He took the pass and smiled back at her, curious to know whether she was this friendly with everyone or whether it was especially for him.
“Thank you,” he said, checking her name badge, “Veronica.” He walked over to the elevator, which opened as he approached, stepped inside and turned back to view her again. She was still looking at him through her lashes, the seductive smile in place. They eyed each other for a second before the elevator doors shut.
He smiled to himself at the luck he’d had recently with women. He wasn’t sure why exactly, although he’d always done alright. He considered himself a decent-looking African American man, taller than most at 6' 2" and he took care of himself physically, so he was in good shape for his age. Strong body, strong mind was his motto and, at the age of forty-two, it was even more important to him now. As captain of the Aurora, it was occasionally a job requirement to round up criminals and bring them in, which meant there were often younger “tough” guys thinking they could put him in his place. Thankfully, his years of service gave him the experience they lacked; it made him smarter and stronger than them. He liked to be several moves ahead, and he never wanted to let that lead go.
An automated voice announced that he’d reached the sixth floor. He swiped his security pass over the scanner and the doors opened to reveal an empty, white marble hallway. He made his way to room 105, knocked briefly, then swiped the card again and the door unlocked. As he entered, he saw Colonel Isaack sitting with two other men at a long table, involved in a deep discussion that, he noted, ended abruptly when they saw him.
Colonel Isaack, silver haired and medium built, stood and walked over to greet him. As he did, one of the other men, a tall strawberry-blond man with a pockmarked face, carrying the rank of a Major-General, left the room, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Captain Harris,” Isaack said, then motioned to a refreshment table setup in the corner. “Care for coffee? Tea?”
Harris decided he’d better have a coffee to kill off the hunger pains, as he was starting to wish he’d eaten breakfast. “Thank you, colonel,” he replied.
Isaack returned to his seat, whilst Harris made his way to the drinks table and poured himself a strong black coffee.
“Take a seat.” Isaack motioned for him to sit opposite them.
Harris placed his mug and hat on the table and his briefcase on the floor, then took a seat, eyeing the man sitting next to Isaack.
“Captain Harris, this is Professor Derek Martin,” Isaack offered. “He’s providing us with background information and strategic advice on the matter at hand.”
Harris and Martin acknowledged each other with a nod. Martin, he thought, although dressed in uniform, didn’t look much like a typical soldier with his slight build and glasses. He turned back to Isaack. “So, what seems to be the problem, colonel?”
“Before I begin, captain, I must, of course, advise you that what we are about to discuss is extremely sensitive and therefore classified. No-one outside this room is fully aware of what I’m about to tell you.”
“Yes, sir,” Harris said, his curiosity piquing. He knew the drill, though. The type of missions his team undertook weren’t exactly advertised to the general public. After all, with the UNF and governments around the world wanting to promote space living, the last thing they wanted Earth dwellers to hear about were such things as space pirates, mutinies or black market UNF weapons on the loose. On Earth, Space Duty teams were simply known to assist with things like colonizations, ships in mechanical distress, or medical emergencies. Space knights in shining armor, he thought with some humor.
“Ok, well, I’ll cut straight to it,” Isaack began. “We picked up a distress beacon from one of our stations in an outer area of the UNF Space Zone. You won’t find its location on any star maps available to the general public.” As he spoke, Isaack hit a button that lit up a screen built into the table’s surface between them. It showed a UNF map of the station’s location.
“It’s a small scientific station,” Isaack continued, “set up for work on highly classified programs for the UNF. We have a team of nine personnel working up there, headed up by Professor Ray Sharley.”
Isaack placed an e-file onto the table; a slim rectangular pane, about the size of a sheet of letter paper, and able to hold any number of data files. Harris eyed it curiously, but continued to pay attention to the colonel as he continued: “So, yesterday, September 19th, at approximately 0817 Fort Centralis (FC) time, we picked up their emergency distress beacon. This occurred approximately six hours after we lost all comms with the station. Despite numerous attempts by our team on the ground we have not been able to restore contact.”
Harris pulled the e-file toward him and began swiping his fingers across the screen to leaf through the information. There were profiles on the personnel and technical information about the station and its location.
“Captain Harris, we want you and your team to head to the site on a reconnaissance mission, and let us know what’s going on up there.”
Harris looked up at Isaack. “You mean a rescue mission? You said there was a distress beacon enabled?”
“Well, yes, but we believe the distress beacon may be related to the issue we’re having with the comms. A certain blackout period will trigger such an alarm. We’ve lost transmission with the station, but that does not necessarily mean something is wrong up there. At this stage we are treating it as a technical difficulty. You and your team are to go there, dock at the station and see if you can resolve the situation.”
