“I see...and how much time do we have to make our get-a-way once that’s detected?”
“Oh, I estimate about 5 minutes.”
“That’s an estimate? Don’t you think that’s a little too tight?”
“10 on the outside, okay?”
“Gee, Tuck,” Samuels said with his hands raised, “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
“Good...”
“I was being sarcastic...”
“...so was I. Now, turn around and let me get this over with; I’d kind of like my hand back.”
“Gawd, I’m gonna regret this.”
“What?” Tucker mused, placing the injector on the back of Sam’s neck, he pulled the trigger, making a snap.
“OUCH! Hey, you didn’t tell me it was going to hurt this bad,” Sam screamed, rubbing the back of her neck.
“You didn’t ask.”
“Well, maybe next time, a slight warning would be nice?”
“Oh, sorry. Okay, Sarge, you’re up next...and it might sting a little.”
“Gee, thanks, Tucker. You’re all heart,” Samuels said, gritting his teeth.
“Don’t mention it,” Tucker smiled, injecting the capsule.
* * *
Asteroid 253 Mathilde
CSMO 253 Mathilde-2 Mining Operations
Earth Date: 03/21/2066 04:37
“Oh no we’re not going to fly out to 52 Europa!” Parsons protested, “Not after the stories I’ve heard!”
“Come on, Parsons. It’ll be fine. The clones are mainly in the Noosphere.”
“Mainly? Says who?”
“Says the Colonel.”
“Oh, that makes me feel a whole bunch more at ease.”
“That’s why we’re going to have the Marines taking point. We are supposed to enter the crashed Falcon at a precise time. Get the reactor in run-a-way, and bug back out.”
“That’s it? We just have to fire off the reactor?”
“Yep, that’s the Colonel’s instructions.”
“Seems very risky. What if we get pinned down in the Falcon and we can’t get back to our ship?”
“We’ll be docked at the aft section. It’s the same hard docking point that Tucker used before. It’s very near the reactor core, so we only have to be inside a few minutes.”
“What makes you think that the core is even intact?”
“I have my assurances that it is. There may not be any coolant left, from the description. That’s why all we have to do is open the core to the rods. It’ll blow in about 15 minutes.”
“I see. So, you’re using the Falcon’s reactor to destroy the Noosphere.”
“That’s exactly right, Parsons.”
“Wow.”
“So, are you with me? Can I count on you?”
“It’s not what I signed up for.”
“But you’ll do it, right? I’m going to be right there with ya.”
“Okay, I guess I had better get started on the engine replacement then. When did you say the shipment is expected to arrive?”
“In a few hours.”
“Okay, Dillan. If it were anyone else...”
“I know, I know. I wouldn’t be doing this either. I’ll get word to the rest of your team.”
“Great, this is just great,” Parsons grimaced.
“Thanks, Parsons. It’ll be fine!”
“You better be right.”
* * *
Chapter 15
Whidbey Island Naval Base & Space Port
Oak Harbor, WA
General McKenzie’s Office
Earth Date: 03/21/2066 09:00
Twice Buster had pushed his glasses back up, only to have his nervous sweat grease their slide back down his nose. At least he was almost there.
He stopped at the front desk just outside General McKenzie’s office. He fidgeted for a moment before the secretary, “Um, excuse me, ma’am. I’m here to see the General.”
The woman glanced up at Buster without picking her head up. “Yes, Lieutenant Clark. The General’s running a few minutes behind schedule,” she waved him off to a set of three chairs against the wall, “Please have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly.”
“Oh, um, sure,” Buster stood staring at the chair on the right.
“Lieutenant, just take any of them; they’re all the same.”
Buster shot her a glare, “Oh, I assure you, ma’am, they are nothing alike at all.”
“Excuse me?” She glared at Buster over her glasses, “They all look the same to me.”
Buster pointed at the middle of the three chairs, “You see this one?”
“Well of course. What about it? It’s exactly the same as the two on each side of it.”
“No it’s not. If you carefully examine the chair, you’ll notice that one leg is 3 millimeters lower than the others. That makes the chair wobble when you sit in it...” he pointed to the one on his left, “And if you look carefully, a trained eye can actually see that the brown color used in this seat is #5, when the others are #3, mixed with yellow #2. On top of all that, on this one,” Buster pointed to the chair on his right, “the vinyl has been repaired with a cheap knock off leather repair kit.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, yeah, and not to mention the cantor of the back. The back of this chair is tilted .005 degrees differently from the others.”
“Does it really matter, Lieutenant?” the secretary said with a roll of her eyes.
Buster stood upright and spun around with a pointed finger in the woman’s face, “Are you kidding me? Well, of course it makes a huge difference!”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Lieutenant!” She shook her head, “they said he was a little odd...”
“Oh, I also have excellent hearing.”
“Wonderful,” she muttered, “Okay, I’ll bite, Lieutenant. What difference does picking the right chair make?”
“Well, the angle of the seatback may adversely affect the alignment of my spine, and, therefore, the nerves in my back, so I must choose carefully. If I chose the chair with the short leg, I’ll tilt to one side, also affecting the alignment of my spine. The substandard vinyl repair will poke into my back, causing me to lean forward and also affecting the alignment…”
“Oh, pu-lease...”
