I was standing at ridge attention in front of the Admiral’s deck. She was standing on the other side of the metal workstation and using it to hold herself back. I do believe, if the desk hadn’t been between us, she would have physically attacked me.
She was obviously a lady with a lot on her plate. The ass chewing puzzled me as she had a whole slew of Captains, Commanders, and senior Lieutenants who would be more than happy to berate me. I was after all probably the Navy’s oldest Ensign.
“The shuttle for Nafaka doesn’t leave for two days,” she said chewing on her lip as if inflicting pain on herself was a stand in for targeting me, “In the meanwhile, you will make yourself available to Naval Intelligence. Report to them now and answer their questions.”
“Yes ma’am,” I replied thinking two days was way too long, “Am I dismissed?”
“I will let you know when you are dismissed,” She said looking down at her view screen, “great, now the Merchant Fleet wants to see you as well. We have a good working relationship with them and it looks like you’ve screwed that up. Have you any idea how thin the Navy resources are here? No you don’t. Let me tell you. I need the Merchant Fleet for a lot of things. Whatever they need, you do it. Even if it’s taking a dive out of an air lock. Do you understand me?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said while secretly agreeing with myself that two days was too long to wait for the departure shuttle.
“Now you are dismissed,” Admiral Gesina said, “Get out of my sight.”
I had checked into the Transit Officer Quarters after leaving Ide. The Navy Chief at the reception desk looked doubtful until I flashed my tag. After checking that, in fact an Ensign Piran was due at the 49th Air Wing, he assigned me a room. I handed him my uniforms for the laundry and headed down the hallway. In the room, I set my travel bags down and was about to strip out of my civilian work clothes. A shower, a shave and a fresh uniform and I’d be ready to officially check in. I wish now, I hadn’t got preoccupied before the shower. However, the crude caught my attention.
On a Station or a space ship things weren’t dusty. The air handling system usually sucked up any small, free particles. This was true for most areas but, the fans always blew in the same direction. So any surface like a tube or a rail would have dust on the back side where the air flowed over the object and created negative pressure. My Drill Instructor in Marine Basic Training called it crude and it was worse to him then an insult to his beloved Mother. At least that’s what he repeated every time we missed a line of dust on a rail or pole while policing an area.
Why would a busy facility like the Transit Officers Quarters on a busy Station like the plant Station have dust? It was so unusual I stopped undressing to inspect the crude. The back of every surface was dusty. Was it bad maintenance or that the facility stood empty for long periods? This wasn’t the military way, or even the Merchant Fleet way, as everything was regularly wiped down as a matter of course.
I was pondering the dust and not getting undressed when the Navy Commander knocked on my door.
“Ensign Piran?” the officer inquired when I opened the door.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied while motioning to the nature of my clothing, “I was just getting ready to clean up.”
“Belay that Ensign,” He said pointing down the long hallway to the lift, “The Admiral wants to see you, now.”
That’s how I ended up in front of the Admiral’s desk out of uniform, tired and in need of a shower while getting royal chewed out. And to top it off, I couldn’t figure out why I was on the receiving end of the Admiral’s tirade.
I did as Admiral Gesina ordered and got out of her sight. The Navy Commander on the desk outside her office was directing one of the waiting Captains to the Admiral’s office. The other four high ranking Naval officers glared at me. I guess my audience with her august self, had interrupted the normal order of appointments. Not my fault Sir, Sir, Sir and Sir, I thought.
“Commander, can you point me towards the Intelligence Section?” I asked.
“Down the hall, beyond the elevators and you’ll find it, third door on the left,” he directed with a smile.
I guess when you’re the gate keeper for a fire breathing Navy Admiral, you could afford to be magnanimous.
The thought of taking the elevator to the TOQ was tempting. I needed a shower, if not for anyone else’s benefit, at least for my mental health. And, if I was going to be shuffled between sections of the Navy, I’d at least have liked to be in uniform. I didn’t of course because, I’d been ordered to report to Naval Intelligence and I would.
