Silent Order: Pulse Hand

By Jonathan Moeller

The weapon that will destroy the galaxy is ready to fire.

Jack March has finally discovered the way to the Pulse, the superweapon the ruthless Final Consciousness plans to use on the world of Calaskar.

But the Final Consciousness has been deceived by the Great Elder Ones.

If the Pulse is fired, it will shred the walls between the universes, and the Great Elder Ones will be freed to destroy all life at last.

And only Jack March and his crew stand between the Pulse and ultimate destruction...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jonathan Moeller
• Release date: Sep 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215489161

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: PULSE HAND

Jonathan Moeller

***

Description

The weapon that will destroy the galaxy is ready to fire.

Jack March has finally discovered the way to the Pulse, the superweapon the ruthless Final Consciousness plans to use on the world of Calaskar.

But the Final Consciousness has been deceived by the Great Elder Ones.

If the Pulse is fired, it will shred the walls between the universes, and the Great Elder Ones will be freed to destroy all life at last.

And only Jack March and his crew stand between the Pulse and ultimate destruction...

***

Silent Order: Pulse Hand

Copyright 2023 by Jonathan Moeller.

Smashwords Edition.

Cover design by Jonathan Moeller.

Ebook edition published September 2023.

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: Mission Preparations

Jack March had done everything that he could to prepare for the mission.

The Helix had been repaired after the near-disastrous ambush at the Mothrowe system, an ambush that had almost destroyed the ship and nearly killed the crew. At the time, March had wondered if the trap had been targeted at him personally.

Now he knew it had almost certainly been aimed at Lysiana.

Given what he had learned about the girl, perhaps it was fortunate that the Machinists hadn’t sent an entire battle fleet.

The technicians and mechanics aboard Mothrowe Station had done good work. Constantine Bishop and Sophia Logos had already checked over the repairs, making sure the techs hadn’t ripped them off, and once she had gotten out of the infirmary, Cassandra Yerzhov had examined the hyperdrive repairs herself. Neither Bishop nor Sophia nor Cassandra had found anything wrong with the ship.

Nevertheless, March had checked over everything himself. Partly it was because he was the captain, and it was his responsibility. Mostly, it was because he had worked alone for a very long time and was used to checking everything himself.

The Helix was in good shape. All systems were operating at peak efficiency, the shields were ready to activate at a moment’s notice, and the weapons systems were prepared to fire.

The crew, March thought, was prepared. Darius Memnon, Axiom Descard, and Cassandra had all recovered from their injuries. March worried a bit about Cassandra. Axiom was a former Iron Eye turned mercenary, and she was accustomed to danger. Memnon was an Alpha Operative at the Silent Order and had spent a lot of time with people trying to kill him. Cassandra, by contrast, was a dark energy physicist whose life had not featured a great deal of regular violence.

Or perhaps he was worrying too much. Cassandra had possessed the nerve to flee Oradrea when it became clear the secret police were watching her, and she had settled into her new life on Calaskar without too many hitches.

At least until the war with the Final Consciousness had started, and many lives had been upended.

How are you holding up? said March.

He sat across from Cassandra in the ship’s galley, a metal chessboard with magnetic pieces resting between them. March played black, Cassandra white. He knew how to play chess but wasn’t particularly good at it and didn’t enjoy the game very much. Nonetheless, it was one of the most popular games on Oradrea and enjoyed a strong following on Calaskar. March had only ever beaten Cassandra exactly once, and he suspected her attention had been on a hyperspace equation at the time.

He was grateful that his wife had no interest in chess.

I’m fine, really, said Cassandra. When March had met her years ago, she had been skinny, pale, and clearly nervous. Now she was lean, in good shape, and hid the nervousness behind a mask of calm reserve. Adelaide was talking to me about PTSD and all that…

A memory flashed through March’s mind of Adelaide lying on the deck of Calaskar Station, burning debris scattered nearby, the sleeve of her jacket wet with blood.

But I think I’m okay, said Cassandra. It helps that I don’t really remember the injury or the surgery. It’s like a car accident, you know? Not like someone beat me up or anything like that.

She moved one of her bishops, capturing his remaining rook.

Damn it, muttered March, and Cassandra grinned.

Though it is very gentlemanly of you, said Cassandra, letting me win like this.

I never let anyone win at anything, said March. He considered his position on the board, decided it was probably a lost cause, and moved one of his pawns. It wasn’t in his nature to give up. Did you know Dr. Cigrande well at the University of Oradrea?

Not well, said Cassandra. She moved one of her knights without hesitation. By the time I…er, left, I was still a junior researcher, and he was higher up. And we were in different fields. I was a theorist who built machines to test my theories, and he focused more on the practical applications of hyperdrive design. He made some big breakthroughs, so he was kind of a celebrity. I met him at a couple of faculty events. I hated those things, but he was polite enough. She frowned. In hindsight, I think he was trying to flirt with me, but it went over my head.

Probably just as well, considering how things turned out, said March. He moved another pawn.

