Silent Order: Royal Hand

By Jonathan Moeller

Jack March must choose between duty and the woman he loves.

Elite Silent Order operative Jack March has only ever loved one woman.

But when the brutal cybernetic Final Consciousness unleashes its battle fleets upon Calaskar, March must decide upon his loyalties.

Yet every path leads to ruin.

Because no matter what choice he makes, the sinister masterminds of the Final Consciousness want him dead...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan Moeller
• Release date: Aug 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005123314

Jonathan Moeller

Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair of a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.He has written the "Demonsouled" trilogy of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write the "Ghosts" sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the "$0.99 Beginner's Guide" series of computer books, and numerous other works.Visit his website at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.comVisit his technology blog at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/screed

Book preview

SILENT ORDER: ROYAL HAND

Jonathan Moeller

***

Description

Jack March must choose between duty and the woman he loves.

Elite Silent Order operative Jack March has only ever loved one woman.

But when the brutal cybernetic Final Consciousness unleashes its battle fleets upon Calaskar, March must decide upon his loyalties.

Yet every path leads to ruin.

Because no matter what choice he makes, the sinister masterminds of the Final Consciousness want him dead...

***

Silent Order: Royal Hand

Copyright 2021 by Jonathan Moeller.

Smashwords Edition.

Some cover images copyright © Solarseven | Dreamstime & Photo 21806705 / Desert © Dexigner | Dreamstime.com.

Ebook edition published August 2021.

All Rights Reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

***

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***

Chapter 1: Family Man

Jack March had done many strange and dangerous things.

He had carried out covert missions in perilous circumstances, both for the Final Consciousness and for the Silent Order of the Kingdom of Calaskar. March had flown in starship battles against both human and alien adversaries, battles where a half-second meant the difference between life and death. His travels had taken him across tens of thousands of light years and hundreds of different solar systems. He had spoken with an ancient alien artificial intelligence older than human civilization, and he had stolen the relics of malevolent creatures from another universe.

He had seen a world burn in nuclear fire, but he didn’t like to think about that.

But March had never before paid an unannounced visit to one of his fiancée’s relatives.

A first time for everything, he supposed. A season for every activity under the sun, as the preachers of the Royal Calaskaran Church were fond of saying.

So March drove through Calaskar City towards the apartment building where Adelaide’s youngest (and only) sister Sydney and her husband Daniel lived.

He drove an unobtrusive four-door sedan on its second fuel cell and over two hundred and seventy-five thousand miles on the odometer. March could have afforded a much nicer car after the fallout from the Ark incident, but he cared nothing for appearances, and the purpose of wheeled transportation was to be reliable and cheap. The car met both criteria. Additionally, it was unremarkable, little different than the thousands of other cars that thronged the streets of the capital city of the primary world of the Kingdom of Calaskar. It was a convenient way to move about without drawing notice.

March might not have been an Alpha Operative any longer, but the habits of a lifetime were not easily discarded.

Besides, just because he was no longer an Alpha Operative didn’t mean he had left the Silent Order.

He drove past the main campus of the Royal Hospital, the largest hospital in Calaskar City and the most prestigious in the Kingdom. It was past ten in the morning, and the worst of rush hour was over, but a steady stream of cars and vans moved into the acres of parking lots around the hospital. Medical and genetic science had advanced greatly in the hundred thousand years since mankind had left primeval Earth and the Sol system, and despite all the knowledge that had been lost in the collapse of the five successive Terran Empires, the average Calaskaran citizen could expect to live to a hundred and sixty years. But regardless of science, disease and injury remained constants in life, and so the hospital was always busy.

March circled around the hospital, past several hotels that catered to patients and doctors arriving off-world for medical conferences. South of the hotels were several blocks of much less luxurious apartment towers where medical students and residents lived. He found an empty street spot and pulled into it.

The harsh red light of Calaskar’s sun filled his eyes as March climbed out of the car. The natives of Calaskar found a red-tinted sun to be normal. Off-worlders never got over finding it unusual. March found it strange, but he didn’t care. Calixtus, the world where he had been born, had a yellow-tinted sun, but he would never return there. He had visited so many worlds with so many different suns that it hardly seemed worth noting.

