“We are,” Captain Reordan replied.
“May I see your IDs, please?” the guardian asked, and both women handed them over. A quick scan drew a smile from the guardian. He waved a woman over as he handed the IDs back and said, “Escort these sailors to the waiting area.” The woman saluted and led them to the left. They walked half way around the building to a large tent. She smiled and bowed them on their way without ever saying a word.
Captain Reordan led the way into the tent and looked around. Even as early as they were, they were not the first to arrive. At least fifty people were already there, including the familiar figure of Lord Kenyon.
Devero Kenyon saw them coming and smiled. “Captain Reordan, Master Chief McCormack, it’s good to see you again.” He smiled as his eyes scanned both women, then stopped on Krystal’s chest. His back automatically stiffened as he came to attention, but he wasn’t in uniform so he didn’t salute. His eyes came up to meet hers as he said, “I’d almost forgotten about that, Master Chief.”
Krystal replied, “There are times, My Lord, when I wish I could.”
Lord Kenyon’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I imagine so, Master Chief. I imagine so.”
“Ah, Devero, there you are,” a cultured voice said as a tall man walked up to them, ignoring the uniforms completely. “I’d like you to join us after the ceremony. Juanita is looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Paul, I believe you know Captain Reordan,” Lord Kenyon said as he turned back toward the women. “She’s the CO of our new ship.”
Paul Ruel inclined his head slightly. “Captain.”
“Representative Ruel,” Erica replied coldly.
The man raised an eyebrow when his attention shifted to Krystal. “I see your taste in companions hasn’t changed.” His gaze was icy as he swept her with a glance.
“Representative Ruel, Master Chi—”
“That will be all, Captain,” the representative interrupted.
“Indeed,” a new voice agreed. All of them turned to face a short, stout woman in the uniform of a CSS Marine general. “Captain, it is inappropriate for you to bring an enlisted sailor to this ceremony.”
Lord Kenyon said, “General Soto,” in a dangerously soft voice.
“Lord Kenyon?” she answered in clear puzzlement. Lord Devero reached up and tapped his chest four inches below his left shoulder. General Soto looked puzzled, then looked at Captain Reordan. When she didn’t see anything remarkable, she shifted her gaze to Master Chief McCormack. Her eyes locked with an almost audible click on the small blue and white ribbon that stood alone above all of the rest of Krystal’s awards.
Commandant of the Marine Corps Leobarda Soto snapped to attention and offered a parade-ground perfect salute to Master Chief Electronics Technician Krystal Elise McCormick, one of only thirteen living recipients of the Confederated Star Systems Congressional Medal of Honor.
When Krystal had returned the salute, Lord Kenyon continued. “ET2 McCormack saved the lives of three thousand Marines by locking herself in a leaking compartment without an environment suit to repair the life support system of the transport ship CSS Jose Francisco Jimenez. She was clinically dead by the time a repair crew sealed the breach and repressurized the compartment. She died five more times in sickbay before the medics finally convinced her to stick around. I may be prejudiced about it, since my daughter was one of those Marines, but I think she has every right to be here.”
General Soto said, “Yes, Lord Kenyon,” and turned away.
Lord Kenyon turned back to Paul Ruel, but all he saw was the man’s back as he all but stomped away.
Lord Kenyon smiled but made no other comment. Changing the subject, he turned to Captain Reordan and said, “Lady Leslie told me she ran into you last night. She’s not in the best of moods right now. There has been a leak, and she’s pretty sure she knows who it was. An ENN newsperson woke her up at four this morning to ask about the reported timeship from the past.”
“Oh no,” Captain Reordan breathed.
“Oh yes,” Lord Kenyon agreed. “We’ve tightened security as much as possible, but you may be assaulted by reporters at some point today. Keep your tempers in check. Especially yours, Erica.”
“Me, Sir?”
“You, and don’t try that big-eyed innocent look on me. I know better. No punching reporters. I don’t care what they ask or say.” He frowned and stared into Erica’s eyes for a moment. “If I catch one hint of trouble, I’m going to have the Marines sit on you.”
