by Jim Laughter
“But Melissa says that her modifications worked,” Clay insisted, his sense of futility rising. “It was under the direction of the instructor that she changed the circuit back to the diagram in the book. It was that circuit that blew the bench.”
“That is not possible,” the Administrator said firmly. “I have it on the authority of the instructor that all of those diagrams were thoroughly tested by the textbook publisher and were completely certified.”
“May I speak to the instructor?” Clay asked, seeing a possible opening in this verbal fencing match.
“That is not possible, I’m afraid,” the Administrator said sadly. “He’s still under observation at the hospital for the injuries he sustained at the hands of your daughter.”
Clay realized he would get nowhere with this man. He knew stonewalling when he saw it. It was time to change tactics.
“I’m sorry that Mr. Augur is unavailable,” Clay said contritely. “And I do hope he recovers quickly.”
The Administrator smiled.
“I assure you that if he were available, he would be able to better explain the damage for which your daughter is responsible. I hope my efforts have helped you understand our position.”
“Yes, yes you have,” Clay agreed. “Now I best be going and stop taking up your valuable time.”
He rose to his feet. The Administrator stood also and offered his hand.
“I’m glad I was of service, Mr. Borgon,” he said with a smile. “Feel free to call me if you have further questions or require assistance with your daughter. Mr. Augur enjoyed working with her and expressed concern for her well-being when I spoke with him last night.”
“Thank you,” Clay answered with a smile and excused himself from the Administrator’s office. He was careful to maintain his smile as he left the school building and walked to his vehicle. Only after he’d driven out of the school parking lot did he let his face express the anger he felt churning inside.
Back inside the school, Mr. Augur came out of the teacher’s lounge adjoining the school offices and entered the Administrator’s office. He was joined by another man who had also been listening via the intercom to the conversation the Administrator had with Clay Boren.
“How did it go?” Mr. Augur asked the Administrator. “Did you placate him?”
“I think he’s satisfied,” the Administrator answered both men. “He seemed to understand.”
“You better hope so,” the other man said firmly. “And by the way, I’m thinking of filing a union grievance with you for not pressing for an admission of damages against Mr. Augur by the daughter.”
The Administrator looked at the union lawyer.
“I think I did as well as could be expected under the circumstances,” he answered defensively. “Mr. Bourbon was rather insistent and somewhat belligerent.”
“His name is Boren, you fool!” the lawyer snapped. “And when will my client hear about restitution for his time loss and injuries? You’ve already had the paperwork for a day now.”
“I’m having the district attorney file for civil damages tomorrow,” the Administrator answered. “We foresee no problem obtaining a judgment from the court.”
“You do what you want,” the electronics instructor said firmly. “I just don’t want that brat back in my classroom!”
∞∞∞
In short order, the punitive fleets were formed and ready to head into the neighboring sector. Tension ran high among the crews and they were anxious to exact vengeance against the Red-tails. Personnel worked around the clock getting the ships and equipment ready for the mission.
The sector commander sat in his command chair and reviewed the attack plans. Considerable effort had been put forth by tacticians that had worked around the clock coordinating and assembling the fleets. The sector commander reviewed the plans mapped out in the holographic tank. After studying the display for a moment, he nodded with satisfaction. He stood and turned to the pair of fleet commanders who were just coming onto the bridge of his mothership.
“You both know everything we’ve got on sector 2046-W,” he began. “Remember, we not only want to route the enemy, but we also want to find from where they based this attack.”
He paused for a moment.
“Something this large doesn’t just happen,” he said to the first commander. “Let’s get going before the troopers mutiny and go on their own.”
“Yes sir,” the first fleet commander answered. He excused himself and headed to his shuttle to return to his cruiser.
“As for your mission,” the sector commander addressed the second fleet commander. “I want you to do all you can to piece together what happened. Recover all of the bodies you can and try to make an accounting of all missing personnel.”
“Yes, sir,” the fleet commander replied grimly. “Do you want us to gather any of the wreckage for recycling?”
“Yes, but map it out first. It’s possible the pattern may be able to shed some light on how this could have happened. Shalimar will want to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep me posted on anything your crews find that looks out of place,” the sector commander ordered. “Dismissed.”
The fleet commander saluted and left the bridge.
After the fleet commander’s departure, the sector commander sat down again and resumed his study of the holographic map. He knew he’d sent his troopers to accomplish some rather unpleasant tasks, but it needed to be done. The task that was his alone was trying to figure out what happened and to help prevent any future reoccurrence.
∞∞∞
Clay Boren was again pacing back and forth in the kitchen of his comfortable old home. Seated at the table were his daughter and Beverly, his wife. He’d just finished telling them about his experience at the School Administrator’s office.
“So the Administrator stonewalled me!” he exclaimed disgustedly in conclusion. “What did you come up with, Beverly?”
“Well, I contacted the local Teacher’s Association,” Beverly began, “but they were less than cooperative. It’s obvious they’re under the thumb of the education union.”
