Peacekeeper

by Doug Farren

  “I’ve compared the records from all the ships in the area at the time of the battle and compensated for gravitational influence as well as the destroyed ship’s last known trajectory,” the Chief replied. “This is the right debris field.”

  “Then where are the large pieces?”

  “I’m not…” the Chief paused to respond to a beeping noise from his console. His eyes darted back and forth across one of the screens. “The computer has finished collating all the data,” he said. “The total mass of the debris in the area is roughly equivalent to the mass of the destroyed vessels. It’s just spread out across a huge volume of space. The pattern of the motion of the debris suggests the larger pieces we’ve been searching for have been reduced to smaller fragments by recent explosions.”

  “How recent?” the Captain asked, raising her eyebrows.

  The Chief’s hands flew over his keyboard entering a series of queries for the computer to answer. He spoke in a staccato-like voice as he typed, “Based on an analysis…of the material’s current vector…and running the clock backward…I should be able to…Got it! At most, roughly 38 hours ago assuming small nukes were used.”

  “It must have been the AOH,” Petty Officer Gleason remarked from the com-panel.

  “Chief, is there anything else here we should look at?” the Captain asked.

  “All the AOH ships were destroyed during a single battle and the debris field is confined to this part of the system. The only other ship we could investigate would be the wreckage of the juggernaut.”

  “If I were a Purist, I’d want to poke around in that wreckage as well,” Stevens suggested.

  McClusky’s head snapped around toward the main view screen that was currently showing a standard long-range tactical display. “The pulsar’s emissions might keep us from spotting them too,” she said. “Let’s see if they’re still here. Mr. Stevens, set course for what’s left of the juggernaut. Set your acceleration at 25Gs. That should keep our drive emissions low enough for us to remain undetected until it's too late for them to escape.”

  The tactical station worked with the helm to establish the new course and within minutes, the cruiser was on its way. “Setting course 81 mark 12,” the helm announced. “That’s going to take us closer to the pulsar beam and farther into the system.”

  “Very well,” McClusky replied. “Tactical, keep an eye out for anything unusual but keep our emissions as low as possible.”

  “Aye Sir.”

  “Sorbith isn’t going to like this one bit,” the Captain muttered. She was fuming mad at the unknown power that had robbed her of a successful mission. They had hoped to learn where the Purists had acquired their weapons by examining the remains of the destroyed ships. That hope had been smashed by the total destruction of every bit of evidence. She was hoping that whoever had done so was still in the area.

  For 40 minutes, the cruiser continued to build speed as it accelerated into the system. An alert suddenly appeared on one of the tactical console’s many screens. Chief Sutton looked at it and announced, “Captain, there’s a good chance we’re being monitored by a Mark 7 perimeter drone.”

  “That model was taken out of service years ago because—”

  “That’s how I know it’s a Mark 7,” the Chief interrupted. “I just picked up the characteristic energy spike from its communications system.”

  “That means—” The Captain suddenly stopped talking when a red icon appeared at the edge of the main view screen.

  “Sublight drive detected!” the tactical station announced. “High energy output. They’re running.”

  “Intercept!” the Captain said, so fast the word was almost unintelligible.

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to,” the helm replied, as his hands performed an intricate dance over his console. “We have a considerable delta-V directed in-system. They’ll be far enough out to engage their stardrive long before us.”

  “Emergency acceleration,” the Captain ordered. “Push her to the limit.”

  “Still won’t be enough,” the helm replied, turning slightly in his seat.

  Captain McClusky looked at the long-range screen hoping to see the icon of an Alliance ship close enough to intercept the fleeing vessel. Nothing. Her fist came down on the armrest of her chair creating a loud thump. "Damn it! Break off the pursuit. Chief, can you tell me anything at all about that ship?"

  “Sorry Sir,” the Chief responded.

