Time Commander (The First Admiral Series)

by Benning, William J.

  The Personal Environment Dome had warmed up to the temperature desired by its one single resident. That one single resident was now laying in the Fleet Infantry dark green Sleeping Pouch that levitated three centimetres above the bluish-white sand of his own private sanctuary. The Fleet Infantry Sleeping Pouch was similar in function to the Personal Environment Suit. It did, however, function at a much more basic level. The Sleeping Pouch had two main functions to protect the sleeper and to provide a comfortable micro-environment. Fitted with some very basic feedback mechanisms, the Sleeping Pouch had none of the complex Mind-link technology of the PES. The Sleeping Pouch did not make neural connections with the sleeper’s brain to monitor and regulate the electrical and hormonal functions of the body.

  Once again, Billy read and re-viewed his battle plan. It had been a good first day for The Contemplation. He had tested the Martini-Henry rifle that he had been issued by the Adjudicators. His small personal Synthesiser had generated two hundred rounds of the soft case 0.45 ammunition that the rifle accepted. He had also travelled the two hundred kilometres as required by the rules of the Time Warrior ritual. Having covered the two thousand kilometres from the camp of the previous evening, Billy had then found a small clump of rocks to use for target practice for the short, but heavy rifle. He had initially found the rifle to be awkward, and with its heavy recoil being quite a challenge for Billy to handle. Being used to Alliance Fleet pulsar-pistols and rifles; which produced no recoil, Billy quickly found his shoulder starting to bruise and stiffen from the constant pounding of the replica of the ancient weapon.

  After two hours, he had expended almost one hundred and fifty rounds and considered himself barely competent enough to handle the weapon. However, he had not just blazed away at the small clump of now shattered white rocks just to improve his own marksmanship. The following day, he would practice with the five-shot pistol he had been issued as part of his uniform for the ritual. He would allow his shoulder and arms to rest overnight before attempting to master the finer points of pistol shooting from the Earth year of 1879.

  Resting his head against the rim of the anti-gravity plate of the Hover Bike, Billy decided that he had had enough for the first day of The Contemplation. He had been staring at his battle plan for almost an hour and could do no further work with it until he had rested. Reaching out with his left hand, he turned out the small orb-like lantern perched precariously on top of the small Synthesiser. In an instant, the dome was plunged into an eerie darkness. The looming shape of Ganthus; palish-yellow and green, hung overhead bathing the interior of the dome with a soft, watery light. From the angle of the planet in relation to Chronos, Billy could see the faint flashes of activity from the Lightning Fields in the western continent.

  He smiled in the knowledge that Karap Sownus had already visited the area to activate a piece of Garmaurian technology that would quieten the anger of the Lighting Fields forever.

  Nonetheless, that would be tomorrow, Billy considered and yawned. Running his fingers through his bright, red hair and back over his face, he drew his head down from the rim of the anti-gravity plate and lay flat within the sleeping pouch. Drawing the open flap over his head, the Pouch closed seamlessly and silently around him.

  Within a few moments First Admiral William Caudwell was fast asleep.

  Tomorrow, would indeed, be another day.

  Chapter 25: The “Six Cigar” Carrier “Fadthrathur”

  Frontier General Avavid Kallet was ablaze with anger. The verbal report; which had just been delivered to him at the daily Staff Conference by his head of Intelligence Operations, had informed him that the attempt on Bully Caudwell’s life had failed. The large and rotund Intelligence Chief had stood rigidly to attention, sweating profusely with the heat of the Conference Room, along with the fear of Avavid Kallet’s wrath.

  The Intelligence Chief’s colleagues, who stood silently around the oval Conference table, thanked whichever particular spirit that protected them that they were not on the receiving end of General Kallet’s anger. As Kallet continued to rant and rave at the Intelligence Chief, the odds that he would be facing a firing squad before the day was out rose significantly. However, everyone around the table knew that it had not been the Intelligence Chief’s fault. The poison in the brandy had been delivered to the living quarters of the intended target, but it had been pure misfortune that the bottle had been lifted by Ambassador Nicx. It was one of those unforeseen circumstances that history had a habit of throwing a particular spanner into the works of even the most careful plans.

  Unfortunately, this logic cut no ice with the irrationally angry Avavid Kallet. Although the Intelligence Chief had ensured that the hampers could not be traced back to Kallet’s Frontier Fleet, the poison had killed the Alliance’s Ambassador. Grand Adjudicator Bellor, suspicious of the involvement of the Frontier Fleets, had ordered all five of the Fleets to their Reserve Stations. The Reserve Station was where Frontier Fleet ships went to re-provision and for repairs. The Reserve Station was usually the most remote and desolate area of each Frontier. In effect, the order was equivalent to house arrest.

  The attempt on Caudwell having been a failure had brought the entire weight of the Imperial Government down upon the necks of the Frontier Fleets. Rather than draw attention to himself and raising suspicions of his potential involvement, Kallet had faced no alternative other than to comply with the Imperial Decree. At Reserve Station, Kallet was unable to contact his agents on the planet surface of Ganthus; he was unable to have any form of influence on the political situation. That was what angered Frontier General Avavid Kallet the most.

