The Ripple in Space-Time: Free City Book 1 (The Free City Series) Read online

  The Free City University Student Union is organizing a colorful parade that will progress through the city on most Saturdays during June and July. The parade participants will include the many social organizations that are currently active at the institution. The largest contingent will likely be the Enlightenment Crusaders with adherents attending from the city and all seven of the fiefdoms. The group has promised to highlight its nonconformist and experimental nature in lively and most likely noisy detail.

  The Free City Municipal Government plans to accentuate the city’s unique position as the lone bastion of impartiality in the sea of corruption and inequity that pervades life outside the metropolitan borders. To that end, both the High Court and the Inquisitor's Office have produced several documentaries about the ongoing efforts to reduce graft and extortion amongst the seven quarrelsome leaders of the Warlord Syndicate.

  The Warlord Syndicate for its part will promote the dozen or so vacation destinations in the seven fiefdoms beyond the borders of our fair city. It’s hoped that the wealthier and more adventurous residents of Free City will endeavor to travel abroad to enjoy holidays in the fiefdoms. Current statistics reveal that city vacationers travel primarily to the venerable Sea of Tranquility Historical Resort on the Moon and the rugged Australian Outbacks Theme Park in IndoPacifica.

  The Bicentennial Exposition will take place in Roscommon Park from March 16 to August 23, 2446.

  4. Contacts and cohorts Lev was waiting for him just outside of the particularly seamy Club Glut on Fourth Street.

  Ryo shook his head in dismay at the two work-weary prostitutes halfheartedly hustling several well-dressed teenage boys in front of the raucous nightspot. The boys laughed nervously at the old hookers before slipping into the club.

  “Have you been here before?” Lev shouted above the pounding beat that pulsed out of the open doors.

  “I’m not a regular,” Ryo grinned, “but I have been here far too often.”

  The young man advanced towards the ticket kiosk but the old Investigator waved him off. Ryo held up his Inquisitor’s Office badge and the attendant nodded tepidly.

  Just beyond the doors, the club was a sweaty and confusing mass of wannabe dancers, vibrantly attired Enlightenment Crusaders and inebriated office workers all gyrating to the painfully loud and pervasive beat.

  Ryo tugged Lev towards the huge bar that stretched along one sidewall. While they waited for a bartender, several statuesque women nearby gawked at Lev.

  Ryo chuckled; young love, or at least pheromones, were in the air.

  Far down the long bar, the head bartender noticed the men.

  “Ryo Trop, you old dog! What brings you here tonight?”

  “Just catching up on a little work.” He nodded to the bar man, “Hey Vayk, how’s business tonight?”

  “I can’t complain and if I do, no one listens anyway. Do you two want anything?”

  Ryo shook his head, “Nothing for me.”

  Lev smiled playfully, “I’ll have a Gin and Tonic.”

  The bartender’s bushy eyebrows arched up, “Oh, a traditionalist; hopefully I can find some gin here somewhere.”

  “Before you go off hunting for ancient spirits,” Ryo’s hand clasped the man’s wrist, “I’m looking for a Mining Guild Appraiser named Thacker who’s supposed to be here somewhere. Have you seen him tonight?”

  “Yeah, Mr. Thacker is in Rumpus Room 3 with a few of the local tarts.”

  “Excellent,” Ryo waved his fingertips over the bartender’s payment interface, “we’ll take the drink in Room 3 then.”

  The small rectangular interface attached to the barman’s bicep summarized the financial transaction, “Ryo Trop, the premium well drink tab is 13 Standard Units. Do you wish to leave Mr. Vayk a tip?”

  He nodded to the hopeful bartender, “Yes, 50 Units for my most cooperative friend.”

  “Confirmed,” the interface replied, “63 Standard Units charged to Ryo Trop.”

  The barman trotted off with a wide grin.

  Ryo smirked curtly at the loitering women before he and Lev left the bar for the long and slow trip across the tumultuous dance floor to Rumpus Room 3.