His wife looked at him dejectedly.
“We also received this by special delivery this afternoon,” she said and handed a letter to her husband.
Clay scanned the single page. It was a demand by the school that the Borens pay for the replacement of the ruined equipment in the electronics lab. The second paragraph also demanded payment to Mr. Augur for time-loss, hospital charges, and other medical and sundry expenses. The signatures of the district attorney and the School Administrator were at the bottom.
“They sure don’t waste any time, do they?” Clay remarked and tossed the letter onto the table.
“I have something,” Melissa offered. “I figured since Mr. Augur was hospitalized that I’d be able to find out where by checking with the Admissions Desk at each hospital.”
Her parents didn’t say anything, so she continued.
“When I checked the records, I found that he was not a patient in any of the hospitals, nor had he even been seen at any facility for treatment after the accident.”
Her parents looked at each other and smiled.
“As far as I can tell, he wasn’t even treated for his burned hands.”
“Melissa,” her father began. “I never thought much of your computer hacking, but I may change my mind yet.”
“But, Daddy,” she replied innocently. “I didn’t do anything illegal finding this out. I just inquired at each hospital and medical clinic’s admissions database.”
“All the better,” her father replied. “Give me a list of where you checked. I have a few visits to make tomorrow.”
∞∞∞
Delmar found himself swimming in a dense fog while loud booming pounded in his ears. Struggling against painful currents of agony, he surfaced into a blinding light. Moaning in pain, he tried to shut out the nova brightness.
“Take it easy there, sonny,�
� an older, friendly male voice boomed. Fortunately, the bright light continued on its solar orbit and Delmar opened his eyes.
The blurry image of a room greeted him and he tried to focus his eyes. A wave of pain and nausea greeted him as a result of his effort and he groaned again.
“I said take it easy, boy,” the voice repeated. “Somebody smacked you a pretty serious knot on the back of your head. You lay still while I get you a drink of water.”
Delmar didn’t especially want anything to drink but found himself physically unable to reply. His throat and mouth felt like it had long ago dried into jerky. Exhaustion seemed to have become the constant in his universe, and even thinking took too much effort.
The old man returned in a moment with a crude enamel pitcher. Pouring water into a battered tin cup, he rested the pitcher on a three-legged wooden table and sat down on the bed next to the young man. He helped Delmar sit up a little and pressed the cool metal to his lips.
Delmar was amazed that water could taste this good as its liquid nectar cooled his parched mouth and throat. He tasted something bitter in the drink but decided he was in no shape to object. His benefactor took the cup away from his lips and helped him ease back onto his pillow.
He opened his eyes again and the room was better focused this time. He carefully turned his pounding head and looked over at the old man. He was at least sixty, probably closer to seventy years old. His hair had long ago turned white, and only his moustache held a hint of its original color.
From the man’s clothes, Delmar was able to surmise that he was some sort of professional, probably a doctor. The white cotton shirt was accented by a black vest containing a pocket watch and fob. The man took out an ornate watch and examined it for a moment before putting it away.
“Uh... where am I?” Delmar croaked.
The words he spoke sounded foreign and alien to him and he didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Cinebar City,” the old man answered.
He lifted Delmar’s eyelids and examined them under the light. “Two prospectors found you in one of the canyons and packed you in here last night. Frankly, I didn’t think you would make it. You’re busted up pretty bad.”
Delmar tried to think back to what had happened but was only able to draw a blank.
“I can’t remember what happened.”
“Don’t worry about it just now, boy,” the old man offered. “The thing you need to concentrate on right now is getting better. I put some painkiller in your drink.”
“Thank you,” Delmar whispered. He closed his eyes and groaned as another wave of painful nausea swept over him.
“I told you to take it easy,” the old man admonished. “You better lay still and let that head wound heal.”
Delmar almost nodded his agreement and then thought better of it. Opening his eyes again, he studied the furnishing of the simple room.
“Now, I have to go see other patients,” the old man said. “You stay put and rest. If you need anything, just ring this bell.”
The country doctor set an old ornate hand bell on the table next to the bed.
“My daughter is here and can do a good job of nursing.”
Delmar watched the man place a selection of crude instruments and old glass bottles into a black leather bag. Snapping it shut, he turned back to his patient.
“I’ll be back some time around sundown,” the old man said as he reached for his hat.
“Who... who are you?” Delmar managed to ask.
“Doctor Murphy,” the old man replied as he pulled on his hat and jacket. “I’m the only doctor in this territory.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No thanks needed. I’m glad to help.”
He turned to go and then turned back toward the bed.
“While I’m out on calls, I’ll try to notify your relatives if you want,” the doctor offered. “But I need some information. What’s your name, son?”
Delmar opened his mouth to speak and then closed it as his mind drew a blank. He looked at the doctor, his eyes an echo of confusion.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I can’t remember anything.”
