by Jim Laughter
When all ships were in position, the real task began. Troopers in pressure suits powered by small thruster packs exited the airlocks of all the ships. Gathering up even the smallest piece of debris, it was marked with a signal device. Bodies and other human remains were also tagged with devices emitting a biological signal.
Outside the three dimensional grid, larger ships slowly and carefully mapped each grid section. As each piece of wreckage was tagged, its indicator light showed up in their holographic displays. Only after each piece was tagged and its description recorded was it moved to transport ships set aside for the task. Three separate refrigeration ships, each equipped as flying morgues, received the remains of the dead troopers.
∞∞∞
The sun had just begun to set when the doctor returned to his simple office. Delmar had already been there for over a week and was finally beginning to feel better. He was just starting to think about food when the doctor walked into the small room.
“How are you feeling this evening?” Doctor Murphy asked. He pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down facing Delmar.
“Pretty good, I guess. The pain is almost gone from my head and it’s less tender. But my hands are starting to itch like crazy.”
“Good.”
The reached over and felt the back of Delmar’s head, then carefully examined his bandaged hands.
“Your lump is almost gone and the itching means that your burns are healing up. Now I have some clues about your memory gaps.”
“You do?” Delmar asked.
The problem of his memory gaps had tortured the young man ever since he’d first wakened in this strange place. The language the doctor spoke to him, and the language with which he answered sounded foreign to him as if it wasn’t natural to him.
The tattered remains of his utility uniform had strange writing on it but he somehow knew what the letters were. He and the doctor learned that his name was Del something. The tag was torn roughly in half. Delmar had no memory of his past, but visions of flying haunted his dreams.
“I checked at the airpark but no one out there has ever heard of anyone by your name,” the doctor said. “But then again, we don’t know your full name. It might just be Del.”
As if to emphasize the statement, a rickety, powered box-kite aircraft rattled its way low over the roofs of the town.
“So where did I come from?”
“That’s still something of a mystery,” Doctor Murphy answered. “But you can bet your boots you’re not from around here. Your accent is definitely foreign.”
“Somehow I know this is not my native language,” Delmar offered. “I can hear it in my head but I can’t repeat any of it.”
“What I really came to tell you is that I was able to make out some of the writing on that card fastened around your neck,” the doctor offered. “It had an odd word written on it in some sort of strange script.”
“What’s the word?” Delmar asked anxiously.
“Like I said, it’s in some kind of writing I’ve never seen before,” the doctor answered. “Here, you take a look at it.”
The doctor handed the strange card to Delmar who took it gingerly in his bandaged hands. He looked hard at the writing and a word popped into his mind.
“Can you make it out, son?” the doctor asked.
“I don’t know how, but I can read this.”
“So what does it say?” the old doctor asked, exasperated.
“I’m not sure, but the word that comes to me is Erdinata,” he answered dubiously.
“Erdinata? I wonder what it means?”
“That might be where I’m from. When you said it, a sense of home swept over me.”
“Could be,” the doctor agreed tentatively. “Then again, it could be your family name. I’ve never heard of any town or country by that name, and your name tag does have that large mark on the torn half.”
Although he couldn’t read the writing, the doctor pointed at a large E embossed on the name tag.
“I’ve been trying to remember what happened to me as you instructed,” Delmar said, holding up his lightly bandaged hands. “But I can’t come up with anything.”
“Well, the burns on your hands was some kind of high heat. Fact is, it looks like you grabbed hold of a bolt of lightning,” the doctor conjectured.
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Anyway, the pattern indicates that you were holding something when it happened. If it was an electrical shock, which I think is most probable, that might be part of the reason behind your memory problems.”
“So how do we undo it?” Delmar asked. “Give me another shock?”
“Not on your life!” the doctor exclaimed. “That would be too dangerous.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait for it to come back on its own,” Delmar concluded glumly.
Doctor Murphy agreed. Just then, the doctor’s daughter knocked and came into the room.
“Are either of you ready for supper or are you going to talk all night?”
“I don’t know about Del here, but I’m hungry,” the doctor answered, standing up. Delmar followed.
“Hurry up then,” the young woman ordered. “I have to get home and feed my own family.”
Delmar and Doctor Murphy stepped out into the common room of the office. Waiting on the table was a pot of heavy stew and two place settings.
“You’re wonderful, Leta,” the doctor said to his daughter. “Now you get home and tend to my son-in-law and those youngsters.”
Leta, Delmar thought. Why does that name sound so familiar?
She gave her father a quick peck on the cheek and crossed the room to the coat tree. Taking a shawl and wrapping it around her shoulders, Leta headed out the door and into the main street of the small town.
∞∞∞
Leatha looked up from the paperwork covering her workspace just as Stan entered the room. He walked over and sat down in the chair beside her desk.
“So? How’d it go?” she asked apprehensively.
“I got accepted,” Stan said. “I ship out in the morning.”
“Any idea how long you’ll be gone?”
“I’m not sure. They’re assigning me to one of the map ships. We’ll be plotting all of the data they’re collecting now.”
“At least you’ll be safe.”
Stan reached over and took her hand.
