To Wake the Living (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 2)

by Robert F Hays

  “Karla,” Jim said, “please don’t use the F word any more.”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  Jim glanced over his shoulder and spotted Chris standing at the door. He was energetically making entries on a data pad.

  “What do you think Sam?” Jim asked, more to assist Chris than for his own curiosity.

  “Ah don’t rightly know. Never thought ‘bout fornicatin’ much, ‘cept with ma wife. The most brazen people ah ever seen was them Kansas City dance hall girls. Ah heard you could get it if’n ya showed up at the stage door with flowers ‘n lookin’ fine and nice smellin’, but ah never tried that. That sort of thaing takes money, which ah didn’t have.”

  Jim turned to Chris. “Well Chris,” Jim said, “what have you got out of this discussion”

  “The use of expletives. Earl is embarrassed by them and avoids their use if possible. Karla flaunts them for dramatic affect. You use them in a matter of fact manner, and Sam knows very few, but the ones he does he uses very honestly.”

  “See Earl,” Karla said, “you’re the up tight sicko.”

  Jim gave her a smile and shook his head. “I was thinking the same about you Karla.”

  Sam remained silent and confused.

  Earl turned to face Chris. “There’s a definite explanation for the whole thing. You see, with this young lady it was the communists that affected her brain. Jim lived at a time after they fell apart and didn’t affect people as much. I was at the beginning of the fight when they were the strongest and we had to be the most careful.”

  Sam still looked confused. “Them there communist fellahs must have been as playful as a New Orleans whore house.”

  “Not really,” Earl said, “they were quite conservative. They forced these degenerate ideas on us to destroy our morals and weaken us.”

  “One thing I would like to know,” Chris said. “It’s how you all feel about being observed and studied?”

  Jim shrugged. “Doesn’t affect me in the least. I ignore it.”

  “It’s downright embarrassing,” Earl said.

  “Anything you want to know just ask,” Karla said. “I’ll even demonstrate it if necessary.”

  All eyes turned to Sam who still sat, confused. “Ah don’t rightly know. What does this hear observed mean?”

  “Watched,” Jim said.

  Sam nodded. “Ah don’t care.”

  Earl leaned to the right to catch Jim’s attention. “Getting back to the G man. If we get into trouble what use will he be? Hit our attackers with a handbag?”

  “Don’t underestimate him Earl. He saved my life back at the Harmony spaceport. Five guys were waiting to ambush me. He snapped their necks one at a time without alerting the next one a few meters away. I spent five years in Special Forces and knew no one who could do that.”

  “What’s Special Forces?” Earl said.

  “In your time it was the Office of Strategic Services.”

  “O.S.S. eh,” Earl said enthusiastically. “Then you can handle things by yourself. We don’t need him.”

  Out of the corner of one eye Jim caught the hateful glare that Karla was giving him. It was the first time she’d heard of his having worn a Green Beret at one time. To avoid a new confrontation, he decided to visit Peter to check on how he was settling in. After excusing himself, he stood and left. Behind him the argument continued.

  * * *

  “I didn’t get to thank you personally for saving my life on Tranquility,” Jim said as the door closed behind him.

  “I didn’t do a thing dishy,” Peter said while opening the bag on his bed. “Remember, any action on my part before the Supreme Court decision would’ve compromised the Commonwealth’s position.”

  “So those men broke their own necks?” Jim asked while trying to figure out what dishy meant. He assumed it to be a minor term of endearment, but didn’t want to know specifics.

  “Clumsy weren’t they.”

  Peter reached into the bag and retrieved a small object that looked like a knife handle. “By the way, I have a present for you. It’s a laser dagger, the standard weapon of trained killers like me. Just put even pressure on either side of the handle up near the guard.”

  Jim took the object and paused before following the instructions. “Laser? Won’t it burn holes in anything I point it at?”

  “No, its active beam’s limited to a twenty centimeter length.”

  Jim pressed the handle and watched the invisible beam as small dust particles occasionally sparkled as they entered. “How?” Jim asked. “I thought a laser was a beam that continued until it hit something.”

  “The beam’s composed of three wavelengths that start off in phase. Constructive interference gives it its hot length, beyond that destructive interference turns it cool. By the time it turns constructive again it is too scattered to be more than just warm. I don’t have to explain the interference principle to you. After all, you did cover it in physics one at Jefferson Junior College in East St. Louis, am I correct?”

  “Yes, and I’m impressed by the extent of your knowledge.”

  “Goes with the job. I have to be well informed.”

  “In that case can you tell me where I left my brown sox this morning? Can’t find them anywhere.”

  “Under the bed dishy. Your lady probably distracted you. I believe the Old Earth term is foxy?”

  Jim’s eyes opened wide as he gave his friend a dubious look. “How would you know?”

  “I do have an eye for beauty, even if it doesn’t have muscles.”

  “So, the question of the day, why are you here? They could’ve sent some desk bound bureaucrat. Why someone with your more physically oriented background? Expecting trouble?”

