The City of Ashes Read online

  The City of Ashes:

  Book Two of the Chronicles of the Second Interstellar Empire of Mankind

  By

  Robert I. Katz

  Also by Robert I. Katz

  Edward Maret: A Novel of the Future

  The Cannibal’s Feast

  The Kurtz and Barent Mystery Series:

  Surgical Risk

  The Anatomy Lesson

  Seizure

  The Chronicles of the Second Interstellar Empire of Mankind:

  The Game Players of Meridien

  The City of Ashes

  The Empire of Dust (forthcoming)

  The City of Ashes:

  Book Two of the Chronicles of the Second Interstellar Empire of Mankind

  Copyright © 2018 by Robert I. Katz

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form, without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover design by Steven A. Katz

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  —The End—

  Information about the Chronicles of the Second Interstellar Empire of Mankind

  Preview: The Empire of Dust: Book Three of the Chronicles of the Second Interstellar Empire of Mankind

  Chapter 1

  Two weeks after the siege of Aphelion finally ended, we set out for Gath. It was a boring two weeks. The streets were cleaned, the power grid fixed and reinforced. The city’s infrastructure was inspected, repaired and made sound. Our allies’ troops were wined and dined and given the keys to the city, which they richly deserved. As for myself, I had little to do except tend to my business interests and think about the future. I was eager to get started.

  Guild Master Anderson had meant it when he said that we would be putting on a show. We travelled in one of the largest airships in the fleet, named the Endeavor, re-painted for our trip in all the colors of the Meridien flag, festooned with rippling pennants and banners flapping in the breeze. The personnel, however, were intended to put on a very different sort of show, all either elite military or secret service, about a third female. All of them moved with quiet confidence. All of them looked like they could punch through walls and probably most of them could.

  “Bring somebody with you,” the Guild Master had said. “Gath is a chauvinist culture. They will expect a young, virile man like yourself to have a sexual outlet.”

  “Why should we care what they expect?” I said, though I had no objection in principle to a sexual outlet.

  “Think of it as an insurance card. If you bring a woman along, it will make it harder for their spies to seduce you.” He shrugged. “No doubt, they’ll still try, but why make it easy for them? If you don’t have anybody in mind, we’ll assign a member of the military.” He got a far-away look on his face. “That might be best, actually, a combination mistress and bodyguard.”

  I looked at him, not quite scandalized. “That seems above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “We wouldn’t insist that she have sex with you. She could pretend.”

  I declined his offer of military assistance for my libido but did ask Jennifer to come along, though I felt it wiser to not mention the Guild Master’s comments regarding our hosts’ expectations in the bedroom. “Sounds interesting,” she said. “Sure.” She grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  So, we drifted over Imperion, Cuomo, Valspur, Neece and the desert kingdom of Kush, which, like Gath, preferred to maintain the old ways. Kush rejected most modern technology outside of health care and genetically engineered crops. And air conditioning, pretty much a necessity when the average daily temperature during most of the year hovers over forty degrees Celsius. The Kushians trailed below our ship on horseback, carrying long rifles to protect themselves against sand-tigers and the lizard-like morions, drawing pictures with wax stylets on sheaves of paper and talking among themselves. They had one unusual but obviously useful modification: like chameleons, they could change color to blend into their surroundings, which varied from tan sandstone to red, iron rich rock. They seemed interested in our passage and thankfully didn’t try to shoot us down. I wondered if they had holo connections and were fans of the upcoming games.

  We took our time. We wanted to be seen. The ship stopped twice, both times to pick up passengers. Denali was a small mountainous nation in the center of the continent, lumber, harvested from enormous hardwood trees, being their principal product. McClain was the only city, neatly laid out in a grid around the government center. The Endeavor floated to a mooring atop the Parliament building. We exited the ship, met the Prime Minister and his cabinet, had lunch at a restaurant that specialized in wild game, and trooped back into the ship before nightfall.

  John Mead was the passenger, a big man with a perpetual smile, he moved slowly, as if careful not to damage other, more delicate human beings. I knew of John Mead. He had trained at the same dojo as Master Chen and owned a chain of martial arts academies that spread across the continent.

  Denali, like so many nations in the wake of Gath’s challenge, had suddenly awakened to their own danger. Alliances were being made. Denali had entered into negotiations with the Guild Council and it had been decided that I would not be alone in entering the Grand Tournament.

  Fine with me, not that I had anything to say about it.

  John Mead looked at me with mild interest when we first met, as if wondering what made me think that I might have a chance at winning against the best fighters in Gath. I smiled back and let him wonder. At least, he was polite.

  The mountains turned into foothills, then a high plain and a day later, we came to Hayden, a town on the edges of Lake Sierra, the third largest body of fresh water on the continent. Hayden was the home town of Alessandro Abruzzi. I had heard of him, as well. Five years before, he had entered the Grand Tournament of Gath, the only foreigner that year, and he had done better than anybody had expected, ranking forty-fifth out of the nearly five thousand who had entered. Apparently, he had decided to try again, and we were elected to help him do it.

