Ruined Memories (THE RIM CONFEDERACY Book 7)

by Jim Rudnick

  Tanner nodded but would admit later that he was a bit lost. "So, Chief … how can we capitalize on this?" he asked.

  "Sir, now we know that we can use the anti-grav device to go out into outer space and suspend whatever we want with no power, no technology at all—and no costs either! Think of it, Sir. We can simply put a satellite or a space station into space, use the now two-part anti-grav device, and the chosen unit will sit right there. No movement at all. Not a single thing we know of can move that copper plate. With the right amount of biosensor gel, we can now use the anti-grav device for our own needs. Sir," he said and he smiled.

  Now, Tanner thought, that was interesting. No costs as there would be no power, no engines, no Engineering, no personnel. A station would just hang in space locked into its position—wait there's a catch.

  "Chief, are we sure about the ability to position and orient the copper plates so that they would not move at all?"

  The chief nodded. "Sir, yes, we've been working on that for a fortnight, and I'm soon going to be able to make that report to you, EYES ONLY, but yes, we feel confident that we can provide those needed factors as well."

  He smiled and then took a big bite of the rib in front of him, and Tanner noted his twin thumbs on each hand made holding these slippery ribs a much easier job. Hartford was a Tarvos native with big ears and six digits on each hand; they had made a name for themselves in IT and tech and their planet was a full member of the Barony realm as well. Solid thinkers too, Tanner thought, and he congratulated himself in picking out this crewman and making him the point man on the anti-grav program.

  "Excellent work, Chief. I like the imagination that you've showed as well, of course, as the resulting new ideas for the anti-grav device. Please do keep this private, but yes, I can see it being a whole new application that the Barony will once again be successful at. Kudos, Chief." He smiled widely at his crewman.

  Lunch took only a few more minutes, and as he left the labs, his mind now turned to this afternoon’s bombing runs.

  Back on the bridge, he called on his XO for updates, noted there were now twenty-one flashing icons on his monitor, and sighed.

  "Sir," the XO said, "you can ignore most of those. They're simple Wing squad 'good to go' messages from the group leaders all forwarded to you by Colonel Richards, who has left the bridge as he too will take part in the runs today.

  “The Nugent is also fully aware of what is expected by us for the sorties today, and that's probably also on your screen.

  “As well, we got word today—pardon while I paraphrase this—that the KappaD official request to annex Memories has been granted by the full RIM Confederacy Council as of a week ago. So they are the realm into which the planet falls. So you will probably also find an EYES ONLY to you from the gerent or one of his minions that they wish the planet—how did they put it—cleared of any foreign presence or technology soonest. Which would be today, Sir. So we're good to go on the mission," he finished with a small smile.

  Everyone on the bridge smiled Tanner noted from the tea station as he chose a Bolay tea, its color dark and post-fermented to ripen its flavor. Two creams and now two sugars. He smiled as he stirred slowly.

  "XO, thanks for the update, I take it that we're good then for the mission to start at fourteen hundred hours as planned?" he asked as he cautiously walked back to his captain’s console, the too full plas-glas almost slopping over the sides.

  "Sir, yes, Sir. All you need do is give the okay and code, and we'll be destroying those foundries lickety-split!" the XO said in return.

  Tanner passed away the next hour and a bit reading the now twenty-three messages, and the lit icons slowly went down to none. Everything was as it was recapped for him by his XO, and now in five minutes, the runs would begin.

  He looked at his helm officer. "Lieutenant Cooper, can I ask please that you get us a split screen for the mission today? Let's put up one overall audit ship from above so that we can see some of the foundries as they are hit—and then split it with Colonel Richards’ cockpit screen too? We can keep track that way—oh, and do let the colonel know we're tagging along too, will you?"

  That got an immediate reply of wilco from the helm, and moments later, the screen split in three separate areas.

  One was the left-hand sidebar that had stats of the total number of terraformer foundries and all of their locations. The middle third had a high position streaming shot of the jungle below it with the telltale lines of burned foundry paths showing the locations of some of same. The third part of the screen on the right-hand side showed the cockpit window of one of the Atlas fighters. It was Colonel Richards’ own craft as his cockpit display read that out as well as his vitals, the fighters’ vitals too like armament numbers, laser and missile numbers, and a myriad of other items too small to even see. On the cockpit display on the left-hand side was a big countdown clock that showed 1:22, 1:21, 1:20 as it counted down to the launch of the mission.

  A minute and a bit more, and suddenly the right-hand side of the huge Atlas view-screen dove toward the jungle far below. The colonel had waited until only seconds were left, and as the clock buzzed its alarm in both his fighter and the forty other fighters all across the planet, his craft dove down to level off on a burned trail of one of the foundries.

  At Mach 1, it took only moments for the fighter to be seen suddenly rising up and out of the jungle ahead with the shape of the terraforming foundry drawing closer. At that instant, the colonel must have hit his fire controls as two missiles zoomed ahead of his craft, which now angled up and out of the upcoming debris field. As his ship moved up, there was an enormous flash of light and a shockwave that was not so bad as the craft dipped and fluttered for only a second, and then the colonel pulled her into a hard to port turn. At this speed, it took only a moment to go back a few miles, and then the cockpit display showed the craft slowed down to three hundred miles per hour, and he followed once again the same burned path of jungle. Ahead, as he came up on the remains of the foundry, were huge flames, as the jungle was ablaze, but what mattered, of course, was the foundry itself.

