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    Purgatory Plot: Agents of ISIS, Book 6
    Purgatory Plot: Agents of ISIS, Book 6
    Purgatory Plot: Agents of ISIS, Book 6
    Ebook185 pages1 hour

    Purgatory Plot: Agents of ISIS, Book 6

    By Stephen Goldin

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Welcome to the first great space opera decalogy of the twenty-first century! Agents of ISIS is the 21st century re-envisioning of the Family d'Alembert series by its original author, an epic saga describing the fight to preserve humanity from the forces of chaos and destruction.

    An armed cadre of fundamentalist extremists threatens the security of the interstellar Empire, while uprisings of separatist traitors spark outrage on dozens of planets around the galaxy.

    The agents of the Imperial Special Investigation Service must find the common thread and de-fang these vipers before the wildfire of revolution engulfs the galaxy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherParsina Press
    Release dateMar 2, 2010
    ISBN9781452402154
    Purgatory Plot: Agents of ISIS, Book 6

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      Book preview

      Purgatory Plot - Stephen Goldin

      Agents Of ISIS: Book 6

      PURGATORY PLOT

      Stephen Goldin

      Published by Parsina Press at Smashwords

      Purgatory Plot. Copyright 2010 by Stephen Goldin. All Rights Reserved.

      Cover photo courtesy of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration.

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      dedicated to

      Andre Norton

      Harry Harrison

      Theodore Sturgeon

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1: The Duma

      Chapter 2: Honeymoon on New Zion

      Chapter 3: A Figure in the Dark

      Chapter 4: Harassment Tactics

      Chapter 5: Pias the Preacher

      Chapter 6: Slag

      Chapter 7: Panic in the Hall

      Chapter 8: Ambush under the Sun

      Chapter 9: The Army of the Just

      Chapter 10: A Saunter Through Hell

      Chapter 11: Standoff

      Chapter 12: Helen Goes to Work

      Chapter 13: The Duel on the Hill

      Chapter 14: Problems Ahead

      A Reader’s Guide to the Empire

      Ranks

      Runglish Words and Phrases

      The Use of Yiddish in This Series

      About Stephen Goldin

      Other Books by Stephen Goldin

      Connect with Stephen Goldin

      Chapter 1: The Duma

      Within the governmental structure of mankind’s widespread interstellar empire, the Duma was perhaps the most anachronistic element. A throwback to more democratic times before the autocratic class system, its membership comprised citizens of all social levels. Except in very special cases, each planet had a single representative to the body, but the choices were left to each individual world.

      On some worlds the local graf picked the representative based on his own particular whim. On others the representatives were picked by general elections. On some worlds the method was a combination of the two, where elections picked a pool of candidates and the graf made the final selection. There were even a few planets where being a Duma representative was a hereditary position, passed down from parent to child.

      Terms of service were equally varied. The hereditary positions tended to be for life. Other representatives served for fixed term lengths. Many served purely at the pleasure of their planet’s ruler, and could be replaced with singular abruptness. The record holder was the planet Altoora, which once had five different representatives within the space of a single year.

      Under normal circumstances the tsar was an autocrat, subject to no one’s whims but his own. The tsar made the laws, the tsar made the policies, the tsar dispensed justice. The Duma existed to express the concerns of the planets, as the official phrase went. Tsaritsa Olga had called it the whining gallery. Its main function was to complain and to suggest, with no authority to follow through on anything.

      In point of fact, the Duma did have its influence on imperial matters. The tsar and his advisers couldn’t know everything that was going on throughout this vast empire, and the Duma provided a head’s-up for problems before they became unmanageable. It was also a useful testing ground for policy decisions. The Duma could debate issues without fear of taking responsibility for solving them. This led to many irresponsible statements coming out of the Duma, but it also weeded out many bad ideas before they became official.

      The Speaker of the Duma was chosen by a general election of its membership. He generally became the liaison between the Duma and the Prime Councilor who was chosen by, and had the ear of, the tsar. This gave the Speaker a modicum of back-door power within the governmental structure.

