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

by Robert F Hays

  “No. Both of us wanted a big one with all the trimmin’s.”

  “Then how about two weddings? One now and a big one later when it’s safe.”

  Sam thought for a moment then turned to Joan. She smiled and nodded. “Fine, looks like we gotta look fer a preacher,” he said, slapping his knee.

  “No need,” Jim said. “Computer, direct line to the bridge. Captain, would you come to the observation deck, I have a duty for you to perform.”

  Chapter 18

  “Thought it would go that way,” Jim said as the navigator left the parking lot at Central Park.

  “Well, ah was ready fer a fight anyway,” Sam said.

  “I doubted that they’d challenge us directly,” Matt said. “That fight at the council meeting was staged to look like it was aimed at Carpenter. The actual reason was to stop the meeting before an Earth man married to a modern woman could speak.”

  “Anyhow, ya finally got honored. The rest of us got ta dedicate all sorts a thaings. It’s a damn shame Carol weren’t here so the people saw ya together.”

  “The people know what’s going on,” Jim said thoughtfully. “They’re just too scared of Darlison’s thugs to speak out.”

  The ceremony to dedicate a monument in Central Park had gone without incident. A crowd of several thousand cheered as Jim pulled the cord that dropped the cover on a large fountain.

  Of the original freedom fighters, who still remained on the planet, only Earl was absent. Jim had advised him to keep a low profile after a small but noisy demonstration outside ‘Honest Earl’s’ Fargo dealership. A group of about thirty protested the import of foreign vehicles. The balance of trade was still unfavorable and the government was subsidizing the gap with money earned from the sale of artifacts during the first year after landing. As Earl’s yard was exceptionally vulnerable to violent attack, the fewer times he appeared in public the better. The suggestion at first infuriated Earl. Eventually rational argument prevailed and Earl reluctantly agreed.

  “What happened with Prime Minister Netski? I thought she was a rational person.”

  “Ah don’t rightly know. She’s acted downright contrary lately. If’n it weren’t fer Carpenter and his group, the finance hearing would have been this mornin’. The 3V would have broadcast it instead of the ceremony in the park. Ah thainks she’s plumb scared of somthin’. You sure ya ain’t goin’ this afternoon?”

  For a few moments Jim sat contemplating the question. “No, better if I watch it from Matt’s 3V room. Don’t want to antagonize the opposition by being there.”

  “That’d be better,” Matt said. “We can give both the Admiral and Sam suggestions through that conference ear plug system.”

  “One thing’s for sure, they have somehow got to Netski. I wouldn’t count on her cooperation from now on.”

  “That’s for sure,” Sam agreed.

  The navigator continued down the sapling lined boulevard in the direction of Matt’s house.

  * * *

  Jim sat watching 3V as Admiral Bounds took a raised seat in front of and facing the council in the main hall. As the meeting had to do with budget, military and foreign relations, both President and Prime Minister occupied a central position on the dais next to each other. A low buzzing sound was heard and the general chatter of the audience slowly abated.

  Netski’s 3V image stood while glancing down at a data pad on the desk in front of her. “Admiral Bounds, this meeting has been called to discuss the state of the military budget. Admiral, could you give us a synopsis of what has already been purchased and the source of the equipment.”

  The Admiral cleared his throat. “Uniforms have been procured locally from the Turner clothing company. They weren’t the lowest bid but with the government subsidy it was the most advantageous purchase we could make....”

  “Admiral,” Darlison interrupted, “are you still going with the style copied from the Commonwealth uniform?”

  “Ah... It is similar, but has its own distinctive differences...”

  “Admiral, how come you didn’t follow the suggestions made in this council; that it be completely different to distinguish us from the rest of the Commonwealth?”

  The Admiral exhaled heavily before looking up to make his reply. “Member Darlison, that style has been developed over many years to be the most serviceable. A drastic departure would have...”

  “Admiral,” Darlison snapped, starting to display an amount of righteous annoyance, “we are not like the others. It should display that fact.”