  McClusky stared at the dot on her screen representing the fleeing ship, wishing she could hurl bolts of lightning at it. Her fingers squeezed the leather arms of her chair causing it to make a sound like an old boat rubbing against a rubber dock bumper. “Helm,” she finally said. “Set course for our next destination. Coms, fire off a SITREP to Sorbith. I’ll be in my stateroom.”

  Chapter 3

  “Nervous?” Bill Owens finally broke the silence. Although his inflection seemed to indicate he was asking a question, the half-smile on his face said otherwise. Tom’s legs had been constantly on the move since taking his seat on the shuttle. His right knee would bounce up and down for a few seconds then the movement would shift over to his left. The index finger of his right hand was tapping like a metronome set for Salsa. The tapping paused every few minutes as he reached up to scratch the top and back of his head.

  “A little,” Tom admitted. Bill continued to stare. “Okay! Maybe a bit more than a little,” Tom added.

  “Why?” Bill’s smile broadened.

  Tom had to think about his answer for a moment because he really didn’t know why he was so nervous. He hadn’t been nervous at all when he talked to Peacekeeper Sorbith three years ago about applying to the academy. When the answer finally surfaced it surprised him.

  “Have you ever gone parachuting?” Tom asked.

  Bill cocked his head to one side. He had not expected his question to be answered with another question. “No,” he hesitantly replied, dragging the word out far longer than necessary.

  “I have,” Tom explained. “I was nervous as hell on my first jump. There are a million thoughts that run through your head as you’re standing in the doorway looking down at the ground: Will my chute open? Will I be blown off target? Will I land too hard and break a leg? I’m about to jump out of a very satisfying career into the unknown. What if I don’t make it? The Dragon has been my home for almost five years. It’s a big change and I’m worried.”

  “You wouldn’t have been accepted into the academy if they had any doubts about your abilities,” Bill replied, trying to cheer up his friend. “Try not to think about the past. You’re about to embark upon a new adventure. You’ll meet new friends and learn new things. Weren’t you nervous when you signed up for the space force?”

  “Sure I was. But at the time the only thing I wanted was to get away from Bellish and the space force seemed like the best way to do it.”

  “Still, you were leaving behind your college friends and your family.”

  Tom gave Bill a warning glance; certain details concerning his family were never to be discussed. “I didn’t make many friends in college. The friends I have now are my family.”

  Giving Tom a gentle shove on the arm, Bill said, “Don’t be getting all mushy on me. I’m sure we’ll stay in touch. Who wouldn’t want to be able to say that your best friend is a Peacekeeper?”

  Tom’s legs had settled down and the finger tapping had stopped. “Peacekeeper Wilks,” he said. “I think I like the sound of that.”

  There was a soft thump as the shuttle touched down. “We have arrived at the Arriapa starport,” the pilot announced.

  The shuttle was filled to capacity and it took several minutes before the two friends stepped onto the landing field. Their exit was delayed even more because all the other passengers insisted on saying goodbye to Tom one last time. Outside, the two men breathed in a huge lungful of air through their nose. This same ritual was being repeated by nearly every passenger.

  A cold breeze carried the earthy scen
t of rain. The sky was overcast with grayish clouds obscuring the sun. Darker ones loomed on the horizon.

  Bill zipped up his jacket, threw the strap of his small bag over his shoulder, then followed Tom to the rear of the shuttle where the cargo hold was located. Tom grabbed one of his bags, handed it to Bill, then grabbed his other one. It was hard to believe that everything he owned could fit inside two large travel bags. Two vehicles were parked nearby waiting to take the passengers to the terminal; a large bus and a much smaller four-passenger hatchback.

  Pointing to the car, Tom said, “That must be for me.”

  Heading toward the car, Bill replied, “Come on, I’ll help with your bags.”

  Seeing them approach, the driver popped the rear hatch and stepped out of the car. “Are you Petty Officer Wilks?” he asked.

  At first glance, Tom thought the driver was Terran but quickly changed his mind as they got closer. Terrans and Shandarians were very similar in appearance and were difficult to tell apart at a distance. The driver’s horizontal eyelids were a dead giveaway. “I am,” Tom replied.