There was a strangled snort from the side and Lord Kenyon turned toward Master Chief McCormack. “And don’t let me here of trouble with you either, Master Chief. Your reputation is a bad as hers.”
“Sir! I’ll have you know, My Lord, that I’m nowhere near as restrained as the captain.”
Lord Kenyon sighed and ran both hands through his hair. “Lady Leslie chose well. God help us all. Grab something to eat; it’s going to be a long day.” Both women came to attention as he turned away.
Captain Reordan looked at Master Chief McCormack and whispered, “Teasing him isn’t the best idea, Krys.”
Master Chief McCormack whispered back, “You’re the thinker, I’m the stinker.” Then in a stronger voice, “After you, Captain.” They both moved toward the buffet table and joined the queue.
*
The podium was centered at the top of the capitol steps with a horseshoe of security personnel six deep below it. Back in the shadows of the portico could be seen perhaps a hundred more, and behind them stood three platoons of CSS Marines in full battle dress.
Reporters from several hundred different news agencies with bases on every planet in the Confederacy were sitting in the chairs that had been arranged on the flat surface of the car park—for their own protection, of course. Couldn’t have them on the steps. Someone might stumble and get hurt.
To the sides, in significantly better seats under awnings, sat the seven hundred members of the Confederate Congress. They were divided into the House of Representatives to the left and House of Lords to the right.
Captain Reordan looked out at the throng and muttered, “They look like vultures waiting for something to die.”
“Hopefully not us,” Master Chief McCormack muttered back.
Lady Leslie walked up just then and said, “Stay in the back until you are called. Then I want both of you to come forward with Krystal half a step behind your left shoulder, Erica. I want that,” she stabbed a finger at the top ribbon on Master Chief McCormack’s chest, “to be clearly visible. You were wise to bring her, Erica. There are already questions about the kind of crew we’re manning the Wells with.”
Both Captain Reordan and Master Chief McCormack snapped to attention and said, “Yes, Ma’am.”
Lady Leslie turned away and walked over to a knot of Presidential Security personnel and shoved her way to the center. Most of them looked down at the sharp elbows and immediately stepped aside. There was a brief glimpse of several men in Navy and Marine uniforms, and one tall man in an immaculate suit.
The whole group moved forward and then spread out to allow their most important member to the front.
*
Confederate President Eric David Roberts stepped up to the podium and looked out at the sea of faces and hid his feelings. Bunch of buzzards waiting for some sign of weakness. He shuffled a handful of papers that were waiting for him, then spoke.
“Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, representatives of the Confederacy, it is my pleasant duty today to announce an astounding development. Slightly under a year ago a CSS Navy ship that was thought long lost reappeared in space to the north of the ecliptic. That ship, the CSS Edward White, was lost three hundred years ago with all hands. The most significant part of that is that they had no idea they were lost. As far as the White and her crew knew, they had been attempting to make a hyper-transit to a point three hundred light-years from Earth and had failed. Only about nine subjective hours had passed for them, but they
had traveled three hundred years into the future—three hundred years that delivered them to our here and now.”
The president paused and allowed the reporters to react for a moment. The reporters were already shouting questions, demanding explanations, and for the most part behaving like spoiled children. The president allowed them to get it out of their systems for a moment, then continued. “The crew of the White were as amazed as any of us. Especially the Admiralty. The CSS Roger B. Chaffee was sent to bring them in, and the crews mixed freely. Unfortunately, that meant that we could not allow the White to attempt another jump as it risked contaminating the timeline.” He paused again and allowed the shock of his statement to wear off for a moment. “The crew has been retired, and may consider this announcement as a release from their secrecy oath. If any of you men and women want to talk about your trip, feel free. Someone who is going to jail soon has already been leaking information and details to the press.”