  “We are direct, aren’t we,” Peter said without looking up from unpacking. “It’s on a need to know basis and you’re one of the two that needs to know. The other is your Captain and I will brief her later. The fact is, our little secret is about as secret as the New Columbian debt. We’re concerned that one of a number of unethical corporations may take advantage of the situations.”

  “How?” Jim asked with a shrug.

  “The colonists haven’t landed and claimed the planet yet. Someone may get there before us. Commonwealth law recognizes the first to land and lay claim to it as the owner.”

  “Are you saying that someone could sneak in and snatch the planet out from under us? No one told me this.”

  “I asked that you not be told so I could explain personally.”

  “Hmm... I can see where you come in. Conveniently clumsy people at the right time, but does the government trust me not to claim it myself?”

  “If someone handed you ten billion G right now, what would you do with it?”

  “No idea, I’ve got more than I want already.”

  “Exactly, and according to the psychological profiles of your companions they don’t care about power either.”

  “So, lack of aspiration to power is a distinct advantage to power...”

  “Mr. Young,” interrupted Captain Mull’s voice on the system, “news coming through from Pellan and the Commonwealth council, it sounds serious.”

  The door slid open as Jim took the two paces in its direction.

  “There will be a war,” Peter mentioned casually as he hung a more conservative suit up in a closet.

  Jim paused in the doorway and turned. “That’s for certain?”

  “Yes, the Bund has been working up to it for years. It’s their lack of colonies. Being a relatively poor confederation they’ve been unable to establish their own.”

  “But I saw a number of Germans on the colony planet of Hebram when I was there.”

  “Hebram is a Commonwealth colony, a mixture of people from all the planets. For economic reasons the Bund needs its own and Rennes is already converted. It’s sparsely populated with a mixture of Japanese and Germans. No matter which way the court decision went there would be a problem with the loser.”

  “So,
who’s going to win?”

  “That entirely depends on casualties during the first encounters. Due to a longer lifespan and higher standard of living we now place a higher value on life than on Old Earth. If we sustain high casualties early then we’ll probably concede.”

  “What if we kick their ass?”

  “With that, we are at a distinct disadvantage. Due to the ethnic pride involved the Bund will be prepared to lose more. It’s now up to the Generals abilities, plus a modicum of chance.”

  “Are you coming to watch?”

  “No, I think I know what’ll happen. Within minutes of the Bund walking out of the council, fighting scout ships will come out of parallel space to test the Commonwealth’s formations. Those that are not disabled or destroyed will return. Then the Commonwealth fleet will reposition as their first formation is usually a false front to obscure their intended positions. That procedure will repeat itself with each side trying to out guess the other. The main enemy battle fleet will appear when and where it’s ready. I can watch it on the two dimensional wall monitor.”

  “Is a space battle always like that?”

  “No, the Commonwealth may use a preemptive strike or the Bund fleet may come through blind instead of probing. It’s one big chess game to start, with timing as the key. Then it’s up to the initiative, intelligence and determination of the individual ship commanders and crews.”

  “Is this war anything we have to be concerned about?”

  “Yes, you have on your hands an almost converted planet. It, and the prospective owners are at the moment outside Commonwealth law. It’s a very desirable acquisition for another outsider.”

  “So, some dick head in the government got the idea of duping me into this precarious position. Is that correct?”

  “That’s Mr. Dick Head to you, if you’re going to take that attitude dishy. I’ve seen you in action and you can definitely take care of yourself.”

  “It was mostly stupid luck.”

  “Don’t demean yourself. You took off in an alien environment and not only survived, but you succeeded in your mission.”

  “I had good teachers.”

  “You knew how to look for them.”

  “Ok, ok, so I’m a damn genius. One of these days my genius is going to run out. I think I’ve used up most of it already. The problem is I have others with me this time. What about them?”

  “They’ll follow you, and they’re all quite capable.”

  “How do you know that? The same way you knew the layout of this ship before you even stepped aboard?”

  “Yes, and even before you picked them. I’ve studied a complete analysis on each one and have only two slight reservations.”

  “Karla?”

  “Oh yes, but for different reasons than you might think. She’s not as much of a pacifist as she makes out.”

  “What?”

  “Given the right circumstances, she would kill without question. It’s a general consensus amongst the analysts that there’s something she’s hiding.”

  “What is it she’s hiding?

  “That’s for you to find out.”

  “The second, I take it, is the man we’re going to pick up next, Halbert, his drinking problem.”

  “Correct, as long as you have the alcohol or medication as a substitute he’ll function just fine. Just don’t count on him if both are cut off. There may be another problem with him. In his younger days he was highly intelligent with a flair for taking charge.”

  “So?”

  “He may challenge your authority, if he stays sober.”

  “What, Halbert? He hates people. The reason he went to Hebram was to get away from everyone.”

  “Everyone who wouldn’t obey his commands. He was known as quite a manipulator. He was an up and coming politician.”

  “In that case he’s changed.”

  “I hope you’re right. But in any case, you pin pointed the problems without the two dozen analysts as I had.”

  “So, we’re back to me being a genius again. What do your analysts say about their reaction when I tell them about the hazardous situation they’re in?”

  “You already know the answer to that dishy.”