His gun rode in a concealed holster beneath his jacket, and March adjusted it. Calaskaran men usually wore jackets and ties when out in public. He avoided wearing a tie whenever possible since it gave any attacker a direct handle on his neck, a fact he had exploited more than once. Today he wore a suit with a vest, the loose Calaskaran-style coat concealing the small pistol in his shoulder holster. It ought to be formal enough.

March locked the car behind him and walked to the nearest apartment tower, a fifteen-story building with white walls. Dozens of rows of balconies lined the exterior of the tower, most of them given over to small hydroponic gardens, potted plants, solar cells, and drying laundry. A courtesy android stood by the twin doors to the lobby, serving as the doorman. Native Calaskarans loved courtesy androids and used them whenever possible. March had always found them odd, but he had encountered planets that had more unpleasant customs. This particular courtesy android had a blue plastic shell with a vaguely female shape to avoid triggering the uncanny valley effect. It looked like a cheerful cartoon character.

Good morning, sir, said the android in a pleasant female voice. Since you are not a resident, I wish to inquire as to your business at the Mid-City Towers, Calaskar City’s friendly apartment complex with convenient access to the Royal Hospital and the many other cultural amenities of the Kingdom’s capital.

He waited for the android to stop talking. I’m here to see Sydney Noal.

Your name, sir? said the android.

Jack March.

One moment, sir, said the android. I am contacting Mrs. Noal now. The robot went motionless for a few seconds. You may speak with Mrs. Noal at the communications panel. It gestured at a small computer panel next to the wall.

March nodded, crossed to the panel, and hit a button. Whoever communicated through the panel would be able to see him through the built-in camera. It was a useful way to screen visitors and delivery people.

Hello? came a woman’s voice with a noticeable rural Calaskaran accent.

Good morning, Mrs. Noal, said March. My name is Jack March. I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes.

There was a pause.

Jack March? said Sydney Noal. Wait. Are you Adelaide’s fiancée? There was a peculiar mixture of fascination and surprise in her voice.

That’s right, said March.

Can I see some ID?

March nodded in approval. It seemed that Sydney had picked up some good security habits from her older sister. He fished his new ID card from his wallet and held it up before the camera.

Okay, you can come up, said Sydney. I’ve actually been really curious to meet you. Apartment 14D.

The panel flashed, and the connection ended.

Mrs. Noal has granted you access, said the courtesy android. Please proceed to Apartment 14D. Thank you for visiting Mid-City Towers, Calaskar City’s friendly apartment complex with convenient access to the Royal Hospital and…

Yes, thank you, said March before the android could finish the rest of its speech. He pushed open the front door, walked into the austere-looking lobby, and came to a pair of elevators on the far wall. March disliked elevators and always preferred taking the stairs (more room to maneuver in the event of an attack), but if he didn’t take the elevator, it would look suspicious. He hit the call button, stepped into the gray metal box of the elevator, and selected the 14th floor.

The elevator rose with a faint hum, the screen on the panel flashing ads for local businesses, most of them related to the hospital. He glanced at the ceiling, noting the position of the camera. The elevator came to a stop, the door hissing open. A tired-looking woman holding a large basket of laundry got into the elevator. March stepped to the side and let her pass and headed down a corridor with blue-painted walls and a gray carpet, the sort with industrial fibers that made for easier cleanup.

He stopped before the door marked apartment 14D, knocked, and waited.

A moment later, the door opened a crack, and March found himself looking at Sydney Noal.

She looked a good deal like Adelaide. A little shorter, a little plumper, and not as athletic, but the family resemblance was clear. She had the same gray eyes, the same shade of black hair (albeit curlier), and even the same jawline. If Adelaide’s life had taken a different turn, if her husband Duncan had not been killed in the Machinist bombing, she would likely look like an older version of her younger sister. Sydney wore a blue housedress with her hair tied back, and she looked at March with a mixture of wariness and frank curiosity.

Mrs. Noal? said March.

Yes, that’s right, said Sydney. You’re Adelaide’s fiancée? March nodded. Huh. So you are real.

