Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  She stopped her pacing turned right before me and looked at me with quivering whiskers; her little fists stemmed in her sides. I could not say much, as I was still standing in attention. She then pointed her pinkish paw-like hand that was covered with the finest touch of fur at my nose. “You appear out of the blue, no ship has landed I don’t know, and no officers or soon to be officers have been transferred. You are here to check on me, right? Annapolis doesn’t think a female Holdian can do the job and sends me midshipman to give him something to do.”

  She made quotation marks with her fingers as she said, “Midshipman.”

  She pointed her little finger at me again. “What do you say to that?”

  “Ma’am, I am still at attention.”

  She snapped with her fingers in a very human gesture and said, “Oh, right, sorry about that, Midshipman Olafson, at ease! I worked very hard to be where I am, and it wasn’t easy, oh no. Everyone thinks of me as some cute cuddle thing and rarely do I get the respect other commanders get.” She glared at me. “Do you find me cute?”

  “Well, perhaps if I compare you to a Perthanian, I might come to the conclusion, but otherwise, you’re just another officer to me, ma’am.”

  “Liar!” she accused, and I could not even defend myself without lying more, so I didn’t.

  Then she went back to her pillow and sat down.

  Now since I could talk, I said, “Ma’am, I assure you I am just a midshipman and I arrived here from Netlor. I am not here to evaluate you or report on you. I know next to nothing about this checkpoint other than that it exists and until yesterday, I had never seen a Holdian nor did I know a Holdian commands this base.”

  She was still giving me a smoldering stare and said, “Netlor, I see, perhaps a spook. I don’t trust you NAVINT guys one bit. Yes, I know you are necessary, and no disrespect meant. Perhaps you are not a spook and just a believer like the rest who go to that place. I am supposed to give you something to do for four days and then what?”

  “Then I hope to be reassigned, ma’am, back on my ship to hopefully graduate.”

  She waved. “Your ship is the Devastator; she won’t come here to pick up a midshipman.” She pressed a contact on her desk unit. “Command and Control, check for me what ship is supposed to come to pick up our guest?”

  A voice responded, “The Devi is on her way, ma’am. Mr. Olafson is scheduled to transfer in four days.”

  She glared at me even more. “Simple midshipman, my furry behind, excuse my language, Mr. Olafson. Now report to Lieutenant Yordat. He is the flight boss here. You’re supposed to be a Wolfcraft ace, and we got lots of patrols to fly.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I turned and was about to leave, fighting to keep the grin that was creeping in my face under control until I was out the door.

  It took me a while to find and reach the base hangars. They were almost exactly on the other side of the small planet. I made a trip on a Trans Planet Mover that traveled not in a tunnel but on a monorail carried on pylons across the planet’s almost featureless ice surface. A TPM employee told me the trip would take about four hours. The TPM would travel at supersonic speed but still had to travel a little over 3,800 kilometers and would have to make two stops on the way.

  I didn’t mind. Yes, I was eager to get behind the controls of a Wolfcraft again, but I’d promised Mother Superior, the mysterious Deepa, that I would try to be more patient. The Devi was on her way, along with my friends. I was on a Union planet, and I was on my way to do a job I loved to do. Life could not be much better.

  After shooting over the thin monorail for maybe forty minutes, it slowed down, and a voice announced, “Methane-Village, passengers with destination Methane-Village please prepare to debark in three minutes.”

  The TPM train slipped into a transparent, brightly lit tunnel. A mother with a small child on her hand passed through the aisle and toward the doors. She wore a bright red padded suit with a folded helmet in the collar. The child looked the same, except its suit had little blue dots all over.

  Outside, a lonely S-10 service bot pushed a cleaning tool over the floor.

  I watched the mother and the child use a declining slide belt and could see a collection of dome-shaped buildings and a dozen yellow lights not far from the mono track halfway buried in the methane and carbon monoxide snow.

  I wondered how it would be to grow up out here or why they had chosen to be there.