Senior Lieutenant Birgir was a large bear of a man. He stood half a head taller than me and was as wide at most interior doorways.
“Ensign Piran, I presume?” he asked as I stepped into a small alcove.
“Yes Sir, reporting as ordered,” I replied, “I apologize for the lack of a proper uniform.”
“No problem. I want to know about the suspected cargo crates,” he said leading me to a large office, “Sit and talk to me.”
I explained about the X and Z code. How one signified Pesetas while the other denoted smuggled goods. The location of the crates and how a strange Patrol Boat had attacked the Uno Shoda. My rationalization that the cargo crates were the reason for the attack was the Sloop’s appearance as a Patrol Boat couldn’t handle four cargo crates. Finally, I asked a question of my own.
“What did the Patrol Boat mean by calling me a war criminal?” I asked.
“More than likely they would have called any Galactic Navy officer a war criminal,” he said but the delay in answering puzzled me.
“Yes Sir, if you say so,” I said with very little satisfaction.
“Let’s go look at those crates,” the big officer ordered as he arose from his chair. The chair protested the movement of such a large mass.
“Lieutenant, I don’t mean to tell you your business,” I said as we walked through the alcove, “But I would suggest an armed escort.”
“You think there are Pirates on plant Station?” he asked with a laugh, “I can assure you we’ll be perfectly fine. Come on, they should be unloading the cargo crates about now.”
As with loading docks throughout the Realm, the plant Station’s was no different. We stepped off the elevator and walked out to a noisy work area. Forklifts and hand lifts were moving crates, boxes and gear to specific zones.
Birgir and I avoided the heavy traffic by traveling around until we entered the maze of crates from the Uno Shoda.
“We’re looking for an X or a Z scratched on the crate just below the identification panel,” I said.
“Seems simple enough,” he replied as he bent to examine a panel, “I don’t see how a code this simple could remain a secret for so long.”
“It’s only for dock to dock use,” I explained, “Once they find and disable the panel, the scratch is rubbed out.”
We heard a loud noise like someone had slammed a metal object against a crate. Together we turned and jogged towards the disturbance. As we rounded a crate, there was pain on the top of my head followed immediately by nothingness.
Chapter 43
I moaned and ventured to open my eyes. They felt open but I couldn’t see anything. The pain was accompanied on the top of my head by dampness. It felt sticky but, I couldn’t tell what it was. Someone was pounding on an alloy wall. It sounded like meat being bounced off of a metal plate. I didn’t know what it was until I heard Lieutenant Birgir.
“Hello, hello we are in here,” he was shouting and hammering on the side of a crate.
“Lieutenant, no one can hear you through the insulated walls,” I said with a groan as I pushed to a sitting position, “plus the pounding isn’t doing my headache any good.”
“Piran, you’re back with us,” he said, “We got jumped.”
‘No fooling, Mister we don’t have Pirates on plant Station, so an armed escort of Marines’, I stopped complaining to myself and struggled to my feet.
“How long
was I out?” I asked.
The illumination from his PID helped me locate him or at least his arm.
“About an hour and three quarters,” he said then the light went out.
“Do me a favor?” I said, “Run your hands along the seams of the wall in front of you?”
“What am I looking for?” he asked.
“There should be ridges and a tube on one side,” I instructed him.
“There are no ridges and no tube,” he said sounding like the missing elements were my fault.
“What’s in the other direction,” I asked.
I could have simply felt my way along the wall but, I was still a little punchy.
“I checked earlier,” he informed me, “There are boxes in the back of the crate.”
‘Genius. He’d decided we were in a crate. Like the totally darkness, low air and alloy walls wasn’t enough to tip him off,’ I bit my lip and scolded myself for bad thoughts.
“Well Lieutenant, you’re standing in the back of the crate,” I said as I slipped on the mask for my rebreather.
