The Belt Loop _Book One

by Robert B. Jones

  “Affirm that. I’m thinking now that was his last resort way out. If he got caught, he would die hugging his little deceit. Anyway, I ran a few steps aft and tried to get behind the locker bulkhead before the thing blew. The last I saw of Rich was him laughing with his arms draped over the gun mount. He had painted a silly skull and crossbones on the side of it and looked to me like he had named it BABY.”

  “And, sir,” one of the masters-at-arms chiefs said, “When we tossed his quarters we found this.” The chief slid a small plastic box across the table. “It’s a transmitter. The ET’s tell me that the frequency is set for one of the drones we had orbiting that worm ship. I’m thinking he was going to commandeer the drone and run it into the ship, giving him an excuse to fire off his weapon.”

  Captain Haad looked at the miniature transmitter and dropped it back on the table. “Anyone have a clue as to why the chief would do something like that? Anything show up in his fitness reports from the last cycle? Any counseling sessions, known personal problems, did he gamble, any medical issues?”

  Three officers spoke at once. When they sorted it out and took turns it was discovered that Chief Rich’s motives were totally unknown. Something else for the captain to file away for later discussion once the present crisis was dealt with.

  Haad said, “I still can’t believe Chief Rich went around the bend like that.”

  “Space’ll do that to a man, captain,” Chief Penny said. “I’ve seen it before, I’m sure if I sail enough I’ll see it again.”

  Haad grunted and looked at his science officer. “What can you tell me about that alien ship, Mister Washoe?”

  Cain Washoe took a step forward and said, “She’s dead, sir. Breaking up and falling away. Rich’s final blast took it amidships just forward of the centerline. Vertical ribs and slabs of plating disintegrated. No venting, no decompression, just structural damage. He hit something vital, maybe its residual fuel supply or whatever, but it burned like protonated molecular hydrogen, sir. Very hot and almost invisible. Chief Dawks reported that he couldn’t make heads or tails out of the thing’s engines. Something else we haven’t seen before. Me personally? Judging from the feeds I saw, I doubt if that ship was ever capable of FTL or fold travel.”

  “They didn’t find any kind of field generators?” Haad wanted to know.

  “Affirmative. Nothing that we could see. The ship was a maze of ancient looking parts, but strange enough, it had a pretty sophisticated bridge.”

  “Lots of contrasts we’ve yet to figure out, then. Where is Lieutenant Hansen? Is she here?” Haad strained his eyes and looked around the room. “She actually did some amazing work on that alien bridge.”

  “I can send for her, captain,” Yorn said, snapping his fingers at one of the yeomen at the hatch.

  “Belay that, Davi. She, well, she has some other problems to deal with right now. She might be down in personnel. Leave her be for the moment,” the captain said. Off to his right Gena Haslip twisted in her chair and let out a little humph of indignation.

  Haad addressed one of the quartermasters. “Mister Urey, what the hell happened to that lifeboat? Did it get blasted away from the worm or just combust on its own? The feeds from the hangar deck are nothing to get any kind of detail from. Who was piloting that boat, chief?”

  Chief Urey answered the captain’s multiple questions as best he could. He described in great detail how the boat just made it away from the exploding derelict with only seconds to spare. He lamented the loss of life and vouch-safed the pilot.

  “Three more. Captain Haad, I’m going to be running out of room down below pretty soon,” Isaacs said.

  The captain ignored him and pressed on with Urey. “So, who were they? The dead?”

  The chief told him: Petty Officer Johns, Petty Officer Wilke, Chief Petty Officer Bomin.

  “But that kid made it back okay? That crypto kid?”

  “Oh, aye, sir. Lieutenant Mols. She was the next to last to leave the hold. She’s got some balls on her, if I can speak bluntly. Says she got all of the recordings off that ship, too.”

  “And, pray tell, where is Admiral Paine’s niece now? Anybody know?”