  The train moved on, and I made it to the fighter base.

  The TPM came to a halt, and I exited with three other fleet men. Enlisted, from the looks of it, and perhaps back from a few days R & R.

  Most of the base, so it seemed, was built on the surface inside a shallow but sizeable crater. In the distance, I could see they had built Wolfcraft Revolver-starters right into the rim of the crater, aiming into the dark sky at a steep angle. Six large surfaces-to-space planetary defense batteries with long-range trans-locators, mega-load capacity from the looks of it dotted the crater floor. I also counted twelve missile silos, most likely long-range anti-ship drones and eighteen tall turrets with quadruple Loki torpedo starters.

  That was some serious firepower for a little planet like this, but then it was near the most pirate-infested and lawless stretch of space in the galaxy, and when the battleship associated to the checkpoint was on patrol, the base was not helpless.

  Most prominent in the center of the crater was a humongous Deep Space Scanner Array. I doubted the Devi had bigger scanners.

  The installations looked like it could be reached via subsurface tunnels and IBTs.

  An IBT carried me right to the local fighter squadron.

  I knocked at the designated door for the squadron commander, was called in and faced a short, muscular man. He had his flight suit’s sleeves rolled up to show his sinewy, muscle-bulging arms. His hair was sleek and black, regulation short-styled back. He had bright blue eyes and a goatee and mustache.

  The lieutenant rounded his desk and shook my hand after I reported with the proper salute. “No need for that, Midshipman Olafson. I was just informed that we get a real ace, from the Devi’s 12th no less, to fly a few patrol sorties with us.”

  I shook his hand, more embarrassed and surprised by his greeting than everything else. “Nice to meet you, too, sir.”

  “Rock Hound, the call sign is Rock Hound. Hey, they call you the Viking, right?”

  I nodded. “Well, yes, that is because I am from Nilfeheim.”

  He offered me a cigar. “Yes, yes. I just got off GalNet with Commander Cotton, and he told me about you.”

  He took me to the ready room where six Wolfcraft pilots and two more stood at a pool table and introduced me loudly. “Guys, don’t let the midshipman rank fool you. We got a genuine ace among ourselves, Flying Cross, Ace Ribbon, the works. From the Devi no less.”

  This was really getting embarrassing, and I said, “Guys, just let me do my stuff and then judge me. I’d like you to know me for what I am and not for stuff that happened light years elsewhere.”

  A Takkian came over and poked his sharp claw in my chest. “I like modest humans, but I am the hottest pilot this side of the Pegasus arm and think I take you up on that. Care for some dogfight action mano e Takkia?”

  “That’s exactly what I am eager to do—get some vacuum under my butt.”

  I got a Wolfcraft IV, not a V model, but there were minor differences, and it turned out they all flew IVs.

  I almost asked the Auto-Doc to give me a euphoria-dampening drug as the revolver starter catapulted me into deep space. I yelled at the top of my lungs and drew the Wolfcraft in a tight loop so I could feel a little of the gravitons come through. The computronic asked me if I was all right, and I actually patted the Ultronit housing where the computronic was and said, “Girl, I never felt better. Let’s show that walking pinecone what flying means.”

  Granted, I did show off a little, despite my initial decision not to. Oh, they were good, they were trained Union Wolfcraf
t pilots, and I was sure they would do a fine job fighting pirates, but it was hard to be humble after flying against the best the Devi had and then holding my own against Har-Hi.

  I didn’t really want to land again. I would have been perfectly content to stay out here till the Devi arrived.

  I was the last who landed the Wolfcraft and joined the local jocks in their ready room. There was silence at first, and they all looked at me as if a ghost had entered the room. The Takkian, who went by the call name Hot Stuff, then saluted and said, “I never even considered the things you did with that Wolfcraft possible. I always considered myself a good pilot, but you beat us all even as we tried together. Viking, we tried to make a fool out of you. Didn’t believe the hype Rock Hound told us about you. Boy, you showed us.”