  A stocky guard blocked the door to the private room until Ryo’s badge caused him to flinch away in panic.

  Rumpus Room 3 was surprisingly quiet compared to the deafening hypnotic swirl of the dance floor, the room seemed much more like a softly lit parlor in a fine Free City house than a side area to the wild nightlife just outside.

  Near the center of the opulent lounge, huddled around a large low table, sat a husky middle-aged man with three ridiculously thin and vacuous young women.

  The man looked up in alarm at the intruders.

  Ryo noticed a great deal of contraband aphrodisiacs and hallucinogens spread out on the table, “Mr. Thacker, I’m Investigator Trop from the Inquisitor’s Office.”

  The women rustled nervously.

  With so much illicit activity transpiring in this room, Ryo mirthfully noted, one way or another he’d easily get whatever information that he needed.

  “Mr. Thacker, may I remind you that these items are prohibited in Free City.” He tersely added, “Are these young ladies of legal age and registered with the Courtesan’s Union?”

  The big man shifted anxiously, “Well, I...”

  “Fortunately for you,” Ryo declared, “I’m not working with the Vice Detail tonight. However if things don’t go well, I may have to call them in for a bit of advice.”

  The detective’s power play caused two of the women to whimper uncontrollably.

  The Mining Guild Appraiser was sweating profusely, “Mr. Trop, how may I assist you tonight?”

  Ryo studied the big man for an uncomfortably long time before answering, “I have some questions about unsanctioned mining operations near the Lunar Ultra Energy Lab just before its destruction.”

  “Oh; that,” Thacker sighed with relief.

  • • •

  Two hours later Ryo waved absently to Lev as the younger man boarded the city transport across the street from the club with one of Thacker’s underage woman. The investigator withdrew the communication device from his pocket and waited several minutes in the brisk night air before he contacted his boss.

  “Well,” Ryo summarized, “the Mining Guild Appraiser says that there almost certainly wasn’t any mineral extraction going on near the Lab before the blast.”

  The tiny image of Helga frowned on the communication display, “And you’re confident that he’s a reliable source?”

  “Absolutely.” Ryo nodded, “The Mining Guild is especially adept and draconian at detecting even the tiniest tunneling operations.” He smiled at his stern supervisor; “They make billions every year in fees from both legitimate and illicit endeavors. Apparently they can even catch a single rouge miner with a hand spade and a rusty wheelbarrow.”

  His implacable boss didn’t seem to be amused by his dry humor.

  “Damn it,” Helga muttered. “The mischievous miners run amuck theory would have neatly explained the catastrophe. Now we seem to have a much more nettlesome mystery, who or what really caused the explosion? With nearly all of the physical evidence destroyed or buried under tons of radioactive lunar rubble, it’s going to be particularly difficult and time consuming to discover what happened.”

  “So what’s next?” he asked.

  For just a brief instant she looked very weary, “The heat is on in this matter, hundreds were killed and a very expensive facility was destroyed. The Warlord Syndicate is especially displeased that their huge investment was lost and there is a colossal amount of pressure being applied to the Inquisitor’s Office to come up with some answers.”

  The steely old woman scowled, “We need to find the right answers, not some phony smokescreen. You’re going to have to rummage around in the outside world, I’m afraid.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.” Ryo slumped in dismay, despite his keen desire to remain in the comparative safety of Free
City, the investigation was already tugging him inextricability out into the unruly domain of the Warlords.

  “Alright,” Helga puffed, “you have a full expense account for this matter, but I expect some results that I can report to the press in the next few days. Ryo, because of the complexities of this case, I want you to work with a Fiefdom Liaison Agent.”

  “Mackillroy?” he asked hopefully.

  “No, Mac’s busy with the assassination in New Rome. I’m sending you the address of someone new, a promising young Liaison Agent named Norton who’s currently tending to some trivial matters in Dublin.”

  The screen faded.

  Dublin, Ryo winced, was a hazardous two-hour trip beyond the Free City limits and well into the lawless neighboring fiefdom of EurAfrica.

