Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  I hoped she was right; I did not want to be captured and sold for Alvor’s Cove again.

  Chapter 8: Checkpoint 96

  Non-Union ships wanting to do business in Union space would have to stop at one of these checkpoints that dotted the imaginary border between Union and Freespace and get Customs clearance and a transponder code.

  While civilian ships could freely enter Union space, they could only land on Union Worlds with the proper Customs documents. Detected warships of other civilizations would result in a border alert and cause an immediate response from the fleet.

  Checkpoint 96 was a small ice planet with a rock core approximately the size of Sol Systems Pluto. Checkpoint 96, along with five other similar small planets, circled a very old bloated red sun named Herman’s Star that probably swallowed most of the bigger planets as it expanded.

  We had made it. I was back in Union space. The dark gray inhospitable-looking ball we approached looked better to me than subsurface, which was a technically a garden world.

  It appeared our transport got landing permission as it descended fast.

  Now we could see the first details of a sprawling spaceport, vast Duro-Crete, modern-looking sturdy surface buildings. There at the other end, as big as a mountain, shaped like a huge wedge, sitting on enormous ISAH pots, a Union Fleet Battleship. Seeing this beautiful sight and symbol of Union might caused a knot of pride in my throat.

  Octo-bots rolled busily around, and brilliant floodlights bathed everything in cool bluish light, separating the spaceport from the stark darkness of the rest of the planet’s surface. There was an orderly business-like, efficient atmosphere over everything.

  A mechanical arm took our transport like a toy and guided it with machine precision past a forcefield curtain into a passenger-unloading terminal.

  I could barely wait until the doors were open.

  Moments later, we stepped on a spotlessly clean surface and at that moment, as if a weight was lifted off my shoulders, I felt free again.

  Working slide belts, advertisement signs for McDonald’s, Arthur’s Swine and Dine and Fat Eddies Stir Fry made my mouth water. Not far from us a fleet destroyer landed. It was a new Barracuda, and a platoon of Marines stomped in perfect military precision toward the waiting ship, and a feeling of deep pride filled me to the last fiber of my being.

  Never in my life was it clearer to me, that my decision to become a soldier, to join the fleet and defend all this and our way of life against slaver scum, pirates, scheming Kermac and whatever else was out there trying to do us harm was the right one.

  She stood next to me. “It does feel nice to be back home, does it not?”

  I could barely contain my feelings and gave a deep sigh. “I never thought arriving on a little outpost would feel so good. I have to restrain myself not to get on my knees and actually kiss the ground. There were times in the past month I thought I would never return. It makes me realize how fortunate we are to be Union citizens, despite the faults it has.”

  She pointed toward public restrooms. “Before we go through customs, we need to get changed.”

  She didn’t wait for a response but walked briskly to the busy restrooms, deposited a few credits to secure a stall and said to the system, “Human females.”

  She basically pushed me into the roomy stall with her.

  I said, “Can I not have my own stall? I don’t mind being frugal, but I got millions!”

  She giggled. “Silly goose!” Then she pressed her hand against a wall tile and the tile lit up. A voice said, “Deepa Lydaa Gray Car Society of Sar and NAVINT Commandant recognized.”

  The entire floor of the bathroom stall turned into an elevator platform and lowered us fast through a metal shaft and stopped at the entrance of a short corridor. A beautiful Saran woman who reminded me of Elfi, wearing a tight black velvet jumpsuit with only a stylized silver pin in the shape of a human brain on her collar, greeted us. “Welcome back, Admiral Deepa. It is such a rare pleasure to greet you here on this side.”

  “I am glad to be back, Commander Alena, even if it is only for a while. I am bringing a wayward Midshipman who is in need of his uniform and his other belongings.”

  I was still processing what just happened. Not that I was surprised to find that a public restroom was also a secret entrance to a NAVINT post, but that Mother Superior was the Commandant of NAVINT, and carried the rank of an admiral. No wonder Stahl knew and trusted her.

