by Cain Hopwood
“Well sir, these Galactics have set a very aggressive schedule. We’ve got one shot at this, and no resupply for months. So the lads need as little distraction as possible to get the job done properly.”
“I understand completely colonel. That’s why this inspection tour is just you and me. The last thing you want is to line everyone up so I can walk along checking uniforms for creases.”
“It’s appreciated sir. When I told Avis of your visit, he just about popped a blood vessel. It’s a complicated business. We need everything loaded in the right order and the right place.”
“Why does order matter? Wouldn’t you be better to optimize for space or time, whichever you have the least of?”
“That was Avis’s original plan. We could get more in that way. But the Aquina is just an in system transport. During the eight week transit to Marbel the regiment will be quartered in a larger vessel. That’s our opportunity to train for Marbel’s conditions and acclimatize the troops to their role assisting the Galactics. So we’re leaving most of the equipment on board Aquina, and just taking off what we need, when we need it.”
The general waved the flexi. “That’s why you have several points where you’re loading rations. That XO of yours is gold.”
“He is that sir.”
The general looked first at the list, then out at the Aquina. He had the pained expression of a man doing math in his head. “There’s a lot of tonnage here, I hope she can take the mass. You’re taking a lot of equipment for such a small expeditionary force.”
“Katona has informed us that there is no opportunity for return or resupply for at least eight earth months. But it could be as long as twelve. So we’re planning for twenty four.”
“And with no resupply you’ve got to cover a lot more contingencies.”
“Exactly sir,” said Whitfield. “And then there’s all the additional equipment the science officers require.”
“Has Katona questioned any of the science gear?”
Colonel Whitfield scrunched up his nose and paused for a moment in thought. “No, which surprises me. I expected the Galactics to go over our equipment list with a fine tooth comb. We have enough ordinance with us to take a small city, if we had the men. But they don’t seem to be concerned about any of the equipment we’ve marked for science officer use.”
“So either they trust us, which I’d doubt,” said the general with a snort. Then a concerned expression flashed across his face. “Or, they’re supremely confident that nothing we’ve got can hurt them. Have they questioned anything we’re bringing?”
“Nothing. Avis has even been using some of Katona’s staff to help with the loading and planning for the transit. They didn’t even blink an eyelid when he suggested that we’d need weapons on board for training.”
The general nodded slowly. “Don’t forget colonel we’re not the main reason they’re in this general vicinity. Katona made that clear when he set the schedule. At best we’re a side trip. They see us as something they thought might be handy, so they figured they’d pick us up along the way, just in case. So I don’t think we have their full attention.”
“I agree general. But my take is, this is also a test as much as anything else. I think they want to see how we could fit into their command structure, and what our capabilities are. Marbel seems to be a genuine problem for them, and we can help out there. But you can’t tell me that with all their capability, they couldn’t have found another solution.”
“We’re in agreement there colonel. But, even if they’re only testing us, it’s important that we pass.” The general motioned to the crates unloaded from the Aquina. “That’s just a taster of what we can get from these Galactics.” Then his eyes wandered out to fix on the Aquina, taking load after load of supplies. Whitfield saw a hint of avarice cross the general’s face.
“It’s an impressive ship, sir.”
“It is at that colonel. With a couple more of those I could drop an entire division in the Brazilian rear and we’d sort that problem out once and for all. They’d never see us coming.”
“All very well general, but given the size and scale of the Aquina, I can’t see them giving us one. At least, not for what me and my men can do for them in a couple of months.”
“Certainly not colonel, not this trip at any rate. But, if we get them relying on us, over time we might be able to work something out. If we make a good impression that is.”
“There is another way.”
The general turned to look at Whitfield. “Yes, we build one ourselves. If the boffins can figure out how it functions. I don’t have to tell you that McDonnell Orbital is very interested in this ship.”
“I can imagine they would be.” Whitfield turned away from the Aquina and something caught his eye over the general’s shoulder. A figure in a dark business suit was inspecting the stack of crates the Galactics had deposited in the hangar. “Speaking of McDonnell Orbital, what is he doing in here?”
The general followed his gaze and smiled. “It’s okay colonel, I’ve got this one.” He raised his hand as if hailing a taxi and yelled in a parade ground voice. “Don, what are you doing over there.”
The figure snapped straight and spun to face them. Then, instead of looking more nervous, he relaxed and sauntered across the hangar floor towards them.
“Jim, it’s good to see you again. I didn’t expect you here.” He shook the general’s hand warmly, and the general returned the handshake with a smile in his eyes.
Now that’s interesting, thought Whitfield, if they’re on a first name basis they’re close, as in golfing close. While the men were catching up Whitfield ran over what he knew of the general’s network. Knowing which of the top brass were being courted, or outright owned, by which corporations was vital information for someone at his level. Keeping track of the execs he could safely ignore, and those he had to tread carefully around, kept Whitfield from torpedoing his own career.