The president once again paused, then looked to the side and his mother stepped forward. “When we realized the implications of the White’s journey we created the Temporal Directorate under control of Lady Princess Leslie Ann Elisabeth Courtney Del Rios Roberts. Most of you already know she’s my mother, but that’s not the reason—well, not the main reason—she got control of the new directorate.” He paused as a few chuckles rippled through the crowd. “Mother got the job because she was once the top researcher in temporal phenomena on Hector’s World. The fact that her research found that time travel was impossible made her the perfect person to control access to the time travel process.” The president stepped aside and one of the security personnel placed a three-step-stool at the podium for Lady Leslie. She climbed the steps with a hand from her son for balance.
“Good day,” she said as she gazed out at the crowd. “The Temporal Directorate was created to study and limit access to the time travel process to ensure we don’t go mucking up our past. There is a real possibility of that happening if we interact with the past as we know it. There is no proof of the multiverse theory, and it could be that a small change in the past could result in the eradication of our civilization.” She paused theatrically, then continued.
“The Temporal Directorate will consist of myself, the Vice President, the First Lord of the Admiralty, whoever holds the chair of the newly-created Temporal Studies Chair at Charles De Gaulle University, and the Chief of Naval Operations. You’ll notice that we’re Navy heavy, and there is a good reason for that. The White has been rechristened the CSS Herbert George Wells, TCH-1, and will continue to be a Navy ship with a Navy crew. At this time I would like to introduce her captain, Erica Michelle Reordan, and Chief of the Boat, Master Chief Electronics Technician Krystal Elise McCormack.”
Captain Reordan and Master Chief McCormack came forward as instructed and came to attention beside Lady Leslie. “You’ll notice that Captain Reordan is young for such a prestigious command. That is by my will. The nature of the H.G. Wells and the Temporal Directorate demand a certain amount of flexibility, and I didn’t want some old stick quoting regulations at me. In addition, Captain Reordan is the recipient of the Meritorious Service Cross for her actions in battle against the raiders over Hampton’s Planet in 2677.” She paused to let the reporters catch up. “In addition, as a second class petty officer in the same action, Krystal McCormack received the Confederated Star Systems Congressional Medal of Honor for service above and beyond the call of duty.” This time there was a stir among the reporters and representatives alike. Krystal was a real, living Hero of the Confederacy, and the men and women who had been about to object to her presence closed their mouths tightly. Elections had been lost because of a misspoken comment about a Medal of Honor winner, and there were far too many reporters and their omnipresent cameras and recorders to risk it.
Lady Leslie smiled serenely; she was fully aware of the effect Krystal was having on the more status-conscious representatives. President Roberts stepped up beside his mother and smiled at her for a moment, then turned to the crowd.
“We thank you all for attending this ceremony. During the coming weeks, we will be making various members of the Temporal Directorate available for interviews. Good day.” With that simple ending he turned and offered his arm to his mother, then escorted her back into the capitol building as reporters shouted questions at their backs.
*
Lord Kenyon caught Erica and Krystal and said, “Run, do not walk, to the nearest exit.” He didn’t touch either woman, but his personality seemed to push them along. “I’ve already arranged transport back to the Avalon. Sorry, ladies, but I’m kicking you off the planet. I already paid your bill and had the concierge pack your bags. He’ll meet your taxi, then you go to the port and get back to the Wells. I’ve also ordered Mara Kerhonkson to put extra security around the dock now that the nature of the Wells is known.”
“Yes, My Lord,” both women answered, and soon they were being all but shoved into a taxi. “The Avalon, then the space port,” Erica commanded and the taxi took off at far more than regulation speed. “Hey, don’t crash!”
“Not gonna happen, Ma’am,” the driver answered and grinned in the mirror. “You’re the one with the new ship, aren’t you?”
“News travels fast,” Krystal snarled.
“I have my vid set up here and watched the ceremony. Lord Kenyon already gave me my instructions and payment, so just sit back and relax.”
Erica and Krystal exchanged a glance and sat back, but neither of them relaxed. The ride to the Avalon seemed longer than the ride to the capitol. Soon enough, though, they pulled into the covered drop-off and the concierge met them. Erica rolled down her window to speak to him.
