Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7

by Vanessa Ravencroft

Webb could not nod his head, so he declined his upper torso to imitate that human gesture. “Yes, the inquest into his death is still going on.” The Ult made a sweeping gesture over the midshipmen. “These are his teammates and friends. We are just talking about Eric.”

  The Shiss captain motioned to the Klack and said, “This is my XO Lt. Commander Xt’nartoo and I am Captain Zezz. We are friends of Eric, and we are here to pay our respects.”

  Not long after that, another Ult, also wearing Captain’s gold, followed by Olia and Limbur, joined the growing group. “I am Captain Wenn, of the Avalon and these are one of my finest crew members and the best midshipmen I ever had the privilege to have aboard my ship. They have been friends to the deceased, and I am here to ask if they could remain until the ceremony is over?”

  Everyone started talking about how they met Eric and what he did. When Har-Hi told how Eric busted a chair over his back thinking he was an intruder, there were the first giggles and Zezz made a hissing sound as he started to laugh. “Yes, that sure is the Eric I remember. He saved my life and that of my brother in an incredible display of courage and fighting skills, and I wish I could tell you about it, but I was there when he earned his Medal of Honor.”

  A new voice said with an amused tone, “This is how he should be remembered, with laughter and tall tales.”

  Everyone turned; Admiral Stahl was there. No one had really noticed him coming and with him was Captain Harris. “I have lost many individuals. Some in battle and some to time, as it is the curse of an immortal, but I truly feel the loss of this remarkable young man, who in a short time impacted so many lives and made such a deep impression on all those he met.”

  There was nodding and agreeing expressions. Admiral Webb updated the Immortal and concluded, “It may matter little in the great scheme of things, but I would really like to know what really happened. I did not agree on what form that final challenge took in the first place; these are Navy cadets and not Marines.”

  The Immortal’s expression was stoic, but his eyes did show regret and even sorrow. “General Lichfangh came with me, and she has already begun her investigation. She will be here shortly, and if anyone can get the truth and find out what really happened, it will be her.” He sat down, and so did the captain of the Devastator. Har-Hi got up, took the Reagan Trophy, and handed it to Harris. “Sir, we know Eric wanted you to have this one.”

  Harris took the bowl and said with a dry voice, “You all made me very proud.”

  A black-robed being, completely shrouded, came over from the IST bank and saluted, looking at Stahl. “Midshipman Narth reporting as requested, Sir.”

  The Immortal made a sad face. “I am sorry Midshipman Narth, I completely forgot about you.” Then he looked to Har-Hi and the others and said, “This is Midshipman Narth; he was supposed to join your group. He, too, was a friend of Eric.”

  Mao got up and went to the newcomer, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, “Eric told us often about you, and we know he considered you something like a brother. Come sit with us; we are talking about Eric.”

  Elfi sniffed and said, “Narth, do you want to know how he died?”

  The voice of the mysterious being had cold, emotionless character, and it was as if there was a slight echo when he spoke. “One wishes to know the identity of the being that ceased to live before one wants to know how this being died.”

  Elfi actually felt a little afraid of the mysterious Narth, but she came closer nevertheless. “There is no easy way to say it, Narth, but Eric is dead.”

  “One was under the assumption this gathering was to discuss his rescue. One can assure you, Eric is not dead.”

  Shaka said with thinly veiled anger in his voice, “Denial does not bring him back, and he is not a supernatural Narth that cannot die. We saw him burn up!”

  “I must apologize if one caused anger; however, this Narth is an all-natural Narth. I do know about the existence of a supernatural Narth. Perhaps your definition of nature is not the same as the definition Narth understands.”

  Wetmouth touched Shaka. “Don’t be mad at him. Eric loved this Narth deeply, and everyone grieves differently.”

  The shrouded being was silent for a moment and then said, “I have not interacted with humans and other beings like I did with Eric for many months. I do not understand many of the emotions and feelings that motivate you, but I assure you, Narth can die, as I almost did if Eric had not risked losing his life to save mine.”