  A wave of murmuring washed over the crew mess like a gathering breeze before a thunderstorm. Haad had let the proverbial cat out of the bag.

  “His niece? He sent his niece on a courier boat out to a warship?” Yorn asked incredulously.

  “Calm down, all of you. Lieutenant Mols has been through OCS and almost made it through SWO school. She’s young and smart, probably fast-tracked for a staff promotion, but she’s supposedly capable of handling herself.”

  Yorn looked at the captain. “Sheesh. Now I know where she got her balls from, Chief Urey, it runs in the family,” he said.

  Chapter 30

  Max Hansen was turned away when she tried to access the ladder heading down to deck seven. An armed sentry, a lance corporal, informed her that the ship was on lock-down per the captain’s direct orders. No unauthorized personnel below decks without explicit orders from the bridge.

  Damn and double damn! Har must be in a state of total panic by now. First with the explosions and now the lockdown, she hoped he was managing all right. She could not get to him. She ran a layout of the ship through her mind but could find no other way to access the cargo holds. Even if she went up to deck four and skirted around the starboard side, eventually she would still have to come to the centerline and try to go down. Whatever happened down in the weapons bay had basically divided the ship into upper and lower halves.

  The only thing that gave her any comfort was the fact that her Harold was resourceful. He was smart enough to realize that some kind of calamity had engulfed the Christi and she was sure that he would behave accordingly. But what if the MA’s decided to search the entire ship for damage? What if that explosion had rendered damage to other parts of the ship? Would they eventually get down to deck twelve and discover Har? Discover her son?

  Max retreated from the ladder-well and wandered away, trying to figure what her next move should be. Wait it out? Report her dereliction of duty to one of the senior officers and stand for the punishment that was to follow? Get some help from Commander Yorn and try to make sure her son had not been injured? Yorn seemed to like her, at least that was the latest impression she had, based on her interaction with him and Gena Haslip. But had his professionalism and strict adherence to his orders from Captain Haad made him seem more or less on her side?

  Too many questions. Her head started to pound again. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine things turning so sour so quickly. She told herself to relax and think this thing through. Her own fall from grace was not as important as her concern for her child.

  Maybe a good cup of coffee would help. Max straightened her shoulders and headed for the crew mess, electing to go there instead of the more stuffy officers lounge. Over the years she had built up a few non-romantic relationships with some of the culinary guys and they had even turned the other way when she bagged a few extra portions directly from the kitchen. Portions for Har. They never asked her to swipe her card, they never asked her anything.

  She hoped today would be no different.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Val Young led her group of troops down the passageway toward sick bay. She had a detail consisting of MA ratings and marine lance corporals. They were in search of worms. Tall worms with bad dispositions that could slither around the ship or walk using two sets of rudimentary legs located near the bottom of their ringed bodies. Young had studied the video recordings from the cameras in sick bay so she knew what to look for. Her men and women knew what to look for. Her instructions were simple: find the worms and try to contain them. If containment wasn’t possible, fry them. Her detail was armed with M2-A2 UAWs and they all wore carbon-fiber armor, battle helmets, steel-toed boots and web belts festooned with an assortment of flash-bang cans.

  She wanted to go back to the beginning, get to the source of the outbreak and wor
k her way out from there. Six alien life forms loose on the ship. Aliens that had already killed several crewmen. It was time for some payback.

  Young hit the panel and cycled the lock. “Keep it close back there,” she said.

  “Right behind you, ma’am,” one of the masters-at-arms said. His name was Cott and he was right on her heels. Behind him were the marines and three more MA’s brought up the rear. They walked with their legs apart, slight bends at the waist, a two-hand combat grip on their weapons, and determination in their eyes.