“Captain Reordan, I have your bags right here. Please remain in the taxi and we’ll load you up.” The driver had popped the trunk and bellmen were already loading their luggage. The trunk closed and the taxi moved into traffic once again.
Traffic to the space port was surprisingly light. It took just a little over half an hour to get there. The driver got out and handed them their bags with a smile, then turned to face Krystal and snapped to attention. “It’s been an honor to meet you, Master Chief.” His hand flashed up in salute, and both women saw the tattoo of the First Marine Expeditionary Force on his arm. Breaking protocol, they both returned the salute, even if the uniform he wore was that of Geneva Taxi and not the CSS Marine Corps. Then they hurried into the terminal.
It only took them twenty minutes to change and get back aboard Krystal’s Kitty, but it was long enough for several reporters to spot them and shout intrusive questions. Fortunately for the reporters, the port security personnel kept them off the apron. Krystal applied full power as soon as she received clearance, and the Kitty rocketed into the sky under four Gs of acceleration.
“Geeze, Krys, lighten up.”
“Can’t. Threat receiver is hot. Someone is tracking us.”
“Crap.”
A voice came through their headphones a moment later. “Navy shuttle HGW-Zero Six, Geneva Control. We have inbound traffic at three-zero-three by one-nine-seven at nineteen miles, closing at Mach five, identity unknown. EAF interceptors are in route. Maintain course and acceleration unless you receive a missile warning.”
“Geneva Control, HGW-Zero Six, understood,” Krystal replied. “As if I’d do anything else,” she continued after she’s released the microphone button.
The chatter of the Earth Air Force fighter jocks soon drew their attention. “Bogie is at angels three seven and climbing to intercept the Navy shuttle. Fat Boy, light him up.”
A breath later the threat receiver of the Kitty showed a second radar, but it was tagged with the green icon of a friendly unit. The intruder broke off and raced away, but the interceptors easily overtook him.
“Fat Boy, am I seeing this right?” the lead pilot asked.
“Confirmed, Patriot,” Fat Boy replied. “Intruder is painted in the colors of our old friends at EuroNews. EuroNews Shuttle Kilo-Sierra-
Foxtrot-Seven-Seven-One, this is EAF interceptor on your port wing. Cut your accel and prepare to be escorted to the ground.”
Captain Reordan muttered, “Great. Just friggin’ great.”
“What are you complaining about? They didn’t even get shot down.”
“That’s what I’m complaining about. Bastards should have been blown out of the sky for pulling a stunt like that.”
Krystal chuckled and eased their engines back to just two Gs. “I estimate six hours to the dock. Cards?”
“Aces this time,” Erica agreed, and the incident was all but forgotten as they got down to serious business.
*
It took six more months before the Wells was ready to leave the dock, but the yardbirds had done a magnificent job on her. Her original lines had been refined and slimmed down, changing her from a snarling Rottweiler of the fleet to a racing Greyhound of the track. Her lines had been cleaned up, the warts of her early-design gamma-ray lasers removed, and smooth skin ran down her flanks without a blemish. She still had teeth, but even they were trim and elegant: two of the newest model gamma-ray lasers and six concealed torpedo tubes with a loadout of twenty-four ten-megaton hyperdrive torpedoes.
Captain Reordan thumbed the intercom to life and addressed her crew. “All hands, prepare to leave dock. All hands prepare for acceleration in one minute.” She closed the mic and smiled at her XO. “Mister Frazier, single up all lines, prepare to cast off.”
Kellin Frazier answered, “Aye, Ma’am, single up all lines and prepare to cast off.” In ports all down the length of the ship, men and women prepared to disconnect the tethers that held them in the dock.
At the one-minute mark, Captain Reordan ordered, “Cast off all lines.” Commander Frazier echoed the order and the Wells was free. “Helm,” the captain continued, “maneuvering thrusters ahead one quarter.” The ship shivered, then the dock started sliding backwards in the view screens. It took eleven minutes to clear the dock and Captain Reordan ordered, “Helm, all ahead one half. Course zero-seven-one by two-one-nine.”
Stories of the Confederated Star Systems Page 3
