“No Captain, please continue,” I urged him.
“With my goal to become a doctor set, I put all of my energy into school and learning. I finished college at the top of my class. My mother and father were ecstatic when I received an acceptance letter from the Galactic Council Medical Facility. My family was proud yet worried for me. I would have to travel to planet Uno to attend the Facility and as I’d never been away from home, they had reservations.”
“My father paid the travel fee and on a clear day, I boarded a Shuttle. It was a young man’s dream to rise above the only home I’d ever known. Planet Tres faded into a small ball and the Shuttle docked at the Orbital station. There I transferred to a Sloop for the journey to the transfer Trajectory Station. On the trip, I questioned the Sloop’s six crew members about every aspect of the ship’s operation. By the time I reached the Transfer Station, I had space fever.”
“The hustle and movement of people on the Transfer Station was like nothing I’d ever seen. Ships of all types docked and people moved to other ships. Military personnel, crewmen, station personnel, they all seemed to have a purpose and somewhere to be in a hurry. In the lower level there were windows and I watched as tugs removed crates from small ships and loaded large ones. Huge Clippers pulled away from cargo sleeves which were unloaded and the crates distributed to Sloops. Dozens of Sloops were unloaded and the crates were loaded into cargo sleeves. I watched a Clipper back into a sleeve for the first time. I it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. The activity went on around the clock.”
“My Clipper ship launched on its journey to planet Uno without me and I didn’t care. My goal of being a doctor died in those few days. Space had me and I wanted to know where those ships were going. On the fourth day, I found the Merchant Fleet office and signed on as an apprentice spaceman.”
“It took me a year on a short haul Sloop to learn the duties of the six crewmen. During year two, I was working with the Navigator. By the end of year three, I was First officer on the Sloop.”
“Then I transferred to a Clipper ship and started all over again. After six years in the Merchant Fleet, I made Captain. Six years was the time it would have taken me to become a surgeon. I wouldn’t tell you the heart breaking talks with my father and mother during those years. In year six, I returned home in a Captain’s uniform and repaid my father the transfer fee.”
“The collection of medical instruments is my homage to a young man’s dream of being a doctor. For forty years, I’ve traveled across every sector of the Galactic Council Realm. Visited almost every Trajectory Station, Commercial Station, Mercantile Station and most of the Naval Stations. For forty years I traveled and in all that time in space, I’ve seen only a few instances of theft and ship high-jacking.”
“So tell me Ensign Piran,” Captain Dabir Xhosa asked with venom in his tone, “What in hell were those Pirates doing at my turn point?”
“That’s what I wanted to see you about,” I replied, “How far into space were we? In other words, how far could a Sloop, a Patrol Boat and a Lifeboat travel? Could they have come from a Track station or would they need a mother ship?”
“We were on the edge of the curve of the universe. That’s about as far out of occupied space as a transport ship could go. No, the Pirates couldn’t have traveled without a larger ship to transport them,” Xhosa explained, “But even with fore knowledge of our course, it would be difficult for any ship to know exactly where we would switch to Internal drive.”
“I assume they had other bait ships stationed along your route,” I ventured, “Once the two intercepted us, they called for the Patrol Boat. I imagine, that had we slowed for the turn at any number of points along the course, we’d have encountered other bait ships.”
“Discounting how they knew our course,” the Captain said, “It would take a lot of people and a large number of boats to cover all of our potential turn points. I’ve never heard of Pirates in that volume or with a scheme that well organized.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” I replied, “When I crippled the Sloop and the Lifeboat, the Patrol Boat broke off their attack and went to the rescue the other Pirates. Could we be dealing with a large Clan or some other closely knit group?”
“If a Clan gathered all of their boats then, yes, they’d have the capacity to execute a plan like that,” Xhosa said, “It would be hard to prosecute a Clan because no one would talk. However, if it’s a loose confederation, there will be scuttlebutt. I’ll add that information to my report for Merchant Fleet.”