  “I suggest sarcasm,” Jim said over the receiver in the Admiral’s left ear.

  The Admiral picked up the pad next to him and glanced at it. “Well, I guess we could have given them three arms and four legs but that would’ve been most uncomfortable. We decided that the most practical style was the one that the Commonwealth uses.”

  Dan leaned back in his chair in the 3V room and chuckled to himself as the audience broke into a general low laughter. “That’s what the bugger’s on about. A public show to push the mutant angle.”

  “That and a few other things,” Jim said in a voice softer than the transmission level.

  “Admiral, surely we can design one that’s better for our own specific needs and differences,” Darlison’s 3V image said.

  This time Jim chuckled. “I think he’s trying to insinuate that our body shape is different.”

  “Member Darlison, there’s an Old Earth saying that I understand is also used throughout the rest of the galaxy and that’s ‘If it works, don’t try to fix it.’ The uniforms have already been issued to the troops. It wouldn’t be cost effective to take them back again. I have no idea why you didn’t bring this up two weeks ago when the style was decided on. This line of inquiry is now pointless.”

  “Admiral,” Darlison said thumping his desk, “this council will decide what we will discuss, and you will comply.”

  “Member Darlison, I answer to the President not the...”

  “But you answer to us on finance and...”

  “Member Darlison,” the Prime Minister interrupted. “I believe the style of the uniform is now a mute point. Could we go on to other matters? Continue with you’re presentation Admiral.”

  Jim slapped his knee. “Why didn’t she interrupt earlier?”

  “Hardware. First the high dollar.. or should I say high G items. We have purchased four hundred Jenkinson laser pistols, two thousand pulse rifles, four portable pulse cannons, four hundred Ranger battle suits, forty hand stunners....”

  “Admiral,” Darlison again interrupted, “why stunners? Are you expecting a civil disturbance? Aren’t they used to subdue a civilian crowd? I understand they were used extensively by the De Poulets against freedom fighters during the time of that Empire the idiot people of the galaxy got themselves into.”

  “No, their main use is in close quarter fighting where other weapons could damage the surroundings. They’re also used to procure enemy prisoners for interrogation.”

  “But they can also be used to suppress a popular demonstration.”

  “Member Darlison, so can a laser pistol, an Old Earth handgun and a cannon designed to fire cow manure. You wanted a military and this equipment is all part of one.”

  “But we don’t want a military with the capability of...”

  “Madam Prime Minister,” Member Carpenter interrupted, “this line of discussion is becoming asinine. Could we discontinue it?”

  “Agreed,” Netski said, “Admiral, would you continue.”

  The Admiral picked up his pad and scanned it for a few seconds. “The equipment was purchased from the Montoya Company as they were the low bid on a galactic wide...”

  “Admiral?” Darlison interrupted.

  The Admiral lowered his pad and slowly raised his eyes to meet Darlison’s. “Yes, member Darlison,” he said, enunciating each word.

  “Are you aware that the Montoya Company is run by a notorious crime family infamous for its double dealing, murders and m
obster activities on a grand scale?”

  The Admiral rested his pad on his knees before answering. “I understand that the Montoya family has been legitimate businessmen for a hundred years. They should not be held responsible for their ancestry...”

  “But a government dealing with a name that...”

  “Member Darlison,” the Admiral interrupted. “If we traced your ancestry back, I’m sure we could find a horse thief in there somewhere. The family has...”

  “I’m not here to be insulted by you Admiral!” Darlison yelled.

  “Well, I’m only saying...!”

  “Keep your temper,” Jim advised as he saw the Admiral’s fist clench. “Remind them it was the low bid.”

  “Ah... It was an exceptionally low price, and I thought the Member was interested in saving money on the budget, not personalities that died a hundred years ago.”

  “I’m interested in quality! Can you assure us...”

  “The Montoyas are dealers, not manufacturers! We’d have got the same make, model and condition from any other source. It’s the same as used by the vast majority of...”

