I sat down again and placed a foot on his back.
“We need to talk,” I said slowly trying to give him time for the adrenaline to drain off.
There were seven more security officers and they reacted hastily to the downing of their NCO. They attempted to enter the grotto. That was their first mistake.
The entry way was too narrow for a gang rush so they stacked up. Another mistake was not trying to subdue the Druid and the Marine first.
I can’t imagine anything that would make a compliment of security officer’s madder. Izan and Druid number four easily dropped them and soon the entire detail was bound at their hands and feet by their own restraints. Mad might be too gentle a term for their collective attitude.
“Corporal,” I said, “I am going to remove my foot. I am not accustomed to speaking down to my subordinates. Now get up.”
He puffed up, pushed off the floor and put his face right into my Naval Officer’s tag. It got his attention. In the Galactic Council Realm, a Navy or Marine Corps officer was a force not to be trifled with. The NCO had almost done just that but now he could see the error of his ways.
“Sorry, sorry Sir,” the security NCO stammered, “I didn’t realize.”
“I assumed that,” I stated, “There, on the floor just beyond your team, are two newly arrived thugs. They attacked my friends. I want them held for a week and questioned hard.”
“What information are we asking about, Sir?” he asked.
“I’ll give you a hint,” I said whispering so he leaned in to hear, “They work for a big time gambling organization. If you play your cards right you can collect a big, old bribe for releasing them. That works for me as long as it’s not before the week’s over. Got it?”
“Aye sir, I can do that.”
“Izan can you please untie the security detail,” I said looking around the NCO, “They’re needed to remove the garbage.”
Once the grumbling security team had not so gently ushered the bully boys away, I looked at the Druid.
“Thank you for your help. I need another favor.”
“Speak your words, Phelan Oscar Piran,” he stated from under his crawl.
“I require you to stand guard on Agdta as I need Izan for a mission elsewhere,” I said the latter part looking from the Marine to the Navigator.
“It is good,” the Druid said in a flat drool voice.
“What are you thinking, Sir?” Izan asked
“I need help watching and maybe following the crews from a couple of inbound ships,” I explained, “The Druids aren’t inconspicuous enough.”
“Miss Hernan, if it’s alright with you, ma’am?” he asked.
“It’s fine. I can’t imagine I’d be any less secure with a Druid,” she replied, “Tell me Mister Druid, do you like the Video Championships?”
“The Elders teach the benefit of observing competition,” the Druid replied.
“Then come in,” Agdta said, “Do you like honey cake?”
Chapter 31
I grabbed Izan’s arm and partially guided and partially leaned on him. We took the lift to the medical deck. As we rode, I explained about the Sloop Beltrame and Yacht Basque. About the attack on the Heart plant and, the mysterious box the Druids were observing on the cargo deck.
After an hour in the hyperbaric chamber and a couple of shots from the doctor, I felt like a new man. The new man wanted a drink but it was time for the Yacht Basque. Instead of heading for a tall ale, we took the lift to the flight deck.
It was busy this far into first watch so we just stood with the crowd. Some were waiting for flights out. They slumped and smelled like alcohol. Some were waiting for friends from other ships to arrive. They also smelled like alcohol but they stood upright.
I checked my PID.
“The shuttle from the Basque should be coming in soon,” I explained to Izan, “let’s split up. I’ll give you a sign if anyone needs following. If not, we’ll get together after they leave the flight deck.”
“Aye sir, I’m on it,” he said as he slowly drifted away from me. The crowd swallowed him for a moment until he reappeared on the edge of the mass.
The Shuttle dropped through the ceiling. The horizontal air curtains rose back into place and the stink of ozone flooded the flight deck. As always, the cheerful ambassadors rushed forward to form a welcome line. The Houses’ representatives were ready, Izan was ready and, I was ready but, not for the woman who was first off the shuttle.
She had a scarf over her head. I wouldn’t have noticed her as being special. It wasn’t until the blond whitish lock of hair dislodged as she walked down the ramp from the shuttle. The hair color hit me and I recalled the two blond fanatics from the bloody Tramp Steamer mission.
Four other people emerged from the shuttle. They seemed to enjoy the attention of the ambassadors. As they headed for a lift, I nodded at Izan and he fell in behind them.
I sent messages to Druids one, two and three. They’d be on the lookout for the blond if I lost her. She entered a lift with a few other people, so I joined them. We’d make three stops. One of them was at a level with a tunnel connecting the tourist side with the industrial. I would bet, if I hadn’t had my fill of gamblers for one day, she would use that exit.
As I suspected, the blond stepped off at the tunnel level. I waited until the doors were closing and side stepped out as well. By now, she’d moved far down the hallway making it easier for me to follow. At the first corner, I lost sight of her. It was tempting to rush forward, instead of rushing to catch up, I stopped and listened. I didn’t hear anything. She’d stopped. After a full minute of listening, neither of use moved. Both unseen, but I knew she was around the corner. She was just checking her tail. I won when the sound of her footsteps began to recede.
