Wetmouth said, “We realized we will be separated, as you said we will receive our new postings and that could be all across three galaxies and a few star clusters. So this might be our last night all being together. This is a big Navy and the possibility for us all to have time and the opportunity to meet again is zero-point-eight percent, taking into account the number of beings, the possible number of postings, the various times for leave of absence and the possible dangerous nature of our business.”
Narth put his head sideways and then nodded. “I concur with this estimate.”
McElligott said, “That is how the Navy usually works, I agree. Now, I think it makes no sense to postpone things much further, so we can start right away. With all these gloomy faces, I wouldn’t like the food even if it was a Burns supper complete with Haggis and Scotch.” He glanced to Stahl and said, “I am still theoretically the boss of this outfit, even if I lately feel compelled to explain myself to cadets. So don’t give me that look of yours.”
The Admiral of the Fleet got up from his place, after taking a good swallow of the wine and made a waving gesture with his hand. “Midshipmen, get over there on the dance floor and get in attention. For what I am about to do, it is simply tradition to stand in attention.”
We all scrambled to the empty spot between the tables and made a neat row and stood in attention.
McElligott, flanked by Stahl and Cherubim, slowly walked down the row and stopped, turned, and faced us. “I celebrate you on this important day, as you join these traditions and vow to support and defend the United Stars Constitution. The freedoms we enjoy depend vitally on the service you and your forebears have undertaken on our behalf. Indeed, I wish that there were more of you. You have jumped to planet surfaces, challenged your bodies and your brains, and become mentally and physically prepared for service. You have our respect for your choices, our admiration for your commitment, and our deep gratitude for your willingness to confront dangers on the nation’s behalf in the months and years to come.”
He stepped before Har-Hi. “I hereby commission you to full Lieutenant of the United Stars Navy with all the commensurate responsibilities and privileges of that rank.”
That was unexpected!
He did the same to everyone down the line. It was a surprise that he promoted everyone not to just ensign, or junior grade, but to full lieutenants.
He promoted Wetmouth and graduated her. I was the last, standing next to her, but he stopped and did not promote me. As much as it surprised me, somehow I expected it. They marked my absence against me or something like that.
The admiral said, “At ease, lieutenants.”
I remained in attention.
Wetmouth said, “Sir, have you by any chance forgotten to promote Eric? He deserves it at least as much as we!”
The old admiral said, “No, Lieutenant Wetmouth, I promoted everyone I wanted to promote at this point. Ensign Olafson, you may stand at ease as well.”
Har-Hi stepped forward. “Sir, as I understand, this is a commission and one of those rights you spoke of is to reject it and give it back, right?”
McElligott gasped and said, “You want to reject your commission?”
Now they all stepped forward and, as if out of one mouth, they said, “Yes!”
Narth said, “I remember very vividly the injustice done to Eric, very recently, and it was you who promised him improvement and fairness. You made this promise to keep Narth in the Union. What has he done this time to deserve—”
I held up my hand. “Friends, you worked hard for this, don’t throw it away. You won the Reagan Trophy because you knew I would have wanted it. Now I want you to be good officers. I have failed to achieve their recognition, and they have their reasons, I am sure. They are admirals and Immortals, after all.”
Cherubim’s face did not change, but her eyes glittered as she looked at the old admiral. “Maybe some of us are a little out of touch with their humanity.”
Admiral Stahl’s face was as unreadable as always.
Something beeped and the old admiral looked at his wrist com. “She is here just on time. If everyone would follow me now?”
Stahl winked at me as we turned and walked to the elevator.
As spacious as the elevator cabin was, it would not hold us all. So Wetmouth, Krabbel, Stahl, and I waited for the second car.
Wetmouth said, “Do you know why Eric wasn’t promoted, sir?”
He looked at her and said, “Indeed I do.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anyhow. This duality of standards that hold true for some and not for others is a theme that has followed me since I joined.”
Stahl sighed. “Eric, I know. But this time, it really is different. Just be patient a few more hours. My old friend is a bit peculiar about how he does things. He was an old man before he became an Immortal, and he has forgotten how it is to be young. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, sir, I do!”
“Then just wait a few more hours!”
After the elevator ride, we joined the others in the main concourse of the Richter 4 spaceport.
We all followed the kilt-wearing admiral onto a slide belt.
A black-skinned captain, who was even taller than Shaka, but otherwise could have been a brother, joined us on the belt and introduced himself as Captain Bangizwe. He greeted Shaka and said, while bowing deeply, “I did not expect to meet the son of Chacka Chitauli. What an honor!”
Wetmouth whispered to me, “That means Important Leader, who tells us the law.”
Shaka returned the greeting and said, “It prides me to see a man of our tribe so far from home.”
The slide belt we traveled on changed directions at a belt junction and passed through a tunnel onto an alley between two of the petal-shaped landing fields. One of the frequent sand storms pelted the transparent tunnel that protected us from the planet’s atmosphere and weather conditions. There, on the landing field next to the Shetland, stood another modern Ultra Battleship.
The black captain said to Shaka, “Your highness, that is my ship, the USS Atlantis. One day, you might helm one of these, if you get a rating high enough.”
