Lieutenant Greg Alabaster (Adventures of the League Space Patrol Book 8)

by Frank Carey

  "Permission granted, milady. Lieutenant Gregory Alabaster reporting as ordered."

  "At ease, LT. Let me make the introductions, then we can get underway." She hooked a thumb at a basili standing behind her. "This is my XO, Captain Harcross..." He and Greg shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. "Sergeant Seph, Sergeant Smythe, Privates Norcross and Tang." More pleasantries were exchanged.

  "The ground crew has placed your packs in the overhead compartments. Everyone take a seat while I check on our launch status," Greg said.

  "May I join you, LT?" The colonel asked.

  "Of course, milady. This way." They walked off, leaving the team to settle in for the flight.

  "Now what the hell is our pilot?" Seph, a Halcyon, asked.

  Harcross looked at him. "I thought he was Halcyon, Sarge."

  Seph shook her head. "No, sir. Not Halcyon, though I have to say I love his hair," she replied while checking her snow-white bun.

  "Maybe he'll share hair-care secrets with you," Sergeant Smythe said.

  She gave him stink eye before getting back to her gear.

  ###

  Match sat down in the copilot's seat and watched Greg as he contacted control. He finished, then turned to her. "Milady, the ground crew is buttoning us up, so flight control has given us a launch window twenty minutes from now."

  "Excellent. Have you been briefed on the mission?"

  "I am to fly you and your team to coordinates on Charlene, drop you off, then wait for your return with engines and weapons hot. I was told you would fill me in on any details you deem necessary."

  "A research team was investigating a small living compound outside the expansion zone on Charlene. The xenoes think the complex was built by a race from outside the League. Three days ago, the research team sent a garbled message, then stopped responding, so the sheriff sent in an armed search and rescue team. They reported arriving at the site. We haven't heard from them since. Now, we have two teams who aren't responding to hails."

  Greg brought up a holographic map above the center console. "This data was included with my orders. This must be the compound you're talking about..."

  "Affirmative. And here's a river that runs through the site."

  "These three areas are close to the site, but they're too open. If a hostile force has taken our people, then they would have eyes on all three," Greg said.

  "I agree."

  "How about here?" he said as he pointed to a flat area next to a steep cliff. I can come in at treetop level while putting the rock outcropping between us and the site. I'll go around the rock, then land there."

  "We're talking about dropping straight down a hole in the forest canopy only ten feet wider than this ship is long. Then there's the sheer rock wall next to it..."

  "I've done tighter. We should be fine."

  "You've done tighter? Where?"

  "Last year. I had to take a team of techs down an arcology's intake shaft on Venecia. That hole had only six feet of clearance and the walls were comprised of thousands of gallons of running water. This op is a piece of cake compared to that."

  "That was you? I read that report. My team read that damn report, and they're still arguing about what madman would even attempt that."

  "It had to be done. If we hadn't and the intake controls had scrammed, we would have had to evacuate the entire arc. Now, that would have been a bother."

  She looked at him. "A bother? OK. Let's go with your plan. Let me know when you're ready to implement it."

  "Aye, aye, Colonel!" he said. She got up and left to apprise her team while he finished his pre-launch checklists.

  ###

  The hatch opened followed by six, very queasy strykers running out of the ship followed by Greg who was checking his weapon as if nothing had happened.

  "Are you insane?" Harcross demanded as he found a tree to lean against. "How close were you to those tree tops?"

  "Not that close, sir," Greg replied as he pulled a limb out from where it had lodged between the lower port engine nacelle and the fuselage.

  The rest of the team looked up at the narrow shaft they had just dropped down. "Colonel, can I walk home," Private Tang asked.

  "I may join you," Sergeant Seph replied.

  "Everyone, pull yourselves together. We have a walk ahead of us. Lieutenant, I want you to stay with the ship in case we need an evac. I want you to suit-up in combat gear in case you get visitors."

  "Aye, colonel. You are all equipped with IFF transceivers?"

  "Affirmative," Harcross said.