“And once we make our next port of call, I’ll inform Navy Command,” I promised as I stood, “Thank you for your time, Sir.”
“Are you on galley duty today?” Xhosa asked as I reached the door.
“No, I’m Bridge watch,” I replied.
“That’s good, very good,” he was saying as I softly closed the door to his office.
Chapter 15
Three days later I was sitting in the gun turret at the request of Kala Bha. She didn’t anticipate any trouble this close to Navy patrol routes. But after the attack at the turn point, she didn’t want to take any chances.
“Power up Internal drive,” Agdta said.
This time Ide didn’t make his usual remarks. The deck rumbled as power was fed into the Internal drive. I received a call from the First Officer.
“Phelan, we are on Internal drive,” she advised me.
“Rodger that ma’am,” I replied, “Rotating out now.”
The orb rotated dropping me out through the hull. A big sun was off our starboard and planets and moons were visible to my unassisted eyes. I released the guns and began to scan the area.
“I have no contacts,” Kala said.
“I agree,” I replied as I continued to scan.
“We have a fix on the Trajectory Station,” Agdta announced, “Prepare for External transition.”
“Rotating inboard,” I said. With the guns retracted, I waited out the evolution in the gunner’s tunnel.
A Track or Trajectory Station is a commercial platform that orbits in a specific area of space. Because the station moves, any direct course to the facility has to be plotted after a ship reached the station’s sector of space.
The Uno Shoda went to Internal drive about seven hours’ cruise time from the Track Station. As we drew closer, I had a good view of the manufacturing complex. At the center was a cylinder shaped Station. This would be worker quarters, offices and central distribution storage and docks. Spread out in space around the Station were six domed sub-stations. The subs were where the actual manufacturing activities were performed.
“What do they make here?” I asked.
“Chemical compounds,” Captain Xhosa replied, “We picked up a shipment of minerals from a Track Station before we collected you. The Track gathers the harvest from the asteroid belt and separates the minerals. We’ll trade them here for finished chemicals.”
The Clipper Ship eased into a spot about two hours from the Track Station. Her internal engine was placed on automatic and the big ship followed along in the facility’s gentle orbit.
Kala and I boarded a tug from the ship and flew an inspection of the Uno Shoda.
“How long have you been with Captain Xhosa,” I asked as she piloted the tug.
“Three years and I can’t wait to get off this flying warehouse,” she said diving us down for a look at the underside of the cargo sleeve.
“I didn’t expect that from a First Officer of a Clipper Ship. It’s a good posting as far as I can tell,” I replied, “You have issues with the Captain?”
“No. Xhosa’s been good to me. My issue is with the boredom,” Kala stated as we flow towards the rear of the ship, “I like the action of a Sloop. More crew members and more docking and more shore leave.”
“Xhosa seems to love being a Captain on a Clipper,” I stated.
“He likes the coordination of cargo pickups, routing for the most profitable stops, dealing with shipping agents and t
he corporate maneuvering. I’d prefer a more hands on ship assignment,” she proclaimed as the tug reached the tail of the ship and rotated so we could see the ion intake valves, “Intake looks serviceable.”
“What about Ide and Agdta?” I asked, “Are they unhappy as well?”
“They’ve been with the Uno Shoda for years. They’re a funny pair,” She said as we flow inverted and scanned the top of the Clipper.
“Funny pair as in what way?” I asked.
“I didn’t mean pair as in they’re a couple,” she said, “I meant that Ide looks for excitement but somehow avoids it. Agdta on the other hand likes things calm and precise, yet trouble finds her. So together they keep things interesting.”
“I can’t wait to see them on shore leave,” I said.
“Captain, the inspection is complete and the Uno Shoda checks out,” she said calling the Bridge.
“Thank you First Officer,” Xhosa replied, “I’ll begin the separation sequence.”
Kala and I flew the tug back and began a slow rotating orbit around the cargo sleeve. In a few minutes, the Clipper Ship drove forward leaving the sleeve behind.