  “Ok, I’ll play along,” Jim said as he turned and walked out the door, “only if you refrain from calling me dishy.”

  * * *

  On entering one of the ships four 3V rooms Jim found Carol, Chris and Celia intently watching a newsman standing in a large hallway. Behind him men and women dressed in conservative business attire passed briskly back and forth.

  Jim opened the door in the middle of the newsman’s narration. “...fleet servicemen whose home of origin is the Bund federation are being given the option of remaining on duty or transferred to the freighter Marsden for temporary internment. It’s now known that two battle cruisers, plus a number of support vessels with predominantly Bundist crewmen, have defected prior to the rendezvous around Rennes. If the war continues for more than a week, then an exchange will be made of the non Bundist crewmen and the internees.”

  “Jim,” Carol said, almost in tears, “the Bund member handed Chairman Rossetti a declaration of war before walking out.”

  Jim knew the main reason for Carol’s emotional reaction to the news. Her younger brother was unable to attend their wedding. His leave was canceled days before, and, as a junior officer in the Commonwealth fleet, he had been posted to the fighting escort Cook. Its job was to protect the larger, less maneuverable battle cruisers from the single seat fast fighters launched from a carrier ship.

  “Oh shit,” Jim said as he took a seat next to Carol and watched the newsman.

  The newsman continued. “The strength of the now enemy fleet is unknown. According to the experts the Bund has been preparing for the possibility of war for some years. The one thing that is known is that its size in equipment and manpower is nowhere near the size of the Commonwealth fleet. It...”

  The newsman bowed his head slightly obviously listening to his ear plug receiver. After a few moments he again looked up at the viewers. “I was just informed that communications have been established with Bob Spinelli, who is at present with the fleet. So, for now, I will hand you over to Bob.”

  The scene flickered and changed to the fuzzy image of another man in approximately the same position as the first. It cleared for a second then became blurred again. The images of several others seated with their backs to the viewers could be seen. The audio hissed and crackled as the man in the foreground tried to speak.

  “They’re trying to get through the espy field,” Carol explained, straining to see the people in the background. “The fleets movement and solid mass detectors are hell to deal with.”

  “Will we eventually get a clear image?” Jim asked.

  “Oh yes, they broadcast over several frequencies and computers assemble a composite image. I can imagine the techs right now frantically adjusting their receivers.”

  “...and the.....engin.....for the most part...” said the broken up voice from the indistinct image. “Hong, can you hear me now?” the man asked as the scene cleared. He stood, slightly head bowed, with an index finger pressing on the center of his right ear. Behind him four crewmen and women sat at consoles with their backs to the camera.

  “Yes, coming in fine,” was the reply from a disembodied voice.

  The short dark man looked up with a slight smile. “This is Bob Spinelli speaking to you from the bridge of a Commonwealth battle cruiser. As a military correspondent I can not talk on specifics, only generalities for security reasons. One thing I can say is that morale in the fleet is extremely high and many have told me that they’re ready for anything that the Bund can throw their way. As yet, no aggressive move has......through...” the image blurred again.

  “The crew behind him,” Jim said, leaning forward and staring, “even when it was clear their heads were still blurred.”

  Chris looked up. “A security measure to keep the name of the ship he’s on a sec
ret. It is possible for someone to match a person with their ship. Next time it clears look at their monitors, they’re also obscured.”

  The four sat in the 3V room for several hours. The broadcast switched back and forth between the cruiser and the Commonwealth capitol on Pellan. Occasionally the image on the ship cleared and it became obvious that Spinelli was filling time with trivia. The pending attack was not immediately forthcoming.

  * * *

  The group relaxed on the observation deck. They watched the freighter’s shuttle through the ceiling.

  Jim looked up as Peter joined them. “So, what happened to the war? You said it would be within minutes,” Jim said.

  Peter shrugged his shoulders “Well, nobody’s perfect. If I was right all the time then I’d get a job as a psychic.”

  “Maybe there won’t be one,” Celia said.

  “Oh, there’ll be one all right. Admiral Blaut is quite competent. She has some exotic tactic in mind.”

  “Twenty minutes for a battle to start and finish,” Earl said, sitting back playing with his half filled beer glass. “The Battle of the Bulge took weeks.”

  Sam was standing by the transparent wall surveying the clouds of stars. “We was at Gettysburg fer four days,” he said reflectively. “Ah knows ‘bout that there tactics thaing. The Yankees surprised the hell out of us on Seminary ridge. Came a chargin’ up the hill while ah was on the latrine.”

  “That was not intentional,” Jim said. “The attack on Seminary ridge was meant to be a diversion. They were supposed to stop at the base of the hill, but the junior commanders kept the troops going when the defensive fire was so light.”

  “Ya don’t say,” Sam said. “The powder wagons hadn’t caught up with us. Artillery pieces had only enough fer one, maybe two shots. Watched them gunners roll them over the edge at the first wave as they came a screamin’ and a yellin’ up the hill. Never ran so fast in ma life.”

  “It must have been terrible,” Carol said.

  “Same as now,” Sam said. “The waitin’s what bothered me most. Jest like them fellahs are a doin’ now. That, and a smolder.”