Your Truth is Out There (Find Your Truth Book 1) (22 page)

Things between father and son worsened as Alcorn focused on his career, which often meant months at a time away from home. By the time Theo was ten, and Alcorn was off to Iraq for Desert Storm, the two barely spoke.

Major Alcorn spent twelve months in the Iraqi desert, with very little time to do much of anything except command his troops and send the occasional letter home. The only thing he did a lot of was miss his wife and son. With all that had happened, he was surprised how much he missed the boy. There was no doubt about his love for Janny, but as terrible as his relationship had been with Theo, he didn’t expect the absence of his son to weigh on him like it did. On more than one occasion, he vowed to himself that once he made it home, he’d change things with Theo. He’d make it right, whatever it took. But by the time he finally made it home, Theo had changed. He’d grown harder, more distant, and try as he might, Alcorn couldn’t get through; Theo was lost to him. Finally, Alcorn gave up and decided Theo’s life would be better if he just stayed out of it altogether.

Over the years since, he and Theo had come to an uneasy truce. They acknowledged one another, even granted each other the occasional small talk, but there was no relationship, no bond, and no trust. Teddy still loved his son, more than life itself, but at this point in their lives, he didn’t see any chance of their relationship ever changing.

Alcorn looked at the clock, then took a deep breath and let it out. He had a few hours to get some work done before Theo arrived. He punched Lieutenant Skinner’s number into the phone and waited for the answer.

“Yes, Lieutenant, good morning. Report please.”

Ricnor tried to calm his nerves as he entered the numbers into the vidcon. The Master had said this was going to be a simple job. Kidnap a couple of accountants, one of whom was supposed to be some weak, pathetic coward, the other smart and capable, but not terribly heroic, along with his wife. After kidnapping them, obtain the painting, eliminate them, and then go to some out-of-the-way planet named Irt and get the rest of the paintings from its pitifully primitive inhabitants. Simple, or so he had said. The reality, however, had been much less so.

Capturing the first accountant, Qilzar, the supposedly cowardly one, had been as easy as promised. The Master had fixed his vehicle so that Ricnor’s team took control of it without any issues. But as it turned out, Qilzar wasn’t nearly the coward he’d been made out to be. Even after being held prisoner in his own vehicle for almost half a rotation, and then several sars of torture after his arrival at Mindaal (mild though it may have been), he still insisted he knew nothing about the painting. As much as Ricnor hated to admit such things, he’d been as impressed by the Dremin’s defiance as he was annoyed by it. The Dremin race had never been known for having principles, much less standing by them, which made Qilzar’s display all the more impressive.

The wife, Lhvunsa, hadn’t been much of a problem either, at least not yet. But then again, Ricnor’s only demand of her so far was to serve as leverage, a frightened beauty to keep her husband in line. An easy task, considering the razor sharp spike he’d been holding against her striking green throat.

No, it was her husband, this Clangdorian nobody who fancied himself a hero, that was the real problem. He didn’t seem to realize who he was dealing with.

“I’m Ricnor, by the Gods,” he said in a nearly inaudible mutter, “where in the galaxy does this accountant get off thinking he can cross me?”

It simply wasn’t done. In the early days there had been a few who had tried, and who were promptly made into examples. Terrible, gruesome examples. But that was before the Master had come into the picture, unbidden, holding leverage over Ricnor that couldn’t be ignored. The Master had forced him to change his ways, refine them in order to become more discreet in his dealings with those who attempted to oppose him. At first Ricnor had resented and resisted the Master’s meddling. But when he found he could not break free of the Master’s grip without cutting his own throat in the process, he stopped fighting and gave his unwanted overlord the respect he demanded. In the process, Ricnor became more prosperous, and more feared than he ever dreamt possible. He and his gang also became virtually untouchable by any form of law enforcement.

The Master remained discretely hidden behind the scenes. No one, aside from Ricnor, even knew of his existence, not even the rest of Ricnor’s gang. It was the way the Master wanted it. His only demands were a cut of the profits and final say on all major decisions. The respect Ricnor once gave begrudgingly to the Master, only because he had to, soon began to come naturally, as did his fear of failing him.

