Ride The Rising Tide (The Maxwell Saga)

by Peter Grant

  The search party saw the smugglers’ movements and his danger, and responded as one. A hail of carbine fire blasted into the open hatchway. The three inside, floating upward, were no longer concealed by its lower lip. They shuddered and twitched as multiple beads slammed into them.

  Steve called, “Cease fire! CEASE FIRE!” He looked upward, saw the deckhead drawing nearer and put up a hand, stopping his upward motion, then thrusting himself back down towards the deck, pulling the crate with him as it bounced off the deckhead. He didn’t want it dropping on someone’s head when the internal gravity field was restored.

  “Everyone hold on to a stack of cargo! Don’t drift around getting in other people’s way! If anyone near you is floating, grab hold of them and help them find their feet.”

  By the time he reached the deck again, everyone else had a secure grip on a cargo stack. He grabbed a strap fastened over a pile of crates, and looked around. “You and you!” He pointed to the two nearest Spacers, members of Baobab’s crew whom he didn’t know by name. “Come with me. We’re going to check out that compartment. The rest of you, stand fast — and point your carbines in a safe direction, not at us!”

  He heard chuckles over the radio as the two Spacers he’d indicated came up, pulling themselves from stack to stack. They moved towards the hatch carefully, carbines ready, alert for any threat as they peered inside. The four space–suited figures were floating motionless, all having released their weapons. Looking at their faces through their helmets, Steve could detect no signs of life. Their spacesuits showed the marks of multiple bead strikes. He pulled himself inside, looking to left and right along the narrow compartment. He couldn’t see anyone else — only boxes, crates and containers, all stacked high and strapped down. It wasn’t hard to guess what was probably inside them.

  He pushed the four bodies out through the hatch one by one. As he did so, he muttered to himself, “That’ll teach you to smuggle weapons to kill and injure even more kids down there! Good riddance, you bastards!”

  “Can’t read your transmission, PO,” one of the two outside the hatch called.

  He shook his head in annoyance. He hadn’t realized he was speaking aloud. “Disregard my last transmission. Search party, get those bodies to the airlock and take them outside.” The nine Spacers remaining to him moved towards the hatch to obey his orders. The other six had already taken the five wounded Spacers and the injured Bosun’s Mate into the corridor.

  He switched back to the command channel. “Maxwell to all teams. Hold Two has been secured. Four hostiles down, believed killed. Hostiles and wounded are being removed from the hold for inspection and treatment in atmosphere. We need medical assistance at Hold Two as quickly as possible. We’ve uncovered a large hidden compartment filled with probable contraband. Cutter, what’s happening with Grasswren and Baobab? Over.”

  The response was immediate. “Cutter to Maxwell, Grasswren has asked all other patrol craft in the vicinity to send assistance. Baobab’s alerted their hospital to receive our wounded. Captain Innes is on his way in person with reinforcements. Over.”

  “Maxwell to cutter, thank you. Break. Maxwell to bridge and engineering, what’s your status? Over.”

  “Bridge to Maxwell, we’ve locked everything down. We monitored Channel Three and watched on the ship’s security vid as you took out those smugglers. That was bloody well done! Ingenious to shut down the local artificial gravity field like that, and take a crate up with you for cover. Over.”

  “Engineering to Maxwell, we’ve got everything under control here. Well done for dealing with those bastards! Standing by. Over.”

  “Maxwell to all teams, thank you. I suggest we hold in place until relieved. Maxwell out.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Steve found it hard to fight off sudden, overwhelming exhaustion as he watched the stretcher–bearers remove the last of the attackers’ bodies. None of them had survived their injuries. The wounded were already on their way to Baobab’s hospital. With luck, they’d all make it. His eyes passed over the remainder of his search party as they stood quietly along the bulkhead, making room for the stretcher–bearers.

  Another group of armed Spacers came up the passage toward them. A black–uniformed figure was in the lead. Steve peered through weary eyes, and recognized Captain Innes.

  “Search party, ten–HUT!”

  He saluted the Captain as he came up. Innes returned his salute.