“I’ll be all right,” he said tenderly. “Besides, how much mischief could I get into when you’re following me out there?”
“Knowing you, it could be plenty,” Leatha teased.
“You just keep yourself busy with your mentoring project,” he said, indicating the paperwork. “And promise me that you’ll not take off in the Aurora unless she’s fully operational and certified.”
Leatha looked deep into Stan’s eyes for a moment before answering. “All right. I promise,” she agreed quietly. “But that won’t keep me from worrying.”
Stan patted her hand and stood back up.
“Now I’ve got to get over to Supply and sign out some extra equipment. Are we still on for dinner?”
“Of course,” Leatha said, trying to smile. “Do you think I’ll start chasing other guys before you’re even gone?”
Stan bent down and gave her a quick kiss.
Leatha watched anxiously as Stan strode back out through the office door. She sat silent for a moment staring into space, trying desperately to force back her fears.
Gathering her composure, she shook her head and bent back to her work. In front of her was the final paperwork of the last of her mentoring students.
I guess I better check about a new one. At least it’ll give me something to do.
She was struck with a sudden thought. Turning to the computer beside her, Leatha switched it on and waited for it to run through its usual self-diagnostics. When the screen finally signaled that the machine was ready, Leatha logged on to the interplanetary comm system. A couple of minutes later, she was connected to an old fri
end on Mica.
HELLO LEATHA, the screen displayed. TO WHAT DO I OWE THIS VISIT?
I’VE GOT A PROBLEM, ERT, she typed. STAN IS GOING OUT ON A DANGEROUS ASSIGNMENT AND I’M AFRAID OF SOMETHING HAPPENING TO HIM.
HE’S GOING OUT TO LOOK FOR DELMAR, ISN’T HE?
Leatha was surprised that Ert already knew about the attack on the Axia mothership. As if he’d read her mind, Ert continued.
MY FRIEND MARY SHOWED ME HOW TO TAP INTO THE LONG-DISTANT COMM SYSTEM THE SERVICE USES, Ert entered. I RECEIVED THE FIRST REPORTS OF THE DISASTER AS THEY WERE BEING SENT TO SHALIMAR. I SAW THE MESSAGE HE SENT TO YOU AND STAN. CHANCES ARE HE WAS ON THAT MOTHERSHIP.
HAVE YOU HEARD ANY REPORTS OF SURVIVORS YET? Leatha typed.
NO, I HAVEN’T, Ert replied. THEY’RE STILL PLOTTING THE DEBRIS FIELD AND COLLECTING THE REMAINS OF THE DEAD. DELMAR’S NAME HASN’T APPEARED AMONG THOSE THAT THEY’VE IDENTIFIED.
Leatha breathed a sigh of relief.
HOWEVER, ONE OF THE SHIPS HAS RETRIEVED PART OF THE HULL PLATE FROM THE CABBAGE PATCH.
Leatha cried out involuntarily.
COULD IT HAVE BEEN FROM ANOTHER PATROLLER? she typed anxiously.
DEFINITELY NOT, Ert replied. IT HAD THE NAME CABBAGE PATCH PAINTED ON IT. INDICATIONS ARE THAT IT WAS EITHER TORN OR BLOWN OFF BY SOME SORT OF EXPLOSION.
Leatha sat there reading the last message. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and splashed onto the keyboard.
ARE YOU STILL THERE, LEATHA?
YES, I’M HERE, Leatha replied slowly. I’M STILL IN SHOCK TO THINK THAT DELMAR IS DEAD.
THE THOUGHT ALSO GRIEVES ME, Ert agreed. DELMAR WAS A GOOD FRIEND, AND I WILL MISS HIM.
As Leatha signed off she pondered whether or not to tell Stan. The thought of crushing the thin hope he’d expressed was more than she could bear.
Chapter Seven
Melissa was a little too preoccupied to think about working on her computer. She and her parents were sitting in the office of the attorney Clay Boren had retained. Having been suspended after the last incident at school allowed Melissa to accompany her parents on this visit.
The two hours she’d spent being grilled by the School Administrator had been more interesting than she’d first feared. Right from the beginning, the literature teacher and the Administrator accused her of a list of school infractions, including cheating on the book report. The vehemence which the two exhibited was extremely intense, and the hostility with which the teacher berated her set Melissa back at first.
It took considerable effort to keep from lashing back or trying to flee from the office. In short order, Melissa determined that they really didn’t have any substantive issues against her, except that she wasn’t conforming to the low standards to which all students were expected to adhere.
Although she hadn’t done anything wrong concerning the book report, the teacher seemed to have been looking for some reason to haul her to the office. When they finally allowed her to see the book report itself, Melissa noted that she’d only been marked down for grammatical problems, not content. There had even been several positive comments scribbled in the margins about the innovative way she’d interpreted her sources. After allowing her a moment to scan the report, the teacher pulled it out of her hands and gave it back to the School Administrator. In hindsight, she realized that it had been put in the Administrator’s drawer rather than with the other papers on his desk.
Melissa found that she was not surprised the literature teacher knew about the false accusations against her in relation to the electronics lab. What did surprise her was the attempt by the School Administrator to use those fabrications to turn the book report into some sort of criminal act. When the teacher and the Administrator had failed to browbeat her into a fallacious confession, they had given up and sent her home with a suspension and a large stack of legal paperwork.