Harris looked from Isaack to the professor and back. “If this is a technical difficulty, then why do you want my men to go in? We do have technical skills, yes, but at the end of the day we’re nothing more than good old-fashioned soldiers. We handle people problems, sometimes medical problems, even mechanical problems, but generally not problems of a comms-tech nature. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Captain, this is purely a case of playing on the safe side. The station is located not far from the UNF orbital zone border between Mars and The Belt,” Isaack told him. “To a certain degree it’s uncharted territory out there. The world’s focus is on our successful colonization of Mars. We want to keep it that way. We don’t want people thinking we can’t keep in contact with, or control, our own stations. Not good for business, you understand? This is under the radar. You go there, you fix what needs fixing, and you return home. Simple as that.”
Harris scanned Isaack’s face, noting the lines of experience creasing around his eyes. “Fix what needs fixing …” he repeated, thinking aloud.
“That is correct,” Isaack nodded.
“Well, surely there must be other teams already out there, close by, who could go and check this out?”
“There are, but as I said, this station is highly classified. We’re not prepared to send just anyone out there. If we honestly thought lives were in danger, we wouldn’t risk it. Take it as a compliment, captain. The UNF obviously regards you highly to have selected your team for this,” Isaack said plainly.
Harris thought about it for a moment, running his hand over his jaw. He eyed the two men again. “My men are going to want a little bonus for cutting short their R & R.”
“Of course,” Isaack said matter-of-factly. “They’ll be duly compensated for their efforts.”
Harris scanned through the file again, thinking. Something didn’t feel quite right, but he guessed it was to be expected with a last-minute mission and limited facts. That was often the way of the UNF; everything was on a “need to know” basis.
He looked at Professor Martin. “Is there anything you would like to add, professor?”
“No, no, I think Colonel Isaack has covered it all off,” he replied, adjusting his glasses as he spoke.
“Can you shed any light on what the scientists were doing up there?” Harris probed.
“Well, er … they were working on various technical programs, software and the like, and some
items of a biological nature. The exact nature of which is, of course, classified. However, we do not feel this is of any cause for concern. The station is located in an outer area, which is vast but with few comms satellites, so there are bound to be issues from time to time of a comms-tech nature. There may simply have been a glitch in their software testing or a virus may have brought the system down,” he offered, adjusting his glasses again.
“So how do you propose we fix that, then?” Harris arched his eyebrow at him.
“I’ve read through your crew files and I believe that our men on the ground can guide Private First Class Smith with any repairs if you run into difficulty. Otherwise, I’ve read his file and he seems more than qualified to handle it.”
Harris eyed him carefully, “May I ask what your involvement with the station is?”
“Of course,” Martin smiled. “I’m responsible for station Darwin. I put the team together and effectively run the programs they’re working on up there, and I report directly to senior UNF personnel on their progress. I know that station inside and out, so if you have any questions at any time during your mission, simply relay them to Command and I’ll respond accordingly.”
Harris eyed him again. Martin seemed pretty calm for someone who’d lost comms with his crew, located somewhere in that vast expanse of space.
“Your departure is set for 1900 this evening,” Isaack informed him.
After a brief silence, Harris answered, “Yes, sir.” He had never refused a mission before and was not about to start. Besides, this had him somewhat intrigued now. He stood, shook Isaack’s proffered hand, then turned to Professor Martin who had his hand outstretched, beaming a smile of relief.
“Captain Harris, there is one more thing …” Isaack began, his face briefly flashing an uncomfortable look.
Harris gave him a solid stare in return. “One more thing? Aren’t you meant to tell me that before we shake?”
“This comes from high above me, Harris. It’s an order.”
Harris eyed them both carefully, then slowly took his seat again. Here it comes, he thought, the sting in the tail.
“Your crew is being increased by three,” Isaack informed him.
“My crew is just fine as it is, colonel.”
“I’m sure it is, captain. However, it’s been decided that for this particular mission it will be increased by three.” He locked eyes with Harris. “Three women.”
Harris stared at Isaack for a moment, then let out a chuckle. “You had me for a minute there.”
Isaack just stared back. He appeared to have expected this reaction, and was letting Harris have his moment.
“This will be done, Captain Harris,” Isaack said firmly. “We’re getting pressure to ensure we have female soldiers represented on all our ships. I know the Aurora has always had an all-male crew, but it’s time for a change. They will join you for this mission as a test case to prove that we’re giving female soldiers an equal opportunity to work with crews like yours, that sometimes undertake black ops missions.”
Harris’s mind ticked over for a moment. “A test case. Meaning one-off? They do this mission, then leave my ship?”
“Yes, Captain Harris, that’s what a test case means.”
Harris noticed he was starting to get a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps it was just his hunger creeping back in, but something was making him uneasy. He was starting to wish he hadn’t drunk so much the night before.
“I thought we were under the radar, sir? If we’re under the radar then why are we being asked to take part in what is effectively a PR exercise?”
“You are under the radar, captain. If your mission is a success, we’ll include your data in our reports up the chain. If you and your men fuck it up, no-one will ever know it happened.”
Harris clenched his jaw. He knew he wasn’t going to get a say in the matter, an order was an order.