  5. News Item: The pirate scourge continues Dateline: 3rd of June, 2445; Free City, Earth

  The recent spat of space piracy and hijacking continues to vex transportation officials and ship owners.

  Dozens of vessels, both large and small, have suffered the ill effects of the marauding raiders. Most small ships have been quickly set free upon payment of ransom demands but a few especially valuable large freighters are still being held as the criminals negotiate ever-larger payoffs.

  The Warlord Syndicate, which has sustained significant losses at the hands of the thieves, announced that it would soon offer a bounty of up to ten thousand Standard Units each for several suspected outlaws.

  Four ships remain inexplicability missing, most notably the notorious Butin Belle which disappeared near Mars almost three months ago. The infamous ship is a small, fast and highly maneuverable Ore-Runner Class midget space freighter used primarily in the past by illicit miners in the Asteroid Belt. The craft’s comparatively small size and great speed allowed the former clandestine operators to evade Mining Guild inspectors.

  The Butin Belle’s main engine is a ubiquitous and very powerful ion drive which can propel the craft to an impressive maximum speed of over 45 Astronomical Units per year.

  The Butin Belle had been engaged recently by Celestial Delivery Systems as a quick transporter between Mars and the Kuiper Belt Station in the Outer Reaches. Both Celestial Delivery Systems and Warlord Syndicate Underwriters are eager to recover the valuable and one of a kind vessel.

  Anyone with information regarding hijacked vessels or the activities of pirates should contact the Free City Inquisitor's Office or the Vessel Registry Bureau.

  6. A call to action Lev peeked into the clamorous Student Union meeting room.

  Dozens of garishly dressed Enlightenment Crusaders roamed about the overfilled hall. Many haphazardly flitted between small clusters engaged in trivial conversations about recent shenanigans or solemn flocks conducting weighty discourses regarding lofty future goals.

  More than a few of his self-indulgent companions were undoubtedly under the influence of herbal stimulants or mild hallucinogens, Lev mirthfully noted.

  He’d vacillated for several days as to whether or not he should attend the much-publicized meeting; past gatherings of the Crusaders had lapsed into contentious shouting matches or medicinally induced mass debauchery.

  Lev grinned at the hand drawn multicolored sign that someone had proudly posted at the door: Crusade Brainstorm Today! Help us conceptualize the future of the Movement!

  The disjointed group certainly needed some direction, he reluctantly concluded.

  He slipped into the noisy room.

  “Lev!” a chubby teenage girl draggle-tailed up and hugged him. The elaborate rainbow beadwork on her loose fitting halter top rustled softly.

  Although he vaguely recognized the overly affectionate youngster, he could not recall her name. Lev kissed the top of her grimy head, “Hey, how have you been?”

  “Good, good!” She stared up at him with an unnerving sense of utter idolization. “Are you going to help us put together some virtuous goals for the future?”

  Lev absently studied her jiggling breasts as she spoke; “I don’t know about virtuous,” he dryly added, “maybe just laudable and noteworthy.”

  The girl nodded with absurd sincerity at his quip. “Come join us!” She tugged him towards a loitering group of a dozen or so giggly teens.

  She was Desiree’s little sister, Lev realized belatedly; the plump teen was called Sadie or Sabra, something like that, she had almost certainly visited the house when Des lived with him.

  The public address system screeched painfully. “OK, we’d like to begin,” a willowy redheaded woman said hopefully to the boisterous throng. “I know there aren’t any chairs...but could everyone please sit down on the floor?”

  Gradually the gathering of idiosyncratic individuals complied with the request.

  Lev slipped away from his girlish admirer and found his way to an strangely mismatched flock of cheery wide-eyed street people, eccentric self-obsessed dilettantes and forward-thinking academics like himself.

  “Thank you,” the MC finally said with visible relief.

  “Before we begin, I must remind everyone that University policy strictly forbids the use of unprescribed medications and herbal treatments in any of the school facilities.”

  Scattered boos echoed through the hall.