Was that in doubt? said March.

Well, no, said Sydney. I know Mom met you, and so did William. He couldn’t keep anything to himself if his life depended on it.

Yes, said March, who had met Adelaide’s and Sydney’s oldest brother some time ago. William Renton seemed like a decent man, but one utterly incapable of keeping a secret.

But it seemed implausible, said Sydney. Adelaide meeting a man while she was flying around the Kingdom digging up old alien artifacts.

I agree, said March. I lived through it, and I still find it implausible.

He hadn’t intended it as a joke, but Sydney blinked and lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Okay, said Sydney. I mean, just…Adelaide never paid that much attention to men. Men paid attention to her, sure, but she always ignored them. Then she mentions that she has a boyfriend. Actually, it was William who mentioned it. He told everyone. Then Adelaide says that she’s getting married again, and…

March listened to the flow of words, nodding when it seemed appropriate. Adelaide liked to talk a great deal and preferred to work things out while talking aloud to herself. March was beginning to suspect that it was a genetic trait.

Oh! said Sydney. I’m making you wait in the hall. That’s really rude.

No need to worry, said March. I’m a strange man you’ve never met before. Caution is only sensible.

Sydney laughed. Now you sound like Adelaide. I suppose if you’re going to marry her, we’re going to be family, so you’d better come inside. Come in, Mr. March.

She opened the door all the way, and March stepped into the foyer and followed her into the apartment’s living room. It looked comfortable and a bit cluttered, with a couch and a pair of easy chairs against one wall, a pair of glass doors opening onto the balcony, which had a surprisingly good view of the Royal Hospital. There were various baby-related items scattered around the room – plastic toys, cardboard books about brightly colored farm animals, and a playpen holding more toys. Like Adelaide, Sydney had numerous pictures of her family. March spotted Adelaide in several of the pictures. A pair of shelves were stuffed with books, mostly medical textbooks mixed with popular historical novels about the early days of the Kingdom of Calaskar.

There was, of course, a courtesy android standing in the corner, currently deactivated. It was an older model, and to judge from the vacuum cleaner propped up next to it, Sydney probably used it for domestic chores.

Well, Mr. March, what can I do for you? said Sydney. The baby’s asleep, so we can talk for a bit. Though my husband should be coming home for lunch in a few minutes. I think he’d like to meet you.

I’ll come right to the point, said March. I know you’re planning a surprise party for Adelaide’s fortieth birthday…

Oh my God, said Sydney in exasperation. How did you know? It was supposed to be a surprise. Her eyes narrowed. William told you, didn’t he? I knew it. I knew it!

The real answer was that March had been an intelligence operative for years, and it was difficult to conceal secrets from him. Especially since Sydney and her siblings thought they were stealthy, but they weren’t.

That said, William did leak gossip like a sieve.

Yes, said March, deciding that was the simplest answer. He did. I would like to help.

Sydney blinked. Help?

Planning a party for that many people is a logistical challenge, said March. I might be able to make it easier. It would also be a useful method of getting to know the rest of Adelaide’s family.

Seriously? said Sydney. She looked bewildered. Don’t you have a high-powered job or something? In charge of security at that fancy museum Adelaide’s opening…

The Museum of the Ark, said March, keeping his amusement concealed. The Museum of the Ark would display historical artifacts of incalculable value, and the computer databases recovered from the Ark of the Third Solar Republic had shed tremendous light on forgotten epochs of humanity’s history. The artifacts of the Museum and the Ark were so valuable that they were impossible to insure, and the annual operating budget for the Museum would be in the hundreds of millions of credits, which would be more than covered by admissions and tourism revenue.

Yet to Adelaide’s siblings, it would be that fancy museum. In the unlikely event Adelaide ever started to develop an inflated ego, a few hours with her siblings would cure that.

Yeah, that, said Sydney.

I’m in charge of the security for the Ark and the Museum, said March. That means I’m the boss, so I can set my own hours. Plus, until they start building the next wing of the Museum, there’s not that much for me to do. If I want to take a few days to help prepare a surprise birthday party for my fiancée, I can do it.