I watched the woman with the hidden blond hair as she crossed the large industrial room. She stopped and consulted her PID. The act informed me she was new to hydroxyl Station. It was a slight edge as she couldn’t use the Station to evade me if she tried to slip away.
Estimating her route, I took a freight elevator to the level above the cargo deck. There were only a few people at their workstations and they didn’t bother to stop me. I pushed through the door and stepped onto the walkway hanging above the cargo deck. Blondie hadn’t arrived, yet.
My PID announced a message. It was from Izan.
‘Your location?’
‘Catwalk overlooking the cargo deck. Your location?’
‘On the way to you,’ he responded.
A few minutes later the door opened and the Marine approached me.
“I thought you were watching the crew?” I asked.
“I was until they met up with your woman,” he explained, “I overheard them arguing. One of the guys wanted to go directly to the cargo deck.”
He stopped and waved an arm out over the walkway as if showing me the deck. I nodded and made a come on sign with my hand.
“The woman overrode the debate,” he said, “She told them they would wait for the end of second shift. Than the whole lot of them went into a crew changing room to wait. I messaged you and here I am.”
“Nice work, Sergeant,” I said to him as I typed a message for the Druids.
Below us, the second shift was uncrating and stacking equipment and boxes. They’d be at it for a least another hour. It gave me an hour to set up an ambush. After running my idea by Izan, we headed for the door. I wasn’t about to risk injury by leaping down to a crate, although, the Marine with an evil grin pointed out the nearest one.
I smiled back and said, “No.”
We joined the three Druids at a location two crates behind the one containing the mysterious box.
“We have five targets,” I reported, “Four men and a woman. The woman may be a fanatic and, if so, she’s the most dangerous of the five.”
“Fanatic, Sir?” questioned Izan.
“It’s a hunch,” I replied not wanting to go into an explanation that might make me sound paranoi
d, “The guys might be tough but the woman may have a gun.”
Izan reached behind his short jacket and drew out a GCMC 45 pistol. The hand cannon looked impressive because it was. And, it was a welcome piece of heavy artillery.
“Keep that handy,” I said, “but know she’ll have something like a nine-millimeter gas operated pistol with solid tipped bullets.”
Izan looked down at his pistol and said, “I only need a few shots.”
Typical Marine, confidence in his abilities and his weapon. Not without reason but, a gas weapon had more killing ability. One bullet and any of us could be out of commission, if not dead.
“I assume they’ll leave at least one or more crewmen at the entrance to the cargo deck,” I said, “that’ll give them lookouts and an advance attack team if the others are disturbed.”
“We agree,” Druid number Two said.
“Good, number Two, why don’t you and number Three take positions near the elevators,” I said, “One, you’ll be on the crate to the right. Izan take the high ground. You’ll come in from above. Stay to the rear until they get close then move up and wait for my signal. I’ll take the left. We’ll converge on the woman and her henchmen from three sides.”
“Sir, why wait for them to get to the crate?” Izan asked.
“I want to be sure it’s their intention to retrieve the mysterious box,” I said, “If they’re just scouting for someone else, I want to know that as well. Clear?”
“Aye to that,” he replied.
“Two and Three, once we move, take out the watchers at the elevators and move in from behind,” I explained, “I don’t want them dead. As a matter of fact, I want all of them alive for questioning.”
“And if we can’t?” the Marine asked.
“Then, there will be a few less animals to trouble the Realm,” I replied, “Any more questions?”
Druid One was silent and Izan shook his head no. I began to walk away and Izan began to climb the side mounted rungs. On impulse I looked back for the Druid. He was already on top of the crate and moving further back out of sight. Sometimes I wonder what I’d missed by quitting the Ritual.
Druids Two and Three were also out of sight by the time I reached the corner of the crate on the left. I didn’t climb it. I moved down the side and squatted in the shadows to wait.
An ambush qualified as a test of nerve. There was the stress of waiting silently with nothing except your thoughts for company. You knew violence was imminent and death waited in the near future. But the exact time of the action was unknown. And finally, there was the nagging fear the ambush would fail and you’d end up dead. Yes, an ambush was a test of one’s nerve.
Chapter 32
As I waited, my mind drifted back to the mountains and green fields of the Clan territory on planet Uno.
By fourteen, the Druid masters had drilled me and the rest of the Ritual candidates in climbing, botany, stick and sword fighting. We were proficient with a single short sword and a shield and knew our plant food to water ratios backwards and forwards. We had the basic tools for caring for a Heart plant and for defending it. But, while the Space Cats had started to communicate with some of us, it was on a base level. We didn’t have the skills to speak and listen like our instructors. Nor could we disappear and reappear a short distance away or communicate with other Druids without speaking or moving.
I was lounging on the rake and staring out at the mountains. Alright, I was taking a break from hours of raking the stone path as punishment for yet another infraction. The chore was boring me. The thought of sparring with another pupil and the thrill of combat was dancing in my mind. Far off eagles soared on the wind and clouds glided across the brilliant blue sky.
“Candidate Piran,” a voice, I knew all too well, said from behind me, “The training dome.”