  It too was burning. One missile had obviously hit it at full rear center and had taken out that whole row of machines and even the power center too. There would be some residual radioactivity, which couldn’t have been avoided, and the colonel’s cockpit sidebar showed that information with the telltale clicking sound.

  The other missile had been aimed only slightly higher to take out the foundry laser and its controls and systems, and that missile too had done its job, as there was nothing left at all above the now ruined main floor.

  As the colonel did one more lap, it was noticed that there were now burning pyres along much of the horizon as other foundries met their ends too.

  On the Atlas view-screen far sidebar, the number of working terraformer foundries had fallen from one hundred and twelve to forty-eight, now forty-three, and the numbers continued to fall. The center display showed the audit ship high above the southern continent, and there were small burning fires at the ends of each of those previously burned paths that the foundries themselves had created.

  In less than fifteen minutes, the counter showed there was none left. Zero foundries were live. All had been bombed out of existence it looked like. At least that's what the AI said, Tanner thought.

  "Helm, please put up a display of the Nugent area? Let's see how Siegel's fliers did," he said, and he tried to keep any kind of value out of his tone.

  Nodding, Lieutenant Cooper took only a moment to show the audit craft over the northern continent where the Nugent had been assigned bombing runs for this mission. What could be seen was about what should have been seen, Tanner thought, as there appeared to be burning jungle and foundries at the end of each and every previously burned foundry pathway.

  "They complied perfectly, correct?" he asked no one in particular.

  The XO responded. "Sir, yes, Sir. They had only two foundries over the fifteen that were powered that they ha
d to search out and find. Those ones for some reason were never powered up, yet they were destroyed as per mission goals too, Sir. They did fine," he added as if that was an important fact to consider.

  "Agreed, XO. Please send our congrats to Captain Siegel of the Nugent forthwith—flower it up a bit, but thank him for his squad's fine shooting today," Tanner said as he finished off that Bolay tea.

  "Call 'em home, XO, and then let’s get back to KappaD. I'm done with Memories for now, at least," he said.

  "I want your reports on this on my console in thirty—oh hell, say, by end of day, so I can assimilate a master report back to the Council and the Barony that yes, we did as we were asked by them—pardon, as we were asked by KappaD in ridding their newly annexed planet of all foreign presence. Nicely worded that, I wonder whose minion crafted that one," he said and the bridge crew chuckled…

  CHAPTER SIX

  In his bunk—rather on his queen-sized bed in his quarters—Tanner rolled yet again one more time to face the bulkhead that was still twenty feet distant. Whatever had prompted the Seenra builders to make the captain's quarters so damn big he'd never understand, but big they surely were. He could have played horseshoes down the middle of his bedroom, and then there was the enormous living room space with three couches, a loveseat, and a full desk and console station too. Then there was his head that had a shower large enough for five and a toilet and a bidet—like he'd ever use that. Still, he supposed as he once more plumped up his pillow to try to get more comfortable, it was a nice perk of being a captain.

  The Atlas had gotten back from Memories just this evening and had landed here on the KappaD spaceport, and he'd been pleased to okay crew shore leave but not for him. He simply had a quick dinner in the officers’ mess and then came back to his quarters for some reading and reflection.

  Something was bugging him. In years gone by, he might have thought it was simply the need for another Scotch, but those days were past.

  His PTSD from his experiences over on Halberd hadn't affected him in months now too.

  It was something else. Something he knew he'd seen or had heard or had read in a report—something was trying to get into his consciousness, and as yet, he had no idea what it might be.

  Recent recap, he thought, as he gathered up two other pillows, stuffed them behind him so he could half-sit, and went back to running over what he'd done and where he'd been in the near past.

  He’d toured the Roma refugee ship. He’d found it odd that they tucked family in the ship’s core and put their livelihood in the outside levels. “Different streets,” he said to himself on that one. Clean ship though and those families had looked happy. Engineering well organized and again the control area was well done even though there were a ton of items and icons he just couldn't recognize.

  He’d then gone to Memories, found after some trials, investigated the planet, and performed a foundry audit too. Not much there really, nothing new, and nothing seemed to speak to him about that task.

  He remembered they had been lucky as the chief came up with a great use of some anti-grav devices and got a dolly rigged up to help gain access to a foundry. Nothing there either, he thought.

  Then, there was a visit to a foundry; anti-grav had been used to gain that access. A complete audit had been performed and as expected, it was older technology but still live and up and running. Nuclear power cube. “New but not that interesting,” he said to himself as he tucked his bare feet under the covers now as he was getting a chill.

  The laser controls and the catwalks below had also been looked at with a full report on what they'd found, odd controls in another language and with lots of flashing icons and such—even that—that was it!

  He sat bolt upright.