  Alessandro Abruzzi was not quite so pleasant as John Mead. Along with the Captain, a hard-eyed navy man named Reece Jones, his first mate, Commander Boyd and John Mead, I was part of the greeting party as Abruzzi entered the ship. Abruzzi gave Mead a little bow, which Mead returned. He glared at me, his lips wrinkling. We shook hands and he squeezed. I smiled and squeezed back. Abruzzi’s hand was not quite as hard as granite and just a bit smaller than a boulder but his hand was no stronger than mine. After a moment, he loosened his fingers. I was tempted not to loosen mine, but we weren’t there to make enemies. I let go. He clenched and unclenched his fist, the knuckles audibly cracking, nodded abruptly, turned to the Captain and was perfectly polite for the rest of the evening.

  Both Abruzzi and Mead traveled alone. Apparently, neither of them were worried at the prospect of being seduced by the sinister agents of Gath, but then, perhaps neither of them were spies.

  As the putative gue
sts of honor, Jennifer and I ate at the Captain’s table every night, along with the other officers, and now, John Mead and Allesandro Abruzzi. Like Abruzzi, I don’t think most of the crew took me seriously, not at first. One junior lieutenant named Jeffrey Grant seemed particularly contemptuous. He looked at Jennifer at my side, grimaced, turned to an ensign and made a little comment about delusional rich men and their mistresses. I don’t think that he intended me to hear him but he obviously didn’t care much if I did.

  I pondered his smug, smiling face for a long moment. I hadn’t kept my abilities secret, not deliberately, but it had been a long time since I had fought competitively and back then, it had been entirely within the confines of the Guild Hall, and Guild members don’t talk to outsiders about what happens within the Guilds. In the Guild, and in the world of business and industry, I was a respected player, but this was a different world.

  There are two approaches to dealing with an opponent, any opponent: you can try to take them by surprise or you can try to intimidate. I didn’t like Allesandro Abruzzi’s attitude. John Mead was more polite about it but somehow, I suspected that he shared Abruzzi’s opinion. I resented that opinion, and I didn’t like Junior Lieutenant Jeffrey Grant. Maybe it was time to show what I could do…we were supposed to be putting on a show, after all.

  “Captain?” I said.

  “Yes, Mr. Oliver?”

  “Would you mind very much if I demonstrated to Mr. Grant the error of his ways?”

  The Captain eyed Lieutenant Grant and smiled slowly. “Certainly not,” he said. “It would be educational for him and entertaining for the rest of us.”

  “Excellent.” I raised my voice. “Lieutenant Grant,” I said. “I could use some exercise.” I smiled. “Perhaps you would like to spar with me later this evening?”

  A sudden silence fell over the table. I doubt that the rest of the officers were exactly on my side but none of them thought much of Grant. He found himself the sudden center of attention and obviously didn’t like it. His face turned red and he quickly swallowed the food in his mouth. “I’d love to,” he said.

  “Good.”

  I noted that John Mead kept his face impassive during this exchange. Abruzzi gave me a doubtful look, then shrugged his massive shoulders.

  The rest of the meal was subdued. Jennifer and I wandered back to our suite after dinner. “You sure about this?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “After the last few weeks? I’m in no mood to put up with any more bullshit.”

  She smiled. “Okay,” she said. That was just one of the things that I liked about Jennifer. She knew when to push and when to leave it alone and she always knew the score.

  An hour later, we walked into the gym to find it packed. Bleachers rose up along the walls, filled with what seemed to be the entire ship’s personnel. A nine-meter octagonal shaped ring stood in the center. This surprised me a little, as the military generally preferred the smaller Sumo type circle for practice and training bouts, but then Gath used the octagon and Gath was where we were going, so it made sense.

  Grant wore a black gi. I came in wearing a white robe and when I stripped it off the room fell silent for a moment, before the buzz of excited conversation came back a little louder. Under the robe, I had on only black trunks and black canvas shoes with rubber soles. Neither the shoes nor the trunks were new and my legs and torso were roped with muscle. I looked like I knew what I was doing, which I did. I smiled at Grant and he frowned, looking for the first time uncertain. We walked to the center of the cage. The referee gave his instructions, dropped his arm and I whirled, sweeping Grant’s legs out from beneath him. He fell heavily, jumped to his feet and glared. I smiled back at him.

  “Point,” the referee said.

  We walked again to the center of the ring and stood facing each other until the referee gave the signal. This time, I waited for Grant to demonstrate what he could do. He came in fast and threw a series of punches at my face. I shook them off with quick flicks of my wrists, stepped in and hit him with an uppercut to the abdomen. Hard. He dropped, wheezing.

  “Point,” the referee said.

  I shook my head. Grant wasn’t bad, exactly. Actually, he was pretty good. He had to be, to be a part of this crew. He just wasn’t nearly as good as he thought he was. Any pro would have torn him apart.