“But there are boxes blocking the entrance,” he said and I detected a slight whine in his voice.
“Do you have your rebreather activated?”
“No, I didn’t think I needed it,” he said, “we’re on a Station and there’s plenty of air.”
“Not in this crate,” I informed him, “Put your mask on and come to the sound of my voice.”
We joined up then shuffled forward to where a wall of boxes blocked our way. I found an edge to the top box and slide it out a fraction. Birgir located the other end and we started to remove the blockade.
Fifteen minutes later, we were standing on the other end of the cargo crate.
“I can feel ridges on the wall and there’s a tube to your right,” he said as we finally laid hands on the front door of the crate.
I reached up and swung out a section of the tube. A knob was exposed and I turned it until I heard a hissing noise.
“What’s that?’ Birgir asked.
“I opened the air vent,” I explained, “It wouldn’t be as stuffy in here now. I’m glad you’re a big guy because even after I unlatch the door, it’ll be hard to open.”
“Ensign Piran, you get it unlatched and I will get it open,” he said sounding more like an officer, “Let me know when to start.”
Below the knob was a handle which I turned exactly one half turn. There was a series of clicks.
“On this side Sir,” I said guiding him to the right, “We push but, the door is designed to seal until its forced open. Ready, push.”
We didn’t tumble out like you see in the videos when a fake door suddenly flies open. At first it was just a broken line of light then, after more heaving and pushing, it became a solid bar of light. Eventually I was able to get my arms in the crack for leverage and we finally had clearance to slip out of the cargo crate.
The Intelligence Officer was on his PID ordering up two squads of Marines. He wanted the loading dock sealed off. I wandered over to a crate after noticing the identification panel was smashed, the crate’s door stood ajar, and boxes were thrown around the deck.
Birgir joined me. I simply pointed to the swirls below the damaged panel.
“Too late, they’ve already taken whatever was in this crates,” I said, “and probably the other three as well.”
“I’m going to have a look,” he said as he climbed through the door.
The loading dock came alive with pounding boots and shouted orders. The Marines had arrived but the smugglers were already gone.
Two Sergeants and four Marines rounded the crate. I assumed the rest of the squads were at the elevators.
“You’ll need to pull some Marines off the elevators,” I said, “The dock extends beyond these crates and you’ll need at least four men to cover the exits.”
“These are all the troops we have,” one of the Sergeants said, then he challenged me, “Who are you?”
“Ensign Piran,” I said flashing my tag, “Now get those exits covered.”
“Sorry, Sir, we’re the only detail available,” he replied.
“I’m confused,” I stated, “You’ve got Navy ships all around this Station. Surely there are more Marines here?”
“That’s just it Sir, lots of ships and all of them are short staffed,” he explained, “We do what we can but, as I said, we’re all there is.”
Lieutenant Birgir emerged from the crate and said, “Nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever they wanted is gone.”
“These are all the available Marines,” I said in frustration.
“No problem, Ensign,” the Intelligence officer said, “We’ll handle it from here. You get to the medical deck and have that gash looked after.”
I nodded and strolled away. Six Marines responding to an attack on two Navy officers. Ships that were short crewmen, a lack of maintenance and an Admiral, who relied on the Merchant Fleet for what, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t add up. But, I was a lowly Ensign and I’d been ordered to the medical deck. So, that’s where I headed.
The doctor stapled a loose flap of skin on my head and poked me with a couple of needles. I still had a headache and asked him for a few pills so I could sleep. He handed me three. I slipped on my civilian shirt which now had blood stains on the collar. Before I could climb off the examination table, the Merchant Fleet representative from the flight deck stepped into the exam room.
“Ensign Piran, please accompany me,” he ordered.
“Mister, I didn’t get your name,” I replied, “How about we start over again? Like, what’s your name.”
“Adone Teodora of the Merchant Fleet,” he said not in a cordial manner, “Now, will you follow me?”