  Speechless, I followed the two women through a sliding door marked NAVINT into a typical Navy-style Union lobby with the same mustard-colored carpet, wood-paneled reception desk, and the NAVINT logo illuminated behind it on the wall. There even was the obligatory pseudo leather seating group with a few magazines and a potted rubber tree in the corner.

  We didn’t stop there and ended up in an office with a large shipping crate sitting on a table and an Auto-Dresser.

  The woman I now knew was the Commandant of NAVINT said, “You’ll find some of your belongings in the crate, and the Auto-Dresser received its uniform assembly program from the Devastator so you should be fine. I’ll meet you in ten minutes in the lobby.” Without waiting for me to say anything, she left, chatting with the Saran PSI Corps officer.

  A few minutes later, I had used the Auto-Dresser and looked at myself in the mirror field. All the female things were gone. No Bioflex mask, but my own face. I was me again, wearing a crisp black uniform with mirror-shine polished boots, the uniform blouse diagonally parted with the white lining forming a triangle across my chest. My ribbon read out on the left and my nametag to the right. On the wide black belt was a low-slung holster with a Union TKU Hellbore Type VI side arm. My leather jacket with the Fighter patch, black gloves, and a black duckbill hat with the Navy logo at its center and white circular top completed the outfit.

  I checked the crate, and to my delight, there was the brown leather holster with my .45, the H&K Missile rifle and the Kermac Line blaster I had found on Sin 4.

  My .45 was back where it belonged, and the TKU sidearm was in an auto draw low-slung hip holster. I felt right as rain, but I could not help but miss being female. That part of my adventure I had to admit to myself I enjoyed very much. However, it was time to be Eric again.

  Out in the lobby, Mother Superior was gone as well. In her place stood a Union Admiral without any insignia that would tell what she was responsible for.

  I saluted and stood at attention. There was an admiral on deck after all, and this time I even felt joy in this simple military protocol routine. “Midshipman Olafson reporting as ordered, ma’am.”

  She smiled and returned the salute. “Seeing you like this makes me realize that you are also a very handsome young man. I guess I won’t be able to call you Soja anymore, but I think we still can forgo the military protocols. I am sure you heard my name, so you can call me Deepa and, as our time together draws to an end, let me say I feel blessed to have met you both, Eric, and whatever you call your female side. I have enjoyed your company, and I hope you can see past the admiral and past the things you know about me, and we can remain friends.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I mean, Deepa. I have no words I can use to express the gratitude I feel for all you have done for me. I am very proud I was allowed to be your Soja, to be Nightshade and to be allowed to call you friend.”

  She stepped closer and simply hugged me. “I’ll keep an eye on your career and you, I promise, and I am certain we will see each other again.”

  I didn’t know if I should return the hug, but I did, and then we stepped apart, and she said, “I will remain here to take care of a few things and then I must soon return to Sin 4. You, however, will take the elevator back up, pass through customs and report to the fleet office. They have standing orders for you.”

  I resurfaced in the passenger terminal with a purposeful swing in my steps, almost tempted to whistle.

  At the checkpoint to access the concourse, I swiped my CIT, and the customs officer said, “Welcome back, citizen.
Did you bring any luggage, weapons, or illegal wares?”

  “No luggage, but I carry weapons.”

  He checked them and my readout. “The Kermac Line Blaster needs to be registered or disposed of. The H&K cannot be carried loaded. Other than that, you are cleared. Your duty side arm is of course permitted.”

  I simply left the Kermac weapon with him.

  He pointed down the terminal and said, “Officers and fleet personnel do not have to go through civilian customs. Next time, you can use the military terminal down there.”

  I thanked him and joined the people and beings in the busy spaceport terminal. The golden robes were everywhere, mostly queuing at the space bus terminal for connecting flights to their actual home destinations, but there were also civilians and service members of many different Union species. There was a Takkian merchant talking to a tall Spindlar and a Saran. Two flawless Saresii beauties with long silver hair and skin-tight catsuits sat at a café in the company of a Klack and a Terran, discussing something. The Terran, of course, was recognizable by his sunglasses.

