Overdrive by Phillip W. Simpson Read Free Book Online

after the last couple of holiday’s together, Logan knew the
lounge led to four large staterooms above which was a bar and kitchen. Lurking
below was the hold which contained Tarquin’s extensive array of weapons and
toys. When not playing Snareball, Tarquin spent much of his time aboard, using
the ship as a mobile home.
    Stashing his gear
in a locker, Logan made his way to the bridge and seated himself next to
Tarquin in front of the viewscreen. The ship was already moving towards the
exit field.
    “How's it going”?,
he asked.
    Tarquin’s left eye
was closed. A sure sign that he was communicating with the ship via his AI.
    “Yeah, good,"
a distracted Tarquin replied.
    Logan smiled.
Typical understatement from his friend.
    “Heard about your
suspension. Obviously some sort of conspiracy to remove you from the game.”
    Tarquin laughed.
    Logan grinned
back. “You were far too good anyway. Made the other players look like arses."
    “A bit like you in
the investigation game, except I wasn’t shagging other players”
    “Touché my friend.
Touché."
    Chuckling quietly
to himself, Tarquin oversaw the ship’s AI as it guided the vessel through the
exit field and into space. He bought the ion drive on-line. The Ion drive, used
primarily for vacuum maneuvering, took them the 300 kms minimum distance
required from a physical body. The brilliant blue and white sphere of Unamuno
filled most of the right hand side of the view screen. At 14,000 km in
diameter, Unamuno was slightly larger than Earth and as such had a slightly
higher gravity. In all other respects, Unamuno was very much Earthlike. Its
similarity was one of the foremost reasons for its popularity as a tourist and
recreation destination.
    The view of
Unamuno slid away as Tarquin pointed his yacht away from the planet’s gravity
field before engaging the slipdrive.
    Both men
experience a slight twinge as the ship moved between the dimensions. The
viewscreen showed grey nothingness outside.
    Tarquin grinned,
sat back and opened his other eye. “Rendezvous with the Dirty Little Minx ,
one hour. Just enough time to fill me in on the real reason for this little
holiday.”
    ◊
     
    The Departure of
the Debacherous Weekend was watched with interest by a group of
figures standing in the viewing area previously occupied by Logan. Knight’s
Captain Tynan stood with five of his fellow Templars, quietly waiting for
instructions. To one side stood an impressive and rather beautiful individual.
The Angel Simbiel was dressed simply in a blue robe emblazoned with a white
sword. Long blond hair cascaded down his back. A face more classically
beautiful than anything designed by nature was dominated by glowing blue eyes.
The sense of power imposed by his 6’8 frame was enhanced by the large white
wings jutting from his back. Simbiel’s hand rested casual on the hilt of a
sword attached to his waist. Although well over 100 years of age, Simbiel looked
no older than 25.
    In the triadic
hierarchy of the Areopagite’s, Simbiel was last in the second hierarchy of
Angels. Known as Powers, they were empowered to act as the strong arm of the
Areopagite’s. Simbiel was also an Angel of Destruction and as such was
personally charged by the leader of the Areopagite’s – Metatron - to dish out
punishments, or divine justice as they liked to call it, to transgressors of
God’s laws. In practice, Angels like Simbiel were sent out to protect the
interests of the Areopagites. Simbiel’s success in his previous missions and
the zeal with which he applied himself  were instrumental in his selection.
    “Are you sure that
they will lead us to this Felix person?”
    Captain Tynan
jumped at the sound of Simbiel’s rich timbre.
    “Yes Lord,"
he said turning to face his master and keeping a wary eye on Simbiel’s sword
hand. Simbiel was known to have a vicious temper when one of his Templars
failed him.
    “I tracked Captain
Pope personally. He purchased two tickets on the Hedonist ship