It didn’t surprise Clay and Beverly Boren when Melissa arrived home with the suspension and another stack of legal demands. They spread all of the paperwork out on the kitchen table and read each one. Clay noted that all were copies, the originals apparently in the custody of an attorney he was not familiar with. He knew the name of the district’s legal representative, but this lawyer was totally unknown to him.
There was also a letter accusing Melissa of total plagiarism of the book report, although the original document or even a copy of it was suspiciously missing. Again, there were references to the demands for restitution for Mr. Augur’s injuries and the electronics lab. Another letter was included from the counselor relating to other supposed incidents when Melissa had been disruptive to the learning environment.
Neither Melissa nor her parents had ever heard of any of these situations. Beverly suspected the documents had been back-dated to build a case against her daughter. Melissa was shocked that there was also an absentee report against her for the electronics class and the study hall. The fact that she’d been removed from electronics by the Administrator himself and later prevented from going to study hall by the literature teacher seemed to have been conveniently forgotten.
The next day they were sitting in overstuffed furniture in the book-lined office of the attorney Clay had petitioned to help. The room seemed oppressively quiet to Melissa as the lawyer read through the papers sent home with the teenager. He finished the last page and frowned, laying the small stack down on his desk. Melissa and her parents waited apprehensively.
“They sure like to go for the jugular, don’t they?” the attorney finally asked. He pushed his reading glasses up off his nose and smiled at the Borens.
“So what do you think?” Clay asked.
“First, I need to ask Melissa a question or two,” the attorney replied, nodding toward the girl. Melissa sat up a little straighter.
“Do you have the book report in question?” the attorney asked. “I noticed that it’s not with these papers.”
“No sir, I don’t,” Melissa replied. “But I saw it when I was in the Administrator’s office, then they took it back. I still don’t see what all the problem was about it. It had a good grade on it and several positive comments about how well it was written.”
“I suspect the problem isn’t your book report,” the attorney conjectured. “In fact, its absence would support my suspicion that it was used as an excuse.”
“I can print off another copy from my computer,” Melissa offered hopefully.
“I’m afraid that won’t do,” the attorney answered. “I need the original to prove anything. Now, can you tell me your version of what happened in the electronics lab?”
Melissa sighed. She was getting so tired of telling this same story over and over. She ran quickly through the whole incident, including what happened afterwards in the school office. The attorney questioned her, particularly concerning her circuit modifications and the changes Mr. Augur forced her to make. He also took notes concentrating on the forceful way that Mr. Augur had thrown her away from the bench.
“And you say he escorted you down to the office himself?” the attorney asked.
“That’s right,” Melissa answered. “He marched me down there pretty fast.”
“He didn’t limp or anything?”
“No sir,” she said, picking up on what the attorney was looking for. “When we got to the office, he took a towel and wiped the soot from his face. There weren’t any burns on his face or hands, and even his eyebrows were intact.”
The attorney wrote quickly and smiled.
“Which hand did he use to escort you up with?”
“His left,” Melissa answered positively. “Why?”
“Because in the medical report, it’s claimed that his left hand was severely burned and he may lose use of it,” the attorney said with a mischievous smile.
“I already have your father’s report detailing what you discovered when you called the hospitals,” he continued. “But I need to hear it from you directly.”
Melissa sighed again and launched into a detailed descripti
on of her work on her computer. He made notes as she spoke.
“Now, can you please give me your side of all these letters and reports against you?”
The Borens all looked at each other and Beverly decided to go first. Fortunately, she’d managed to find a number of excellent progress reports the school had sent home that covered the same time as the backdated letters. In several cases, the progress reports and bogus letters were dated the same day and signed by the same counselor.
The attorney methodically made notes on everything as he built his case. Although it was interesting to see how the attorney was weaving it all together, Melissa was finding that this afternoon was going to be longer than she’d expected.
∞∞∞
Stan was not in a good mood when he arrived at his new assignment. The trip out had been with a rather grouchy scout ship pilot who didn’t like himself, or anyone else for that matter. Although Stan tried to be cordial while a guest on the small ship, his efforts had been in vain. Finally, in self-defense, he’d stayed in his cabin and reviewed the early reports of the investigation.
What he found wasn’t heartening. Apparently, the mothership had been jumped shortly after ordering in all of its picket and scout ships. The mothership’s commander apparently thought there was nothing to fear in this empty sector of space. No one would ever know for sure the reason behind his fatal mistake. There were no survivors.
Finally, they arrived at his assigned ship and Stan waited patiently while the scout ship docked and the passage between the two locks was established. Passing through the tube into the cruiser, Stan breathed a sigh of relief to be free of his unpleasant host.
A Trooper-Second assigned a bunk to Stan in a two-man cabin where he dropped off his gear. Consulting a ship map, Stan made his way to the duty office to report to the duty officer. A Sub-Lieutenant directed him to a side cabin where the duty officer was working.
Stan saluted and offered the officer his papers. The older man, a major, waved Stan to a chair and opened the envelope.