  Olia and Limbur nodded at the same time. “That is true; we were there when it happened. We thought you were dead!”

  “I was very close to this state of non-existence, and the reason for my long absence was that my physical body had to be reconstructed so my Huhgavh could reincarnate. Eric and Narth shared the Huhgavh, and for this reason, there is a bond between Eric and Narth that is not easily explained, as it is beyond what you define as Psionics, but I assure you Eric is not dead. He is alive!”

  A stun grenade could not have had a greater effect on the group. It was the immortal admiral who first found words. “I saw Narth do things I believed impossible. If he is not dead, then where is he? Can he be saved?”

  “That I do not know. Eric is well-shielded against psionics even for Narth, and he has not learned yet how to control his abilities. I do know that he is quite far from here and he is fighting for his life and in great danger.”

  Har-Hi slammed his fist on the low coffee table, making the Reagan Trophy jump. “If he is alive then who died in that suit and how did he get to wherever he is?”

  Alyica Lichfangh, the commandant of the feared PSI Corps, arrived, stepping into the room through a glowing portal of red light that disappeared as fast as it had flashed into existence. While most of those present still marveled at her method of arrival, she said to Stahl, “I am done, Richard. I know what happened.”

  The Immortal got up. “Then let us go in there and end this, and then we go to find Eric.”

  He went to the conference room door and made a motion with his hand. “I meant all of us; you deserve answers just as I do.”

  The inquest into the death of Eric Olafson was chaired by Dent, of course, as it was his Academy. He lorded over the proceedings and enjoyed the attention and the fact that he had accomplished what his associates wanted.

  The other officers present were commandants of other Academy branches and his inner staff. If it were left to him, the procedure would have been over; the incident declared an unforeseeable accident and everything would be back to business. Most of the other commandants even agreed with him; for them, it was just an accident. The evidence provided was good, the eyewitness accounts solid, the Poly Analyzer well-rigged, and even McElligott with all his detailed questions appeared ready to call the verdict, but it was Admiral Webb who stalled the proceedings, had the evidence reanalyzed and personally questioned every witness, and had even asked for a recess.

  Dent had enough, leaned forward, and said, “I don’t see any reason to prolong these proceedings any longer. My esteemed colleague of Arsenal Academy seems to have different ideas about what a short recess is. We agreed on twenty minutes, and he is gone now for almost an hour. This is still my Academy, and I call for a resolution. We all agree it was an accident and by God’s name, it was just a cadet. We’ve all had men die under our commands before.”

  He saw most of them nodding or agreeing. McElligott glanced to the door, probably waiting for Webb to reappear.

  And the door did slide open; Admiral Stahl walked in. Dent did not expect the old warrior to be here before the verdict was made. Somewhere deep inside him, fear started to grow. He had little respect for McElligott, who he considered an old fool, but the man who had just walked in was a different story. He’d never met Stahl in person before. The man they often called the Eternal Soldier brought an aura into the room that was not explainable, but almost touchable.

  Other beings followed Stahl into the room. He recognized Webb, of course, and he smirked as he saw Har
ris. The woman in the black catsuit and the long silver hair—he knew he should know who she was, but he could not remember at the moment.

  “Even though it is an honor to greet you, Admiral Stahl, this is an orderly proceeding and we are about to come to a verdict. I will gladly give you a briefing afterward.” He then pointed his gavel at the cadets. “You need to leave; this is a closed hearing.”

  Stahl crossed his arms. “General Lichfangh here has conducted her own investigation, and she is going to enlighten us all, and these proceedings are far from over.”

  All blood left Dent’s face and a cold fist clenched around his stomach. General Lichfangh—he should have recognized her right away. There was a rumor that no one could lie in her presence, and everyone knew she was among the most potent Telepaths known.

  Commander Decker actually got up before anyone else could say anything, “I’d like to confess—”

  Stahl’s voice had a razor-sharp edge, “Sit down, traitor. It is far too late for that!”

