This forest could be that forest. Our passing sends occasional flocks of small brown birds into panicked flight, and startles critters of various sizes and shapes who had stopped to drink or fish in one of the many creeks.
The similarity reconfirms my thinking. Terraformed worlds can be just as beautiful, lush, green, and full of life as the products of millions of years of evolution, but you can also feel the lack of biodiversity, see it in the way everything looks and sounds the same.
This planet is not the Libor homeworld, and the treaty we signed is certainly not binding on all the Libor, wherever they are. I'd tell the Senator, but he'd likely just yell at me then send me home. Okay, maybe I should tell him.
I revel in the view for another 10 minutes, then shift my focus as the left hand pilot pulls back on his control and we can feel the pods outside rotate. The right hand pilot skillfully manipulates the throttles and brings us to a hover roughly in the center of the base, recognizable from our long range photography. With nary a bump, it puts us down on the ground, a cloud of dust rising from what looks like a concrete pad. While everyone else starts to get up, I watch the two pilots go through their after landing checklist and power down. Just as Naval Experimental deduced, a simple control system.
I unbuckle myself as they unbuckle, and beat them to the hatch and down the two steps to the surface. A blast of not so gentle breeze drives hot, humid air and the scent of the forest into our faces, the sun burning into our unprotected eyes. I close my eyes, turn opposite the wind and stretch toward the forest. It smells green, it smells clean, it smells like my backyard.
"Captain!"
The Senator has decided that I can't even enjoy the woods. I open my eyes and turn his way.
"Yes, sir?"
"We're headed inside. Please join us."
"Aye."
I walk toward him slowly, putting my visual of the scene against my mental map from the orbital photos we put together. The building we're heading for is a multiple story steel and glass office type building that also would go just fine back home. Except for being walking genetically engineered cows with bee eyes, these aliens are pretty much not. Alien, that is.
We thought this building might be a headquarters of some kind, based on its location and shape, I'll have to remember to give Courtney a well done when I get the chance.
I'm easily the last one to go through the door. The inside is just as normal as the outside, we're in a long, brightly lit, white painted hallway with a few landscape photos on the walls. There's an argument going on, or not an argument so much as Marines standing their ground while trying not to have an argument. I think I missed three or four sentences.
"I understand Senator, but my orders are to not let you out of my sight." Lieutenant Ramos is shorter than the Senator, so it's not eye to eye, but he's using every bit of his command presence, which is strong.
"I am in command of this mission, Lieutenant, and if our hosts would like me to go with them briefly while the rest of you get settled, that is my business."
Ramos is thinking about his next sentence. I interrupt.
"Mr. Ramos, your objections are noted, follow the Senator's orders please. I'll take responsibility."
He looks at me, angry, wanting to follow his orders, and I'm sure not wanting a Naval officer to take responsibility for his actions.
"Yes, sir." He's still smart enough to give in.
Cliff the Libor is standing a few feet from us, Piper turns and signals him with an apparently universal "let's roll" hand gesture. The alien walks off, the Senator and his aide in tow.
The corridor fills with banjo cat sounds, making all seven humans jump. There's a Libor we haven't seen before mimicking Piper's hand signal toward an open door to his right. Our old friend Ralph is standing next to him. We do as we're told.
It's a big conference room, nice dark wood table with comfy chairs around it, and a couple rows of less comfortable looking chairs at the far end away from the table. The Libor activate a big screen on the long wall of the room opposite the table and banana sized fingers fly across an attached computer terminal.
COMFORTABLE. QUICKLY WE RETURN.
It says, we do. Seven backpacks settle onto the table, the professors sit together at the far end and start working on their pads. The Libor exit and the door closes automatically behind them with a heavy oaken clunk.
The Marines and I wander the room, assessing our situation as much as anything, one exit, two windows on the side, old school slide and up and down type, with screens. Nothing suspicious, other than the windows closed and locked on a beautiful sunny day. We're checking out the chairs at the far end when my butt once again signals battle stations.
Ramos's rear must have alerted him as well, because we make eye contact and I know he knows. He starts to say something, then stops.
The room is spinning a little, and I follow it, my head light on its feet, my feet barely connected to my legs. The professors are face down on the table, not asleep but not awake either, their hands splayed out uncomfortably. I move toward the door, Ramos signals his men and moves with me.
It's 10 steps to the exit, I get three before my legs give slightly and I have to catch myself on the nearest chair. I gather, push off, get two more steps before I find myself on my knees, Ramos trying to help me up but with no strength in his arms.