The University of Oradrea has the best experts on hyperspace and dark energy radiation in human-occupied space, said Cassandra. If the Final Consciousness is building a dark energy radiation weapon like the Pulse, it makes sense that they would run some of the project and the research through the University.

It does, agreed March. Cassandra moved her other knight and captured the pawn he had just moved, and he suppressed a sigh of exasperation. President Murdan and his cronies do whatever the Machinists tell them. Except it looks like Dr. Cigrande had an attack of conscience and fled.

That makes sense, agreed Cassandra. March moved one of his knights forward. Oradrea was the kind of place….it was a really bad idea to have opinions about certain things.

Like President Murdan and the government.

Cassandra nodded. Dr. Cigrande was always right on the edge of what it was acceptable to say without the secret police knocking on his door at three in the morning. If he figured out the Machinists were using research from Oradrea to help build something like the Pulse, then yes, he would try to get to Calaskar.

Would have saved us a lot of trouble, said March, if he had just gone to Calaskar instead of fleeing to the middle of nowhere.

Cassandra shrugged. "Maybe it was the best he could do. I ended up on Calaskar, but that was only because you rescued me. If you and the Tiger had jumped into the system five minutes later, I would be dead."

March nodded.

I owe you my life a bunch of times, Jack, said Cassandra, voice grave, and then she smiled. So it’s always painful when I have to do this. She moved her queen. Checkmate.

March looked at the board, sighed, and tipped his king over. Having met the actual King of Calaskar before leaving on this mission, he now found tipping the chess king over somewhat odd to do. Might be painful. Never seems to stop you.

Well, you were the one who introduced me to weightlifting, said Cassandra. All the gyms on Calaskar have signs that talk about no pain, no gain. I think that’s true with chess as well.

I doubt that, said March. The door hissed open, and his wife stepped into the galley.

Adelaide was an attractive woman, which was obvious at the moment because she wore snug exercise pants and a tank top, her gray eyes bright and cheerful in her face. As usual, she wore a dark ball cap, which she would likely wear until her hair grew back to a length she found acceptable for going hatless. The artificial skin concealing her cybernetic left forearm matched her pale skin tone and would almost fool casual observation, though the ring of scar tissue around her elbow was noticeable.

Ready? said Adelaide.

Yeah, said March, getting to his feet. You won the game, so you get to put the pieces away.

Fair is fair, said Cassandra, collecting the captured chessmen. She had captured considerably more of his pieces than he had of hers. The chessboard and the pieces had to be stowed in one of the storage lockers. On a starship, everything had to be secured properly. A failure in the inertial absorbers or the artificial gravity could turn something as innocuous as chess pieces into deadly missiles.

Did you lose again? said Adelaide.

March grunted. I always lose at chess. It’s good practice for life.

We’ll have to set up the shooting range in the hold once it’s not full of supplies, said Adelaide. Jack will beat us all.

Or I could just play against Lysiana, said Cassandra, returning the pieces to their box. She’s an amazing player, though she said she prefers mathematics to chess.

March caught Adelaide’s eye, though she said nothing. They both knew the reason for Lysiana’s superhuman intelligence, and for now they had agreed to keep the secret between themselves.

Chess is very mathematical, said Adelaide, but I’m an archaeologist, not a physicist. I was never very good at math.

Some of the best physicists in history, said Cassandra, were terrible at math.

I usually enjoy more physical recreation, said Adelaide. Shall we?

March nodded, bade Cassandra a good night, and followed Adelaide to the Helix’s well-appointed gym. Since she had recovered from her surgery and the installation of her prosthetic forearm and hand, Adelaide had resumed her previous workout routine with vigor, even with angry savagery. The attempted assassination of the King and the bombing on Calaskar Station had upended her life, and one of the ways she dealt with stress was vigorous exercise. She was deadlifting and bench-pressing a sufficient amount of weight that March had told her in no uncertain terms that he was going to spot her, and she hadn’t argued.

He spotted her through the workout until she was done, and they retired to their cabin for the night. March made love to her twice, first standing up in the sanitizer booth as she cleaned off from the workout and then on their double bunk. The cybernetic augmentations of the Final Consciousness had left him with a seething libido that he had ignored for years until he had met Adelaide.

Mmm, murmured Adelaide once they had finished for the second time, her head pillowed on his chest. I’m going to need to go through the sanitizer booth again after that.

That’s what it’s there for, said March.

Told you I enjoy more physical recreations.

###

The next morning, March awoke before Adelaide and slipped out of the cabin without waking her. Before her injury she had been plagued with insomnia and had nearly always woken up before he did. Now she slept more deeply. Perhaps her body was still recovering from the limb replacement.

Or maybe he had worn her out.

The gym was deserted, and March went through his own workout with considerably more weight on the bars, dialing the gravity to one hundred and fifty percent for the final sets. The cybernetic and genetic alterations of the Final Consciousness, in addition to giving him an annoyingly high libido, had also augmented his physical strength and stamina, making it far easier to build up muscular strength than it would have been for an unmodified human.