  “Well done, PO! We’ll take care of things from here on out. Get your party back to the cutter, return my spacers to Baobab, then report back to Grasswren. You can make out your report there. I’ve got fifty armed Spacers with me, and more on the way. This ship isn’t going anywhere — nor is its cargo, until we’ve sorted out exactly what’s going on here. The UP Commissioner will just have to possess herself in patience.”

  Steve managed to muster a tired smile. “I think she may not be used to having people say that to her, Sir.”

  The Captain snorted. “Perhaps not, but there’s a first time for everything!”

  “I guess so, Sir.” He saluted again, then turned to his Spacers.

  “Search party, let’s head for the docking bay — and give yourselves a pat on the back. You did very well today. Thank you all very much.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Warrant Officer Dhruv smiled up at Steve as he approached his bed. He was lying propped up on several pillows, bandages wrapped around his body, covering most of his chest. “Hi, PO! What brings you here?”

  “I’ve brought Senior Lieutenant Parasurani to a meeting with Captain Innes, Sir. I took advantage of the opportunity to come see how you were.” Steve shook Dhruv’s extended hand.

  “I’m glad to see you. I understand we owe you our thanks — probably our lives, too — for getting us out of that hold yesterday before the smugglers could finish us off.”

  “I didn’t get you out, Sir. That was six other Spacers,” Steve objected as he sat down on the chair next to the bed.

  “Six other Spacers acting on your orders,” the reservist pointed out. “You thought of it, told them how to do it, and picked the right people to make sure it was well done. Like I said, we owe you.”

  Steve flushed slightly. The flood of congratulations coming his way since yesterday’s fight had been overwhelming. He changed the subject.

  “How are you feeling, Sir?”

  “As well as can be expected under the circumstances. There was a lot of pain at first, but they’re doping me with some really good stuff. I must admit, just after I’ve been dosed it brings back hazy, happy memories of a few incidents in my misspent youth — but don’t tell the Bureau of Security I said that!”

  Steve chuckled. “I won’t, Sir. They do say BuSec doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.”

  “In my experience, they definitely don’t!”

  “Where were you injured, Sir? I couldn’t tell from your spacesuit before they took you away yesterday. It looked as if both rounds struck your chest control panel.”

  “They did. That’s what saved me. Both rounds expended so much of their energy getting through the control panel and the electronics box behind it that they didn’t penetrate to my vital organs.”

  “Let’s hear it for tough control panels! When will you be up and about again, Sir?”

  “I’ll be transferred planetside soon, along with our other wounded, to recuperate at the Marine base hospital. It’s been a long time since I had leisure to stop and smell the roses, so to speak — although I don’t know if they even grow roses on Radetski. A week or two in atmosphere and natural gravity will be very nice, not to mention some real, actual weather!”

  Steve had to grin at the familiar plaint of all who spent long periods in space. “Have you heard how the others are doing, Sir? I haven’t been to their ward yet.”

  “They’re all doing fine. Senior Chief Lamartine is the worst hit, but he’s going to be OK, they tell me. After a few weeks he’ll probably be discharged to his home on Nouveau–Montr
éal for a long convalescent leave before returning to duty.”

  “At least he won’t have to worry about terrorist attacks there, Sir.”

  Dhruv grinned. “We may not have to worry so much about them on Radetski, either, at least for a while. I’m told a couple of Leona’s officers are talking up a storm, hoping for leniency. It seems terrorist sympathizers on other planets had to pay for this shipment in full, in advance, at black market prices, and pay a hefty smuggling premium on top of that because of the increased risk posed by our patrols. They’ve just lost their entire investment. To add insult to injury, the weapons they bought will likely be added to the UP shipment and handed over to Radetski.”

  Steve smiled nastily. “Actually, Sir, if the terrorists are going to get shot with their own weapons, that would be more like adding injury to insult.”

  “Ha! You have a point. I doubt their friends will be able to raise enough to pay for a replacement shipment, because the leads we get from Leona’s crew will be used to go after them. They’re going to need all their money to run fast enough to stay ahead of the law.”

  “Did they tell you what we found aboard Leona, Sir? I haven’t heard the details yet.”