  Darlison stood and straightened. A look of abhorrent indignation crossed his face before he spoke. “Here we go with the same as everyone else thing again. What’re you trying to do Admiral? Prepare for our absorption by Bachoff?”

  “Member Darlison, the Bund troops carry the same weapons and they’re at war with Bachoff. Do you look under your bed at night to see if there is a Commonwealth Secret Service agent listening to you snore?”

  “And he does snore pretty loud,” Peter said from his location at the military training camp.

  “Admiral....!”

  “Member Darlison!” Netski said. “Could we kindly continue with the briefing?”

  Darlison returned to his seat, glaring in turn at Netski and Bounds.

  Bounds exhaled heavily and tried to compose himself before continuing. “Training. We have employed two primary instructors. Mr. Belcher an ex U.S. Special Forces officer and Mr. Harold Norton formerly of the British Special Air Services. Basic training started a week ago...”

  “Admiral, Mr. Norton has been in Commonwealth service for the past year hasn’t he?”

  “Ah... yes.”

  “He has been through their mental conditioning process. How can you be sure he’s still one of us?”

  “He’s one of the few Earth borns that know one end of a pulse cannon from the other!”

  “Admiral, I’m sure we could have someone less contaminated learn to use the equipment, then teach the others!”

  “Member Darlison, in that case, I will supply you with a carton of impact mines and let you learn how to set them by trial and error!! Then you...!!”

  “Admiral,” the Prime Minister said. “I believe a short recess is in order while tempers calm down. Member Darlison, I would like to talk to you privately in my office.”

  “Computer, sound off,” Jim said. “It’s going as we suspected. They’re trying to discredit Bounds.”

  “He’s doing bloody good up there,” Dan said with a broad grin. “I liked the bit about the horse thief.”

  “Doing fine Admiral,” Jim said out loud, “just keep your temper.”

  “I feel more like punching him,” the Admiral mumbled as Jim looked up to see him lean close to his wrist where a transmitter was mounted.

  “Sam agrees,” Peter said. “He’s too close to others to say it out loud, but he just mouthed the words, ‘Ah’ll do it fer ya.’”

  Jim watched Sam as he obviously found Peter’s perfect impersonation of his accent amusing.

  “One moment...” Peter said. “The Prime Minister just told Darlison that he was making an idiot out of himself.”

  Jim stared at the image and saw Netski and Darlison disappearing down a back hall. “They have their backs to us. How could you read their lips?”

  “I have the 3V on telephoto and there is a mirror halfway down the hall.”

  “Peter,” Jim said with a smile, “you add new meaning to the expression, ‘read my lips.’”

  * * *

  “What happened with the instant 3V vote the station called?” the Admiral asked as he entered Matt’s living room.

  “Well,” Matt said, shaking his head, “the progressive figures started to appear and then disappeared. They claimed a technical malfunction interrupted the automatic register. I replayed and paused it at a point just before it went out. The results at that time were seventy eight percent full confidence in your handling of the military and fifteen percent no confidence. Someone in there must have pulled the plug when they saw it going against them so badly. I wish it had been completed. I really like that 3V opinion pole system.”

  “So do I,” Jim said. “Back on Batalavia they call a vote on everything. Billions of people can let their feelings known by a simple touch of a control while sitting in their 3V chair. One thing’s now certain. We can no longer trust the 3V station.”

  Sam sighed. “The thaing that bothers me is that the last vote called on somethin’ gave the know nothin’s twelve percent and now it’s fifteen. Ah cain’t see how stupidity can be on the increase.”

  “I doubt it’ll go any higher.” Jim said. “There’s always a section of the populous that’ll buy anything. It’s called the idiot fringe.”

  * * *

  Jim shuddered as he heard the wind rustle the exterior of a nearby tent. His experiences with the intemperate weather of newly converted planets had given him a distinct aversion to any form of air movement.