His attempt to pull me back up brings him down beside me, I grab the arm of a nearby chair and find I have no strength left either. I change plans, reach for the collar of my uniform and struggle against the velcro, finally pulling it open a couple inches. My hand dives in, finds the injector cartridges, pulls one loose and jams it hard into my side. I can't tell whether it went in or not, I have no feeling. My hand, disconnected, drops the cartridge and pulls back out, stupidly reseals my uniform. Brain not functional.
My vision is fuzzy, something, probably Ramos, is on the ground beside me. I fall toward him as the world goes dark.
Chapter 9 - In orbit around Libor Prime
The bridge of Union Starship Yorktown was dead quiet, the normally barely noticeable hum of ship's systems dominating the back and forth among stations at alert. Commander Shelby Perez hadn't left the Captain's couch since she had taken command of the ship the day before, she'd even attached herself to the combat relief system so that trips to the head were unnecessary.
She wasn't the only one. McAdams, Garcia, and Gomez, she noted, had been here every second as well. Twenty hours, give or take a few minutes, and no second message from the captain. Everyone was on edge.
"Within range now, Commander," McAdams voice was quiet, a mix of concern and hope.
"Affirmative, Lieutenant, let me know if we receive anything." It wasn't as though McAdams wouldn't do that automatically, of course, but you had to say something.
The landing site where her captain had been taken was within communication range of the radios they had taken with them for 22 minutes of each orbit. It surprised Shelby to discover that those 22 minutes were not the problem, it was the 93 when they were out of range that got to her.
McAdams' right index finger suddenly leaped forward, and it was everything Shelby could do to not leap after it.
"Message incoming, text only." All the pent up emotion of the past hours flew out of her mouth with that sentence, loud enough that everyone on the bridge surely heard it.
"On my screen."
"Aye, sir."
It seemed to take another 20 hours, but it was a couple seconds at most before the pixels lighted, green against black: New orders from the Senator. He will contact the Yorktown by voice shortly. Do exactly as he asks. Krieger out.
Shelby Perez read the message once, then again, and then again. Her hand jumped to the switches on the command screen, and the ship reverberated with horns and a pre-recorded voice.
Battle stations. Battle stations. All Hands. Battle stations.
"McAdams," her voice was steel, anger, fire, "All cannons and missiles active, keep the doors cl
osed, arm every damn nuke we've got."
"Aye, sir." Nothing but surprise in the response, McAdams' joy gone, though she didn't understand the orders.
Perez's hands flew across her screens, sending messages to her officers, and a coded message to the three corvettes on station near the sun. One of them would inform Admiral Sutherland of their status, the remaining two would move to coordinates she and Krieger had agreed upon earlier.
"Garcia, course information on your screen. Powell, main engines to standby, activate jump engines in defensive mode. McAdams, targeting information on your screen."
A string of ayes came back across the intercom, then a "my god" from a quiet voice that could only be McAdams as she discovered where her commander was targeting her nukes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Shelby had switched to the command channel, senior officers only. "The Captain and I agreed on a code sequence to authenticate communications, a sequence missing today. Katana Krieger did not send this message. Her orders in that circumstance are clear. Confirm if we can, run if we can, take every last one of those bastards with us if we can't. McAdams, find me the Captain."
"Aye, aye, sir."
McAdams was instantly on her private channel giving orders to her two person team and the four Marines assisting in the side couches. Shelby knew, McAdams even better, that the chance of finding a human being on that planet was essentially zero, but it wasn't going to stop them from trying.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a light on her overhead, voice communication inbound. She flipped the switch to on.
"Yorktown, aye."
"Commander, this is Senator Piper."
"Aye, sir. What can I do for you?" The voice was his, no question, and she didn't sense any unusual tone in it, but she was listening hard.
"The Captain and I have decided to spend a week or so down here evaluating technology that might become trade assets. In the mean time, we'll be sending a Libor ship up to join you. I've promised the Libor a tour of the Yorktown, and they'll take any of your crew who are interested back to the planet for some sightseeing."
"Yes, sir. May I speak with my Captain, please?"
There was a slight pause before the response, enough to set Perez's suspicions in concrete.
"Uh, she's not available at the moment, she's across the base looking at ships. You did receive her message, didn't you?"
"Aye, sir, we did."
"Then that's settled. You will dock the Libor ship onto the Yorktown when it arrives, which should be two orbits from now, and you will make planetary tours available to your crew. And, Commander, I personally recommend you schedule everyone for a trip."
"Aye, sir. Anything else?"
"No, Commander. You should not expect to hear from either me or the Captain anytime soon, we'll be venturing across the planet and it will too difficult to coordinate with the Yorktown's orbital pattern."