Chapter Six
When the advance picket ships of the punitive fleet entered sector 2046-W, they detected a large contingent of Red-tail ships almost immediately. Calls went back to the heavy cruiser acting as flagship for the fleet. The fleet commander surveyed the holographic map, noting the location, direction, and strength of enemy ships as they were entered into the database. Red pinpoints appeared in the holographic matrix.
“Looks like they’re congregating around a few of the uninhabited planets,” an aide said.
“Probably planning raids,” the fleet commander said. “Send the attack ships forward to engage. I also want the line ships to set up a blockade around the sector while scouts chase down any strays that slip through.”
At the touch of a key, the orders flashed out to the various portions of the fleet. The holographic display quickly reflected the changes and the fleet commander watched the entrapment unfold.
He’d suspected the Red-tails weren’t expecting such a quick response to the destruction of one of the Axia’s motherships. The speed with which this punitive fleet had been assembled and readied had astounded even him and was a credit to the troopers involved.
“Forward units report that they’re engaging the enemy, sir,” the comm officer reported. The holographic tank reflected the green and red lights as the ships tangled in a blur of action.
“What’s the status on those line ships?” the commander asked, eyeing their indicator lights.
“Still trying to gain their positions,” the comm officer relayed. “Several have run into pockets of Red-tails and are having to fight their way through.”
“Have a squad of the attack ships augment their effort where needed.”
“A breakout is occurring on the far side of the sector,” the comm officer reported. “Two wings of attack ships are pursuing.”
“Good,” the commander said, watching the action in the holographic tank. Suddenly, the cruiser rocked from a nearby explosion. Despite the amount of metal between the command bridge and the outer hull, the commander could hear the defensive batteries of the ship fire on the enemy.
“That was close.”
He watched the remains of a Red-tail ship tumble past the front view ports.
“Have the pickets tighten up. I don’t want even one of those red devils to escape.”
The comm officer relayed the new orders. The battle raged all around the cruiser as Axia and Red-tail ships fought a desperate life and death battle in the inky blackness of space.
∞∞∞
The trooper couple sat silently in the deserted enlisted lounge looking out into the night.
“Do you think he’s all right?” Leatha asked quietly.
“I certainly hope so,” Stan said. “Maybe he hadn’t reported out there yet.”
“No, he sent a message saying he’d arrived. You got it the same as I did,” Leatha said with a shake of her head. “He always arrives early when he can. I can’t remember a single time he’s ever been late.”
“Yeah, I know. He arrived the night before the mothership was attacked,” Stan said for both of them. Leatha just nodded.
“You wish you were out there flying right now, don’t you?” Stan asked.
“Of course,” Leatha answered. “To think of a friend out in that area just makes it worse.”
“You know if he was aboard that ship, he probably didn’t make it.”
“I realize that. But somehow I just don’t think they got him.”
“You too?”
“And all I can do is wait for the modifications on the Aurora to be finished,” Leatha said unhappily.
“Well, I can do something.”
“You’re going out there, aren’t you?” Leatha asked, looking up.
“If there’s a chance he’s alive, he’ll need help,” Stan said. “An
d I want to be there to provide that help.”
“Take care of yourself, honey,” Leatha said, reaching for Stan’s hand. “I’ll be out there with you as soon as the Aurora can make space.”
∞∞∞
Groans echoed around the classroom as the teacher handed back the book report assignments. Melissa sat in dread of what score she’d received when she saw the teacher turn down her aisle. She was surprised, however, to receive a single folded sheet of paper instead of the many-paged book report.
With trepidation, Melissa unfolded the paper. A simple message in the terse, bold handwriting of the teacher was scrawled across the paper—STAY AFTER CLASS.
Melissa’s heart sank. She could only imagine what trouble she must be in now. With a sense of pending doom, she watched the wall clock slowly tick off the remaining seconds of the period.
When the bell rang, the other students jumped up and streamed through the door, happy to be out of class. Melissa remained in her seat until there was only herself and the teacher in the room. The teacher looked up and fixed Melissa with a steely-eyed stare. She’d closed her book and reached for her briefcase.
Gather your things and follow me,” she ordered coldly.
“But I have study hall,” Melissa objected, standing slowly.
Formerly, her next class had been electronics but the guidance counselor had informed her of the schedule change that morning.
“The study hall monitor has already been informed that you’ll not be attending today,” the teacher replied tersely from where she waited by the door. “Now get your things and come with me.”
With a heavy heart, Melissa picked up her books and followed the teacher out of the room. An overwhelming sense of foreboding hung over the teenager when she realized the teacher was leading her toward the office of the School Administrator.
∞∞∞
The punitive fleet routed the Red-tails and began their mopping-up operation while the second fleet moved into position to begin its grim assignment. The smaller ships fanned out and surrounded the debris field. As soon as they were in place, a line-of-sight grid was set up to begin mapping the location of every piece of wreckage. From his command ship, the commander of the second fleet directed the over-flight of the grid so all angles were covered.