  Rock Hound handed out cigars to everyone. “That’s what they smoke on the Devi, Commander Cotton told me. Maybe that’s their secret.” He laughed and pounded his hand on my back.

  I received quarters and was assigned a regular duty roster. I completed my first duty shift flying patrol through the system and then escorting a space bus with engine trouble until a Bison came and towed it to the Checkpoint.

  Rock Hound, Hot Stuff, and two others told me we all would now complete the day having a drink at the officer’s lounge.

  While I was technically a midshipman and not a commissioned officer yet, I was a Medal of Honor recipient, and as such, the lounge was open to me.

  The first thing I noticed after the sprawling windows gave a view over the crater, were the many different uniforms. There was a lot of Union Army green around, much more than Fleet Black or Marine Blue. Two light blue Science Corps Officers looked completely out of place sitting at the far end of the bar.

  By an old Assembly decision, it was decreed to maintain an Army. Despite the fact that all tasks an Army would have in a space-born society could be done by spacers and marines. Of course, the only real reasons to keep an Army were traditions, carried over especially by the Pan Sarans and the Terrans.

  To give the Army a legitimate task, Union Army was responsible for planetary and system defenses, Pluribus Assembly security and designated for full-scale planetary surface warfare.

  The Army also fielded and maintained several specialized units. Among them was the Planetary Army Engineer Corps, the prestigious First Guard of Pluribus, Orbital Para-Assault Divisions and technically the PSI Corps was an Army Unit as well, even though it was independent of all branches. Unlike the Fleet, it was not helmed by an Immortal and did not have the same budget or attention the Fleet received. The Army could by Assembly decree not have ships, so they maintained a fleet of transport barges and drop boats.

  To appear as important and relevant as the fleet, the Army compensated by equipping their troops with mega tanks, towering Battle Walkers and mountain-sized Planetary Siege Engines. None of their 25,000 Leviathan PSE had ever been deployed in real war, but every five years, the Army argued before the Armed Forces Committee that they needed better and upgraded ones.

  I was on my second pilsner and Aquavit while I was thinking about what I knew of the Union Army, when two Army men started an argument with a Navy officer three tables down.

  Hot Stuff, as a true Takkian looked more or less like a walking pinecone, and came from a very hot planet, enjoyed a small vial of water. To Takkians, who were Silicone-based life forms, water was as intoxicating as hard liquor was to me.

  Hot Stuff sipped at his water vial and said, “How come you know so much about Takkians?”

  I tried to ignore the argument that became louder and answered, “I had the good fortune to serve aboard the USS Hyperion under Captain Zezzazz. The Communication Officer of the Hyperion, Lt. Miglar was Takkian.”

  He shook his head. “I happen to know Lt. Miglar but he isn’t Takkian, but Takian, almost the same but we are pronounced with two ‘K’s. The Takians are very closely related to us, much like the Sarans and Terrans.”

  I had to raise my voice a little to make sure he understood. “Seems you both enjoy water to get drunk!”

  He downed the rest of his water and said, “We sure do, but then we are the only Silicone species that get drunk from water. The Piamee, who seem similar to us, can’t do nothing with water.”

  We both tried to keep our conversation neutral and ignore the argument, but then an Army lieutenant reached for the Navy ensign and pulled him half across the table. Glasses tumbled and the second Army officer actually whacked the ensign across the face and I said, “Come on, gentlemen, this is an officer’s club and not an enlisted bar. I suggest you take it outside and do be fair. Two against one isn’t exactly honorable, you know.”

  The lieutenant, quite obviously drunk, dropped the ensign and bowed. “Who asked you for your opinion? This is an Army base, and we should not even have to share our facilities with the high and mighty Navy.”

  He kicked the table aside and moved toward me, his intentions clear. Did I ever manage to stay clear of trouble? He was a lieutenant, Army or not, and hitting him would not be a good idea.