"Affirmative, Senator."
"That's it, Piper out."
"Yorktown out."
Shelby Perez was shaking with anger.
"McAdams, find me the Captain!"
"Aye, sir, working." Courtney McAdams' voice was full of the futility of her task.
"Lieutenant Palmer to the bridge."
It was time for the Marines to earn their keep on this trip. Tony Palmer appeared in less than a minute, quick enough for Shelby to be sure he was already on his way. They'd been together for months now, but she was still excited to see him regardless of the situation. He floated over to her couch and snapped to attention.
"Lieutenant Palmer reporting as requested."
"At ease." There were a couple small giggles from Yorktown personnel, and Shelby could see a few cold stares from the Marines aimed at those who dared laugh. If she was in command for any length of time, she'd have to deal with that. The regs only prevented dating along direct lines of report, and she, most days, was not in Tony's chain of command.
"The Libor are coming. One ship, so far as we know, two orbits from now. I need a plan to assault it, and I need it in 20 minutes. Assume a ship of the same class as the L2 ship your Recon team was aboard."
"Yes, sir. Are they going to dock or not be allowed?"
Despite the danger, he had a big smile on his face. Shelby Perez smiled back, not afraid to show some pride in her man. She jerked herself back to the job and thought for a moment before answering.
"Include options for both in your recommendations, but I think we should let them dock, just in case they have the Senator on board. It would be nice to save his ass if we can, for no other reason than giving Katana the chance to say I told you so."
"Yes, sir. I only have two squads available, what do you want me to allocate for Yorktown security?"
No thought required for this answer, she and Katana had already thought it through.
"We've got Yeager and Mussina, plus we'll take whatever aviators you don't need and put together a team."
"Ooh Rah. Anything else, Commander?"
"No, Lieutenant, on your way."
"Yes, sir." A quick salute and he was off the bridge double time.
Shelby turned back to her screens.
"Garcia, status?"
"Course options programmed according to your file. One button programmed and available on your screen labeled ‘Run away.' It will engage course toward the sun at nine gees in 10 seconds."
"Run away?" Shelby didn't like it, and her tone made that clear.
"It's an old movie line, Commander, I thought the Skipper would appreciate it, even though she's not here."
That took all the anger from her.
"Aye, Garcia, good choice." A couple second pause. "Powell, status?"
Emily didn't answer for a few more seconds, possibly working on something, she was, if anything, hands on.
"We're ready, sir, main engines on standby, jump engines available as laser shield if needed."
"Good. McAdams, where are you?"
A sigh proceeded the conversation.
"No where, sir, and we're five minutes from moving out of scanning range on the enemy base."
"Roger that. Use the time before we come around again to get creative with the search parameters."
"Aye, sir. We do have all the targeting information in the missile guidance computer. Twelve 30 megaton warheads targeting the major installations on the planet."
"Affirmative. You're going to lose your Marines in a few minutes."
"Aye, sir, expected, Olivia, Juan and I can handle it."
"I know you can, let's get back to work."
And with that, the crew of Yorktown got busy.
Chapter 10 - On the ground
My head hurts. I can't move my legs. My arms seem locked in place. My eyes are closed, but even through the lids the light is painful. It takes a few seconds for my addled brain to put the memories in the right places at the right time until I understand my predicament.
Slowly, carefully, I open my eyes then pick my head up off my chest. And see a nightmare.
It's six foot two. Hairy, black not off white. Two eyes. A nose. Two ears. Still butt ugly. And a traitor to his species.
"Captain!" It's cheerful too.
I'm in one of the chairs in the conference room, the table in front of me, on the opposite side of the room from the door. A knife, one of mine, is sitting there on the table, as is a syringe, not one of mine. Someone, probably one or more of my Marines, is behind me, but I can't turn my head far enough to look.
He walks toward me, stops not a foot in front of me. My feet and hands are in plastic ties, handcuffs basically, the hair is all over the place, my uniform has been opened in the front. My mom would not have let me leave the house with my skin that exposed.
I listen to my skin, let it tell me what it knows. Maddie, smart Maddie, was right. This "gentleman" searched me, found one knife, but from the feel of the way my clothes have been moved, he spent most of his "search" exploring parts he'd never get near otherwise.
He catches my
eye.
"John Stabler. Seaman, Commercial Starship Orion. Your new best friend."
I snarl as best I can.
"Not likely cowboy, not likely."
He walks over to the table, picks up the syringe and my knife, then walks back. He stands in front of me, flipping the knife 180 degrees at a time in his right hand, looking at me.
Libor: Katana Krieger #2 Page 15