  His Science officer had drawn his attention to the foundry master control console in the middle of the central line of equipment. He had said something about there being "icons like that huge fish or whale" and that was what it was.

  He squinted and went back to the visit to the Roma refugee ship, down to their engineering section, and how he himself had noticed the odd icons: boiling kettle, the triple-ringed planet, and something that looked like a huge fish or whale

  Got it.

  There was a similarity between the engineering console in the refugee ship and the master control panel in the foundry.

  Same big fish or whale icon.

  He wondered about the odds that two different races might come up with identical icons for a moment and then threw away that thought.

  The icons were similar—because the two groups were similar.

  Roma society was a nomad model. They went where they wanted, settled where they wanted, and moved on when they wanted. Gallipedia had shown him that.

  But the thing of it was—and others had noticed this too— this group of Roma refugees was scared. Scared of something behind them, perhaps something gaining on them ... maybe they could hear the footsteps—he had no way of knowing.

  But he was also just as sure that the refugee captain would know.

  He moved those extra two pillows back away from his side of the bed and this time lay on his side, propping up his head with one arm under his remaining pillow, and he nodded to himself.

  Captain Daika Rossum was up. And up big time ...

  #####

  Bram noticed it first, but he drew no attention at all to the fact that here on the Scavenger, they had been escorted to a conference room near the bridge and that the doorway was being manned by a couple of crewmen that they had not met. Big crewmen. Armed crewmen, and both Bram and Tanner were unarmed at the moment.

  Tanner, however, had also noticed that, and he called out to one of the crewmen.

  "Crewman? Can you tell us how long ‘til the captain will arrive?" and he said it very politely.

  No answer. Guess visitors were to be watched but not spoken to, Tanner thought, and that got a nod from Bram beside him at the big oval table.

  Moments later, in came Captain Daika Rossum and her chief mate—her husband really, and they sat on the opposite side of the table and smiled a little at their Atlas guests.

  Daika pointed at the sideboard and said, "There are drinks and such there, if you'd like," which received two negative shakes of the head from Bram and Tanner.

  She looked directly at Tanner and began the conversation. "Captain, I was a bit surprised at the formal request you made this morning—early this morning would perhaps be better—to meet with me. Surely, you could have just walked over to the Scavenger and asked at the landing port? Instead, I get an official request, with copies to your Barony, the RIM Navy, the RIM Confederacy Council, and the gerent of KappaD. That was surprising to me, Sir," she said. Her voice was flat, her eyes stared directly into his, and she sat poised and anything but relaxed in her chair.

  He nodded to the Roma captain. "Captain, yes, I had to ask officially, as this is the opening of an internal investigation into your refugee claims—"

  "Claims that we understand have been fully granted, Captain Scott—am I not correct?" she interrupted him quickly.

  "Yes, Captain—so far. But you do realize that at any time, we can simply suspend that refugee status should something come to light that we believe needs further consideration. And something has done just that," he added and rose then to go over and take a bottle of water to sip at.

  He returned to see a quizzical look on her face and he nodded. "Here's what concerns us, Captain. You have entered the RIM Confederacy jurisdiction and have asked for refugee status with us, the Barony. You have stated that this is because you find yourself in need of help and that you are having a difficult time in supporting your families and your societal business too, I understand. Have I captured that this is the essence of what you claim?" he asked softly, taking a small gulp of the water.

  She nodded and her chief mate piped up. "Exactly so, Captain. Is that not totally within the bounds of what the Barony requires?" His face, like hers, was a mask—not a single hint of an
y kind of feelings or emotions or anything past a simple statement of fact.

  Tanner nodded. "Except that this is all bullshit. You are no more interested in refugee status than my Garnuthian dog is—and I don't have such a pet. Here's what we know—you may check these all off in your own mind as items we know are true," he said as he held out one hand.

  Grabbing his forefinger, he began his list. "You are scared—because you are running from something or someone. You have a great little ship, but we take it that it cannot stand up to whomever is on your tail," he said as he grabbed his next finger.

  "You are looking for security—hence, the foray into the Confederacy that you think will put the full military might of our worlds and realms behind you," and he grabbed another finger.

  "You know more—much more than you've told us—so before I suspend your claim, you will have one chance—this one right now, to explain what it is you are up to." As he grabbed his last finger, he picked up the water for another sip.

  Bram seemed to be looking at the captain, then her husband, and then back at the captain like one might follow a tennis match.

  Tanner stared at her eyes and he could see no change at all except for maybe a small contraction of her iris.

  She looked down at her hands that she'd placed on the table and nodded. Once. Slowly. Then once more even more slowly. "My congratulations, Captain Scott—and yes, we'd love to know what might have given us away, but you are correct—to a degree. Let me explain," she said, and she leaned forward in her chair to face him directly.

  "We come—our people that is—from well within the galaxy—inwards as they say over a thousand lights at least. Back that far, down the arm more in an easterly direction than straight towards the galaxy center. We, like millions of other Romas, lived on planets in our systems that gave us what we needed. A home world, ripe with resources and climate and all the things one can ask for, for us and our children."