But this relationship was a development. As far as he knew the McDonnell Orbital VP and the general weren’t connected. And the two were obviously close. So, they were either genuine old friends, maybe through school or family, or, they were keeping their connection on the low down. This prompted Whitfield to ponder who was grooming who, and to what end.
The general drew Whitfield into the conversation with a wave. “Colonel, you may be accustomed to seeing Don around Trenton, but I have to admit I’m surprised to see him up here.”
“McDonnell supplied us with that shuttle on rather short notice,” said Whitfield. “They also got it turned around in less than twenty four hours. Though it turned out we didn’t need it.”
“Not with that thing just floating down out of the heavens,” said the VP with a hint of admiration in his voice.
“No, but if they’d have demanded another meeting in orbit…”
The general gave a sniff. “Well they didn’t, which we can only put down to your diplomacy colonel. I don’t need to tell you, people have noticed.”
“Negotiating with Galactics is a green field opportunity general, you don’t have anyone to compare me against.”
“We’re still here aren’t we? I’d call that a success.” The general looked at the Galactic crates in the corner of the hangar. “Though I hope you haven’t sold us too short, that pile of goodies over there doesn’t look all that large.”
The colonel sighed. He knew the full value of what was in those crates, even if others hadn’t realized it yet. “I think you’ll find that there’s enough there to keep everyone occupied until we return. And just knowing whether these Galactics honor their agreements or not has a value all its own.”
“You two can keep the lot,” said the McDonnell VP. “I’d give my left testicle for one of those floating palettes loaders.”
The general chuckled. “Ah, so that’s what you were skulking around over there for.”
“I was hoping that they’d left one behind.” The McDonnell VP fixed Whitfield with a penetrating stare.
“Colonel, if these Galactics are anything like us they will likely discard scraps of technology we would consider invaluable. I know you will be on that ship for a long time, and you’ll become accustomed to wonders we can only imagine. So, try to remember how valuable something as simple as a floating pallet loader is to us back home.”
Whitfield tried not to roll his eyes. He’d been harangued with this argument by every politician, general and VP he’d spoken with since returning from his orbital meeting with Katona. “I’m well aware of that sir. And rest assured that I’ve been well briefed on what my responsibilities are with regards to discarded Galactic technology. But I’m also concerned as to what our new Galactic friends might do if they discover us stealing. The last thing we want to do is offend them, or lead them to believe we are not trustworthy. I get the impression, as I’ve mentioned in my reports, that they are a heavily honor bound society.”
The general chipped in. “He’s right Don. I’ve gone over all his reports and reviewed every interaction with the Galactics that we’ve got on record. Our feeling is that as long as they see us as equals of a sort, we can anticipate a long and fruitful relationship with them.”
The conversation was heading in a direction Whitfield could see sown with land mines. A distraction was needed. He addressed the VP. “The general is on a pre deployment inspection of the battalion. We’re almost done, there’s just the science officer’s deployment details to go over. I’m sure it’ll be of interest. Would you care to join us?”
Whitfield gave the smallest of bows, turned to General Birkenhof and continued. “With the general’s permission of course.”
“I assume Don’s completely cleared?”
“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t suggest it. Also, given his background, he might have some additional ideas for the science officer to consider.”
“I’d doubt there’s much I could add,” said the VP in a voice so humble it seemed intentionally ironic.
The general clapped the VP on the back and laughed. “You always were the sharp one.” He turned to the colonel and pointed toward the workshop at the back of the hangar. “It’s this way. Right colonel?”
Whitfield nodded. Interesting, he thought as he trailed a couple of steps behind the pair. From their tone and gestures it was obvious that they were old friends. Probably as far back as school.
But he doubted that this was the chance meeting they made it out to be.
— 11 —
Jon crushed Annelise in his arms. She wasn’t a waif of a girl, her mix of African and Caribbean heritage saw to that. Most people described her as athletic, so Jon didn’t have to worry too much about hurting her accidentally.
He hugged her a little harder than usual though, it would be a long time until he saw her again.
A little squeak escaped her lips. “Careful you big lump, we’re not all built like you.”
He released her and gave her a sultry look up and down. “There’s not many built like you either.”
She punched him in the arm, then shook her hand. “Ow. We’re in public, stop showing off. The others don’t have their girls here, you’re probably making them feel bad. Here’s your stuff.” She handed him a small black bag.
“Thanks, and good point.” Jon took the bag. He looked around the hangar. The company had just returned from the colonel’s final mission briefing and the Aquina was dusting off in ten minutes. As expected, the hangar was a hive of activity.
Jon had messaged the news to her during the meeting, and she’d run across from the service hanger to say a quick goodbye. With the preparations for deployment running at a frantic pace, they’d only had a few brief moments together over the last couple of days. Jon hadn’t even been back to his apartment to sleep.
Fortunately, she’d managed to get back there and prepare it for a long absence. She’d also picked up his bug out bag which contained the few personal items he always took on deployments. The most important was a small flexi that contained an extensive library of vids, music and even the occasional book. It helped keep him sane on the long, often tedious, service away from home.