  Alyica said, “Eric Olafson is not dead. He was abducted. All you saw burn up was a rigged, remote-controlled Quasimodo, and the charred biomatter you found was manufactured bio-tissue with Olafson’s DNA. The lab technician manufacturing the evidence has confessed.”

  Dent’s hand slowly disappeared underneath the desk. All his plans, all his future had ended, and he knew it.

  The Psi Corps General continued, “While you all saw the accident and the sabotaged suit explode, Eric was stuffed in a message capsule and sent on his way out of the system at the same time the Orbital Assault began. No one noticed because the officer on the ship’s sensors was an accomplice to Commander Becker. Eric was collected by Lt. Zyzahan at the outmost orbit; Zyzahan, also an instructor at this Academy and part of the criminal conspiracy that is the dark secret of this so called Elite School.”

  Wetmouth could not stop herself and said, “Where is he? Where is Eric?”

  The Psi Corps General who had faced the petrified audience of Academy commanders and officers said, “No one here knows. The destination was only known to Lt. Zyzahan.”

  Dent hissed, “He will suffer for what he has done to the Worm! He will be sold to the Togar for flesh food!”

  Alyica said with a warning tone, “He is under the influence of a very strong Hypno implant.”

  The PDD projected a field screen into the middle of the room, and a purple-clad being appeared. It had the basic proportions of a human being, but its head was that of a faceless worm, segmented, and with an ugly ring mouth. “I am the Purple Worm, and my plan has succeeded. You are all here. Admiral Stahl, Admiral McElligott, the famous Alyica Lichfangh, and a host of high-ranking officers. With one single strike, I am going to accomplish what no one has ever dreamed of doing. I am going to kill you all! Don’t try to flee or leave. You have one chance and one chance only. You are to order Centron of the Devastator to accept Dent as its commanding officer. You are immortals and old enough to know that I am not bluffing.”

  The projection paused for a heartbeat and continued, “I have the means to kill you all in an instant and you, Mr. Stahl, will give Centron the Natrahee Command. I know this is the same command that made this alien ship your ship so long ago.”

  Again, there was a minute break as the projection of the creepy alien seemed to gloat. “This old Celtest sequence code overwrites all others and will make it Dent’s ship and opens all the legendary X decks filled with working Celtest weapons and technology. You’ve got ten minutes to think about it.”

  The field screen went dark.

  Interlude II

  The being in the purple suit leaned back. He’d known he had to act when Dent told him that the Admiral of the Fleet himself would show, and the Devastator was on her way as well. There was a chance that both Immortals would be on the same planet, feeling safe with their ships in orbit, on a Union fleet installation. A planet, however, he controlled through Dent and his other minions. Setting up the trap was easy; Dent was an admiral and had free access to any weapon, including the 1000 kilo AM Bomb he had them place in the basement of the administration building.

  The Worm had crawled for almost as long as the Union had existed, through every crack and hole in its shiny armor and burrowed deep, finding information and learning secrets.

  What would the eternal soldier say if he ever found out who the Purple Worm really was? The being chuckled silently at that, since it would never happen. Stahl would never use the Celtest command code, so they all had to die.

  Eric

  I had reached the end of the landing field and stood before a wall at least twenty meters high, made of the same reddish colored Duro-Crete material as the crumbling landing field.

  The wall had cracks as well but none big enough to look through. I could no longer hold it and relieved myself against that wall. In all my misery and my hopeless situation, I found true bliss in taking care of this most simple of all needs.

  After walking a short distance along the wall, I found a large sewer pipe and crawled in.

  Not a moment too soon, as I found. Two beings in hover suits flew by at a slow pace. I heard one say, “I don’t think he could have gotten this far. Let’s go the other way. I bet the Union boy went south toward the water.”

  His companion agreed, and both zipped into the other direction.

  Something with tentacles, milky white and oozing with slime, crawled from the back of the pipe. It took several blasts to make it stop.

  I waited until the sun set. Neither of the flying men had come back.