“Good separation,” Kala reported, “Send in the clowns.”
“The clowns?” I asked.
“Tugs from the Station to unload their crates from the sleeve. They remind me of the circus clowns I saw when I was a kid,” she explained.
And the clowns arrived. As a matter of fact, the seven tugs were flying crossing patterns. Diving and dodging at each other, they looked every bit like a bunch of circus clowns.
Once the tugs left, each pulling a cargo crate four times their size, Kala headed our tug towards the Track Station where the chemicals were manufactured. Captain Xhosa had given us ship’s watch assignments before we departed. Ide had day one of the layover. Kala had duty on day two. I drew day three and the Captain had day four. Agdta was day five and we’d all return on day six for the loading of new cargo and departure.
Kala docked in the commercial fleet area and we went our separate ways. She went to confirm the Captain’s report on the Pirate attack at the Master of Transit office. I went seeking the Navy Liaison Officer for the chemical Station to report the use of force.
The Galactic Navy has strict rules for the firing of ship mounted weapons by the civilian fleet. They stated that return fire was the only acceptable reason to fire on another ship. The rules are different for a Navy pilot or weapons Officer. We have the authority to use weapons, when in our judgment, the situation warrants the use of force. However, the Navy expects us to report every instance of ship mounted gun use as soon as we dock.
“And we went External as soon as the Uno Shoda completed its turn,” I said concluding my report.
“So noted Ensign,” the liaison Officer replied as he leaned back in his chair, “I’ll send a report on the weapons discharge and the Pirate activity. You’ll be available for follow up if command has any questions?”
“Yes sir, other than a Bridge watch on the ship in two days, I’ll be on your station,” I reported as I stood, “Permission to leave, Sir.”
“Granted,” he said as he started to fiercely type the report, “One more thing, how did it feel to cut loose on the raiders?”
“It would have felt better and been a more satisfying encounter, if I’d been in a Navy Fighter,” I replied.
“I imagine it would,” he said waving me towards the exit.
The position of chemical Station Liaison Officer was the Navy’s equivalent of being put out to pasture. He was most likely a desk jockey for the majority of his career and now spent his days reading routine reports from Navy Patrol Boats that entered his space. My report was a break in the mundane and his chance to get noticed by Navy command. I imagined the report would be exciting reading.
Chapter 16
I planned to seek and destroy the nearest tall pint of ale, I could find. The darker the pub and the ale, the better. A pretty bar maid would be a plus. However, the really tall Druid standing outside of the liaison officer’s door ended my dream of a liquid afternoon.
“I have words for you, Phelan Oscar Piran,” he said. His voice so deep and clear that I could feel the words bounce off my chest.
“Speak your words Druid,” I ordered. I was a little annoyed by the interruption of my fantasy.
I know it wasn’t much of a fantasy but after ship air and ship chow, I really did want to just sit, eat and sip.
“You will follow,” he stated and turned.
Damn the Druid’s expectation of obedience. They’re trained from age eight to follow orders and to expect everyone to follow their instructions. Seeing as they are the judges on ships and stations, and the providers of the atmosphere, everyone falls in line when a Druid orders it. Except me.
“I’m off to find a pint, Druid,” I said still standing in the hallway where he had stopped me, “Unless you give me a better reason to follow you.”
“Your attack on an unarmed Sloop and Lifeboat could be seen as murder,” he said from under his crawl.
You learn early not to argue with Druids. Oh, you can push back, or delay, but they don’t play fair. What he’d just done was threaten to cast my actions in a different light. One where I’m brought in front of a Druid review board.
“Well when you put it like that, lead on,” I said not wanting to test his resolve at bring me up on charges.
He didn’t say anything. With his back receding down the hallway, I fast walked to catch up.
We took a lift from the administration deck to the atrium level. People watched the Druid, not me, as we crossed the flora filled park area. On the far side, he spun opened a vault door and motioned me to proceed him. Once we were through the foot-thick doorway, he closed and spun down the locking mechanism. We were in a long tube. A wooden door was visible at the far end.