  “I heard this morning. There were a thousand carbines in that hidden compartment, plus mortars, light rocket launchers, plenty of ammunition for all the weapons, land–mines, a large quantity of explosives and detonators, and ancillary gear. More than enough to keep a terrorist campaign going for quite a while, I’d say.”

  Steve winced. “It doesn’t bear thinking about how many civilian casualties they might have caused, Sir! What I can’t understand is why those four men fought us in the first place. I mean, the ship wasn’t going anywhere, not with four orbital and four heavy patrol craft in the system. They had no chance of winning and no way out, so why didn’t they surrender?”

  Dhruv sighed. “PO, if you ever figure out how a fanatic’s mind works, let me know! I suspect rationality and extremism don’t exactly go hand in hand. I’m just glad we didn’t give them time to use the mines and explosives to take the ship with them — and us, too!”

  Steve shivered involuntarily. “You come up with the nicest ideas, Sir!” Both men chuckled. “I guess stopping four terrorists was as important, in its own way, as stopping the arms shipment they were escorting.”

  A ward orderly knocked at the door, and looked around it. “PO Maxwell, you’re to report to Captain Innes’ office. His clerk just called.”

  “Thank you. Please advise his clerk I’m on the way.” Steve rose, holding out his hand to the Warrant Officer. “I’ll try to visit you again soon, Sir. Take care of yourself.”

  “Not bloody likely! I’m finally in a place where I can make others take care of me. I intend to take full advantage of it!” He hesitated, then added, “Did you know this is Captain Innes’ last command? He’ll be retiring from the Fleet at the end of the year.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “He came to visit the wounded last night. He told me he’d never won much in the way of prize money before, but as the Force Commander here, he’ll get a very nice sum from Leona to see him into retirement. I think he’s feeling very well disposed towards you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Captain Innes’ office was two levels up and a long way forward from the hospital. It took Steve almost five minutes to cover the distance, even using the high–speed walkway to hasten his progress. He was a little out of breath by the time he arrived.

  Captain Innes’ clerk was seated at a desk in the anteroom. He clucked disapprovingly at Steve’s slightly disheveled state, and waited while he hurriedly adjusted his uniform before opening the door to announce, “PO Maxwell is here, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Jenkins. Send him in, please.”

  Steve snapped to attention inside the door. “Petty Officer Third Class Maxwell reports to the Captain as ordered, Sir.”

  Innes stood, a welcoming smile on his face. “Good morning, Maxwell.” He offered his hand across the desk. “Take a seat.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Steve sat down next to Senior Lieutenant Parasurani in front of the Captain’s desk.

  “I’ve ordered Leona seized for prize adjudication by the Courts of Admiralty,” the Captain began. “Her Captain insists he had no idea the extra arms were aboard, but a couple of his officers tell a different story. Besides, it’s inconceivable he wasn’t aware of them, because we can prove that Leona’s longitudinal stability was dependent on them being where they were. That was a very useful suggestion on your part, PO. She couldn’t safely have made a hyper–jump without taking the mass and location of the smuggled weapons into consideration. If the Court agrees, as I’m sure it will, it’ll condemn Leona as a prize.”

  Steve grinned. “She ought to bring a nice chunk of change, Sir.”

  “Very nice indeed! However, that’s not why you’re here. You did an excellent job yesterday. You took charge of the search party after its leaders were incapacitated; saved the lives of our injured personnel by getting them out of the line of fire, in such a way that you avoided further casualties; and led a successful assault on the smugglers, neutralizing them and seizing the contraband. That was an outstanding piece of work, particularly given your relatively junior rank. We never have enough Spacers and Marines who are ready, willing and able to act without hesitation — and, more importantly, to be proactive rather than merely reactive when the need arises. You took the fight to the enemy, forcing them to react to you instead of controlling the action themselves. That threw them off balance, and you didn’t give them time to recover.

  “You’ll be hearing more about yesterday’s affair in due course, and also about your good work with the Marines on the planet last week. However, Lieutenant Parasurani and I think that some immediate recognition is deserved, over and above making you wait for whatever higher authority may approve in future. Therefore, he’s nominated you for, and I’ve approved, an immediate combat promotion to Petty Officer Second Class.”