  A giant Perthanian in police uniform and his robot partner gave a group of tall Andorians directions.

  Six Union Army soldiers with planetary defense patches laughed at jokes a Three-Ozian made.

  This cauldron of species and individuals dressed in a myriad of colors and fashion choices, shopping, walking, traveling in a bright environment that was despite all these beings clean and free of trash was such a stark contrast to Sin 4 or Alvor’s Cove. No one here was afraid or tried to hide what they were or from where they came. My good mood observing all this got a serious damper as I saw a group of five smudgy, sloppily dressed GalDrifts, some of them with bare feet, others wearing beads and purposefully torn clothing. They were sitting underneath a tree that was part of a grass and fountain area with benches and bushes. One of them was playing some sort of stringed instrument. Two of them smoked something, the fourth and fifth simply sat there and watched. As one of them saw me, he began to make obscene and loud remarks about the violence-loving government-sanctioned murderers of the fleet.

  This was Union, and everyone had the right to express their opinion and live the lifestyle they preferred, but it still got to me, especially since one of these derelicts ejected the core on Alvor’s Cove and betrayed us all, thinking he could save his hide that way.

  I wondered if that group would be yelling insults if they were in a slave pen, waiting to be sold. I could already see the entrance to the local fleet office, marked by two Marines guarding it and below the fleet logo. My temper had caused me enough trouble, and I certainly didn’t need any right now.

  So I told myself that there were only a few of them and that the entire GalDrift culture was laughable small. My fists clenched as I saw these leeches.

  One of them, with long filthy blond hair he wore in long dreads got up and actually approached me in strange, almost dance-like movements. “Hey, the killer got a few Creds to spare? Instead of killing defenseless aliens, do some good and help out a few free spirits, trying to get off this ice ball.”

  I was actually proud of my own self-control as I simply ignored him and walked on.

  He didn’t give up and danced around me. “Come on, Killer. You love to be called Killer, don’t you, soldier boy?” He kept dancing around me. “I know you government slaves got paid today, so how about some Creds?”

  His choice of words and seeing that the jacket he wore was a torn, mutilated fleet issue uniform blouse made me wish I could rip it off and stuff it down his throat, but as far as I knew, it was not against any law to wear surplus uniform pieces.

  He did not give up. “So, what was your last assignment, oppressing a peace-loving culture? Or perhaps forcing Union laws upon a civilization that wanted to stay free?” Then his eyes went big, and he actually poked me with his finger. “You’re from the Devastator, a Wolfcraft fighter jock. How does that work out for you, government crook? Getting orders from a non-existent propaganda lie thinking it would impress anyone? If that legendary piece of garbage really existed, he should be arrested and turned over to the Kermac and then we would have universal peace!”

  I said slowly and while reciting general orders in my mind, “Why don’t you take your filthy arse and that ragtag bunch of leeches and go there if you don’t like it here? I also suggest you let me go now.”

  “Give me some Creds and I’ll think about it, but you can’t tell me what to do. No one can, that’s what we are all about. No rules, no laws, just freedom. Not even if that swine Stahl would exist and be right here, not even he could make me do anything.”

  He wasn’t finished with his sentence when I grabbed him by his collar, twisted it tightly and pulled him close. “I’ll say this only once, so listen carefully. If you ever insult the Admiral in my presence again, I will send you on a journey where you don’t need any credits. Do you understand?”

  He spat me in the face and snarled, “Go ahead, government bully, beat me up. I am not afraid of you, and everyone will see what you are!”

  Despite all my efforts, my stomach began to cramp and I could almost physically feel my own rage boiling to the surface. He suddenly changed his facial expression. His defiant stare melted away and was replaced by sheer horror. I had never seen anyone with so much fear. He groaned and cried, “Please, please take it away!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, “The black flames, they burn!”

  I let him go, and he dropped to the floor, crawled backward, one arm across his face, still screaming, “Take it away, please let me go, don’t take me to that abyss, please!”

