Retribution: Sector 64 Book Two

by Dean M. Cole

  Jake and Sandy exchanged glances.

  Colonel Giard made an adjustment to the edification encoder's interface. Cocking an eyebrow at the liaison, he shook his head. The holographic rendering of his brain mimicked the movement. "I have to get back to work, Lieutenant."

  ***

  When Colonel Giard returned his attention to the edification encoder's hologram, Remulkin cast a meaningful glance at Major Fitzpatrick's abdomen and then nodded toward Colonel Giard, silently mouthing, "Does he know?"

  The major's smile faltered, and her eyes widened. After a moment, she shook her head, a quick, barely perceptible gesture.

  Remulkin glanced at Colonel Giard. The clueless asshole didn't even know his woman was pregnant.

  The captain gave him a pleading look.

  Remulkin had seen the glow of pregnancy on his wife's face twice. The thought brought back the bitter pain of loss. Taking a deep breath, he smiled weakly at the woman and gave her a reluctant nod.

  Colonel Giard looked from his work. "Is there anything else, Lieutenant?"

  "No, Colonel," Remulkin said, barely able to refrain from calling the oblivious young man a knuckle-dragger.

  "We have a fleet-wide training exercise scheduled for zero six hundred tomorrow morning. You'll ride along with me in the Turtle …" Giard paused and gave him an embarrassed look. "That's what we call our GDF loaner. It's an Avalon-class utility ship."

  Thramorus still couldn't believe Tekamah had handed these sub-Argonians the keys to a fleet. But he really didn't give a shit. For him, they were just a means to an end. He'd be fine as long as the knuckle-draggers stayed out of his way when the time came.

  Colonel Giard continued his inane rambling. "Meet me in hangar bay one twenty-seven at oh five hundred hours, and you can demonstrate your liaising skills."

  "Oh joy," Remulkin said.

  Giard cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe there was a glitch in your language module. Otherwise, I might take your tone as sarcasm, Lieutenant."

  "Gods no, Colonel. Of course, I am sincere," Remulkin said in a tone that indicated anything but.

  "Dismissed," the caveman said with a frown as he turned back to the encoder's hologram.

  Remulkin shook his head and walked from the room. Turning left, he returned to his quarters. However, after the door to his cabin closed behind him, a chime rang out. He cursed in his native tongue and then switched to English. "Come in, Major Fitzpatrick."

  The entrance membrane dissolved, revealing the young female.

  "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

  "How did you know?"

  Remulkin rolled his eyes. In his mid-forties, he was young by Argonian standards, but even before his wife's two pregnancies, he would have spotted the woman's glow. Natural gestation was rare within the Argonian culture. When a woman took that path, it stood out. It certainly had both times his wife had been with child. He supposed that in this backwater excuse of a world, where every baby gestated within a woman's womb, the look might not stand out.

  Remulkin shrugged his shoulders. "It seemed pretty obvious to me."

  Major Fitzpatrick stared silently. After a moment, she said, "Please don't tell anyone."

  Remulkin nodded toward the adjacent quarters. "Why don't you want him to know?"

  Her face hardened. "I have my reasons."

  Having had a very recent demonstration of the frailty of life, Remulkin didn't think that even a knuckle-dragger like Giard deserved to be left in the dark about something this life-changing.

  As if she had read his thoughts, Major Fitzpatrick's face suddenly softened. "I heard about your family … hell, your whole planet. I'm sorry for your—"

  Remulkin bristled. "I don't need your sympathy," he said, cutting her off. Grinding his teeth, he threw his arms up. "Keep your secret. Why should I care?" Turning from her, he walked toward the back. "You know the way out, Major."

  ***

  Jake turned from the edification encoder as Sandy walked back into the room. She looked upset.

  "Why did you chase after that asshole, Sandy?"

  His words snapped her out of an apparent trance. She blinked and looked at him. "Uh, I'm sorry, what?"

  "Why did you go after Thramorus?"

  "Oh. I wanted to tell him I was sorry about the loss of his family."

  It was Jake's turn to look confused.

  "You didn't know?" Sandy said.

  "Didn't know what?"

  Sandy raised an eyebrow. "That was Remulkin Thramorus. The name didn't ring a bell?" When Jake shrugged his ignorance, she continued. "He was the sole survivor of the Chuvarti system. You know, the guy who watched his wife and three kids get vaporized by the fucking Zoxyth?"

  "Oh shit," Jake whispered. "No wonder. What did he say?"

  Sandy told him of their brief discussion. He felt like she was omitting something but decided not to push her on it.

  Finally, she said, "So, you may want to—"

  Jake held up both hands. "I know, kid gloves. Got it, ma'am, although I doubt the asshole will appreciate the sentiment."

  Sandy smiled and punched his shoulder. "Be nice."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Admiral Bill Johnston admired the crisscrossing pointed arches that decorated the high ceiling of the Helm Warden's long passageway. As he walked deeper into the ship, he saw the decorative casing of another doorway approaching on his right. A few steps later, the room beyond the tall arched entrance came into view.

  Bill paused and stared inside, marveling at the collected flora and fauna that occupied the expansive terrarium. Unlike similar rooms within the Galactic Guardian, this one supported a desert ecology. Sandy hills interspersed with cactuses of varying sizes and types continued to the distant horizon.

  He stepped into the room and blinked in confusion. The skyline was too far away. That far off horizon would fall outside the envelope of even this mighty ship. Then it occurred to him that at least part of the scene must be another manifestation of the holographic landscape they'd seen in Tekamah's command suite. He couldn't tell where the real part ended and the hologram took over, although the sand under the toes of his shoes was real, as were the two closest cactuses.