He had done so religiously for years. Modern war was technologically sophisticated, with powerful weapons capable of killing millions from hundreds of thousands of kilometers away. Yet with all the technology, all the deadly weapons, often violence came down to sheer brute strength. A struggle over a knife in a dark alley of some run-down spaceport.

March would be ready for a fight like that.

Though, he conceded, his cybernetic arm gave him an overwhelming advantage in any hand-to-hand struggle, an advantage he had used many times.

After he finished the workout, he returned to the cabin to find that Adelaide was awake and had gone to the galley for breakfast with Lysiana. March cleaned off in the sanitizer booth, got dressed, and went to take his shift on the bridge.

The Helix’s bridge was significantly larger than the Tiger’s flight cabin had been. A large hologram table dominated the center of the room, currently displaying a master systems readout and status report, complete with a schematic of the ship. Consoles lined the walls, and the forward wall had an enormous high-resolution wallscreen. It had been set to show the starfield and a nearby gas giant, creating the illusion of peering through a window at the depths of space.

Helen Descard sat at the pilot’s console below the wallscreen, her sister Axiom at the co-pilot’s station. Helen was an attractive woman, and March wished he hadn’t seen her naked at the pirates’ auction because the memory always flashed through his mind when he spoke to her. Axiom’s appearance was far starker, with a harder edge to her features. She shaved her head bald, which highlighted her eerie mechanical eyes all the more.

Darius Memnon stood next to the co-pilot’s console, grinning down at Axiom. He was a big, burly man who looked like a bar brawler, which he had been at various times, with dark hair and a face that always looked in need of a shave. Adelaide was convinced that Memnon and Axiom had been sleeping together. March didn’t know, and he didn’t particularly want to know.

So long as it didn’t affect the mission, he didn’t care. Memnon had been an Alpha Operative for a long time, and Axiom hated the Final Consciousness. If there were any personal entanglements, both would set them aside when the moment for action came.

Any trouble? said March, stepping past the hologram table.

Not yet, said Memnon, which was probably true.

Not last night, anyway, said Helen, her voice cool and calm as it nearly always was. We are three hours sublight flight away from our next hyperspace jump point, and the navigational computer…

Which you stole, said Memnon to Axiom.

I returned it, said Axiom without rancor.

And the navigational computer, said Helen with some exasperation, projects we are four days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes away from the Azov system. She turned in her acceleration chair to look up at him. Despite the hassle we had in the Mothrowe system…

Hassle. That was one word for it.

Getting those navigational charts from Thunderbolt was invaluable, said Helen. Even with the navigational computer that Axiom returned to you, Memnon snorted, the edges of the Non-Aligned Systems are very badly charted. We might have been wandering for weeks until we found the exact location of the Azov system.

If Cigrande wanted someone from the Silent Order to come rescue him, said Memnon, he should have picked a location that wasn’t so bloody far out.

Axiom shrugged. If it keeps the Final Consciousness from killing him.

Assuming he’s not already dead, said Memnon.

We’ll find out when we get there, said March, though he disliked the thought. They had come a very long way to find Taris Cigrande and learn the truth about the Pulse. Along the way, March had discovered considerably more than he had expected about the superweapon and the sinister truth behind it, but he still didn’t have all the pieces.

More importantly, he didn’t have the location of the damned thing.

That was what he wanted from Cigrande.

And, hopefully, a convenient way to destroy the Pulse.

But one problem at a time.

One thing, said Helen. The last system we passed through…

New Westport, supplied Axiom.

New Westport, continued Helen, had a population of about nine hundred million, enough for a communication drone system in orbit. Most of the Non-Aligned Worlds were lightly populated. Mothrowe, the largest world, had an industrial base that had attained near-parity with some of the more developed worlds in human-populated space, but many of the other habited planets in the Non-Aligned Systems were little more than farm colonies. Some of them were populated by religious fanatics or political cranks, all of them protected by the madness (and vast arsenal) of Thunderbolt. Anyway, one of the message drones at the station had a Calaskaran news broadcast. Thought you would like to hear it.

March nodded, and Helen hit a button. A portion of the wallscreen lit up with a video from the Royal Calaskaran News Service. Adelaide had done some work for them, presenting historical documentaries and narrating videos for the Ministry of Defense. As March expected, most of the report dealt with the war. He was not surprised that it contained very little information. Wartime production was up. New ship and armament production had increased. The agricultural base of the core Calaskaran systems was strong enough that food rationing wasn’t expected. The population was urged to be on the lookout for Machinist spies and sympathizers who would attempt to sabotage the war effort. The final segment of the report discussed recent victories of the Seventh, Ninth, and Tenth Fleets of the Royal Calaskaran Navy under the command of Lord Admiral Theodoric Stormreel, pushing the Machinist forces back near the occupied Antioch system.

Propaganda, said Axiom once the news report had finished. More sophisticated than what the Machinists used to put out on their conquered worlds.

March shook his head. "They saved

Reviews for Silent Order

[T. Dean Gates · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

OK. We concluded the series. Good end! Good guys win. Happily ever after...I like that Moeller is a traditionalist. If you like space opera, then read the series!