“That is my concern, not that of a mere ensign,” Commodore Essex stated.
Mike looked at him for a moment in silence as his words sunk in. It didn’t take a genius or a flag ranked officer to know what was coming next. Locking his jaw, he waited for the axe to fall.
“It seems that your last official rank was your commissioning after your graduation from Harpers Academy as an ensign,” Lt. Friar announced and added, “isn’t that, right?”
Mike slowly nodded.
“Your promotion to full lieutenant was a battlefield commission and is subject to flag review which at this time has been reviewed and denied,” she said trying not to smirk.
“You are hereby demoted back to the rank of ensign,” Essex said and then pointed to Mister Collins’ collar. “Please remove your lieutenant’s insignia.”
Mike reached up, took his rank off and put them in his shirt pocket. They were a gift from Captain Hope and there was no way he going to leave them in his care.
The Commodore looked to his dog robber, nodded and said, “Continue.”
“Your flight wings and your commando badge were not earned in a formal training setting from an officially sanctioned training facility or school and are therefore not authorized to be worn,” she announced making it sound like she was reading a list of criminal charges.
“Remove your qualification badges and make sure all of your uniforms reflect this change,” Essex instructed remaining rather stone-faced yet his eyes seem to twinkle in an odd form of satisfaction. He didn’t like upstarts and this young officer was just that.
Once more Collins removed his hard-earned insignias. Taking his flight wings and commando badge off he then placed them in the same pocket with the emblems of his former rank.
Again, the Commodore looked to his dog robber, nodded and said, “Continue.”
Lt. Friar looked down to Mike’s weapons belt and shook her head.
“Weapons are not authorized to be worn on board this ship without direct orders from Captain LaFevers or from the Commodore,” she said and then added, “charges will be filed if these orders are disobeyed.”
“Sir, I was under arms while I was charged to deliver those dispatches,” Mike said finally speaking up against this inquisition.
“You have fulfilled that duty, Ensign,” Essex stated and then continued, “Surrender your arms and place them on my desk.”
Mike didn’t move.
“Ensign Collins, did you hear the Commodore?” Friar demanded.
He ignored her and looked at the seated flag officer.
“Sir, these are my personally owned weapons. My father bought me my Krager pistol, and the extension sword I won in battle with pirates. Later, the Templars of Blue Rock officially awarded this sword to me.”
George Essex’s dark eyes squinted at him as his saggy face frowned in thought. He was a man who didn’t like complications especially with powerful organizations like the Templars.
“Your weapons will be turned over to the ship’s armory officer and placed in the arms room vault. You will be given a receipt for them but for now you will surrender your arms,” he informed making sure the last part sounded like an order. He then leaned forward and tapped his finger on the desk indicating where he wanted them placed.
Mike reached to his belt and unfastened it. He then carefully laid his pistol belt and extension sword on the desk before the Commodore.
Essex looked to his dog robber and said, “Continue.”
“You are hereby ordered to report to the sickbay for a full medical examination,” she said, then smiled and added, “this is to determine if you are under any kind of enemy influence.”
“And once I pass this medical examination?” he inquired.
“You will be assigned to a duty post on board this ship,” Commodore Essex answered.
“I believe they need a junior officer in engineering and maintenance,” Lt. Friar suggested knowing that those were some of the most grueling and dirty jobs on board the ship.
“Sir, I’m on permanent orders to the Star Wolf,” Mike said and continued, “and those orders are co-signed by both Admiral Norton-Underhill and Captain Hope.”
Essex’s face grimaced once again but then suddenly smiled.
“That’s fine, we’ll just put you on TDA and cut you temporary duty assignment orders while you are here with us.”
There was nothing Mike could say or do at this point. That is how it is in the military. Sometimes you have great leaders and a good crew, and sometimes you have ladder climbing twits in charge. Mostly you just had to take their shit and drive on as best you could.
Looking to the dog robber and then back to the commodore he paused for a moment waiting for another “Continue” from the flag officer.
When nothing came he asked, “Is that all, Sir?”
Commodore Essex’s face again made that wrinkled prune look before he spoke.
“No, I just want to advise you that I run a very tight ship. If your story is true then you have been out beyond our lines on the frontier operating with a ship that is barely one step better than a pirate. I expect all of my officers and crew to look, act and behave in the finest traditions of the space navy. Is that clear?”
“Aye, sir,” he replied which was all he could do.
“You’ll find that consequences on this ship are both swift and severe,” Lt. Friar added.
Mike looked at her, smiled and simply said, “Noted.”
“Dismissed,” Essex said absently looking down to a palm pad on his desk.
Ensign Collins snapped to attention, saluted and held it until the Commodore briefly looked up and returned his salute with a wave-like gesture.
Turning about-face, he briskly left the office and went out into the outer office. Behind him Lt. Friar followed.
“Ensign, I’m to escort you to our sickbay,” she announced walking past him and across the office to the exit. Stopping there she looked back at him. “Are you coming?”