      The situation was significantly different at present, though. Tsaritsa Natalia had been just fourteen years old when she took the throne, and it was decided she should not have unfettered powers immediately. Until she was fully invested at age twenty, she wasn’t allowed to pick her own Prime Councilor. The Speaker of the Duma would hold that position as well and guided her hand on matters of policy. If he and the tsaritsa disagreed, the Duma as a whole would resolve the dispute. As further backup, the Sovyet Knyazey could be consulted. It couldn’t make decisions, but it could veto what the Duma decided.

      On any normal day the Duma was a center for lively debate, even on unimportant issues. But this was not a normal day. The issue being discussed was a particularly contentious one: the spread of terrorism throughout the Empire. Memories of the Pretender’s Rebellion were still fresh in people’s minds. The Imperial Navy had only returned to full strength two years ago after the ravages of that conflict. Planets were still dealing with the death and destruction they’d suffered. Emotions ran strong.

      Lord Agu Burr’uk of Katswada, the current Speaker—and hence Prime Councilor—was a small man in his late fifties with a smooth shaven skull and gold-rimmed glasses. He looked weak, but appearances were most deceptive. He possessed one of the shrewdest minds in the Empire, and made all his presentations with the force of his dynamic personality. He was directing that force now at the witness facing him. What do you mean, this isn’t a major threat? Isn’t this exactly how the Pretender’s Rebellion started?

      The witness, however refused to be intimidated. There are certainly outward similarities, but I refuse to leap at the bait. He was a big man with broad shoulders and impressive bulk who looked capable of snapping the wiry Speaker like a twig. His brown eyes and unlined face were as calm as a black marble statue. He was refusing to leap at this bait, too.

      Nkosi Wettig wore a number of hats. As knyaz of Orion sector he ruled 32 planets. As a leading member of the Sovyet Knyazey, he technically ranked above anyone in the Duma.

      But today he was testifying in his capacity as Commissar of the Imperial Special Information Service, the man ultimately responsible for the internal security of the Empire. It was a job he took very seriously. Unfortunately, he and Burr’uk were frequently on opposite sides of any issue.

      As I recall, Lord Agu said, cynicism dripping from his words, ISIS’s mandate is to guard the safety of the Empire. These terrorist groups are a threat to that safety. How can doing your assigned job be interpreted as ‘leaping at the bait’?

      In and of themselves, these terrorists are not a threat to the Empire.

      I doubt Graf Pedro would agree with you.

      Graf Pedro’s kidnapping and the bombing of his capital were most unfortunate events, but the local militsia managed to contain the situation quite satisfactorily.

      In other words, you propose shirking off your duty to hundreds of different legavye.

      "Isn’t that their mandate? the Commissar asked calmly. Are you proposing they shirk their duty?"

      Lord Agu scowled at the riposte. Terrorism has grown into an Empire-wide problem, beyond the ability of any one planet to control.

      Indeed, Wettig said with a nod. "And ISIS will offer them assistance. I have established a department to provide up-to-the-minute information to all local agencies and to help coordinate all interplanetary and interstellar operations. What we can’t, and won’t, do is run around wasting our resources to put out every little brushfire. We must look at the bigger picture."

      I disagree, Lord Agu insisted. The Empire has the power to quash these terrorist activities. Brushfires, if left unchecked, can turn into major conflagrations. I insist we act now!

      Such is your right, of course. The Duma may offer Her Majesty its advice on any subject it sees fit, and I know she will weigh it carefully. She would be foolish not to. I, as Commissar of ISIS, will submit my own proposals and Her Majesty, in consultation with the Prime Councilor, the Duma and the Sovyet Knyazey, will make her decisions. We’ll all play our parts for the welfare of the Empire.

      The Speaker blustered on, and the rest of the Duma debated the matter hotly. The Commissar remained passive but stubborn in the face of all their arguments. Two hours later, the Duma voted its recommendation that ISIS should be instructed to actively participate in quelling the upsurge of terrorist activity throughout the realm.

      ***

      Traditionally, the tsar didn’t attend regular meetings of the Duma—but there were cameras and microphones running constantly during general sessions, and the Empire’s ruler frequently followed debates of special importance. Tsaritsa Natalia had indeed been watching this particular debate, and Nkosi Wettig could tell she wasn’t happy when he appeared before her in the Grand Galactic Palace two hours later.