Now he had to call the Master and tell him how this simple plan he’d been given had been thrown into chaos because of what that overzealous accountant, Gsefx, had done. Worse yet, the prisoners, Qilzar and Lhvunsa, who were being monitored, of course, were starting to piece things together. As much as Ricnor feared the Master’s wrath, he had to be told of these developments.

Ricnor took a deep breath and pressed “Connect.” The vidcon dialed, connected, made three short clicking noises, and then disconnected. That was the signal that his call had been received. The Master would call him back when he deemed it appropriate to grant Ricnor an audience. Ricnor no longer questioned the process, or even gave it a second thought. That’s just the way it worked.

A light flashed on the vidcon, but it was too soon for the Master; this was an internal signal.

Ricnor pressed the button and Gruleg’s face, disgusting as it was, filled the screen.

“I thought I made it clear I wasn’t to be disturbed,” said Ricnor, showing his razor sharp teeth and making it clear he was in no mood for his orders to be questioned.

“Yes sir,” said Gruleg, “but I thought you might want to know that the prisoners have figured out that whoever tampered with the vehicle works at Galacticount.”

“It’s not your place to think, Gruleg,” said Ricnor with a snarl. “Interrupt me again and what’s left of you will be Clelchin snack food. Now do as you were told, record their every word and movement, and don’t interrupt me again.”

He turned off the vidcon before the befuddled Gruleg could say another word. His second-in-command had done the right thing by passing on this information, it was something the Master was sure to want to know, but he couldn’t allow Gruleg, or anyone else, to blatantly disobey an order of his. Discipline had to be maintained or the gang’s entire structure would collapse. Gruleg would understand. Too bad if he didn’t.

Another light flashed on the vidcon. This time it was the Master. Ricnor steadied himself, bowed his head, and answered. It didn’t matter that the Master used audio only, he knew when he was being given the proper respect and when he wasn’t, regardless of whether he could see Ricnor or not.

“Master,” he said, face to the table, not daring to speak directly into the vidcon.

“Ricnor,” said a voice the gang leader knew only as the Master, even though it was clearly an electronic manipulation of his true voice, “you have news for me?”

“Yes, Master. Qilzar and Lhvunsa are captive, but …”

“But Gsefx is causing you problems. Is that your news?”

“Yes, Master.” By now, Ricnor was no longer surprised when the Master knew things he couldn’t possibly know.

“Go on, tell me everything.”

“Yes, Master.”

Ricnor told him everything. How Gsefx had bested Klarnus and Dilnch, and had then taken them captive along with one of his vehicles, complete with a full cache of weapons. How he’d negotiated a new deal and was now on his way to Earth to collect the paintings. As much as he despised showing weakness, he also admitted to the Master that he was unsure about what to expect when they met to make the exchange. His preference would be to have Klarnus and Dilnch simply kill him, but he didn’t believe they were capable. He believed Gsefx would be too much for them.

While he was clear about the things that had gone wrong, he wasn’t ready to take responsibility for them.

“With respect, Master, this job was never going to be as simple as I was originally told, was it?”

“Why Ricnor, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were questioning my judgment,” said the Master, a touch of humor coming through the electronic voice.

“I would never question your judgment, Master. I simply asked if you provided me with all of the information I required to carry out this job.”

“Very well,” said the Master, the humor gone from his voice, “you are correct, Ricnor. I did not tell you everything. My hope was that you’d be able to handle it anyway. Unfortunately, I was wrong. No matter. We are no worse off than if you had known the details, and I have every faith in your ability to control the situation.”

“Thank you, Master. Can you provide any further details that may be of assistance?”

There was a brief silence as the Master contemplated his answer.

“You said that Gsefx programmed his own DNA into the weapons on your ship and also increased the power output of his own scrambler, correct?”

“Yes Master.”

“And what does that tell you, Ricnor?”

“That he knows his way around weaponry. But, why would an accountant be that familiar with weapons? It doesn’t make sense, unless it’s just a hobby.”