I wanted a shave, a shower and a long, drugged nap. What I did was wave him towards the door and I followed him out.
Chapter 44
The Merchant Fleet’s outer vestibule was clean and rather pedestrian. The walls held cheaply framed pictures of fleet ships and the workstations were normal. I only mention this because when we left the public and the business area the décor changed dramatically.
I noticed the sweeter air and the increased air flow first. The walls held pictures of older men and women in gilded frames. We walked down the hallway and the old eyes seemed to follow us. At a large set of wooden doors that weren’t quite as elaborately etched as a Druid’s ceremonial gateway, Mister Teodora didn’t knock. He just pushed them open.
We entered a large conference room. The view beyond the smoked windows was of the food planet, Nafaka. It was a glorious brown, green and blue orb. The spectacle took my breath away. After years in space, the sight of a living world was awe inspiring.
“Ensign Piran, these are the Merchant Fleet’s legal team,” Adone said indicating three mousey people sitting on the far side of a large glass table, “No need to introduce them as this shouldn’t take long.”
“Excuse me Mister Teodora, I don’t know why I’m here,” I pleaded, “Or what shouldn’t take long?”
“Why your salvage claims on the Uno Shoda and her cargo, of course,” he replied.
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, “I’m confused, can you give me a few details?”
“I believe he is negotiating,” one of the lawyers whispered. The other two members of the legal team nodded their heads in agreement.
“All right, I’ll give you the details,” Adone Teodora said as if he thought, I should already know them, “You claimed the Captaincy of the Clipper ship, Uno Shoda, in a hostile sector once Xhosa was unfit to command. Once you took control, you ordered repairs, as was your right. Then, you claimed the cargo. So, you have salvage rights, and we are prepared to tender you a legal offer.”
“What order for repairs?” I asked and felt foolish but, it was the only thing that stuck in my head.
“In your message to the Merchant Fleet, you specifically stated that, the Uno Shoda needed repairs,” he explained, “From a Captain
, that is considered an alert to the ship repair facility. They were on standby to fulfill your orders the minute the ship reached port. Now based on a 25% recovery fee for the Clipper ship and the same rate for the cargo, your settlement should be…”
He looked at one of the lawyers and waited.
“42,500,000 Pesetas,” she said after consulting a pad, “Of course it’ll be tied up with legal challenges for years and the court costs will be horrendous, but still.”
“Enough, we don’t need the commentary,” Teodora scolded, “So, Mister Piran, if you’ll sign here we can close out this unfortunate occurrence.”
I was stunned. Forty-two and a half million Pesetas in salvage fees and all I had to do was sign for it? My head, besides hurting, was now spinning. Then, I remembered the anger of the Admiral and her statement about needing things from the Merchant Fleet.
“I need to make a call,” I said stepping away from the table.
As I walked beyond the wooden doors for privacy, I heard one of the lawyers speak.
“Told you he was negotiating. He’s gone to contact a lawyer,” he said.
I was beginning to think of him as my cheering section. The thought I needed a lawyer never entered my mind. Until, he mentioned it.
It wasn’t a lawyer on the other end of the phone. It was a smiling gate keeper, a Navy Commander.
“Please Sir,” I begged, “I know you get calls for the Admiral all the time. All of them saying it’s important. But believe me, this is important.”
After my assurances I wasn’t drunk, that the bump on my head wasn’t causing any psychosis. And, I understood there was no officer rank below Ensign, he sent my call through.
“Ensign Piran, this had better be good,” Admiral Gesina stated, “I’ve got two Captains in front of my desk and they are not happy to be interrupted. So say something to make me happy.”
“Ma’am, what exactly do you need or want from the Merchant Fleet, “I began, “and don’t be shy Admiral.” After speaking with the Admiral for a few more minutes, I hung up.
Galactic Council Realm 1: On Station Page 23