  "Good. Once you leave, I'll set the defensive system to challenge anyone without one."

  "Copy that," Match said. Ten minutes later, Greg found himself alone with only the forest creatures to keep him company.

  ###

  Greg looked at master chrono set in the Zoetrope's dashboard. "They should arrive at the site right about now."

  "Zoetrope actual, this is Team 3, over."

  "Team 3, Zoetrope actual. I read you five by five."

  "We found the missing personnel. They're all dead, and all vehicles have been destroyed. There's a lot of tracks, and they all head toward a large, central building. We're heading in," Match said.

  A feeling of dread came over Greg, overwhelming the shock of hearing of so many dead. "Roger that, Team 3. Colonel, I've got a real bad feeling about this. Colonel?" Static was the only reply. "Dammit! Computer! Battle stations. Activate all defensive and offensive systems."

  "Working... Condition one is set."

  Greg thumbed a switch on his control yoke, activating the hypercomm. "Space Patrol, this is Zoetrope. I am declaring an emergency."

  "This is Space Patrol. State the nature of your emergency."

  "Stryker Team 3 reports research group and search and rescue team are dead. All vehicles have been destroyed. Stryker Team 3 has gone silent.

  "Roger that. We're dispatching an assault force. ETA twenty minutes. Greg, stand by until they arrive, over."

  "Sorry, I didn't catch that last part. Zoetrope out." He flicked the switch off, then pulled straight up and back, reorienting the ship so it pointed up the wall. "Computer, activate all scanners. I want to know if any stryker is detected between here and the compound."

  "Working... All scanners on line. Alarms set."

  "Good," he said as he slammed the throttles to their stops. He was at Mach 1 when he hit the top of the canopy.

  The wildlife was not amused.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The arrival of the Zoetrope was announced with a peal of thunder that shook the ground. The mighty ship came to a stop just above the ground where all its hatches opened as its weapons emplacements panned around the area. Carrying a pair of heavy pulse rifles slung across his back and a third in hand, Greg ran out of the back of the ship and across the open area separating it from the building while the ship raised its shields

  "Computer! Where are they?" he ordered as the sound of gunfire erupted from the open door ahead of him.

  "Working... Location data has been relayed to your helmet-HUD." He saw names appear overlaid on a scan-generated map of the interior. "Computer, what the hell am I dealing with?" Before the computer could respond, Greg was through the door where he could see the attackers.

  They were huge, camouflage-painted robots with arms terminating in multi-barreled weapons which they were firing at the strykers. Without any kind of plan, Greg thumbed the weapon to full power and fired on the nearest bot as it attacked Harcross. The bot's head exploded, but Greg had already turned his attention to the next bot, only this time the shot was deflected by the mechanical being's shields.

  "They adapt!" Tang yelled as one of the nightmares unleashed a barrage of fire at him. Instinctively, Greg ran toward the device while thumbing his weapon to overload. As he passed underneath its massive arms, he threw the weapon straight up before diving toward Tang, knocking both behind a large rack of equipment. The weapon exploded at the bot's head level, destroying its upper half.

/>   "Are you injured?" he asked the stryker while handing him a rifle.

  "I'm fine. Who the hell are you?" the young human demanded.

  Ignoring him, Greg thought of something. He turned his remaining weapon over and tapped a series of switches on its belly before firing at another bot, this one attacking the colonel. The bot's right arm exploded, then the left.

  "What did you do?" Tang yelled.

  "I set the rifle's pulse generator to a rotating frequency. Unfortunately, the circuits can only handle a few minutes of use before burning out." He traded rifles with Tang, then reprogrammed it before firing on other bots in the room. That's when he saw the glass tube in the center of the room.

  "Leona! Computer! Transmit on all frequencies."

  "Working... Channels open..."

  "Rex! I need you out here, NOW!"

  A nearby wall exploded outward followed by a mechanical behemoth. "Dr. Alabaster. It is good to see you."

  "Destroy the camouflage-painted bots, old friend."

  "What about the silver ones?"