“Or, that his expertise isn’t specific to weapons, but to electronics in general.”

Ricnor looked up at the blank screen, a startled look on his face.

“Yes, of course, that makes sense.”

“Is there anything else? I have other business to attend to.”

“Yes, Master, one other thing. We have been monitoring Qilzar and Lhvunsa in their cell, and they have been retracing Qilzar’s abduction.”

“Go on.”

“They believe they’ve tracked down an accomplice to his abduction to someone inside Galacticount.”

Another brief silence.

“Have they mentioned any names?”

“Not yet, Master.”

“Cease all monitoring immediately. Do you understand? Immediately!”

“Yes, Master.”

“And separate them. Why in the galaxy did you ever put them in the same cell to begin with?”

“They weren’t on speaking terms at the time, so it didn’t seem to matter.”

“Clearly they’ve patched things up, haven’t they? Get the paintings, Ricnor. Get the paintings, then kill them. Kill them all.”

The vidcon went dead. The Master was gone.

“Yes, Master,” snarled Ricnor to the blank screen, the earlier subservience gone now as his lips curled into a most unattractive sneer. Something had just changed in his relationship with the Master, something Ricnor liked.

The Master was more than angry,
he thought,
he was scared. Scared his identity might be revealed.

Ricnor dialed up Gruleg.

“Yes, Boss?” said his second-in-command as he appeared on the vidcon screen.

“Gruleg, don’t you take your eyes or ears away from the prisoners, not even for a byt.”

“Yes, Boss!”

“No one else but you or I will monitor them, and you will report what you see and hear only to me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Boss!”

Ricnor switched off the vidcon and allowed himself to do something that had been unthinkable for countless turns. He dreamed of the time, perhaps not far from now, when he would take back control of his gang and be rid of the precious Master.

“No Senator, that won’t be necessary,” said Alcorn with a sigh. This was his tenth and most tedious call of the day. He’d been on with Senator Jasper from Montana for nearly an hour and, for the life of him, Alcorn still didn’t know why they were speaking at all, other than it apparently made the Senator feel particularly powerful to have a four-star general at his beck and call. Alcorn didn’t care much for the game of politics, though he played it well enough. You didn’t climb as high as he had on merit alone.

“I assure you Senator, we have the situation well in hand. I’ve already briefed Secretary Langhorne and the Joint Chiefs.”

He noticed the blue light over his office door begin to flash. That was Janny’s gentle way of telling him dinner was ready and it was time to excuse himself from his duties for a while.

“Senator, I apologize, but I have another call coming in and I do have to take it. I’ve enjoyed our conversation immensely and look forward to speaking with you again, soon.”

A brief pause as he waited for the senator to respond.

“Yes, and to you as well, sir. Give my best to Caroline. Yes sir, I will. Goodbye, now.”

He hung up the phone, exhausted and hungry, but hesitant. He knew Theo would be at the dinner table. He missed his son and longed to see him, but he didn’t miss the anger and awkwardness that always dominated their relationship. Now, more than ever, he needed to think clearly in order to assess the potential non-terrestrial threat against the U.S., perhaps even the entire planet, and develop an action plan to present to Langhorne and the Security Council. If the work he’d done this day, all of the phone calls, briefings, and glad-handing had helped clarify anything for him, it was that he couldn’t let his relationship with Theo cloud his thinking and his judgment, which was exactly what it would do if he wasn’t careful. He took a few deep breaths to gather himself, then stood up and walked to the dining room.

Janny and Theo were already seated when Alcorn walked in to join them.

“Well, well, something smells delicious,” he said, doing his best to put on an air of joviality as he made his way to the table.

“Lasagna,” said Janny. “Theo’s favorite, and yours too, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It most certainly is,” he said. He put his hands on Theo’s shoulders. “You’re looking well, Theo. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Dad. I see you’re still working as hard as ever; even wearing camos in the house. I guess some things never change.”

That didn’t take long,
thought Alcorn, unsurprised.

“The Army’s still paying me son,” he said before he could stop himself. “They still expect me to put in a full day—in uniform. That doesn’t change just because I’m getting close to retirement.”