The Master was gone by the time I turned around to face the Druid. She’d been doing that ‘hear me but don’t see me’ for three years and I was getting tired of it. Another impure thought, no more impure thoughts. I just couldn’t seem to hold the pure Druid mind they kept preaching to us. While I excelled at the physical, the mental part was lagging. Oh, I could handle the lessons and with a lot of hard studying, I passed the tests, scoring in the middle of my class. It was the pure Druid mind thing that was proving elusive.
After placing the rake in the tool shed, I jogged to the training dome. It had a smaller circumference than the plant domes, but was as tall as the one housing the big White Heart. The height we knew well as we’d spent the last few years climbing in the tunnels and rigging near the top.
I pushed through the door which looked and reacted like a hatch on a space ship. Everything in the training dome mirrored a Station, except for the gravity. They had removed most of the rich air of planet Uno leaving just enough for hard breathing. Immediately upon entering, I attempted to slow my heart rate and began to let out shallow breaths.
I saw two Masters standing in the center of a horseshoe shaped group of boxes. After snagging a rebreather from the gear cabinet, I approached the Druids. One reached out and took my rebreather while the other pointed to one of the boxes.
It was only large enough for me to crawl in and sit with my legs crossed. The ceiling brushed the top of my head and my elbows easily touched the sides when I raised them. The box was small enough to crowd a fourteen-year-old. The Master holding my rebreather bent and closed the side of the box leaving me in total darkness.
Time passed slowly without light, space enough for small movements, and little air. I’d been drifting between dreams and wakefulness. Or, being awake and asleep, the two had blended into one long nightmare a long, long time ago. From time to time, I thought I heard space cats meowing. Then it was silent again. Other times I heard a grating sound like someone was pushing objects around on the dome’s floor. Each time when the noise subsided, I smelled either cinnamon, like a Red Heart Plant, or citrus, like a Yellow Heart Plant, or berry, like a Blue Heart plant, or a cool sea breeze, like a White Heart plant.
Time passed slowly without exterior stimuli. It gets worse without food or water. Soon I was lost in waves of hunger and thirst and cramped muscles. Everything was hurting unless it was numb. My thoughts drifted to the mountains or to a memorable sparring match or to nothing. I was wandering in nothingness when the side of the box opened.
They dripped water onto my parched lips until my throat opened. Then it was small sips. Later, an aromatic soup was placed across the floor from me. It took my legs and arms a while to follow my commands and crawl towards the soup. I looked around and the training dome was empty. It must have been near the middle of second watch as the sun, barely visible beyond the dome’s portholes was low on the horizon. The soup was delicious and filled my shrunken belly nicely.
A Master arrived at dark and silently bid me to follow. I struggled to my feet and staggered after the Druid. I was expecting some kind of meeting to discuss the box experience or to give me an explanation. I got neither. The Druid guided me to my barracks and left me at the door.
I collapsed onto my bed, and in the glory of stretching to my full length, fell asleep. The morning came and I swung my legs over the side and I hung my head until my eyes fully opened. As the life came into my limbs and mind, I noticed the barracks was empty.
‘Oh, I must have over slept,’ I thought looking at the empty racks on either side of me, ‘Everyone else has already started their training for the day’.
I stripped and cleaned up in the head. Coming back, I found a letter on my bed. So, here was an explanation or a formal request for a meeting to discuss the box experience. Finally, someone would give me some answers. It was neither, it was a training schedule. On such and such a day I was with one group, on another day I was with another group. It was comprehensive and after studying it for several minutes a pattern emerged.
Some days I was with a class from a Yellow Heart plant. Other days I was with a group catering to a Blue Heart plant. Red and White Heart plants comple
ted the circuit than it began again. It was the beginning of my confusion and my exile from my classmates.
Chapter 33
A forklift makes a lot of noise even when not under the load of a large crate. Its motor whines and the solid points tap consistently on the deck. When those sounds stop, it means the end of a shift. In this case the end of second shift. I tightened up and began to listen for the departure of the cargo crew and the arrival of the Basques’ crew.
Far off where the loaders had been moving, the sounds of the departing crew’s voices drifted to me. I couldn’t make out the words or even individual voices, but the human sound was unique enough to be recognizable. Now, I waited and my nerves began to tighten.
The silence of the cargo deck left only the overhead air handlers which were slowing and the elevator doors as they closed. Soon the deck was empty. I didn’t move. No shuffling for a more comfortable position, ignoring any usually necessary bodily functions, I sank into a Marine’s deadly mind set. It was a requirement for a successful ambush. Even my eyes were diverted from the direction of travel of the foe. The enemy, we’d been taught, can feel your eyes on them if you were looking in their direction or sense your presence if you moved. Become a hole in the scenery, until you spring the ambush. I became a hole.
Without eyes on them, I depended on my hearing. They came slowly with little talk and no heavy foot falls. The only hint they were on the cargo deck was a low woman’s voice uttering two indistinguishable phrases. I waited silently for them to get closer. Eventually they arrived in the ambush site.
“You watch over there and you there,” the woman said giving directions to her crew, “You two open the crate’s door when I say to.”
“Ah come on missy, there ain’t nobody here,” a man said.
“Shut up,” she replied sharply.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 18