Mike slowly walked over to his space bag and duffel. One had his space combat suit stuffed inside of it and other had his personal effects. Picking them up he shouldered the duffel as he strolled over to the waiting dog robber.
“Lead on, sir,” he said with a nod to the doorway.
Lt. Linda Friar made a slight sound of annoyance and turned and hurried into the corridor. She knew the ship and walked fast hoping to give a little annoyance back to this upstart of an ensign. Looking back, she was surprised to see that he was right behind her. Leading him through the halls of the busy battle carrier she finally got him to the sickbay. There she turned him over to the medical staff and was glad to be rid of him.
Mike watched as she left with a scowl on her face. He was wondering what her problem was and then remembered that she was the dog robber to an incompetent flag officer with delusions of his own greatness.
Chapter Three
For the next three days, Mike was subjected to every test the medical staff could think of. If the Commodore and his aide had been unprofessional and incompetent, he couldn’t say that about the doctors and nurses of Pallas. They were polite and professional throughout his entire stay though they seemed rather reserved. They smiled and spoke only on health matters but rarely on anything else with very little small talk. Observing the medical staff over his three-day stay, he found that they behaved this way even with each other.
This seemed odd to Collins as on most ships the opposite was usually the case. People on ships often grow closer together and become more like a family. Tightly knit crews are mostly up on everyone’s lives, families and hobbies. It is so bad sometimes that you couldn’t get a moment of peace or solitude.
Even on large capital ships, crews became like family at the very least within their duty sections, departments, and workgroups. Such lack of familiarity and comradery on the battle carrier seemed odd.
They had just hooked up his hardwire for the third time to run a diagnostic having been unable to find anythin
g wrong with it. Several members of the Pallas’s medical staff were surprised that a hardwire and cyber jack unit had been installed way out here in the frontier, let alone on board a starship and not even at a starbase.
“No, everything looks good! Your hardwire and cyber-jack interface are working within normal perimeters,” Commander Emir, chief doctor of cybernetics announced with a smile while still sounding a little surprised.
Mike looked around and saw that they were alone in the exam room. Taking this moment, he asked the question he been contemplating for the last three days.
“Doctor, can I asked you a question?” he posed.
Preoccupied reviewing the data from the diagnostic, the physician simply nodded and said, “Sure, what’s your question?”
“What’s up with this ship and her crew?”
The doctor looked up from his readouts with a concerned and a slightly surprised look on his face.
“Whatever do you mean, Ensign?”
“Sir, you have to know that the attitude of the crew on this ship is odd. Everyone is quiet, distant and I’ve never heard such a silent ship,” Mike pressed.
The doctor had moved as he talked until his back was towards the far wall. He then held up the palm of his hand in front of his chest indicating for him to stop.
“Ensign, there is nothing irregular going on here,” he stated “this ship is just not as social as some I’ve been on. After all, we are at war.”
While he spoke, the doctor’s hand stayed in front of his chest and went from a palm gesture to just an extended index finger. He then pointed with it towards his opposite shoulder as if there was something behind him. He then reached up and tugged on his earlobe. From his ear, his finger went to his eye as if to wipe it.
Collins nodded, understanding that they were being watched and listened in on.
“I understand, it just feels a little different than the Star Wolf,” he said trying to convince anyone who was listening in on them that his curiosity had been settled.
“Ensign, I’ve been on many ships and each one has been a bit different,” Dr. Emir said. His hand then made the thumbs-up sign.
Mike glanced down to his hand and he nodded once, “Thanks, I guess it just felt a little odd.”
“Not that unusual considering the size of this ship,” he replied moving back to the readout of Mike’s hardwire.
“So, how much longer do I have to stay in sickbay?” Collins asked changing the subject. He had been there three days and was tired of being poked and prodded.
“You are in excellent health and I see no evidence of any kind of mental or telepathic influence. Therefore, I believe there is no reason to hold you here any longer,” the doctor stated and then added, “I’ll send my recommendation to the XO later this morning and hopefully you’ll be out of here by this afternoon.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Mike commented, tired of being cooped up in the medical center with nothing to do.
The doctor forced a chuckle and gripped his arm before he left.
“No worries,” he whispered.
For the rest of the day, Mike stayed in his hospital room waiting to be released. He paced, did push-ups and some martial arts in the limited space of the cramped room. He tried to read but couldn’t concentrate and vids held no interest for him.
Time went by and he found himself once more being served a tray of hospital food as the evening meal was being delivered. Mess halls on board carriers are some of the best in the navy but the hospital tray had nothing that appealed to him. Sitting down he waited and waited until it became late in the evening. Giving up on being released from his confinement he got up to get ready for bed when an orderly entered his room.
“Oh, are you still here, sir?” the corpsman said picking up the untouched tray.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Mike replied.
“That’s funny, I thought I saw your release order at the nurse’s station,” he commented heading for the door.
Collins wanted to yell but kept it together.
“Could you check on that, please,” he called as the orderly left the room with the tray.
A half-hour later, the anxious young ensign was startled as the door to his room slid open and a duty nurse charged into his room.