  “For the first half of the morning session, we are most fortunate to have as a guest speaker Professor Malcolm Evans from the School of Biology.”

  During the tremendous applause that followed, the jaunty fortyish Professor waved wholeheartedly to the gathering.

  “Good morning everyone!”

  The applause began anew.

  When the adoring group finally quieted, he continued, “Several years ago when the Enlightenment Crusade first coalesced in the School of Biology, it was just a group of five very imaginative students who wanted to change the way that things were done.”

  Loud cheering interrupted the speech.

  “Those five innovators had no idea at the time that eventually the Crusade would have tens of thousands of enthusiasts in Free City and the seven fiefdoms.”

  Lev nodded along with many others at the recounting of the organization's rapid growth.

  “However, I sometimes fear that the movement has lost its way; that the simple ideals of enlightenment, social justice and equality have been forgotten and replaced by less noble distractions.”

  The Professor pointed accusingly at the uneasily stirring audience.

  “If we are to move forward, let’s remember that self-indulgent thrill-seeking is not the same as experimentation to discover a greater enlightenment, that grumbling about the benign status quo is not the same as crying out for social justice, and that the commonplace advantages of the most fortunate must be equally shared with the underprivileged.”

  “YEAH!” a shaggy fellow yelled from the left side of the hall, “That’s what it’s all about people!”

  The speaker smiled at the enthusiastic firebrand.

  “There’s a great deal of untapped energy in this room. Energy that could easily be squandered on a thousand trivial and uncoordinated projects or carefully focused on achieving a greater good for all.”

  Slowly the enthusiasm of the marshaled idealists built up.

  A deafening fugue of inharmonious cheering filled the venue.

  “EN...LIGHT...EN...MENT!” The approving roar of the crowd gradually evolved into a thunderous synchronized chat, “Enlightenment! Enlightenment!”

  Nearly everyone was standing.

  For several minutes the Professor beamed at the wholehearted demonstration.

  “I would be most proud,” he finally continued, “to discover in the near future that a great modern day crusade of the concerned had left the safety and opulence of our fair city and ventured out into the cruel injustice and servitude of the wider world to struggle for the freedom and dignity that all people deserve.”

  In a wide sweeping arc, the speaker pointed to everyone in the crowded hall, “YOU ARE THOSE PEOPLE!”

  As Lev chanted along with the boomin
g and euphoric multitude, he pleaded to himself that he would somehow be instrumental in improving the lives of all humankind.

  7. The Butin Belle

  Jana Fesai pensively studied the stars through the small porthole of her dreary little compartment.

  The vessel would soon cross the orbit of Mars and now seemed destined for the rocky chaos of the Asteroid Belt; the perfect place to hide a ship load of hostages and a great deal of stolen materials.

  She pushed off from the wall and drifted slowly across the tiny cell. Her captors apparently considered her a valuable commodity, while the other victims were locked away together elsewhere, Jana for some reason was the given the “privilege” of solitary confinement.

  The isolation was closing in on her.

  She’d been striving mightily for days to avoid the looming insanity that would be brought about by the prolonged solitude. Often she had wistfully daydreamed about Lev far away in the comfort and relative safety of Free City. Sometimes she had methodically reviewed every possible characteristic of each of the 92 natural elements on the Periodic Table or slowly recited Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night's Dream which she’d memorized as a high school Junior in Buenos Aires thirty-six years earlier.

  But she could still feel the slow creeping tendrils of madness entwining her psyche.

  Jana writhed suddenly in defiance of the desolation; somehow she would force herself to persevere.

  She had no reasonable way of knowing how long it had been since she and the others had been snatched from the Ultra Energy Lab on the Moon.

  Jana had struggled to find anything that seemed to occur with predictable regularity. She’d given up on trying to discern some sort of pattern from the sporadic mechanical sounds that pervaded the ship. Jana had tallied the dreadful rations that were delivered haphazardly by a vacant and begrimed black-haired boy; the count was now seven, of which she’d been willing to eat only two.