McElligott laughed. “Captain, do you know how many posting requests exist for that young man? You would be lucky to get him. This helmsman has a Fleet Helm position efficiency rating of 812!”
The tall captain made a wiping motion with his hand and said, “That is impossible, only Virtu Helmsmen who have the gift could possibly get a rating like this and we all know Virtu Helmsmen with the special talent and a rating of over 340 are barely able to talk and usually turn completely crazy after only a few years!”
As we were carried past the battleship, Shaka responded, angrier than I had ever seen him before, “You would not have greeted me as the son of Chacka Chitauli if you had seen me a few years ago, but ignored me as they all do. My father the king at first rejected me and only because the Navy puts so much value on persons suffering from this form of Autism he considers me useful. But the Navy isn’t any better because the Fleet treats Virtu helm talents like idiots, good for one thing only!
“Autism is useful to the Navy, but it is still a burden to those who suffer it. I managed with great difficulties to get into a regular midshipman program for my third year and that made all the difference. Would it surprise you if I tell you that none of my friends are below a Helm rating of 300?”
The battleship captain looked at us, surprised, and McElligott said to him, “Most amazing is the fact that Lieutenant Shaka Chitauli has excellent fighting skills, is a Blaster marksman, knows tactical, and is an excellent engineer.”
Wetmouth put her hand on Shaka’s shoulder. “Not to mention that he currently works on his biotronic science Ph.D.”
Captain Bangizwe gasped, “How is this possible?”
Shaka’s tone was still sharp as he answered, “Because my friends never make me feel sick or special. I was always integrated into everything, and they helped me and were there for me when I foug
ht the nightmares of my so-called gift. My therapist says I am almost completely cured, without any psycho-surgery, and still, I am a good helmsman and can use the gift. I say treat helmsmen like people and not like special outsiders!”
McElligott looked to Shaka and said, “Your critique has not fallen on deaf ears. I want you to help me write new guidelines, and we will change how Virtu Helmsmen are trained and treated.”
While this discussion went on, the slide belt had carried us way past the landing field now and moved us across the dust and dirt plain toward the mountains.
The old Fleet admiral explained, “It might come to a surprise to you, but Richter Base was not built by accident or as a forgotten base project some bureaucrats green lighted. All this was a carefully planted story.”
He snickered, “You see, if there is one thing we Immortals do better than others it is long-term planning. We set things in motion that bear fruit, decades or even centuries later.”
He looked straight at me as he said, “Some think of me as an old fool and perhaps in some ways I am, but ever since the Free Space treaty was signed, I wanted a base as close to it as possible, yet one no one really paid any attention to. Yes, a base has to be manned, and Cardwell and his cronies turned out to be criminals, but I made certain from the start that he had no access to the real important things and their days were numbered. Maybe he had told you that there was still construction going on.”
I simply nodded as he was still looking at me.
The slide belt tunnel merged with the base of the mountains and went underground.
Stahl wrinkled his forehead and crossed his arms. “You scheming son of a gun. I think I need to pay a little more attention to the little side things you do.”
The kilt-wearing admiral grinned like a Neo-Viking in an ax store and said, “All this is part of Project Fish. Now the project has turned into Operation Fish and those of you present will learn what this operation is all about.”
The slide belt carried us moments later back into the open and onto the surface. McElligott said, “Richter Base has more than one landing field and more than one spaceport.” He made a sweeping gesture over the mountain-surrounded Duro-Crete landing field. “This is Richter Port II.”
A spaceship was resting on its landing gear in the center of the field. I had never seen a ship like this. It had clear Terran lines, but there were no ISAH pods. Its bow looked much like the head of a Rock Shark’s; a broad round chisel shape that flowed into a streamlined flattened cylinder that softly increased to a massive aft. I estimated the ship to be between 350 and 400 meters long. At its stern, perhaps 120 meters slowly narrowed to that chisel-shaped bow. It was not Navy gray but shimmered in an onyx gray titanium color and instead of armor plating, I noticed a fine pattern of hexagonal shapes all across its skin.
It stood on four wide landing pads, and an IST shaft was lowered to the ground, underneath and near its rear end. On the high end, it featured the Union flag. There was no name stenciled on its hull as far as I could see.
I barely noticed my mouth going dry. The ship looked aggressive, elegant, fast, and dangerous at the same time.
The black captain spoke first, “What in the world is that?”
McElligott said, with pride in his voice, “This is Project Fish. It is the ship that does not exist. The very first and so far, only of its class and type. Ladies and gentlemen, behold the USS Tigershark.”
His words must have been heard by someone or something, as now the name appeared across its hull near the bow.
Elfi said, “It looks sleek and fast. It will be almost a shame when it is done, and they add ISAH Pods.”
Cirruit spoke without taking his eyes off the ship. “If I am right, this ship does not need any!”
McElligott patted his metallic shoulders. “You are quite right indeed.”
Now I noticed the almost invisible purplish shimmering forcefield bubble extending around the ship. The slide belt carried us past that shield and ended thirty meters off the IST shaft.
Since McElligott stepped through the forcefield curtain at the end of the slide belt tunnel, it was apparent that there was a breathable atmosphere inside that ship-encasing bubble.