  I sneaked back, hoping the drive section of the courier ship was not completely destroyed, and maybe I could lift off into space using Arti-Grav, and the ship had communication equipment —something I could call for help with and find out who in Odin’s name I was.

  As careful as I had left, I went back. Crouching behind a piece of torn landing gear, I peeked between ripped hydraulic hoses to see what was going on.

  The Nul landing tank was destroyed, its front section completely turned to slack and still glowing cherry red. The fire that had been burning inside was out and whatever powered the tank had not exploded, at least not yet.

  The first flyer hit by the tank’s blast no longer smoked or burned either, and I saw the bodies of two of the armor-wearing individuals who had come to get me. A shallow crater was all that was left of the third. The crew of the second flyer—I counted five—stood at the boarding ramp of the Kartanian Jihhif, one of them arguing with someone inside I could not see, while the others had their weapons aimed at a group of about twenty ragged-looking beings, humans and non-humans, most of them belonging to species I did not know. Everyone in that larger group was armed and wore some kind of armor. None looked new or complete, and the weapons ranged from blasters to clubs and knives.

  The night wind brought some cooler air and carried some of the heated debate over into my direction. I could not hear every word, and the language they used was Freezone-squawk, a mixture of Union standard, Kermac Rhodom, Shiss Hiz and a dozen other sources that developed into the trade and trans-culture language of Free Space.

  Freezone-Squawk was part of the Lingu packages uploaded into my brain at the Academy during the first year, but it appeared they used a version of it, a local dialect, and I could not get it all. Despite my difficulty to understand what they were saying, I had no problem understanding what it was about.

  The larger group was some sort of scavenger gang, claiming the ship as theirs, and the crew of the second flyer was much better armed. Their battle armors looked factory-new and certainly had shield capability. They argued that it was unhealthy to interrupt their business.

  I was certain that violence would follow soon in one way or the other, and I was actually surprised they talked first. From what I’d learned of this stinking, dirty place so far was that shooting came first.

  This, however, reduced my prospects to take possession of the Kartanian courier considerably or to say it plainly—this idea of mine w
as a dead end, and I was screwed like a Fangsnapper diving for Tyranno eggs and finding the mother instead.

  No one, however, cared about the first damaged flyer. Maybe not everything was destroyed inside, and there was something I could use to improve my situation. I was close enough and could make it there unseen. It was a Union manufacture, a Daihatsu-Enroe armored glider and, from the looks of it, a recent model. Now, on closer inspection, it looked as if the flyer did have shields active while it was hit and the armor also deflected some of the blast energy. The damage was less than it appeared at first, but the thing would not fly without major repair work. The left Arti-Grav was completely gone, and the thrust turbine was a twisted molten mess. I poked my blaster into the open rear hatch first and then looked. A dead human was still sitting in the driver’s seat; the sudden impact had broken his neck. A small palm-sized flat box with the logo of the First Union Bank caught my eye. I put it in my pocket and was elated as I took the weapon off the dead man. It was the finest Terran weapon tech, a genuine H&K Raketen Gewehr and he even had two spare magazines with him.

  His boots looked like real Union manufacture, Terran All-Terrains. I took them off the dead man’s feet. Like all good Union shoes and boots, they were Auto-Dresser enabled and thus vari-sized.

  My naked feet were dirtier than the socks of Egill when I first saw him, and my soles were bleeding from at least a dozen cuts, thankfully small ones. It was a Union flier, and so it didn’t take me long to find the first aid kit and clean and treat my wounds as fast and as good as I could. The possibility that someone remembered this flyer and would check it out was only a matter of time.

  With a thankful sigh, I slipped into the boots, ripped the size adjuster open and waited for the faint hissing sound that signaled the re-sizing was complete to end. I closed the seams of the re-adjuster and gave the dead man a thankful pat on the shoulder. It was not, perhaps, the nicest thing to steal from the dead, but he was part of a crew that was involved in my abduction. Thinking about that made me wish he was alive so I could kill him.