose visual contact with nearby ships.
I see,
Admiral Hayes said. Proceed then.
"When daylight began to come on, the crew on the bridge realized we were out of position. Lieutenant Morrison sent for me at 0700 and explained the situation. Clearly, the sun was rising almost directly behind us, so we weren’t cruising north. It was more like west.
We checked the inputs to the auto cruise system,
the captain continued. Everything was correct, and the Nav screen still indicated we were on course and in place with the group. But clearly, we were not in place. We attempted to disengage the autopilot, but it wouldn’t disengage. Then we tried to shut down the computer. That failed also. At that point, I contacted Fleet Command.
Admiral Wells?
Yes sir. I explained the situation to the admiral as best I could. He suggested we go manual, and I explained that we had already tried to do that and failed. That’s when we first discussed the possibility that a hacker had penetrated the system.
Why did you believe a hacker might be behind the problem?
the admiral asked.
I’m not sure, sir. It just occurred to me. Maybe some of the books I’ve been reading.
I see,
Admiral Hayes said again. Go ahead.
At that point, Admiral Wells decided to send out search choppers to look for us. I went to the chart room and checked our course manually. Maintaining that course and speed would have put us in the Greek archipelago within twenty-four hours. At 0800, a young ensign came to tell me a chopper was in sight, so I returned to the bridge.
The helicopter you shot down?
Admiral Hayes asked.
"The Castleberry shot it down, sir, Baldwin responded.
But I can assure you that no one on the bridge gave the order to fire that missile."
The hacker did it?
the admiral seemed to mock him.
Yes sir,
Baldwin responded. The admiral’s skeptical tone surprised him.
How do you know it was the hacker?
Immediately after the chopper was hit, a message appeared on the computer screen, sir,
Captain Baldwin replied. It said, ‘Don’t interfere with my mission’ and it was signed ‘Xerxes’.
Who else saw this message, Captain?
Chief Petty Officer Wilkins saw it. It was only there for a few seconds before it disappeared. But Wilkins can verify the message, sir.
I’m afraid Chief Wilkins has fallen ill, Captain. Too ill to travel.
No one had mentioned this to Baldwin. The last time he had seen Wilkins, the sailor was boarding an inflatable life boat along with the rest of the crew of the Castleberry. I hadn’t heard that,
the captain said after a short pause. Perhaps the computers on board have a record of the message, sir.
Not likely, Captain, since your men destroyed most of the equipment before they left the ship,
the admiral observed.
That was on instructions from you, sir,
Baldwin responded.
Yes, I know,
the admiral mused. It’s probably for the best, anyway.
If I may, sir,
Captain Baldwin said. I don’t understand the line of this discussion. I believe the Navy’s investigators have completely eliminated the possibility that myself, or anyone in the crew, was responsible for this episode.
That is correct, Captain,
the admiral said, leaning back. This discussion is not part of that investigation, Larry. This discussion is about figuring out how we’re going to bury this incident.
What do you mean, Admiral Hayes? We’ve got to find out what happened here.
Certainly, we’ll investigate, Captain. But as far as the public and the international community, they must not find out about this,
the admiral stressed. How do you think the public would react if they knew that our weapons — hell, everyone’s weapons — were vulnerable to hackers?
Nervous as hell, I’m sure,
the captain allowed.
You bet they’d be nervous,
Admiral Hayes said forcefully.
But sir, those missiles were in the air a long time. I’m sure someone saw them,
Captain Baldwin said. The Israelis, the Saudis. They’ve got sophisticated radar. They would have spotted Tomahawk missiles coming at them.
They did,
Admiral Hayes responded. So far, we’ve convinced them that it was a test and the missiles were not armed.
What about the press?
the captain asked. They’ll find out eventually.
Maybe not,
the admiral answered.
There were over three hundred men on that ship, Admiral,
Captain Baldwin said. One of them, or a family member, is eventually going to talk to the press.
The men are all housed in a barracks in Qatar for the time being. It’s a complication, certainly. They are asking why they had to leave the ship and why they can’t call their families.
What are you telling them?
Baldwin asked.
We’re telling them that a series of operator errors led to overwhelming systems malfunctions, which led to the evacuation of the ship.
So, you’re blaming the crew on the bridge,
Captain Baldwin offered. And me,
he added after a short pause.
I’m afraid so, Captain.
Most of them have heard about the hacker already, Admiral,
Captain Baldwin stated.
A ruse created by you to cover your mistakes,
the admiral said flatly.
Let me show you something, Admiral Hayes,
Baldwin said as he removed a cell phone from his jacket pocket. I photographed this message from the hacker after the missiles were diverted.
On the small screen, the admiral could see the image of a computer monitor. On the monitor was a message in bold type:
YOU WIN THIS ROUND, APOLLO. THERE WILL BE OTHERS.
After a moment, the screen timed out and went blank. Admiral Hayes handed the cell phone to Baldwin. I understand that you’re telling the truth of what happened, Captain. Or, at least the truth as you know it. But that truth can never go public. You must understand that.
So, I take the blame?
"You were captain of the Castleberry when the incident occurred, Larry. That’s the way it works."
*****
The stare from the man’s one good eye was enough to make Admiral Hayes shiver, but the cold emptiness of the other eye was even more intimidating. I don’t have a good feeling about this, Hayes,
the man said, without the proper address for a man of Admiral Hayes’ rank. Hayes knew the man would be watching through the one-way glass of the projection screen and would be waiting for him in the hall.