It was a harsh fact of life that while they were running around like six different kinds of crazy now, once under way, they would inevitably have long periods of boredom. Nothing filled in the hours like a big dumb summer blockbuster. The books, however, were mainly to help him switch off before hitting the sack. Which was particularly handy after a harrowing day.
He unzipped his duffel and slipped the small bag inside. Then he hefted it over his shoulder and looked out the hangar door at the Aquina.
“Where’s your gun big boy?”
Jon gave her a sideways look. “My rifle is already on board. Apparently floating around in zero gravity with firearms is not considered prudent. At least not without some training.”
Annelise nodded. “Makes sense. Wow, zero G. You don’t know how jealous I am. If I’d have known this would happen I’d have joined the army years ago, instead of fighting to get into McDonnell Orbital.”
Jon thought back to his days on recruiting duty. “I don’t imagine that it will be quite as difficult for the military to attract new recruits once this gets out. But your chance will come. I’d imagine that McDonnell Orbital will be at the center of a whole new industry soon.”
“I hope so. As a species we can’t afford to remain on this one planet. And, now we know the Galactics are out there, we have no excuses.” She waved toward the Aquina. “We can build that. The hull, the systems, the life support, no trouble whatsoever. We just need whatever powers it. But just knowing it’s possible makes all the difference.”
The Aquina’s drives were warming up, and it was now floating a few meters off the surface of the ground. She only had one small foot ramp extended. Then a klaxon went off. Jon knew any moment now the ramp would start inching up.
Annelise turned to him and gave him one last kiss. “Love you, be good.”
“Always,” he said, and kissed her back.
He double timed it to the ship and joined the last couple of stragglers ascending the ramp. Once inside he jogged across the floor to his assigned gunship. The inside of the Aquina looked like a small, tightly packed hangar. Somehow the XO had jammed two heavy troop transports, and several smaller gunships into the main cargo hold. It was these regimental aircraft that would provide troop seating for the transport to orbit.
All of Jon’s squad were in one gunship. Jon joined them and strapped in. It struck him that apart from the fact he was sitting in a combat volantor instead of a bulk transport, this felt like any other deployment. The seating was, as usual, hard and uncomfortable.
His implant pinged. “All hands, this is the colonel. The XO has just informed me that the Aquina has requested and received clearance to depart. We will be in orbit shortly, prepare for zero gravity.”
Okay, thought Jon, maybe it wasn’t quite like every other deployment.
Part Two
Transit:
Stetlak conclave starship
— 12 —
The trip to orbit had been much less eventful than Jon expected. There’d been none of the expected G forces, and only a few small jostles and bumps. Ingles even slept through the takeoff. The burly Scot was legendary for sleeping anywhere, in any situation, so that didn’t surprise Jon.
The colonel kept them apprised every step of the journey. It was a relief hearing his calm, assured voice. Especially when they couldn’t see what was happening outside. Once they reached orbit, there was a brief moment of weightlessness when the Aquina transferred to its carrier.
When the colonel referred to that ship as a landing craft carrier, there were a few wide eyes as Jon’s men realized that the Aquina was considered a mere landing craft. A few speculated on how big its carrier was.
That was when the tedious part of the journey began. Jon and his men sat in their drop seats for nearly twenty-four hours, though it seemed longer. Only the occasional bathroom break relieved the boredom, giving
them a brief chance to stretch. Though, even that small pleasure was limited because, with everything they’d jammed into the Aquina’s hold, there wasn’t room for everyone to be out of their seats at once.
When they did eventually arrive, they had little notice. The colonel ordered everyone back to their seats. Shortly afterwards there was a bump, and the abrupt cessation of gravity.
As Jon floated, held down only by his seat restraints, the Aquina opened like a clam. On both sides were more open landing ships. They were all connected to a long mother ship, the landing craft carrier.
Without gravity Jon had no sense of up or down. He craned his neck to see past the carrier, but he didn’t have the angle. Nobody said a word. Even the usually voluble Murdoch was stunned into silence. The hold they were docked in was enormous. It had to be kilometers across.
Or was it down? Jon’s head spun. Suddenly he got the feeling they were clinging, bat like, to the ceiling of a huge square cave. The feeling was reinforced when Jon realized that the wall opposite was open to space. What he thought were lights, were in actual fact stars. But bright, like he’d never before experienced.
“How is it that we’re breathing?” said a voice.
But before anyone could answer, the stars snapped out. They were replaced by a dark gyrating moire pattern, reminding Jon of an oil slick on water. Almost before he could register that the stars had disappeared, they returned. But now an order of magnitude brighter, vastly more numerous, and spread over a backdrop of a blood red nebula.
Jon had little time to contemplate the sight though.
“Check release remotes,” came the colonel’s order over the tac-link.
Jon signaled Ingles. They each unclipped, floated to opposite sides of the gunship, slid the side doors back and waited by the tie down releases. A few moments later several flying craft not much larger than their gunship, and looking disturbingly like giant flying crabs, appeared from around the curve of the carrier.
