by Jim Rudnick
He waited only a few more minutes, and then across all three of the lower view-screen panes, Team Memories ships suddenly appeared. In sync, each of them began to surround the reaper ships. The DN Nelson, a Duchy d’Avigdor ship, launched missiles first, and they quickly impacted the reaper ship at that location, and down she went.
Tanner knew each of the reaper ships was AI controlled and so no life was lost, and with the Nelson targeting the engines only, the reaper ship would be able to report o the mother ship that she was down.
“Now things get interesting,” he said to himself.
As he watched, in the left-hand lower pane, the CN Roc from the Caliphate chose to use its plasma cannon, and one single shot impacted the reaper ship at that location, and it went down in flames, most likely, Tanner thought, unable to send a distress call to the mother ship, but then he really had no proof of that.
When he looked at the center pane, it showed another of the Team Memories ships, the RN Fallster, a Randi cruiser, as she too punched holes in the reaper ship at yet another mining center in the south, and it went down in a crash, narrowly missing the railway center nearby.
As Tanner watched, he said, “next” to his XO, and the screen now expanded on the mother ship itself.
And not a single noticeable change happened, but as more drones were reporting in, the invader ship appeared to have—
“Sir, Ansible reports that yes, there’s been a total recall—at least that’s what it appears the mother ship just did,” Lieutenant Irving reported.
We got one of the ocean reapers and three of their mining reapers. Game time, he thought, and he watched carefully both the view-screen of that ignored mining reaper ship that was lifting off from beside the rail yard where she’d lain for a couple of days and his CWO too.
On the side of the bridge where the temporary seating was, Chief Warrant Officer Hartford sat at a newly placed console as he controlled that reaper ship for the Team Memories group.
She was, of course, the Roma refugees’ ship—the Scavenger—exactly the same as the current reaper ships. She was not from this mother ship, but they counted—Tanner counted more than anyone—that she would be seen as being one of them nonetheless.
The Scavenger, now powered up and under AI control from CWO Hartford, moved in a straight line toward the pole, acting like the rest of the reaper ships. They all were recalled, as the various drones reported from across KappaD, and they all went north to the pole.
As the Scavenger grew closer, Hartford was able to see that of the nine remaining reaper ships, they were all slowly moving to form a line, one by one, it appeared, to enter their mother ship.
He goosed the acceleration a bit for the Scavenger so that she would not be last, and he aimed at fitting her into that newly forming line about halfway back.
“Lieutenant, nothing on the Ansible?” Tanner asked wondering if the mother ship would call the Scavenger to try to test for her validity or whatever such aliens might use for that kind of verifications.
“Totally quiet, Sir,” Lieutenant Irving replied, “not a peep.”
The bridge was quiet as the lineup of recalled reaper ships slowly formed to continue to race to the mother ship.
“If the invaders want to retaliate, as soon as they’ve gathered up those minion ships, would be my guess, Sir,” the XO said and hit the battle imminent buttons on his tactical console.
As the first of those reapers ships got close, the pink force fields dropped, the huge cargo doors to their landing bays opened, and the first ship entered. Then the next and the next.
As the Atlas bridge team watched, the Scavenger was soon the next in line, and she flew in, slowing at the cargo doors like the rest of them had.
“Sir,” CWO Hartford said, “ship’s AI is trying to take over, but that equipment was all removed by the Roma refugees years ago—I’m going to lose any chance in a few seconds—”
“Engage STAT,” Tanner said.
The rear of the Scavenger could still be seen at the edge of the open landing bay, and suddenly the screen dulled to two percent visual as the nukes went off.
Protected by the AI on the Atlas, yet still able to see, the Scavenger, which had been turned into a huge bomb in its own right, blew and blew enormously. With that kind of nuclear explosion only miles away, all of the Team Memories ships were well protected by their own force fields, yet outside above the pole itself, the blast wave of the explosion instantly melted the ice cap for almost three hundred miles. Huge up-swellings of seawater rose, but they fell back almost immediately.
The Scavenger bomb had been specially developed by the Atlas techies, under the guidance of Hartford, to have the most in the blast category and much less in the thermal radiation, but the shockwaves over the ice cap could not be mitigated as well.
The environment was one thing—but the mother ship that was the target, and after only a few seconds, as the view-screen came back up to full visuals, they saw the damage had been extensive.