      Natalia Ilyinishna Sokolova still looked like a young girl in many respects. Her body was still growing and there was a certain gangliness to her movements. Her face was unlined, her complexion smooth and her voice still the triflest bit high. Her hair was braided atop her head in a crown, the traditional style of tsaritsy for centuries. She was nineteen years old and recently married, still a year away from being fully invested in her office.

      But her eyes and her expression were not those of a simple teenage girl. Since having her power thrust suddenly upon her at age fourteen, she’d matured far more rapidly than any teenage girl should have. There were lessons that had to be learned, decisions that had to be made, and even with the Duma and the Sovyet Knyazey to back her up the weight of responsibility could be crushing. Her eyes were seldom happy and she laughed far less than a young girl should. Nkosi Wettig was increasingly realizing what a wise, if unconventional, choice she’d made in her husband. Choyen Liu, the Anarian mystic, kept her perspective balanced so she could view the universe with calm deliberation.

      That calm was being tested now. I remember what happened five years ago, she said. The people were being stirred up just as they are now. I barely managed to survive. I think Agu had a serious point there. Why aren’t you acting?

      The situations are subtly different, Wettig explained patiently. "Knyaz Yevgheniy had at least a semi-legitimate claim to the throne. He was trying to stir up emotions so when you were out of the picture people would turn to him as their last hope against chaos. He was counting on public opinion to help him. He was cultivating it.

      But look at what’s happening now. These terrorists have no popular support. They’re not even trying to win any. Their only goal is to wear us down. They’re trying to distract us so we won’t see what’s going on.

      "And what is going on?"

      Lady A—or C, or whoever’s the leader of this conspiracy—has no real claim to the throne. They’re not depending on popular acclamation to put them on top. They’ll have to rely purely on military strength to get there. And that means they’ll do everything they can to diminish ours. Chasing them hither and yon will accomplish nothing but draining our resources.

      So we just hand the Empire over to them? Natalia asked dubiously.

      "Of course not. But we use our resources wisely. We go to the root of the problem. These terrorist cells aren’t springing up spontaneously; as I said, they have no popular local support. They’re being supplied and coordinated by some central source, almost certainly Lady A’s conspiracy. That’s where ISIS has to concentrate its efforts, and that’s what I intend to do. With Your Majesty’s permission, of course."

      Now Natalia smiled, at least momentarily. You have this intriguing habit of making up my mind for me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.

      You could always dismiss me if you disagree.

      Natalia shook her head. My great-uncle tried that once, and look what happened. No, all I ask from you is that you be right a hundred percent of the time.

      As Your Majesty commands, the Commissar replied.

      ***

      When he returned to his office a short while later, Nkosi Wettig found that his daughter/assistant had placed two files at the top of his inbox, both marked top priority. One of them had been written by her and the other by Marask Kantana, his free-ranging troubleshooter. He devoured them both with interest and, after barely a thought, buzzed his daughter.

      Hasina, put through a Q-line call to New Zion. We’ve got some assignments to parcel out.

      Chapter 2: Honeymoon on New Zion

      New Zion:

      An inhospitable lump of rock circling a yellow star at a respectable distance. A critic once defined it as the slagheap of the universe. It is a world of sharp, jagged mountain ranges, of small but restless oceans, of turbulent storms that would spring from nowhere and cause their havoc, only to disappear once more as mysteriously as they came. It is a compact world with few earthquakes; all of its material settled into the densest configuration long ago.

      Above all, it is a world where things move quickly. Because of its superdense composition, the gravitational acceleration of objects falling at its surface is two point six times that on Earth. Objects weigh two point six times their terrestrial value, and fall with speeds that astonish the uninitiated. It is not a planet for weaklings or slowpokes.

      There was native life on the planet when the first human settlers came, life that had adapted to these hardy conditions. There were grasses and cereals so tough no terrestrial being could chew them; trees so hard that the sharpest Earthly axes failed to make a dent; animals that moved like invisible streaks, with two or more hearts apiece just to keep their blood circulating through their bodies.

      New Zion, originally named Goliath, was discovered in IY 302. At first its intense gravity led people to conclude it was uninhabitable—but people’s minds changed with the discovery of enormous deposits of valuable heavy metals. The prospect of unlimited wealth has always tempted humans to try the impossible.

      Of the initial settlers, more than half died within the first three months. The largest single cause of death was stumbling; when objects fell at more than twice their

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