Sydney blinked. That’s…very direct.

March shrugged. Everyone’s time is valuable. No sense in wasting it.

All right, said Sydney. Let’s try this out. She crossed to the coffee table and picked up a cardboard box holding paper envelopes. If you’re really serious about helping me plan this party, then all these invitations need to be stuffed into envelopes. Then I can’t get a caterer to call me back…

Let’s start, said March.

A half-hour later, he was sitting on the couch, addressing and sealing invitations. It would have been vastly more efficient to send the invitations via electronic message over the planetary network, but apparently, that would have been a grievous breach of etiquette. It was one of those Calaskaran cultural things that March would never quite understand, like the courtesy androids or their preference to give paper books as gifts. He supposed the tree farms required to support the Calaskaran mania for paper at least helped oxygenate the atmosphere.

Sydney chattered away as he addressed and sealed envelopes. While Sydney liked to talk as much as her older sister, she wasn’t anywhere near as organized, which March suspected made preparing a surprise birthday party more of a challenge than it would have been otherwise. He made mental lists of tasks that needed to be done as she talked. About halfway through the stack of envelopes, Sydney excused herself to tend to the baby (who, as it turned out, was named Luke.) March deduced that meant Sydney needed to breastfeed the baby and didn’t want to do it in front of a man she had met thirty minutes before.

He had gotten through most of the envelopes when the front door unlocked, and a man walked through the foyer and into the living room.

Syd? Daniel Noal was rail-thin and about ten or eleven years older than his wife. Given that Calaskaran men were required to spend six years in the armed forces, marriages with an age gap were the norm rather than the exception. Dr. Noal looked tired and unshaven, his suit rumpled and his eyes a little bloodshot. Daniel was serving out his residency at the Royal Hospital, and between the long hours and the new baby, sleep was likely a rarity.

He came to a stop, blinking in surprise at March.

Good morning, said March, getting to his feet. My name’s Jack March. I’m engaged to Sydney’s sister Adelaide. He shook Daniel’s hand. I came by to help set up the surprise birthday party Sydney’s planning.

Yes, said Daniel, blinking. March could almost see the younger man’s brain reboot itself as he processed this new information. Yes. I heard about that. Um. Aren’t you that privateer that helped Adelaide find that Ark spaceship?

That is correct, said March.

Right, said Daniel. He yawned and made a vague gesture towards the kitchen. Want some coffee? I should have some before I go back on rotation. He managed a weary grin. Six more months of residency, and then I can ease back a bit.

Please, said March, and he followed Daniel to the kitchen.

Daniel? called Sydney from the bedroom.

I’m home! shouted Daniel.

Get Mr. March some coffee!

Yes, Syd, said Daniel. March suspected that he said yes, Syd a lot. Daniel poured two cups of coffee, saw his wife emerge from the hallway, then poured a third.

Rough day? said Sydney, giving Daniel a quick kiss.

Started that way, could have been worse, said Daniel. Car accident on the offramp near the spaceport. No one was killed, but a lot of broken bones and internal injuries. The surgeons are having a busier day than I am. He took a drink of coffee and looked at March. But you probably don’t want to hear about that.

I have a strong stomach, said March.

Daniel smiled. You’re engaged to Adelaide? What’s that like? Does she ever let you get a word in edgewise?

Daniel! said Sydney, and she punched his arm. That’s not fair.

I’m a doctor, you can’t hit my arm, I need it, said Daniel, though he smiled as he said it, and put the arm in question around Sydney’s shoulders.

I like it enough to help her younger sister plan a surprise birthday party, said March.

Speaking of that, said Daniel, if you really want to help, you could call the tent rental place. He made a face. We’re having the party at Renton Repair in Vanderine. March nodded. That had been Adelaide’s father’s business, which her eldest brother William had taken over. I keep meaning to do it. William said he’d do it, but he keeps forgetting…

I can help with that, said March.

So March essentially took over the planning of Adelaide’s party, in between meetings with the security staff at the construction site for the Museum of the Ark. Sydney wasn’t quite as ruthlessly organized as her older sister, and the task of planning the party was