One-half, or nearly that, of the ship was simply missing; the ship listed to starboard, and not a single pink force field could be seen anywhere. There was a sputtering of some kind of fuel or propellant that was jetting out of the port side of the ship, and not a single light or array appeared to have any power at all.
“Ansible?” Tanner asked.
“Not registering at all, Sir,” Lieutenant Irving replied.
“Helm, any power at all over there?” he asked.
“Sir, there is some small life-support power cells—but in fact, she’s in bad shape, Sir. No engines. No auxiliaries—nothing that I can detect at all, Sir,” Lieutenant Cooper replied.
“Science—do you have anything, Karl?” Tanner asked.
“Not a single item is still up and live, Sir. We caught them with their pants down, Sir,” Sheldon said, and he said that proudly.
“XO, anything at all, i.e., do you see anything in the temporary generator class or rebuilds happening?
“Same as everyone else sees, Sir. Nothing. They’re still in shock from the nuke, Sir—she’s dead in the water, Sir,” the XO said, and for the most part, he was right.
“Incoming from the admiral,” said Lieutenant Irving.
Tanner nodded and said, “On screen will be fine.”
Admiral McQueen's face lit up the bridge, and he had a broad smile on his face.
“Captain Scott—ably done, lad. We appear to be back in control of KappaD,” he said, and his attention was suddenly called away for a second by someone off camera.
The Admiral nodded and said, “Send it” to someone behind him and then turned back to face his console.
“We will send over a brigade of marines, maybe more than a brigade in fact, along with some of those bureaucrats we had to take along. Seems the RIM Council wants to talk, now that we have these alien’s attention. Yes, I know—I’d just as soon put a couple more nukes into them and let the sea claim this kind of invader, but the choice is not mine.”
He looked at them all.
“Job well done for each of the members of our Team Memories. Please hold positions and await new orders, until then be happy that we won the day. Our medical teams will be reaching out to the aliens—wait, I’m told that they reached out to us already and have asked for aid. Good thing. Captain Scott, I have a personal EYES ONLY for you too—please stand by—oh and there is a shuttle on the way for you now …”
Tanner smiled.
As he watched, he noted that from the Nugent, at least six or seven medical shuttles were leaving to go to the aliens aid. I wonder if the marines shouldn’t have been—no, belay that, he thought as more than a dozen personnel shuttles also left the Nugent to carry those marines over there too.
He stretched and wondered if there would be time for a tea before the EYES ONLY.
On his console, the EYES ONLY appeared as a simple printed document—it was not a live conversation with the admiral at all. He read the short, three-paragraph document once, frowne
d, and then read it again. It read:
“Captain Scott, you have been seconded from the captaincy of the BN Atlas to immediately transfer to Eons and take part in the new Barony Naval Academy facility merge.
“You will report to Rear Admiral Ethan Higgins, who is in charge of this program.
“Once those duties are complete, you will remain on Eons at the navy academy as an adjunct professor for the first semester of their academic year.”
It was signed by the Baroness herself. It was dated just a couple of days ago. It said “immediate” which meant now. Today in fact.
He looked up and saw his XO standing in front of him, holding a hard copy of something.
“Sir—I just got this—but there’s like some kind of mistake, right?”
Tanner glanced at the XO’s orders—he’d just been appointed as the new captain of the Atlas, effective immediately.
He really didn’t know what to say, but he handed back the orders to his XO—rather to his new captain—and he stood and moved out of the way.
He gestured to the now empty captain’s chair, and Kondo just shook his head.
Tanner nodded and then turned to the bridge crew.
“New orders. Lieutenant Lazaro, the XO, has just been made the new captain of the Atlas. I am now to go to Eons for work with the new naval academy. Signed by the Baroness and effective immediately,” he said in a straightforward tone.
He smiled at the crew as many suddenly looked at him with troubled eyes.
“Don’t worry, if you know navy life, we’ll all be together again soon. ‘Til then, I expect that you all will honor your new captain and give him your best,” he said, and he picked up his empty teacup and cleared off the few personal items he kept on his captain’s console.
Dumping same in the bin at the tea station, he went back to stand in front of the new captain on the Atlas.
“Captain—I know you’ll do well, Sir. Remember what you’ve learned and always ask for counsel would be my own best advice, Sir,” he said, and he saluted Captain Lazaro.
Kondo returned that salute and shook his head, but Tanner put a hand on his forearm.