It’s what I expected,
Admiral Hayes said. You can’t expect a career Navy man with a good record to feel good about taking the fall for events that were out of his control.
Really, Hayes,
the one-eyed man said. Perhaps you should take the blame.
*****
The suite was luxurious, but Larry Baldwin understood it for what it was, a prison. The apartment suites in the basement of the Pentagon were intended for visiting VIPs who were not supposed to be anywhere near Washington, DC. He’d already checked the telephone, which only connected to certain numbers within the Pentagon. His cell phone was useless, as well. While it worked on the Castleberry, with its shipboard system, and, with a SIM card change, it worked in certain European countries, it was useless in the basement of the Pentagon.
Am I under arrest?
he had asked Alfred and Terrance when they had escorted him to the basement.
Of course not,
Alfred had protested. We just have to know where you are all the time until the admiral decides what to do.
How is that different from being under arrest?
Baldwin had asked.
The food’s better.
It was Terrance this time. You just select from the menu and they bring it to your room.
Well, the menu was impressive. The captain ordered a small steak with baked potato, sautéed mushrooms and asparagus on the side. Apparently, his keepers knew of the captain’s love of single malt scotch, since there was a bottle of Glenlivet and a full bucket of ice on the bar. He put two cubes of ice in a glass and poured himself a good measure of the whiskey. He closed his eyes and savored the first jolt of the liquor, then rifled through the good selection of magazines before selecting a Sports Illustrated to thumb through while he waited for the meal to arrive.
The long day and the six-hour time change were finally taking their toll on the captain. He poured himself another shot of the scotch and sat back in the deep, soft leather chair. He closed his eyes; not asleep, but not awake, either. There were sounds, but he felt no inclination to open his eyes. He felt a cold touch to his temple. Then searing heat. Then nothing.
*****
The man scanned the room with his good eye. He checked the time. Six minutes until the meal server arrived. He removed the silencer from the weapon and wrapped the captain’s right hand around the small caliber pistol. Then he found the captain’s travel bag and placed a packet of ammunition in a side pocket. He took the captain’s cell phone from the small leather bag on the floor by the chair. He knew the ruse would not stand up to a thorough investigation, but he also knew no thorough investigation would take place.
Chapter 2
Parthia 8
Aberdeen, Uor
You can’t possibly go there,
Calia said. They will kill you the moment they see you.
There meant Fandan, a city of more than one hundred million people. It was the economic capital of Uor and the seat of the only central government on the planet.
I’ll wear a disguise,
Apollo responded. They won’t know me.
It is possible, Calia,
her father interjected. The three sat on the bluff overlooking the great river and the scrub desert beyond.
But what is to be gained by this risk?
Calia asked both men. She pushed her long dark hair from the side of her face. Moisture glistened in her dark brown eyes, reflecting the fading daylight. A simple tunic, cinched at the waist, made her look small and vulnerable. Beautiful, but vulnerable, although Apollo knew she was anything but delicate in a fight.
Perhaps nothing,
her father answered. On the other hand, Apollo may find the person who is to lead the people and throw off the yoke of the Seven Great Families.
Do the Prolots really want to throw them off?
Calia asked.
It was a fair question. The Seven Great Families had ruled Uor for over thirty thousand years, during which time the two-tiered societal structure had evolved. Almost every Nobler could claim some relationship to the Seven Families, while no Prolot could do so. Still, the Prolot life was not a horror of misery and squalor. They were doctors, lawyers, tradesmen, business owners, or any of dozens of other professions. Many were well-educated within the curriculum allowed by the government. Some became quite wealthy, and most were at least comfortable. But even the wealthiest of Prolots would be turned away from a restaurant or resort for Noblers. Even though they represented almost ninety-nine percent of the civilized population, politics was off limits to Prolots, as well. Representatives from the Seven Families formed a Ruling Council, which selected a Supreme Ruler from amongst themselves. Apollo’s twin brother, Ares, represented the Helios family on the Council, which was, in theory, the ultimate power. However, the current Supreme Ruler had held the position for over three thousand years and had enormous control over every aspect of government.
It’s only logical that they want to throw them off,
Apollo protested.
That may be, or it may not be,
Malcolm of Delhi, Calia’s father, offered. We think they should want it. But they have never known anything different. Will it really be better for them?
Apollo closed his eyes and lowered his chin to rest on his interlaced fingers. He wanted the answer to Malcolm’s question to be yes
. But was it? Surely, self-determination was a worthy thing, but how would the Prolots manage it? There was no precedent for it on Uor, at least not since the emergence of the Seven Great Families. If it existed before that, the rulers had eliminated any knowledge of it from the archives.
Despite being at the head of one of the seven families, along with Ares, Apollo himself had no more real power than did the Prolots. They enjoyed enormous wealth and privilege, including genetic mapping that would allow them to live for thousands of years longer than a Prolot. There were physical differences, as well. Apollo and Ares were trim and athletic and slightly over seven feet tall, whereas the average Prolot was much shorter.
There was little power to go with the privilege, though. Apollo had learned that fact quite clearly when he visited the Artifacts, a depository of relics and documents from before the Liberation — as the emergence of the Seven Great Families was called. His only intent was to learn the true history of his world, but he was branded a traitor and chased into the wild territories.
They did great things before the Liberation,
Apollo said at last.
They also fought massive wars and destroyed great swaths of this planet,
Malcolm responded.
Are you suggesting we should leave things as they are now?
Apollo asked.
No,
Malcolm replied. "In spite of their faults, the ancients achieved marvelous
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