“Who are these women?” he asked irritably. “I take it they’re experienced soldiers?”
“Yes,” Isaack said, as he reached across to the e-file and tapped on three data folders, “they are all fine soldiers.” Isaack brought up the first soldier’s photo. She was Caucasian, with a thin face, short, bright red hair and pale pink lips. “We’ve got Sergeant Sarah Packham, a highly regarded space jet pilot —”
“I’ve already got two pilots,” Harris interrupted.
“Well, now you’ve got another one,” Isaack quickly retorted, tapping open the second folder. “This is Corporal Sabrina Colt, a fine solid soldier who, although her specialty is with explosives, also has good technical skills. She may be of assistance with the comms issues if it’s a hard-wiring fault.”
Harris looked down to see a dark skinned woman, well-built, with long braided hair, and a broad smile of straight white teeth.
“Lastly we’ve got Corporal Carrie Welles.” Isaack opened the third file to show Harris another Caucasian woman with long brown hair, green eyes and a serious face. “She’s a great markswoman, better than any we’ve seen in some time.”
“I’ve already got a sharpshooter in my crew,” Harris said, “why the double-ups?”
“I’ve already explained the reasons why, Captain Harris. This is a test case. They are not being assigned to your ship to replace anyone. They are supplementary.” Isaack closed down the three files. “They will be here at 0700 for you to meet them. Read through their profiles. Your men are being called as we speak. They are being readied for 1600.”
Harris let out a sigh. “Sir, don’t you think it would be better to send these women on the Aurora after they’ve had time to train with my men first? Sending them out on a last-minute mission like this …”
“Your mission leaves at 1900, captain. I’m sure you will use your leadership skills to integrate them appropriately,” Isaack said as he gathered his things together. “Oh, and one more thing.”
Harris shot him an unimpressed look, wondering what else he was about to spring.
“The women are not to board the station until I give the order. Are we understood?”
Harris looked from the colonel to the professor and back again. “May I ask why?”
“PR exercise, Harris,” Isaack reiterated.
“So, effectively …” Harris said slowly, “these women, these ‘fine soldiers’ as you call them, are merely coming along for the ride? They’re to sit back while my men do all the work. Is that what you mean by a test case?”
Isaack looked at him sternly. “These women remain on your ship until I say otherwise. That’s an order, Harris!” He stood abruptly. “I don’t expect that your men are going to like this change, but you make damn sure you keep them in check. Do you understand me? Do not fuck this up!”
With that, Isaack and Martin swiftly departed the room, leaving Harris all alone, staring down at the e-file.
2
New Recruits
Carrie arrived at the Command Center almost half an hour early. Too eager, she thought and decided to walk around the block to kill time and steady her nerves. She looked at the other soldiers and civilians walking past her, all in their own little worlds, completely oblivious to the significance of this day for her, oblivious to the major turn she was sure her life was about to take. She heard the sounds of spacecraft taking off from the UNF Space Dock close by, and looked up at the sky to see a large mass of gray metal shooting skyward trailing a tail of fire and vapor in its wake. A smile spread across her face.
She walked calmly, noticing her reflection in the mirrored glass of a building she passed. She wanted to look perfect, smell perfect, be perfect. Whenever she interviewed, she couldn’t help but feel that she was not only representing herself, but also her father, and therefore had a reputation to uphold. She never mentioned her father, of course, only acknowledging him if she was asked directly. She didn’t want to invite the comparisons, or worse still, have people assuming she’d gotten as far as she had because of him. After all,
he was an “Original”; one of the revered few who’d been on the frontier when both the Moon and Mars had been colonized, and that always carried a sense of legend about it.
Excitement prickled through her at the thought of being on the next frontier for the UNF. Space Duty was, after all, the pinnacle; the most sought-after division to enroll in as a soldier in today’s world. But it was a step-by-step process to get there, and one that required patience. Everyone started out in their own country’s national army, air force or navy. For the most part, however, they were confined to country-specific work, at least during peacetime, that is.
Once a soldier had cut their teeth working in a local army, the next step was the United National Forces, which had two arms: Earth Duty and Space Duty. Earth Duty was the first step and enabled a soldier to travel and work in different parts of the world, with multicultural teams, and develop their skills with specialized training. Wherever there was a natural disaster, Earth Duty troops would assist. Wherever there were pockets of terrorist activity, they would help resolve it. If a soldier impressed their senior officers on Earth Duty, an invitation would be extended for them to apply for Space Duty. Invitations were strictly limited; only those considered the cream of the crop or those who showed future promise were taken, and so far very few females had been given the opportunity to go.
For most soldiers it was a personal choice. Some had no desire whatsoever to be working out in space. Others yearned for the opportunity. Carrie was one of the latter. When she’d been called in specifically for the Santos mission in Madrid, whilst on Earth Duty, she knew it was her chance to prove her worth and get noticed. She did prove herself, she did get noticed, and sure enough she soon had her ticket to apply.
Darwin Page 2