  At the most critical juncture in the Time Warrior Ritual, he was going to be stranded, with no communications and no idea what was happening on Chronos. In the political maelstrom of the Ganthoran Empire, a Frontier General needed to plan and strategise to not only protect his own position, but also to make the best use of any opportunities that might arise. Without information, he was unable to do that.

  Whilst Avavid Kallet was in full flow; shrieking obscenities at his terrified Intelligence Chief, an even more frightened Communications Technician interrupted.

  “Sir,” he trembled nervously, “sorry to disturb you, a message on your private channel...”

  “NOT NOW, YOU LAME BRAIN!!” Kallet turned from the petrified Intelligence Chief and stared a hole into the cowering Technician.

  “It carries the Imperial Cipher, sir.” The Technician attempted to avoid having eye contact with the Frontier General.

  The effect on Avavid Kallet was magical. From a shrieking demented fiend, his mood changed to one of complete calm in the space of a few heartbeats. A message that carried the Imperial Cipher was regarded as above even then highest order of top secret classification. This was the code that was only meant to be used by the Emperor personally. In the absence of a reigning Emperor, only one of the three Adjudicators was legally allowed to use the Cipher, and Avavid Kallet knew that it was not a good idea to keep an Adjudicator waiting. The Communications Technician was also aware of the seriousness of the Imperial Cipher. To have waited to deliver the message would have been dereliction of duty, and an immediate appointment with a firing squad.

  “I’ll take it in my private quarters.” Kallet smiled as if he was just heading out for a stroll in the countryside.

  Sitting down at his desk a few moments later, the Frontier General set his hand against the Recognition Plate embedded into the desk next to the video-monitor. Having read the DNA sequence in the hand and the unique electrical body signature of Avavid Kallet, the monitor sprang into life, displaying the crest of the Imperial Guard.

  “General Kallet?” The muffled and disguised voice of the figure Kallet had witnessed aboard the Imperial Guard Carrier made his presence known.

  “Your Imperial Majesty,” Kallet said, “a great honour. How may I serve you?”

  “Your loyalty to the Empire does you great credit, General...eliminating the insolent Alliance Ambassador
has brought many matters to a head in Ganthus City. You have done us a great service, and it shall not be forgotten,” the voice praised.

  How did he find out about that? Kallet asked himself.

  No one should have been able to find out that he was in any way associated with the failed attempt on Caudwell’s life.

  “Your Imperial Majesty, it was none of my doing…” Kallet was now suspicious of a plot to trap him into admitting killing Nicx.

  “General,” the distorted voice interrupted, “your modesty does you credit too, you have performed a great service to the Empire, but my time is short.”

  “What is it that you require of me, Your Imperial Majesty?” Kallet asked.

  “General, the Caudwell Creature has just begun The Contemplation,” the voice began, “which means that every Ganthoran will be glued to the Vide-Broadcast from Chronos. I want you to bring your Frontier Fleet to Ganthus, and take control of Ganthus City.”

  “But, Your Imperial Majesty, the Imperial Guard will resist, it will require more than my forces to capture and hold Ganthus City…” Kallet said.

  For all his tempers, rages, inconsistencies and unfairness, Avavid Kallet was still a fine military tactician and strategist. Kallet knew that he could probably overpower the Imperial Guard garrison in Ganthus City. However, once the Guard Generals realised the situation, they would launch a massive counter-attack, which would destroy Kallet’s forces.

  “General, have no fear,” the voice said, “the Guard will be distracted on Chronos. There will be a token force in the Ganthus City garrison. And, if I may be so bold, General, you can manage to arrange one of the accidents that your predecessor arranged for that Horvath Creature. Then, by the time the Adjudicators realise what is happening, the other Frontier Fleets will have arrived to support you, and the Guard will be unable to stop us from seizing power.”

  The Frontier General was taken aback at the realisation that whoever this would-be Emperor was, they were shockingly aware that General Glassar had arranged for the accident that killed the Horvath General Goldair. This individual was supremely well-informed, Kallet had to admit.

  “Your Imperial Majesty, have no fear, the Caudwell Creature will not complete the ritual, you have my word,” Kallet promised.

  “Excellent... the other Frontier Generals have pledged to support our endeavours, so you should only be required to hold out on Ganthus for two, possibly three hours.”

  “It will be an honour to serve.”

  “Very well, General. Go now and make your plans to occupy Ganthus City…and good fortune smiles upon you.”

  “And, good fortune to you, Your Imperial Majesty.” The connection was then terminated by the stranger.

  How did he know about the previous accidents? Kallet wracked his brain.

  It had taken the Technicians months to break down the security protocols around old General Glassar’s files. So, obviously, General Glassar had been receiving his instructions from this would-be Emperor for many years; which once again indicated Second Adjudicator Tiba. If it was Tiba, then Avavid Kallet knew who to kill to gain the Crystal Throne for himself.

  So, with a smile on his face, Avavid Kallet sat back to plan his strategy for seizing control of Ganthus City.