  “Stow your bags in the back,” the driver said, motioning with his head. “I’m to take you directly to Peacekeeper Thish’s ship.”

  After Tom’s bags were loaded, the two friends took a moment to say goodbye. “Keep in touch,” Bill said as they shook hands.

  “As long as you do the same,” Tom replied.

  Tom felt his nervousness returning as they drove across the landing field. In the distance was the distinctive shape of a Peacekeeper ship. No other spaceship looked quite like it. It was a dull, black disk measuring 115 meters in diameter and 30 meters thick supported by five stubby landing struts. Even though they were about a kilometer away, Tom could make out the enormous energy cannon mounted on the top. Although Seeker-class ships were not warships, they were quite capable of defending themselves.

  “What can you tell me about Peacekeeper Thish?” Tom asked the driver.

  “Never met her,” he tersely replied.

  A light rain began to fall as they approached the ship. The driver brought the car to a halt ten meters from the lowered entrance ramp then motioned for Tom to get out. “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

  Tom got out of the car and nervously walked toward the wide ramp. Pausing at the bottom, he raised his voice and said, “Hello! I’m Petty Officer Tom Wilks. Request permission to come aboard.”

  A voice from inside replied, “Permission granted.”

  The ramp terminated in a brightly lit passageway. Tom looked to the left but quickly turned to the right when he heard a slight noise. His eyes grew large as the Peacekeeper approached. Stopping a few meters from him, she said, “I am Peacekeeper Thish Sey’Fanash Anandra. Please follow me.”

  Tom stepped back as Thish continued past him and headed down the wide passageway. She was, beyond any doubt, the most impressive creature he had ever seen. Thish was a Rouldian, a reptilian species; she was also a Peacekeeper, and Peacekeepers were cyborgs. The top of her triangular head was a solid piece of black armor extending down to just above her two large, intensely black eyes. The fine iridescent scales of her 3.5-meter long body that gave a Rouldian its distinctive coloration were gone. In their place was an intricately constructed flexible skin of black armor covering her entire body. Thish’s four short legs as well as her two arms were cybernetic.

  The modifications necessary to create a fully cybernetic Rouldian were extensive and riskier than those of any other species. Tom was well aware of the risks involved in being transformed into a cyborg. Even with the advanced medical wizardry of the Omel, a small percentage of people undergoing the procedure never made it out of the operating room.

  The passageway ended at a door which slid open as they approached. On the other side was a large spacious living area. “This is my home,” Thish explained, speaking through a vocoder attached to her chest armor. “Provided you are able to complete the training and you survive the medical procedures, you will spend the rest of your life in a similar environment.”

  Tom took a few seconds to look around. It was hard to believe he was inside a spaceship. The room looked more like a large apartment than a stateroom. Nodding his head in approval, he replied, “Very nice.”

  “Becoming a Peacekeeper is not a decision to be made lightly,” Thish said. “The academy is challenging and only the best will be able to make it through to the end. There are also very significant risks associated with the medical procedures involved. Three years have passed since you spoke to Peacekeeper Sorbith concerning your desire to become a Peacekeeper. Given the risks involved, are you still willing to devote the rest of your life to the Alliance?”

  “I am,” Tom replied, without hesitation.

  “Are you certain? This is perhaps the most important decision you will ever make. The cybernetic modifications you will endure cannot be reversed. You will be a Peacekeeper until the day you die.”

  Looking Thish in the eye, Tom said, “I am very certain of this decision. I have no doubts.”

  Thish dipped her head as she extended her hand. “In that case, I will need to see your identicard.”

  Tom pulled the card out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. As soon as she had the card in her hand, she closed her fingers around it and squeezed. The cermetal identicard, designed to be as strong as possible, crumpled like a thin piece of paper.

  “As of this moment you are now discharged from the Alliance space force and are a stage zero Peacekeeper.”