“...of my spine. And this one,” Buster picked up the left chair and pointed the bottom at the secretary, “yep, I thought so. See here? This one has a loose screw.”
“That’s not the only thing around here with a screw loose...” the secretary whispered.
“I heard that, too...now if I sat in this one,” Buster explained, setting the chair back in its place, “The seat could come off and send me to the ground, which could also…”
“Let me guess…affecting the alignment of…”
“Yes, the alignment of my spine! You understand!”
The secretary quickly reached for her comm button to the General, “Sir, are you ready to meet with Lieutenant Clark? Please?”
“What? Oh, yes, yes...please send him right in,” the General answered over the intercom.
“The Lieutenant will see you now, General, er, the General will see you now, Lieutenant.”
“Oh, okay. Good.”
“Yes it is,” the receptionist again tried to whisper.
Buster winked at the secretary as he opened the door to the General’s office. “I heard that too...and I’m not as dumb as I sound.”
Buster walked up to the General’s desk, stood at attention and saluted McKenzie, “Lieutenant Buster Clark, reporting as ordered, Sir!”
“At ease, Lieutenant. Please, take a seat.”
“How may I be of assistance to you, Sir?” Buster relaxed his stance, “...and might I say, I’m just so tickled that you’re calling upon my services! I’m happy to help...anything at all...”
“SIT DOWN, Lieutenant!” McKenzie growled, hands folded in front of him.
“Sorry, Sir...Yes, Sir,” Buster answered. He touched the pad of the chair, and t
hen firmly planted himself.
“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”
“No, Sir, this chair is fine,” Buster leaned forward, “You must of heard me out in the lobby, huh?”
“Every word,” the General said with a roll of his eyes.
“Sorry, Sir, but you really need to have those seats replaced. They could cause long term damage to the alignment of...”
“That’s quite enough, Lieutenant!”
“Oh, there I go again...sorry, Sir. You just never mind me, I’m fine...yep, this chair is good.”
“I can see you’ve been spending time with Tucker Petersen, haven’t’ you?”
“Does is show that much, Sir?” Buster said, wiping his forehead of nervous sweat, and then pushed his glasses up his nose, “Oh crud!”
“What now, Lieutenant?”
“You don’t happen to have a lens cleaning cloth do you?” Buster asked, holding his glasses up to the light, “I just smudged them...I hate it when I do that.”
“No, sorry...how about using your shirt? Oh, hey,” the General smirked, “Gee, thanks General, what a novel idea.”
“Oh no, Sir...that’s the worst thing you can use. All that microscopic dirt and stuff, and, and the coarse fabric itself will scratch the lenses.”
“Oh for the love of god, will you STOP?”
Buster froze, still holding his glasses up to the light, “Sorry, Sir...is this better?”
“Not literally!”
“Oh...sorry, Sir,” Buster nodded before returning his glasses.
“Now, I asked you if you’ve been spending any time with Tucker. I take it that you have, am I correct?”
“We remained friends after he was forced into retirement. Why do you ask?”
“Where were you two nights ago when Tucker stole the ship?”
Buster gulped, “You mean two nights ago, as in March 19th, two nights ago?”
“That would be the night in question, yes.”
“Oh, well...ah...”
“Were you in Seattle on that night? With Tucker?”
“Well, er, ah...sort of, General.”
“What about at the building 12 on the flight line? You have any recollection of being there?”
“Isn’t that the Mag-ring relay station, Sir?”
“Yes, that is the building I’m referencing.”
“Umm, okay, I was around there, sure.”
“Can you give me a good explanation as to what you were doing? Were you assisting Tucker in the theft of the Salvage-5 vessel?”
“Um, Sir?”
“Did you manipulate the jump ring and send Tucker and his cohorts off to 52 Europa?”
“I can explain, Sir.”
“Well?” General McKenzie asked, as calmly as he could, “I’m waiting?”
Buster reached inside of his jacket pocket and withdrew a black thumb drive and held it up, “I-It’s all r-right here, Sir.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s a thumb drive, Sir. It contains all the data you’re asking about.”
“What? You wrote up a statement, or something.”
“...or something, anyway. All you have to do is plug it into your computer and you’ll quickly understand everything you need to know.”
“Are you prepared for the consequences of these actions, Lieutenant?”
“More than you know, General.”
McKenzie snatched the thumb drive from Buster’s hand and quickly plugged the device into the computer port.
The screen quickly flickered in McKenzie’s eyes, “What the hell is this?”
“Oh, just keep watching the screen, the program is booting up.”
McKenzie continued to stare at the flashing lights, his eyes now glazed over, Buster stood and towered over the sitting General.
“General McKenzie? Do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you, Lieutenant,” McKenzie answered in a monotone voice.
“Good. Now, as to March 19th. You unquestioningly believe that I was in my bunk asleep.”
“Yes, in your bunk” the General nodded.
“You have researched everything, and have concluded that I couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with the Salvage-5 ship being stolen. There is no supporting evidence of any kind placing me or my car in Seattle on March 19th. You believe that any evidence linking me to building 12 is mistaken.”