  Steve couldn’t prevent a broad grin breaking out across his face. “Thank you, Sir!”

  Lieutenant Parasurani added, “You’ve earned it, PO. However, I’m curious. How were you able to react so quickly and so effectively to circumstances that would have daunted and disoriented many other Spacers of your rank and experience, or even more senior?”

  Steve hesitated, then decided to be direct. “Sir, I want to apply for a commission as soon as I’ve qualified for Commonwealth citizenship and completed my degree. My Platoon Instructor in Boot Camp knew about my ambition, and gave me some good advice that I’ve tried to apply. One of his suggestions was to follow the Fleet’s reading lists for its various ranks and grades, in particular those for junior officers.

  “The book ‘Platoon Leadership’ by Colonel David Hartzell is on the reading list for Marine Corps Second Lieutenants, grade O–1. Among other things, the Colonel suggests that junior officers should try to anticipate what might go wrong during an operation, and under what circumstances, then plan what they might do to salvage their part of it if that becomes necessary. I’ve tried to follow his advice, Sir. Of course, I couldn’t foresee and plan for precisely what happened yesterday — a lot had to be improvised — but I’d thought about what to do if we were ambushed.”

  “So the situation didn’t catch you off guard?”

  Steve reddened. “Actually, it did, Sir. I hadn’t anticipated losing everyone senior to me, but I was able to get back on track a lot faster than if I hadn’t thought about potential problems.”

  Captain Innes smiled. “That’s an honest answer, PO. How many of the Fleet’s reading lists have you completed?”

  “Up to and including grades E–6 for enlisted personnel and O–2 for officers, Sir, for both the Spacer and Marine Corps. I’m working through the O–3 lists now.”

  Innes looked startled. “That’s a lot of reading — far more than most junior NCO’s would have tackled.”

  “It is, Sir,” Parasurani obse
rved, “but it paid off in spades yesterday.”

  “Indeed it did, Lieutenant.” He transferred his gaze back to Steve. “You’d normally have to attend PO2 Leadership Training before promotion to E–5, but since a combat promotion leapfrogs the normal sequence of events, you’ll have to attend it as soon as possible after promotion.” He turned to his terminal, called up a list of courses, and studied it intently. “PO2LT won’t be available in this Sector for a while, but the NCO Academy on Lancaster offers it, starting next month. We can ship you out two days from now aboard the weekly communications frigate to Vesta, with priority orders to catch the next available transport to Lancaster to attend the course. Have you ever been there?”

  “Only in transit through the system, Sir. I’ve never landed on the planet.”

  “You’re going to have an interesting time there. It’s the heart of the Commonwealth, and therefore of the Fleet as well.”

  Steve decided to strike while the iron was hot. “Sir, when I was promoted to PO3 I submitted a request to take the first–level Instructor course as soon as it was convenient. I was told by my Platoon Instructor during Boot Camp that it covers many of the elements addressed in Officer Candidate School. So far I haven’t been able to take it, because of being shipboard rather than planetside; but if I’m going to the NCO Academy on Lancaster, is there any chance of attending it before or after PO2 Leadership Training?”

  “Let me see… Yes, they offer Instructor One starting the week after PO2LT ends. I’ll put you down for that as well. After yesterday, I’d say you’ve more than earned it.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Steve felt a warm rush of satisfaction. The two courses, plus his combat promotion, would look good on his record when he applied for a commission next year.

  Parasurani observed, “You’ll probably continue to be based on Lancaster after completing those courses, because after two consecutive assignments in space your next one is certain to be planetside. Do your best to graduate among the top three students on one or both courses — they receive preferential consideration for their choice of assignment. I suggest you ask for a tour of duty as an instructor at the Small Craft School on Lancaster. It’ll make use of all your training and experience, and it’s near the planet’s Officer Candidate School. That’s where I did OCS, and I remember the cutters buzzing around overhead. It’ll give you a chance to look the place over and observe the candidates under instruction.”