  "They're friends of mine." Greg then whistled an oddly modulated set of tones. Two pistol-shaped objects riding on tiny jets of blue flame flew from where Rex had emerged and into Greg's waiting hands. They looked for all the world like steam punk ray guns. Greg pressed his thumbs onto a spot on their backs, then took aim at the remaining bots. "Eat this," he said as he pulled their triggers.

  Lances of golden light emerged from the pistols to impact the nearest bot. It disappeared in a flash of light. Meanwhile, Rex was ripping bots apart and using parts to beat others into piles of rubble. Moments later, they ran out of bots. Greg deactivated his weapons, then walked over to the glass tube. Inside, suspended in mid-air by blue, glowing mist, was a felinoid woman with a mane of golden blond hair and a lion-like tail. She looked more cat-like than any Katalan the strykers had ever seen. Greg set the pistols down on a console, then tapped a button on its glass surface. The console filled with flashing lights while symbols ran across its screen.

  "What are you doing LT?" The colonel asked.

  "Letting her out, milady. She's been in there a very long time."

  "How do you know this?" Captain Harcross asked.

  "Her name is Leona Fripp and she is a friend of mine," he said before tapping a button. "Sort of." The blue mist disappeared as the glass tube dropped into the floor. Greg caught her as she fell forward. The team watched as her eyes fluttered open.

  "Greg? Is it really you?"

  He frowned. "We need to talk."

  ###

  All hell was breaking loose inside the Zoetrope. While Leona was being tended to by Space Patrol medical staff, General Spent was attempting to smooth the ruffled feathers of Colonel Match.

  "You're a clone, Lieutenant?" the Colonel exclaimed while Greg stood at attention.

  "Yes and no milady. I think it would be more accurate to say I am Dr. Alabaster's spare parts kit..."

  "Don't be flippant with me, Mister..."

  "He's not being flippant," Spent informed her. "We've determined that he was created solely for supplying the original with replacement parts and to act as a memory backup."

  "That's impossible," Harcross said with a flap of his wings. "You can't impress external memories on a sapient brain, and clones, even super clones, are not sapient. It is against ever treaty and rule in the book."

  "With all due respect, sir, I was created before the book was written."

  "In the latter part of the 19th century? Before computers? Sixty years before Crick and Watson discovered DNA?" Match pointed out.

  "Yes, my original was a plarking genius. With all due respect, milady, you saw Leona's weapons. I... He tinkered those together in his lab while I grew to maturity inside a nearby artificial womb. Ever read the stories about the Alliance of Six? Those weren't fiction, dammit! They were real."

  "Greg..." Spent warned.

  "I have had it with this shit, and I don't care if I get cashiered out for insubordination. You don't like working with a plarking clone? Then how about Rex and I go put those bots back together? It'll take us about an hour, then you and your strykers can go try to kick their asses again... Milady."

  "You made those weapons?"

  "No, he did. He then gave me the damn memories along with the muscle memories he used to create them. Don't any of you understand? I am nothing more than a copy, a copy with pieces missing... Milady." He looked at the ceiling. "As a clone, I am not a sapient being under the laws of the League of Planetary Systems. Therefore, the captain can take me outside and incinerate my pale white ass... Milady."

  "You can't stop yourself from showing respect to a superior officer, can you?" Spent noted.

  "No, milady. Nor can I stop myself from opening doors for ladies. I can engage in an enthusiastic discussion on the merits of various brands of cigars, but I find the InterWeb to be a throwback to savagery... Milady."

  "Greg, why don't you go see how your... How Leona is doing. I want to talk to the colonel and captain, alone," Spent suggested.

  "Yes, milady." He saluted, then left the room.

  Spent slid over to take his place. "Attention!"

  The two officers came to attention.

  "I have seen it all. That boy just saved your lives and the lives of your team, and you have the unmitigated gall to pull this racist shit on him. I should have you both brought up on charges!"

  "Ma’am... I..." Match started to say.

  "Silence!" she turned to Harcross. "What's your excuse, Dragon?"

  "None, ma’am."