“I understand,” McKenzie again answered.
“Very good, General...now,” Buster added, unplugging the thumb drive, “you can go to sleep until I snap my fingers.”
General McKenzie’s head thudded onto the desk.
“Wow, this works really well.”
Buster wheeled the General back from his desk and stooped over the computer’s keyboard, “Okay,” he whispered to himself, “where’s the shipping manifests...come on...show me...HA! There you are...so, just have to update the quantities...one salvage ship engine and wing assembly removed...deleting the record for the hauler shipment...and we’re done...hmmm, let me check some other files while I’m here...okay...good, everything is in order; no trace will ever be found.”
Buster was interrupted by a rap at the door, “General? Is everything okay in there?” the secretary asked.
Buster cleared his throat, and then with his best McKenzie impersonation, “Yes, yes, everything is fine. We’re almost done.”
“General?”
Buster’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he erased any evidence of his hacking. Then he wheeled the General back behind the desk. He jumped in front of the desk and snapped his fingers as he snapped a salute.
“Thank you, General.”
General McKenzie popped upright, rubbed his eyes and looked up at Buster, “Uh, you’re welcome?”
“If there’s anything else you need, you just let me know, okay General?”
“Yeah, right...good, umm, you’re all clear...thank you for coming and clarifying your whereabouts...I think,” General McKenzie returned a lazy salute.
“Yes, Sir, anything you say, Sir. I’ll be on the lookout for any suspicious activity and inform you immediately.”
“Great, I knew you didn’t have anything to do with Tucker’s stealing that ship.”
“You’ll find the perp, Sir.”
“Good, now, I have a bunch of work to get caught up on...dismissed, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Buster saluted once more, spun around and exited the General’s office, shoving his glasses up his nose.
The secretary stared at Buster, “You okay, Lieutenant? You look a little pale, and your armpits are soaked. Do you have a fever?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I always get nervous in front of a general.”
“Hmm...”
Buster walked towards the lobby door, but stopped for a moment. He walked back to the secretary’s desk, “Say, how’d you like for me to speed your computer up a bit?”
“Oh, sure, Lieutenant. If you really can, this thing’s always so slow.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem at all, here,” he pulled out his thumb drive and plugged it into the computer port. The secretary stared at the flashing color display in a daze.
“Can you hear me?”
“Yes...I hear you...” she answered in a familiar monotone voice.
“Great, now you will wake up with the snap of my fingers.”
“Yes...snap...”
“Good...now, you should really order some replacement chairs for your lobby.”
“Yes, I understand...order...new chairs...”
“You will now think your computer is running faster.”
“Yes...faster...”
“Oh, and you think I’m attractive, and not a nerd...”
“Yes...attractive...not a nerd...”
Buster pulled the thumb drive and snapped his fingers, “There!”
The secretary shook her head and stared at her screen, “Wow, what did you do to my computer? It’s never been this fast!”
“Gosh, it wa
s nothing.”
“Well, thank you...now I can get those new chairs ordered for delivery without worrying about this thing crashing on me.”
“Good to hear,” Buster smirked, “Bye, bye now. Have a nice day.”
The secretary batted her eyes at Buster, “Bye, handsome. Thank you,” she said with a smile as he turned and walked away.
* * *
Chapter 16
Asteroid 253 Mathilde
CSMO 253 Mathilde-2 Mining Operations
Earth Date: 03/21/2066 11:30
“CSMO Mathilde-2, this is Hauler Two-Eight-Niner. We have finished our reverse burn and are requesting docking clearance,” Dillan heard over the comm loud speakers.
Dillan looked on the radar scope and picked up the command station microphone. Depressing the side button he answered, “Ah, roger that, Hauler Two-Eight-Niner. Sending approach vectors to your navigation system now.”
“Much obliged, Mathilde-2, we are receiving vector instructions. Course corrections programmed, and our ETA is fifteen minutes.”
“I copy, Two-Eight-Niner. Please report when on final approach.”
“Two-Eight-Niner, will-co.”
The landing deck rang with the clang of tools on metal.
“Bring me the high-lift,” a shout echoed across the bay, “we’ve got to get this engine down before the new one arrives. Now! Move it!” Parsons cupped his hand to his ear, “This is Parsons, go ahead.”
Parsons heard Dillan over the comm link in his ear, “They’re arriving in 15 minutes. Are you going to be ready down there?”
“Almost! What about the rest of the crew? They’re going to ask why this Hauler is allowed to land. That goes against all Company protocols.”
“You just let me worry about that, Parsons.”
“Do ya think you could let me in on what it is you’re going to do?”
“Our Marines have already secured the landing deck, as well as the command center. No one will be allowed above the second, unless they have clearance to the command center.”
“Yeah! Yeah, that’s it, bring it on over!”
“Excuse me?” Parsons heard in his ear.
“Sorry, Dillan, I’m a little busy down here. I’m just giving the grunts some instructions...NO, wait for me to guide you in...sorry, Dillan. I should go. Soon as we get the lift aligned, we can bring it down.”
Salvage-5: Another Mission (First Contact) Page 13