  She reached into a pocket of the sash she wore around her chest and pulled out another card. Unlike Tom’s original, which was adorned with a picture of a galaxy, this one was completely black. Taking possession of his new card he turned it over, not quite believing it was his.

  “This is the identicard of a Peacekeeper!” Tom said. “I haven’t even set foot in the academy. How can this by mine?”

  Although it was impossible for a Rouldian to smile, Tom had the distinct impression that Thish would have done so had she been able. “Your activities have been monitored ever since you applied to the academy. Every conversation you’ve had aboard the Komodo Dragon, every electronic communication you’ve made, every transaction conducted with your identicard, has been scrutinized. Your past has been studied and your friends have been discreetly interviewed. That is why it has taken three years for your application to be processed. Your integrity, honesty, and character have been carefully recorded and analyzed by an impartial computer algorithm. You would not be standing here today if that algorithm had not come to a positive conclusion. Congratulations Peacekeeper Wilks.”

  Tom was overwhelmed. He looked at the identicard, running his thumb over it to ensure himself it was real before pocketing it. “Thank you.”

  “A room has been reserved for you at the Starquest hotel,” Thish said. “Passage to Centralis has been arranged on the next available cargoliner. It leaves in three days. When you arrive at your destination, report to the Peacekeeper Directorate in the starport. Until then, I suggest you review the duties and responsibilities associated with your new position. You can find them, along with several other important documents you will be required to read, on your identicard.”

  Thish escorted Tom to the ramp. A low rumble of thunder greeted him as he exited the ship. A steady, icy rain was now falling as he made the short dash back to the waiting car.

  “Burrrr,” Tom said, sliding into the passenger seat.

  “This is nothing,” the driver said. “You should try visiting us in the winter. Where to?”

  “I’ll pass,” Tom replied, knowing just how bad the winters on Moth could get. “Starquest hotel please.”

  The car drove across the open expanse of the starport for several kilometers. By the time they reached one of the transportation hubs, the rain had turned to sleet coating the surface of the vehicle with a thin layer of ice. The hub was a raised, circular building located at the edge of the starport. At the top of the short ramp, an indicator on the
dash lit up informing the driver that the transportation center’s computer now had control of the vehicle. A moment later, the car drove itself into one of the three large tubes that intersected with this particular hub and rapidly accelerated until it was traveling at nearly 200 kilometers an hour.

  Ten minutes later, the car was shunted to a deceleration lane and then pulled to a smooth stop in front of the hotel. A service robot greeted him as he stepped out of the car. “Welcome to the Starquest hotel Peacekeeper Wilks,” it said in a natural-sounding voice. “If you will follow me, I will show you to your room. Your bags will be brought up in just a moment.”

  Inside the hotel, the robot continued, “According to our records, this is the first time you have stayed at our hotel. If you are hungry, there is a restaurant on the main floor that is open around the clock. If there is anything you need to help make your stay with us more enjoyable please feel free to contact the main desk.”

  They boarded an elevator that took them up to the third floor. The robot showed him to his room, verified the door was properly programmed to respond to the presence of Tom’s identicard, and then departed. The room looked more like a small efficiency apartment than a hotel room. In addition to the main seating area, there was a separate bedroom and a kitchenette with a small eating area. A few minutes later, another robot delivered his bags.

  “Have a good day Peacekeeper Wilks,” the robot said, as it rolled out the door.

  Tom stood in the middle of the room, a thousand thoughts vying for attention with the robot’s departing words still echoing in his ears. He was a Peacekeeper! The full impact of the profound change in the direction his life was taking began to sink in. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he noted he was still wearing his space force uniform. “I guess I won’t be wearing that any more,” he said to his reflection. A growling noise from his stomach reminded him that it had been several hours since he had eaten.

  Twenty minutes later, he walked into the restaurant dressed in civilian clothes and carrying his pad. The woman at the desk looked at her terminal that had automatically queried his identicard as he approached.