  The broken cloud cover of the northern latitudes of the continent also depressed him as well as the greyer landscape of yearlong dead mulch weed dotted with young saplings. The newly sprouted trees were growing slanted to the east, which was the direction of the prevailing wind. They were continuously bent in that direction so that’s the way they grew.

  “Why do all military services pick a place like this,” Jim said as he folded his arms and surveyed the surroundings.

  Peter kicked at a mound of dead, rotted weed slowly turning into fertile soil. “Well, we could have a base in Gato on La Raza, next to one of their luxury casinos, but I think that would defeat the purpose of the training.”

  “I was thinking more in the line of a beach resort on Brougham’s Folly....” Jim hesitated as a blur in the scenery caught his attention. He blinked, thinking it was a temporary fault in his vision.

  “Slowly I told you!!” Peter yelled.

  Jim looked around to make sure that the drill instructor command had actually come from his usually quiet spoken friend.

  “The camo image on the suit can’t handle that fast a movement,” Peter continued as he took a few paces forward. “And stop scratching your nuts. That can be seen too! Drop and give me twenty!”

  Jim watched as the blur suddenly appeared again, ten meters away, doing what appeared to be push ups.

  Jim turned to Harry standing next to him. “How does he know it has nuts?” he said. “About a third of your troops are female.”

  “He knows,” said the ex S.A.S man as both he and Sam started to laugh. “I don’t know how but he does.”

  “Why does he yell out loud?” Jim asked, trying to fathom the current methods of training. “Can’t he just tell them over the radio in the Ranger suits?”

  “He’s doing both,” Harry said in his proper British accent. “It sort of gives an echoing affect in the recipient’s ear.”

  The three left Peter to his work and wandered in the direction of another tent where classes were conducted. They passed a squad of cadets in the process of a series of breathing and concentration exercises. A former Old Earth yoga instructor directed the class. It was discovered that the physical and mental aspects of the art had remained the same in the preceding two thousand years as it had for centuries before the Exodus. Only the philosophical viewpoints were modified to suit culture and a technological age.

  They entered a tent and Jim hesitated just inside the door. The
airlock was missing from the still functional Old Earth manufactured structure.

  Two women and a man sat looking over banks of flat screen computer displays. At the far end of the tent, a 3V image expanded the limited space into the expansive interior of what Jim recognized as a courtroom.

  “Of course you would do anything to protect your son!” an attorney yelled at an obviously nervous middle aged female witness. “And that includes lying for him! Isn’t that correct Mrs. Zerman!”

  “Judge’s facial tone change noted...” said one of the females at the consoles. “...yes, ah...” The three analysts were obviously in communication with others at another location through their own ear pieces.

  “I would say it’s a voice rhythm seven, three, five,” the male said. “Seven, three, six?... But the overtone register reads... Oh, I see.”

  A fourth person in the room standing next to the consoles turned and took the couple of paces toward the group that had just entered. “It’s just as you predicted Sam,” said the slender woman in her early thirties. “It’s a show trial staged in an attempt to stir up anti-foreign feeling. The police prosecutor’s using every dirty trick in the book to prove that young fellah from Bachoff murdered Stutchman.”

  “It were Jim here said that,” Sam said. “He’s more up on the ways of modern scallywags than ah am.”

  “How do you think the trial will go?” Jim said.

  “The instructors on Pellan seem to think it’ll be a hung jury. Even without the infra red, their reactions are obvious.” She turned and walked to the nearest analyst. “Just watch this for a minute.”

  One of the operators leaned back so that the party could see her four monitors. One was focused on a male member of the jury.

  “Well, he always watches 3V just before going to work,” the woman in the witness box said. “He likes to catch the news.”

  “That’s a lie Mrs. Zerman!” the attorney yelled, “because he wasn’t there at the time! We all know you people lie to protect your own!”

  A straight line suddenly appeared, superimposed on the jurist’s jaw, accompanied by a block of figures and text.