“Never mind, Kondo—this is how things work, and you should try to get used to it. And if you’re by Eons in the next, what, year or so, do drop by. Please give my regards to one and all here—Stal especially and Bram too … wonder where he’s gone to?” Tanner said, and then he left the bridge to go up to Deck Four to pack and be ready for the shuttle that was to take him to the Nugent and back to Juno where he’d hitch a ride to Eons, it seemed…
Epilogue ~
He turned over in his huge queen sized bed and wondered what kind of bunk he’d be in tomorrow.
Banished would be the word, he thought.
He’d challenged the Lady St. August and in doing so, had lost the captaincy of the Atlas—with the best crew he’d ever had and was on his way to Eons.
She had done this, he thought. She or she and the Issians—yet he somehow felt that the Master Adept had always liked him.
It had been her plan to make him ally himself with Helena in the first place and help defeat the pirates.
And it had been her choice too, he reasoned, that Bram had been made his—wait.
If this was known and ready to go out as orders just hours ago, then it in all probability came from high up—perhaps as high up as the Master Adept.
And if so, then Bram would have known—and yet he’d said nothing.
He grimaced into his pillow as he tried to fluff up one side and plopped his head down on the un fluffy pillow.
And if the Master Adept had known, and Helena who probably got the whole thing started, and Bram who didn’t say anything to him—if all these were guilty as charged, he was in a mess.
Couldn’t have much to do with his orders. Anyone can supervise and construction, well anyone who like a navy captain is used to a million things that need attention right now. Anyone who handles reports, crew, equipment, suppliers, chandlers, aliens and yes even damn pirates too.
And that anyone is now me.
He rolled over and kicked one bare foot outside the duvet and thought about Helena and how beautiful she had been even when she’d threatened to call in an EliteGuard to kill him.
He did love her—but not the Royal part of her for sure.
He wished he could have found a way—any way to change how things were right now…but it appeared that Eons was in the way and the new Academy being built.
He tossed and turned for more than another hour…and eventually drifted off to sleep…thinking Eons, here I come…
BOOK EIGHT OF THE RIM CONFEDERACY
Eons Semester
Prologue ~
On Tavira, the moon that lay above Eons, in the capital city of Aporia, in a Secure Medical ward, an Issian lay in restraints and sometimes fought them but they were too too tight to give even an millimeter. She was a youngish woman, in her thirties but had long ago given up any kind of care and concern for her look or her body too. Half-conscious and always in a drug-induced stupor, the woman lay quietly on the bed.
Her hair, now tangled and knotted and even missing in some spots along her one temple, should have been blonde but was now brown with dried blood and puss from an open sore. It hadn’t been washed or cleaned in months.
Her toenails, were long as were her fingernails, curled and dull yellow as the keratin was thick and unkempt and if anyone ever got close enough she would try to rake them with those nails. But that was before the dosages were upped and she hadn’t tried that in weeks.
Her teeth were once shiny and white and now were yellow and brittle and even a few were missing; for some reason she would worry a tooth with her tongue and do that long enough and often enough that she would spit out a tooth onto the plain steel ward floor. They fed her via a gastric feeding tube that had been inserted through a small incision in the abdomen into the stomach and was used for long-term enteral nutrition. She hadn’t tasted food in almost a year but she just didn’t care at all.
Her eyes were light blue but such a light tone as to be almost white; each had a huge iris that took up almost the whole of the eyeball—the coal black pupils were large too. Staring at her many had found was treacherous—one could easily fall right into her brain some said. And what a brain it was—she was an Issian twin with all the anxiety that that might mean.
Her gown, if it could be called that, lay on her frame like an old tarpaulin on rough ground. She had the usual female parts but not a single one would be called a curve.
She was anything but attractive—in fact she was anti-attractive to anyone who could see the real woman.
Of course, that never happened up here in the Issian Secure Ward.
No one came.
No one visited.
No one cared.
In fact for a full sixty feet around this ward room, no one was ever allowed to enter, except the medical robo drones that the ward staff used to tend to her. Once a week a real live Issian Doctor attended who read charts and nodded and did nothing.
There was nothing to do—she was a twin.
And now change was coming and as yet, no plans had been made for this twin…
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Dear Reader…
If you've made it this far, you're most likely thinking that this was the best SciFi you've ever read.
Or maybe not.
Maybe Captain Scott wasn't your cup of tea?
Or you hate the Baroness and her scheming ways?
Or does the Caliph look like an upcoming tyrant?
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Jim Rudnick
2016