  This kind of detail was totally new for most of them. Only CPO Cott had been in long enough to have seen action in the last stages of the war with the Varson Empire. He was a seaman’s apprentice back then and he’d fried his share of Varsons, especially towards the end when the combat was ship-to-ship then hand-to-hand. The two lance corporals were Ginty and Duff and this posting was their first cruise to the Belt. Other than mock drills and weapons training aboard the Christi they were new at this CQC routine. Close-quarter combat was not something you could actually get any experience in unless you actually did it. The last ratings in the queue acted as if this was a sight-seeing tour of the medical facilities.

  “Tank, you and Gibbs and, ah, Rankin, get your asses in gear back there. I want you ready to cycle through as soon as we’ve cleared the lock,” Young admonished them.

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Rankin squeaked out. Her high-pitched voice showed signs of nervousness. She pushed the two guys in front of her with a good straight-arm and hustled them forward. By the time the last three reached the lock Young and the others had already cycled through. Two were kneeling down and two were up in combat stances.

  As soon as her squad was back together, Young dispersed them in two-man teams and they fanned out to survey the main ward. The place had already been cleared, with the occupants that were still alive resting in relative comfort in a makeshift triage facility that had been hastily set up in the gymnasium. The scene in front of her was one of total confusion and the upturned beds and scattered equipment was testimony to the rampage that had happened a short time before. To Young’s left six of the alien capsules were open and three of those had been knocked off their bases. Strange tubes and pipes were visible coming from beneath the stands. One capsule had a large crack in it and something was outgassing from beneath it. Young pulled a sensor from her utility belt and waved it in front of her. “There’s some residual ammonia in the air but the gauge says it’s breathable. I wouldn’t go sucking on one of those tubes if I were you,”

  “Roger, that,” Gibbs said. “No hits from the alien hooka.”

  The detail continued to advance on the far bulkhead with carefully placed steps. Glass and plastic shards crunched underneath their boots. Someone kicked a metallic object and sent it skittering across the littered deck. Off to the right was a slick dark lake of congealed blood and a set of dark red wavy strips leading away from it, indicating that someone had been dragged roughly through the gore.

  “What happened to the containment field, lieutenant?” Tank asked. He was off to Young’s left partnered with Rankin.

  “Generator faulted. The field circuit got fried in that explosion. Knocked out a lot of other stuff, too,” she replied.

  “And those other things? Look over there. I can see where they drug some of those containers to the lock,” Cott said while nodding to his left.

  “They took those bird-looking things to the brig. Locked them up. The bars and the fields should hold them.”

  “Up ahead. Holes in that bulkhead at our two o’clock,” from one of the marines. “Looks like they just ate through the metal. How could they do that? That’s a twin walled plastisteel bulkhead.”

  Young advanced to within two meters of the rear bulkhead. She got down on one knee and looked at the holes. One went straight through but the other one veered up at an angle and disappeared into darkness somewhere near the top of a passageway beyond the wall. She produced a tiny but powerful hand-held LED flashlight and examined both holes. “Okay. Now we know how they got out. Now we have to find them.” She stood up and looked around. “I want this room cleared. Every nook, every cranny. Check all of those cupboards and all of the closets. Look alive, people. Let’s make damned sure no more of the baddies are in this facility. Then we’ll seal it and move on.”

  Her orders were acknowledged and Cott took over and dispersed the detail. “Just for your information, those bugs came out of those capsules hungry and armed. The vids weren’t too clear but they definitely had something in their paws. Be careful,” the chief instructed.

  “You don’t have to tell me that shit twice,” Gibbs said with an audible smirk.

  Evidently, Cott’s warning went unheeded. One minute later Lieutenant Young’s detail would be short one man.

  * * *

  From his overhead perch Har Hansen heard most of it. By the time he’d managed to get up to deck five and position himself near one of the vent covers above the crew mess, the meeting was coming to a close. But the parts he had overheard left him tingling with both excitement and dread.

  Aliens loose on the ship! Worm aliens. His heart rate jumped to over a hundred beats per minute and seemed destined to go even higher. This was serious business, now. This was what he had trained for. All of that reading, all of his role-playing, all of his energies expended over the last three years could now be of some use.