  But Rock Hound laughed and rolled up his sleeves even more and grinned, deeply satisfied. “Welcome to Checkpoint 96, Mr. Olafson and welcome to the bi-weekly club rumble. Well, a rumble it will be until the Marines get mixed in, so be careful and duck!”

  The wiry muscle-packed Wolfcraft pilot catapulted himself past me and attacked the other Army officer, while the Navy ensign on the floor performed a leg sweep against the Army man and moments later, it was a free for all slugfest. So far, I’d managed not to get hit and evade, I hoped I could manage to maintain that until base security would show up, but then Rock Hound sailed past me and yelled, “Mr. Olafson, you can’t let the Army win!”

  As much as I wanted to stay out of trouble, he had a valid point…

  The cute commander wasn’t pleased at all. She was pacing before the holding cells of the base security jail. The bushy tail twitched nervously. Agitated, she first chewed out the Lieutenant. “It’s the eleventh time this year that I am here to bail you out, Lieutenant. Let me make that absolutely clear to you, there won’t be a twelfth time.”

  We all stood at attention. It wasn’t long since Base Security finally moved in and only the more severe cases had yet received medical attention—not due to lack of medical facilities, but due to a standing order of her, the Commandant. This was why Lt. Yordat sported a split lip and not one but a double set of colorful shiners. He belched out a stern, “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stopped and said, “Now I understand the Navy is seriously under-represented with only one squadron on this side of our cold little world. I am long enough in this Union’s Fleet to understand that there are fundamental differences between our brave and strong Army and Spacers, so I am deeply, and I must say very deeply, disappointed to see not one Army officer in the brig as well.”

  Her little fists clenched. “Next time, you better call for backup, and I will come!”

  Rock Hound said, with a painful-looking grin, “Ma’am, as much as we could have used your help, there aren’t any Army here because they are all in sickbay. We had the great fortune to have a drunk Neo-Viking on our side, who did the Bezerker part after someone insulted his mother.”

  I looked ashamed at my boot toes and said, “Sorry, ma’am.”

  She looked up and said to Rock Hound, “Don’t tell me the Navy won this time?”

  “Yes, ma’am, the Navy won!”

  Her voice changed from the shrill accusing tone to a satisfied one. “Well done, men! Let’s get you out of here and then you need to tell me all about it… after I send my apologies to the Army Commandant.”

  Chapter 9: Red Dragon

  The Holdian Commander sat across from me and watched Rock Hound working the controls of a Tabtil Tosser, trying to win a game against the Takkian. The goal of the game was to maneuver a Tabtil that was a tetrahedron-shaped object with different colored sides, inside the opponent’s colored holes, while tossing blockers with remote controlled ca
tapults, to prevent the opponent to do the same to you. Almost every recreation room outfitted by the Navy had at least one of these boxy contraptions, usually completely worn out.

  The commander had kept her word and gotten us out of the holding cell without any permanent records and she had even taken all of us to a pizza restaurant that was part of the adjacent housing settlement attached to the base. Mostly the families of long-term deployed army and navy personnel were housed here and had a few small stores and restaurants.

  “Tell me the truth, Midshipman; we are off duty, and nothing will get past this table. Did they send you to evaluate me and what are you really?”

  “Ma’am, I can do nothing else but repeat myself. I am a midshipman and nothing more. The details of my journey here are classified, but I assure you it has nothing to do with you. I don’t know Admiral McElligott all that well, but I can assure you he isn’t biased toward or against any race or species. I am sure Fleet Command would not have picked you to run this difficult post if they did not have absolute confidence in your abilities, ma’am.”

  Her cute nose quivered and she took another bread stick. “Here I am getting a pep talk from a midshipman. There are many Holdians in the Navy and quite a few on this station as Holda isn’t far from here, but I am the first making it to commander and being usually perceived as nothing more than a fluffy plush animal has its challenges.”

  Before I could say something, her Duty PDD and mine went off at the same time. It appeared that this was true for every service personnel in the restaurant. The message flashing over the screen accompanied by a blaring sound was only two words: Battle Stations.