  Spent slid back and stared at them. "He is not a clone, at least not as we use the word. The best description we have come up with is he is a lab-grown identical twin which the League Council has granted full citizenship. A team of Venlantens led by Ciara Devlin herself has determined that he has a soul, therefore he is fully sapient. Now, if you have forgotten, he and that robot, Rex, wiped out a force of ancient bots that your team of strykers couldn't even dent. I would be loading your enhanced bodies into bags if it wasn't for those two. Any questions?"

  "No, ma'am," Match said.

  "No, ma'am," Harcross said.

  "Good. Now, this matter goes no further than this room. You two are the best and brightest we have in the Stryker Corps, so I'm not going to say anything to your CO, nor am I going to drop anything into your jackets, but I want to be clear about this: get your plarking heads on straight! Got it?"

  "Yes, ma'am! Thank you, ma'am," they said in unison.

  "Excellent. Now, I’m going to go out there and have a talk with Lieutenant Alabaster before he does something stupid, because God knows we already have enough stupid around here." The two officers saluted. She returned it, then slid out the door, leaving them to contemplate their life choices.

  "Are we still alive, Captain?" Match asked.

  "I'm not sure, milady... Dammit! Now, he's got me doing it."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Greg waited in the Zoetrope's cabin area for Leona to emerge from the medical bay. His brow furrowed in thought as he wondered what he could possibly say to her. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a nutribar, then handed it to the general as she slid up.

  "How did you...?"

  "I had a feeling, milady. Am I cashiered, milady?"

  "No, though you will probably be getting a medal. Look, Greg, the colonel and captain did not mean to sound like a pair of heartless, unthinking racists. You see, clones of today are soulless meat sacks run by remote control. Not even the infamous Atmar was able to transfer a soul into a living, sapient body, though god knows he tried. People just get spooked."

  He shook his head. "I hold no ill-will against Colonel Match or Captain Harcross. It is my original that I have grown to hate. Though presumed dead these last few centuries, he continues to haunt me. Maybe I should blame those who wrote those horrid tales about the Alliance of Six."

  "I've read them. Are you telling me they're lies?"

  "No, just highly embellished. T
he stories would have one believe that the alliance was created to better mankind."

  "You mean it wasn't"

  "Ultimately, that was the purpose it fulfilled, but I have this nagging feeling that its true purpose was something entirely different. I just don't know what that purpose was."

  "Gregory."

  Greg turned and stood up. Standing there in a borrowed uniform stood Leona Fripp, the weapons master of the Alliance of Six. "Hello, Leona. I need to tell you something..." It was too late, she took two steps, then wrapped him in a hug.

  "You're alive!"

  "That's what I need to talk to you about."

  "Ms. Fripp, my name is General Spent. Welcome to the League of Planetary Systems."

  Leona peered around Greg at the general. "You're not an apparition?"

  "No, nor a hallucination, and I am definitely not a kraken."

  "You read minds?"

  "No. I just heard the joke too many times. Greg, when you two are finished, I would like to speak to Ms. Fripp. It was nice meeting you, young lady," the general said before sliding off to take care of some matter of importance.

  "Where are we, Greg?"

  "Let's go find Rex and take a stroll." He led her outside where techs and forensic experts were going over the area with a fine-tooth comb while medics attended to the dead. Near the aft ramp, Rex was speaking to Privates Norcross and Tang who were showing him how they could go from normal organic beings to advanced, weaponized strykers at a single thought.

  "Are they demons?" Leona whispered?

  "No, they are just soldiers with really advanced armor. Privates, may I tear Rex away for a few moments?"

  "Sure, LT," Norcross replied. "Sir?"

  "Yes, Private?"

  "Thanks for the assist in there. You saved all our lives."

  "You're welcome, Private. Rex, the three of us need to talk."

  "Of course, Gregory." He shook hands with the two strykers before following Leona and Greg to the edge of the compound.

  "Rex, what did they tell you?" Greg asked once the three were alone.

  "Everything they knew about us. My mind reels."