  He wondered where they were. He wondered what they looked like. He wondered if his gun would have any effect on them or would they be wearing some kind of invisible shields. He knew they would be after the women. Oh yes, that part was a given. Then they would probably try to corral all of the head officers together and start some kind of alien torture. Start pulling fingernails out. . . No! They would probably start eating them! If not that, at least disabling them, draining their brains out of their skulls or using some kind of ray to suppress their will to fight. No matter what, it was going to be gruesome he told himself.

  He had read enough books to know what to expect from those things.

  But what if they were shape-shifters? What if they could assume anybody’s human form and try to blend in with the crew? Then again, maybe they would only be looking for a way home and try to commandeer the ship. Hold the entire crew hostage. Plant bombs and booby traps. He knew aliens were vicious and could not be trusted to do anything remotely civilized; that’s why they were called aliens, he rationalized.

  No matter. He would be ready.

  Of all of the scenarios he had just played out in his highly imaginative brain, the one that made the most sense to him was the one involving them trying to take over the ship. Where would he start if he was an alien?

  Why, the bridge, of course.

  Har set his jaw and gathered his gear and quickly pushed back from the vent. He had to get topside.

  Chapter 31

  Just as her son was pushing back from the vent a mere three meters over her head, Max Hansen walked out of the kitchen into the open mess. She stopped for a second and stared. Instead of the usual arrangement of row after row of metal tables and a thin crowd of ratings having late lunch, she found most of the brass on the ship having a heated discussion at the front of the galley. The captain, the XO, the COB, Haslip and Griffin, they were all there! She had been spotted and it was too late for her to reverse her course.

  “Ah, Lieutenant Hansen,” Commander Yorn said, “there you are.”

  “Yessir. Am I missing something, commander?”

  Haad spoke up. “No, lieutenant. You haven’t missed anything. I’m sure you know by now what’s been going on. I included you out of this Officer’s Call for a reason. I’m sure you’ll be wanting to discuss your, your situation with me.”

  Her situation? Max shook her head and almost spilled her coffee. So, the jig was up. They had found out about her stowaway son. “Well, sir, I, I. . .”

  “You were contacted by personnel, right?” the captain asked.

  Oh. That. “Yes. I sp
oke to a young lady down there. Petty Officer Reese.”

  The captain got up from the table and approached her. “You know that I’ll approve your leave. As a matter of fact, I was holding the courier boat until I had a chance to talk to you. A chance to express my sympathy.”

  Her head started to pound again. Sure. He thought Harold’s death declaration would send her scurrying back to Elber on the next thing smoking. Not a chance. “Thank you, captain. I, I don’t know what I should do, really. This is all quite a shock.” She had to be careful not to overplay it.

  “Have you spoken with Lieutenant Fitz yet? I hear Shar is pretty good at her job.”

  Max looked skyward. The only thing that loose-lipped Shar Fitz was good at was spreading your private information to your shipmates at Dyson-drive speeds. Max considered her a useless wag. “Um, no, sir. I haven’t had a lot of time to consider my options.”

  He reached out and put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Understood, Max. You take whatever time you need. I’ll release the boat and if you decide you want to go back to Elber, let me know. I’ll be launching courier boats daily at 1700 hours until this mess out here is over.”

  Did he just call me Max? That would be a first. Ole Haad was not known for his familiarity with hardly any of his junior officers. “I really appreciate that, sir,” she beamed through a false smile.

  “Okay, then. Relax and have some down time here. When you’re ready, come back to the bridge. I understand you’ve already had dealings with Lieutenant Mols?”

  “Ohhh, yes.”

  “She’s got some interesting recordings she wants to share with me. She seems to support your theory, too.”

  Theory? What theory? “My theory, sir?”

  “Yes, lieutenant. About the worm. The slaver. Ring a bell?”

  Christ! She had almost forgotten. The worm. The cages, the birds, the worms. “That I can do, sir.”