The atmosphere in the tube was heady. Rich air and sea salt aroma flooded my lungs and senses. I paused to steady myself against the curved metal wall. I hadn’t experienced this much of a Heart Plant’s blessing since I was sixteen.
I was taken back to my Ritual training in the mountains on planet Uno. Along with my class of other nine-year-olds, I was finally allowed into one of the small domed greenhouses. We stood in the center of the potted plants as yellow ions crept up the glass sides. The atmosphere almost like a physical pressure increased as the yellow ions reached the very top of the dome. As they merged, my head spun and I felt as if my lungs would burst. The Druid teachers stood apart from us and watched as my classmates sank to the dirt floor. As if a giant hand was pushing them down, all of them collapsed.
I felt the pressure except I’d only be pressed down to a squatting position. The adults were moving among the children laying on the floor and checking them. While their attention was diverted, I duck walked away from the group.
I managed to push against the force and stood. In row after row, the young plants glowed yellow and, I was pulled to touch them. I found myself running between the plants with my hands out letting my palms brush the yellow glowing spikes. Two, three rows, by the time I’d run down five rows and touched hundreds of baby Heart Plants, I remember staring at the glass wall of the greenhouse.
Yellow ions flowed on the other side of the glass and I paused to look at my hands. They were crisscrossed by cuts and blood dripped to the dirt floor. For some reason, I really wanted to touch the ions on the far side of the glass. I lifted my hands, palms out and stepped forward. An adult Druid swept me up and carried me back to the group.
“Yellow Ion touched,” she announced to the other Druids as she sat me down among my classmates.
“Let’s pray that he does better with the other colors,” replied another.
My Druid escort brushed past me in the tube. I followed him to the polished wooden door expecting at any minute to be told to stay. This was the ceremonial gateway to the Druid’s private quarters and beyond, the sacred root wheel of the White Heart plant. Folks not of the Druids were restri
cted from entering the tube let alone passing through the ceremonial gateway.
I looked around but couldn’t see the laser or gun ports in the walls of the tube. Although I couldn’t see them, they were there. This was a defensive tube and anyone not authorized to be here would be killed. Although I was Clan to the Druids, I wasn’t a Druid, so my being in the tube was unnerving.
My guide knocked on the door and the echo of the knock resonated down the tube and back.
“Echoes of the past, yet, of future possibilities,” I whispered.
It’s the ritual saying we were taught at ten years old. We were instructed to recite it at hearing any echo. After weeks of practice, and only when the response became a reflex, were we herded as a group to the temple of the giant White Hearts. It was under the same dome I’d climbed as an eight-year-old. The defensive tube was explained and I asked to see the weapons. I was hushed down. At the ceremonial gateway, a Druid would knock softly. The hard wood released a quiet echo. Upon hearing the echo, we’d shout as only ten-year-olds can...
“Echoes of the past, yet, of future possibilities,” I had said it at the same time and with the same pacing as my Druid guide.
He turned from the gateway and for a second raised his head and I saw his green, gold colored eyes. They weren’t exactly gold but it was close enough for me to see he’d spent his youth on ships with yellow Heart planets. In general, it meant he was quickly moved to action and had the staying power to finish a task. Or, his preset to violence would be swift with an intent that didn’t ebb until either he or the enemy was crippled. Not the type of man, I’d want to anger.
The gateway opened as the Druid turned back to face the dark beyond the door. A slim Druid stepped through and they exchanged nods. This one was female, I judged by the sway of her hips, not so much by the breath of her shoulders. She pointed at me and at the doorway.
“Enter in peace Clansmen,” she said.
What? I didn’t expect an invite to the Druid’s home or to be allowed to come this close to the root wheel. Now I was worried, excited and confused. Not since I was fifteen and assigned to tend a Giant Red root wheel had I been so near a Heart plant’s core. Now sixteen years later, I was invited into a Druid’s inner sanctum.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 9