  I wondered what he was seeing or screaming about. The Perthanian policemen came running, his robot right next to him. “What is going on here, midshipman?”

  I pointed at the GalDrift who was now curling up in a fetal position, sobbing and crying. “He tried to panhandle money and harassed and insulted me. After he started physically touching me, I took him by the collar and told him to back off. He then started to scream and that is pretty much all.”

  The robot said, “Polio-Scan results complete. Citizen’s statement was ninety-eight percent accurate.”

  The police officer glared at me from his four yellow eyes and then growled, “I am sorry, Midshipman Olafson. We usually don’t have many GalDrifts on Checkpoint 98, but during the pilgrim season they come to panhandle and pick the pockets of the travelers.”

  I noticed more cops had shown up and they also rounded up the rest of the GalDrifts, while they protested loudly about police brutality and government oppression.

  The robot lifted the still sobbing and almost catatonic dread-locked guy from the floor and said, “Medical scan inconclusive, but subject carries a small vial of Califerm. Drug-induced side effects are a likely cause for a mental condition.”

  The Perthanian Officer made a sound like breaking rocks, and I realized he was sighing. “Califerm, now that explains everything. Thank you, Officer, and sorry for the inconvenience; we got enough now to arrest and charge the bunch.”

  The robot carried the man away, and he was still crying and muttering, “Take it away, please. No more fire. No more black flames, please.”

  I didn’t know much about drugs or Califerm, other than it was some kind of illegal and dangerous drug.

  With a handheld scanner, the Perthanian scanned me and said, “Just checking if you got any Califerm on you. That stuff makes you an addict by skin contact alone.”

  He checked his read out. “Looks like you dodged the beam, sir. I still suggest you check with a medical facility for decontamination. You got lots of hidden genetic material and some body fluids on you.”

  That statement made my skin crawl with disgust and I had the cop show me the next such facility.

  My good mood slowly returned after I had my uniform deep cleaned and myself showered and decontaminated at a med facility. Detailed scans of the attending med technician showed I was clean and unaffected, but he diagnosed that I still suffered from badly derma patc
hed sunburns and a developing skin cancer. He fixed me up in no time and declared me fit and healthy.

  This time, I made it to the Fleet post and reported at the duty desk.

  A small furry being, not much taller than maybe forty centimeters, with a long bushy tail but wearing Navy black and the rank insignia of a lieutenant, sat on a vari-matic chair that looked more like a tall bar stool behind that counter and looked at me. The being had shimmering black button eyes, a tiny snout, and long whiskers. I had to restrain myself and not reach out and try to pet the shimmering soft-looking fur between the lieutenant’s rounded ears.

  I said instead, “Midshipman Olafson reporting, sir.” I swiped my CIT over the reader.

  The cute as a button being looked over a read-out on a screen only it could see and said, “Yes, Mr. Olafson. There are messages and an order chip for you.” His whiskers shivered, and it exposed two prominent yellowish teeth. “Midshipman, I am aware that I might be the first Holdian you’ve seen in Fleet uniform. I have served this fleet for nine years now and I am well aware of the strange attraction we Holdians seem to have on humans, but please refrain from petting my head.”

  I blushed. “Sorry, sir, I wasn’t even really aware I actually did it. I apologize.”

  A document conveyor snapped open, and the Holdian took a manila-colored dispatch envelope out and pushed it across the counter. “Here are your orders. Please sign here that you received them.”

  I pushed my thumb on the presented sign pad and apologized again.

  He waved his little hand and said, “Apologies accepted. It happens more often than I can count. Just resist that strange impulse if you meet the Outpost Commandant. She is a Holdian, too.”

  “I will, sir.”

  I went over to the seating group and opened the film cover that sealed the order envelope. If anyone else but me would have tried to open it, the message and the order chip would have been instantly destroyed. I wondered why I didn’t get simple orders directly onto my Fleet Com PDD, which was part of my new uniform.