  Chapter 26: Over the Pacific Ocean, Planet Earth

  John Caudwell reclined in his comfortable seat next to the round aircraft window. Sleep was something of a rarity for John these days. His mind seemed to be filled with ideas for strange and wonderful inventions. Despite an exhausting and punishing work schedule, he still couldn’t manage to catch more than a few hours sleep every night. The ten hour trip from Tokyo to Los Angeles was an opportunity to catch up on some rest. Even aboard the luxurious Business Class cabin of the Japan Air Lines jet, getting some sleep was arduous and demanding. It was, however, not as demanding as the decision-making process that had led him to contacting Hideaki Nakamura to ask him for his help.

  For almost a week, John had wrestled with the problem of the “Nuclear Battery”; a safe, compact and reliable power source for the small pistol-like weapon he had managed to cobble together in his basement laboratory back home. If John were to be brutally honest, he would have had to acknowledge that the deeper reason for his quest was to build the Trionic Cannon that he now knew was possible to create. For days, John had struggled with the moral and ethical questions of whether someone should create a weapon that could destroy an entire planet. In the current political and military climate, building such a weapon would be a tremendously bad idea. If either the Soviet Union, the United States or China (or one of their numerous allies), got hold of the technology for the device, then they could effectively hold the world to ransom.

  Trying to justify his decision, John argued that there was likely to be some scenario where Earth could potentially be under threat from asteroids, comets, or other large objects that could impact on the planet’s surface and cause untold damage and kill millions of innocent people.

  What could science and technology do at the present moment? He speculated that they could perhaps throw nuclear missiles at these objects and hope that the explosions could divert them from their course or, perhaps, destroy them entirely. That was in realistic terms, wishful thinking, when some of the rocks out there in space could be the size of entire continents. All the nuclear warheads on Earth wouldn’t even scratch the surface of such a planet-killer.

  Yet, there was also a part of John that wanted to build the device, simply to prove that it could be built. He rationalised that whoever got the weapon would have a range of problems to solve before they could effectively use it.

  Firstly, there was the deployment problem. Whoever controlled the Trionic Cannon would have to deploy it from some large space vehicle in Earth’s orbit. The Trionic Cannon would be useless for controlling the Earth if it could not be pointed at a target on the Earth’s surface. The problems of building a large enough vessel to carry the device without anyone else noticing were not impossible, but it was highly unlikely to be achievable. Whichever side gained control of the weapon’s technology could count on their opponents doing everything humanly possible to disrupt and destroy their facilities. There was the option of putting the Trionic Cannon on the moon. The Americans had succeeded in sending men to the moon in small, cramped vehicles, but, that had been astonishingly expensive. To build a Trionic Cannon on the moon would require the building of a full scale base. Unfortunately, that could well effectively bankrupt even the great economic superpower of the United States.

  Secondly, there was the problem of providing power to the Trionic Cannon.

  Having scaled up the little pistol device he had created, John had calculated that it would require the output from a large nuclear reactor. The only realistic way of firing the device was from the surface of planet Earth.

  The problem of sufficient power would always haunt whoever controlled the Trionic Cannon, and John knew that the first step to solving that power problem was his “Nuclear Battery”. In his mind’s eye, John could see the solution to his problem; he could draw out the blueprints and schematics for what he wanted. The technology to create his “Battery” was only just feasible to develop on Earth, with a little bit of hard work, dedication, and, most importantly, the right facilities. John had the motivation. He had the money to make the obsession a reality, or, to be more accurate, he had a plan to get that money. The money from Nakamura for the three-dimensional music player would part-finance a significant part of his new project. With a few more of his consumer electronic devices marketed and distributed by the Nakamura Corporation, John knew that he would have more than enough in terms of financial resources. The facilities existed on Earth, but what he needed was access to the equipment, laboratories and the highly-skilled scientists and technicians to make his dream a reality. Hideaki Nakamura was the right man, with the right name and with the right connections to open all of the doors that John would have to get through to bring his project to life.

&nb
sp; Through his contact with the Development Staff at Nakamura Electronics, John had politely and respectfully asked for a private meeting with Hideaki Nakamura himself to discuss a new venture. The appointment was duly arranged, and John found himself on the long haul flight to Tokyo via Malta, Bahrain, Delhi, and Singapore.

  The interview with Hideaki Nakamura was conducted, as John had requested, in one of the research laboratories at the Nakamura Corporate HQ. After a brief demonstration of the prototype Trionic-pistol, Hideaki Nakamura had dismissed his stunned and astonished staff with an instruction to say nothing of what they had seen. A small pistol-like device that could blow a hole twenty centimetres wide through fifteen centimetres of armour plating was not something Hideaki Nakamura, nor any other manufacturer, wished to broadcast to the world.

  To an incredulous Nakamura, John explained his thinking behind what he called ‘The Trionic Cannon’. For John, what he was proposing was a planetary defence system; for the benefit of all mankind, in the event of a large celestial body likely to strike the surface of planet Earth. As John explained his idea for the Trionic Cannon, Hideaki Nakamura asked Chief Physicist Mifume to join them down in the underground laboratory.

  The argument and questions had ranged back and forth for almost two hours, with an increasingly confused and astonished Hideaki Nakamura taking an ever increasingly secondary role in the proceedings.