“Ensign, you have been discharged and need to vacate this room, ASAP,” she said and quickly added, “Pick up your quarter’s assignment and your orders to report to engineering from the nursing station.”
Mike grabbed his bags and was out the door before the busy nurse even knew it. Stopping at the semi-circular nursing station, he saw that no one was currently there but that there was an automated discharge station. He went to the computer console and followed the directions. Speaking his name and rank into the computer he held out his palm pad as his discharge was transmitted to it.
Looking down, he saw that a copy of his TDA/TDY orders had been downloaded as well as his housing assignment. Looking through the digital order he saw that he was supposed to report to Deck 13, Sublevel-E at 1100 hours. Looking at his palm pad’s chronometer, he saw that was only an hour from now. He shook his head knowing that he had “somehow” pulled the graveyard shift.
He had another problem besides time, he really didn’t know this ship. Downloading the ship’s schematic, he hurried out the sickbay’s main doors and into the corridor.
Avoiding other crewmen walking the opposite way, he occasionally glanced down to his palm pad as he made it to a service elevator. Stepping in as two crewwomen stepped out, they give him a polite nod and a slight smile. The lift’s door slid shut and he said, “Deck 13.”
A beep went off and a voice said, “This lift operates between Deck 2 and Deck 11.”
“Mike let out a huff of frustration and said, “Fine, Deck 11.”
The lift moved headed downward. It then stopped at Deck 6 and picked up two crewmen dressed in maintenance overhauls. They didn’t say anything or even acknowledged his presence.
“Crewmen, how do I get to Deck 13?” he asked.
They looked at each other and then the one on the left pointed at the diagram on his palm pad.
“Sir, you need to get off at Deck 11 and move to the center lifts and take shaft C. From there you have to go down two more decks.”
“I have to go to sublevel E,” Mike added glad for any help finding his way through this monster of a ship.
Again, the maintenance technicians looked at each other oddly.
“Sir, you must have …” the crewman of the right started to say but his friend grabbed his arm and stopped him from saying any more.
Mike knew what they were thinking without them finishing or without him being a telepath. They both knew that he must have pissed someone off good to be sent to the very bowels of the ship. For them, they knew it was better not to get involved or even know what was going on.
“Sir, you need to get off on Deck 13 and then move to service lift M in the rear of the ship. Take that to the Sublevel E and follow the corridor marked 13-E-4 which will take you to the engineering maintenance section’s office,”
“Thanks,” Mike said with a smile and nod.
The two crewmen got off on Deck 8 and he was once more left alone as the lift descended.
After a minute, he decided to try something that he had been thinking about for the last three days.
“Pallas, are you there?” he asked.
He hadn’t tried contacting the ship’s A.I. while he was in sickbay for fear that they would think him mad and put a mental health order on him. After all, it does look pretty strange talking to the ceiling or to yourself unless you have a comm. unit or an ear-wick handy. He was also sure that Commodore Essex and his Flag Lieutenant would like nothing better than to see him locked up in a padded room.
There was no immediate response so after a minute’s wait, he repeated his question.
“Pallas, I know you can hear me but can you respond?”
The lift stopped at that moment and the doo
r slid open. Exiting the lift, he looked down at his pad and turned left. The corridor had people and service droids traveling from place to place but wasn’t nearly as busy as the upper decks.
Reaching the central lifts, he found shaft C and activated its signal sensor. As he waited for it to arrive he reached up and touched his subdermal comm. unit’s sensor. By the time the lift arrived nothing had happened and there was no response to his covert signal.
Getting in the lift he said, “Deck 13.”
The elevator was empty and he debated whether he should try to contact the A.I. again. He was now on temporary orders for the battle carrier and could be considered crew. He was also well below the rank and clearances that the Commodore set up to restrict access to the supercomputer.
“Well, it was nice talking to you,” he mumbled as the lift’s door opened.
Stepping out, he saw that he was in a corridor but across from him a was a transparent poly glass window that’s width went on for ten meters. Walking over to the observation window, he saw that it looked down to the engineering section. There he could see the control deck for the fusion and Bender engines.
Dozens of crew personnel were manning monitors and control panels. Others moved about as part of their duties, all seeming in a hurry or on some mission of importance. Remembering the Star Wolf’s engineering section, he could only say that the Pallas’ engineering control room was huge. In fact, the aft half of Deck 13 and all the sublevels from a third of the ship’s length back were dedicated to the engines.
Looking down all he could say was “Wow!”
Turning left he headed down the hall still looking through the glass to the sub-level below.
“You’re going the wrong way,” a voice in his head said.
Mike didn’t need to look around to know who it was but he did anyway to see if he was alone. The hall was clear so he answered in a normal voice.
“Are you allowed to talk to me?” he asked.
“I’ve spent the last few days contemplating that exact same question,” the A.I. stated.
“Well, you must have decided that it was all right or you wouldn’t be speaking to me now,” Collins said stating the obvious.
Wolves at the Gate Page 6