  Now, he was seriously pissed off. He snarled at me while the referee raised his arm and dropped it, and then he charged. I jumped, grabbed his torso between my open legs, twisted and let the momentum carry us to the mat. I slithered around his back, levered his wrist across my chest and hyperextended his elbow. An armbar. If I wanted to, from this position, I could snap his joint. The crowd grew silent. Grant groaned but didn’t tap out. I put a little pressure on the joint, which hurts. It hurts a lot. “Fuck!” he yelled and slapped the mat with his opposite hand. I let him go and jumped to my feet. Grant took a few seconds longer to get up. His face was white and he rubbed his arm. I didn’t trust Grant. His aura flared, almost crackling. We were both supposed to exit at the same time from opposite sides of the ring but I could see him hesitate. “Don’t,” I whispered. “You’ll regret it.” He looked me in the eyes, his lips thin, his breath coming fast and then I could see him deflate. He put his head down, turned and walked out.

  Most of the crowd looked happy. A few seemed disappointed. John Mead gave me a speculative look. Allesandro Abruzzi frowned. The Captain said something that I couldn’t hear to Commander Boyd and chuckled. I could see money changing hands but on the whole, I could detect no animosity among the assembled audience. This was good. None of us knew what we would be getting into once we reached Gath but the crew was at least tentatively on my side. I was pleased. It was a good night’s work.

  Chapter 2

  The City of Gath in the province of Gath in the nation of Gath was clean and orderly but it was nevertheless a drab and dreary place. The buildings were gray concrete, almost all of them large, squat and brooding. The populace also wore a lot of gray, highlighted by small epaulets and insignia in red, green, blue and purple. “It’s a military dictatorship with communist overtones,” Captain Jones said, “and it embodies the worst of both systems. There’s a hereditary aristocracy and everybody else scrounges for the dregs.”

  “There are plenty of dregs,” I said. “These people aren’t starving.”

  “Oh, it’s not a poor nation, but if they decided to drop the collectivist bullshit and encourage private industry, they might grow an actual, functioning economy. As it is, most of their capital goes to the military and the ruling class, which is pretty much the same thing. The land is fertile. Their farms are well run.” The Captain wasn’t telling me anything that I didn’t already know. I shrugged. From my point of view, the relative weakness of Gath’s social system was an advantage that I hoped to exploit.

  We had reached the outskirts of the city a few hours before, opened concealed portholes on the top of the ship—where they couldn’t be seen by ground based surveillance—and released a swarm of micro-recorders. The recorders drifted away from the ship like a smoky cloud. They were programmed to seek out government buildings, military installations and places with high population density. The recorders were inert until triggered, when they would release their data up into cyberspace. They were also explosive, just in case we needed a distraction. Finally, our ship drifted to a mooring on a spire at the top of a fifty-story tourist hotel. I had halfway expected to be subtly (or not so subtly) mistreated: room too small or too crowded or too cold, no hot water, lousy food. Nope. They wanted to demonstrate that their society was superior to all the others so foreigners, no matter their business, were treated royally, much better than the majority of their own citizens.

  We left a skeleton crew up on the ship, which rotated daily, and the rest of us were housed in luxury, one whole floor of the hotel, deep, soft carpets, picture windows, superb food and drink, our own swimming pool and gym. Basically, everything anybody could wish for, including
an offer of “comfort women” for the men and “comfort boys” for the females in the crew, or vice-versa, depending on preference. No doubt they were all spies and we wasted no time in turning down the offer, though a few lower ranking members seemed disappointed.

  John Mead and Allesandro Abruzzi, not really members of our party, were given separate quarters of their own on a different floor. If they took advantage of the offer for companionship, I have no idea.

  The games were due to start in two days, which meant two days to be bored and two days for our hosts to foment an incident. “They’re not likely to pull anything right away,” the Captain said. “Let the crew take leave but never in groups of less than five. Have them stay together.”

  Commander Boyd was a lean man with sharp eyes and a hooked nose. He looked older than his age but like all of the rest, was in excellent shape. He nodded, said, “Yes, sir,” saluted and left to consult with the Sergeant-at-Arms.

  The Captain sighed and shook his head. “Sooner or later, this is going to turn into a disaster. I can feel it.”

  “Probably,” I agreed.

  He made a rude noise, shook his head again and walked off.

  My colleagues assumed that our rooms were bugged and since I could detect electromagnetic waves, I knew that they were. I could see the tiny whorls of energy at the base of a lamp, at strategic points in the walls, in the bed posts. “How do you feel about making love with an audience?” I asked Jennifer.

  She grinned. “I’m all for it.”

  “Good,” I said. “Me too.”

  We were encouraged to leave the hotel and partake of the myriad delights of Gath City. Official tours were offered but there was no requirement to take them. Wherever we went, we were surreptitiously followed by at least three Gathians in plain clothes, soldiers, police or secret service, no way to tell. The crew was instructed to ignore them and they didn’t bother us, just wandered along behind, not even pretending to mingle with the crowd.