The lowered IST shaft was guarded by two Marines and two battle robots that only remotely looked like Cerberus bots.
As we went closer, I could see the blue diamond-shaped insignia with the white skull and crossbones over the red rendering of the number one. I was not close enough to read the small words that were also part of that insignia, but I knew them of course as they were the motto of the Marine First Recon Battalion, swift, silent, deadly. The most elite of all Marine units, nicknamed the Deadly Ghosts.
There were rumors and stories about them, but no one I knew had ever seen members of that unit.
McElligott explained, “The Marines are wearing the first prototypes of a brand-new battlesuit design codenamed Gilgamesh-MBS. These new Main Battlesuits are the first fully cloakable suits, unlike the adaptive camouflage of the Quasimodos. The Marines and the fleet will eventually, in three or four years, see the first Gilgamesh suits that will then replace the Quasimodos. These suits are completely psi-neutral. Incorporated Micro Translocator Cannons, TKU Gatlings, and Intelligent AM warhead drones are just the tip of the iceberg in terms of offensive capabilities.”
Stahl whistled. “I need to get me one of these.”
McElligott was not done as he walked over to the robot and said, “And these are SII’s newest development, the still top secret FENRIR Type I Battle Robots. I saw some battle tests, and even I was scared when I saw what they can do; and no you can’t have any, Richard. Only sixty exist so far, and they are part of this ship.”
The Marines saluted, and Stahl, who returned the greeting, said to them, “Ooorah and Semper Fi, boys!”
The two Marines lost their stoic facial expressions and brimmed with visible pride. “Sir, I shall die a happy man now, meeting the first Marine in person! Semper Fi, sir!”
McElligott rolled his eyes. “He simply can’t pass any Marine guard doing this schpiel. You’ve been a Marine, what fifteen years, and you’re an admiral now for three thousand?”
Stahl grinned. “I have been, was, and will be a Marine first. You should talk, still wearing a kilt, 4560 light-years away from Scotland.”
Despite all the incredible technology presented to us, I could not help but find this friendly banter between those two Immortals amazing. It made them, despite their titles and reputations, very human. The possibility that I might indeed become one of them seemed a little less frightening.
McElligott ignored the last squib of Stahl and said to us, “The IST is the first functional Transonic Intership Transport system in existence. Travel time to any deck in less than a second! During battle stations, the doors will open and close in less than a second. So you basically run in and, without stopping, you will come out running at any deck you chose. It’s almost as fast as teleportation.” He added, “But the IST is limited to three standard persons or one Saturnian. So who will go first?”
I was completely caught off guard as Stahl simply pushed me in and followed.
The door closed faster than an eye blink and opened again, and we were already at the command deck!
That’s what a screen displaying a pictogram told me projected onto the corridor wall across the IST. The cross section of this corridor had the same contour as a wide-based egg, smooth and round except for the floor, of course. Corridors on regular Union ships were rectangular or octagonal. The ship smelled as all brand-new machines always did; it was a scent that could not really be described, but everyone instantly recognized it. The softly curved walls were about five meters apart, and the corridor was perhaps seven meters tall at its apex. Like in all Union ships, the walls were white, but the floor did not have the usual mustard-yellow carpet, but a black surface that felt like walking over an inch of rubber matting. I had barely time to look around when the others were all here,
&n
bsp; Like a boy with his new toy. McElligott took the lead again, and we followed him through that oval-shaped corridor. At intervals of ten meters were black and yellow striped sections. After we had passed three of these, we passed a double robot guard and onto the bridge.
It had the usual horseshoe arrangement of the duty stations around a raised central command chair
The entire front was currently transparent and gave a great view over the sloping bow section, the landing field and the mountains around it.
A man who almost looked like a brother to Stahl stood up from the command chair. He, too, was tall and had an athletic figure. His hair was cut just maybe a hint longer than that of the Eternal Soldier, but that’s where the similarities ended. His eyes had an almost yellow shade and a distinctive black thin circle around his outer iris. It was more disturbing than the reptile eyes of a Shiss. I was sure I had never seen colder, more piercing eyes than those. There also was a hint of a brutal and cruel line around his mouth.
He wore an expensive-looking business suit and said to McElligott, “That’s the first time I ever delivered a ship myself, but I am certain I have never flown anything that fast!”
“I doubt your Raven or the Black Sirius is much slower than this one, Rex!”
The man addressed as Rex said, “Trust me, compared to this fish, the Raven is a distant second.” He then touched the hand rest of the command seat and said, “Ship, recognize Rex Schwartz.”
The ship’s computronic responded with a well-modulated female voice, “Recognized.”
“Transfer of all command codes to Fleet Admiral McElligott!”
“All command codes have been transferred.”
The man in the business suit said to McElligott, “Schwartz Industries hereby completes the delivery of Small Container Courier Craft SCCC 56.”
McElligott shook the man’s hand. “Thank you!”
I thought if this was indeed Rex Schwartz, and all pointed to the fact that he was, then this was richest, most controversial and perhaps most powerful man in this galaxy and he had personally delivered this ship.
Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7 Page 79