  Suddenly, the nearest plant moved. The tall, prickly cactus with long saguaro-like arms reached down in a very un-saguaro-like style and grabbed a smaller plant. As it uprooted the little cactus a squeal echoed off the surrounding rocks.

  Wide-eyed, Bill took an involuntary backward step. Behind the cactuses, he saw long trails traced by each animal's slow, almost undetectable conveyance. The troughs cut into the sandy soil behind each creature portrayed the aftermath of a slow-motion chase, one ultimately won by the marginally faster, long-armed cactus.

  The saguaro-monster drew the squealing and struggling cactus toward an opening at the base of its branching arms. "Jesus wept," Bill whispered as he looked into its nightmarish mouth. The maw sported concentric rings of teeth and barbs that moved in oscillating waves. He watched in wide-eyed, shocked fascination as the smaller cactus slid into the saguaro's muzzle, its undulating teeth slowly drawing the still screaming animal deeper into the monster's gullet.

  A new sound yanked Johnston from his horrified reverie. Unintelligible words from a distant conversation drifted into the terrarium. Blinking, he turned from the surreal desert scenery and looked down the hall toward Admiral Tekamah's office. Recognizing the voice of the GDF commander, Bill gave a final glance into the hazed atmosphere of the terrarium and then stepped from the room and walked toward the admiral's office.

  As he drew nearer, a second voice said, "Yes, sir. He calls himself the Fifth Columnist."

  Johnston froze, inadvertently eavesdropping, but considering the familiar term, unwilling to walk away.

  "I can't believe there is a traitor," Tekamah said.

  "It looks like we only have a few days to prepare," said the unknown voice.

  Johnston couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Fifth Columnist was a human-coined name for a s
py. It came from the Spanish civil war.

  The men had stopped talking. Concerned they'd detected his presence, Bill stepped toward the door, walking heavily so that his footfalls announced his approach. Arriving, he knocked on the side of Admiral Tekamah's office door. He poked his head into the opening. With raised eyebrows, he said, "Hope I'm not interrupting." He'd spoken in English, hoping it would dissuade them from thinking he'd overheard their native-tongue discussion.

  Tekamah shook his head and gestured to Johnston. "No, no," he said in accented English. "Please, come in." Turning back to the man whom Johnston now recognized as the Helm Warden's communications officer, Tekamah nodded and said, "Thank you for your report. I'm glad the disruptor field is finally offline."

  Johnston hoped he hadn't let the surprise reach his face. He was the senior human commander. Why in hell would Tekamah keep secrets from him, especially if it involved a potential spy?

  The communications officer—Captain Regimus, if memory served—gave Tekamah an Argonian salute. He spoke in English as well. "I'll alert you of any, uh … developments, sir."

  Lowering his hand, the Argonian officer nodded at Johnston and then turned and left the room.

  After an uncomfortable silence, Tekamah walked from behind his desk. He shook Bill's hand brusquely and then gestured to the floor. "Please, have a seat."

  The GDF admiral remained on the same side of the desk. Behind each man, the floor raised to support them.

  "Thank you," Johnston said. He recognized the Admiral's tactic. Wanting to treat him as an equal, Tekamah was addressing him face to face, without the barrier of a desk between them. It was a machination Bill had used on many occasions.

  So why was the man keeping secrets from him?

  Tekamah leaned back in his seat. Overhead, hundreds of holographic ships sprang into existence. Half rendered in aqua blue, the other half in lime green, they filled the cavernous room's upper reaches.

  "Here we are, Bill," Admiral Tekamah said, pointing to the left group and then to the right one. "The Galactic Guardian and Helm Warden fleets. Thanks to your proactive steps, we have just enough personnel between the two of us to staff both task forces." He lowered his arm. "As we've already discussed, I am leaving you in charge of the Guardian's carrier group."

  Johnston nodded. The move sent a spike of pain shooting through his head. Bill winced and began to massage his temples.

  Seeing this, Tekamah gave him an empathetic smile. "I take it you've been hitting the edification encoder pretty hard."

  Bill nodded tenderly. "You can say that again, Ashtara."

  Tekamah gave him a perplexed look and then said, "I take it you've been hitting—"

  "No," Bill said through a withering smile. He waved off the GDF admiral. "Sorry. It's a figure of speech. You're right. I've been hitting them hard, and I have a splitting headache to show for it."

  The worst of it had subsided. However, the migraine's aftereffect had left a ghost of itself in his brain, like a sore muscle that barked with pain at the least provocation.

  Tekamah's empathetic smile returned. "I understand. I know it is a lot to absorb, but we are short on time. How far did you get?"

  "All of it," Johnston said through a pained grin.

  "All? Even fleet tactics?"

  "Yes," Bill said. "Even that."

  Tekamah smiled. "Good, then let us discuss our tactics."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jake shook his head. This was getting really annoying. "Just activate the damned encoder, Lieutenant."

  Thramorus gave him a condescending look. "Really? These are modules every child learns before they are six standard years old. How do you not have scabs on your knuckles?"

  Jake ground his teeth but held his tongue. Finally, Remulkin activated the edification encoder's next module. Giard grimaced as the resultant disorientation washed over him. When it passed, he nodded to Thramorus. "Give me the next …" He paused. The lieutenant's lips had spread into a stupid grin. "What?" Jake asked.

  From behind him, Sandy said, "My, what a big brain you have."

  Remulkin let out an uncharacteristic laugh. Reaching out, the Argonian made a gesture that sent Jake's holographic brain spinning. "I don't know. Seems like there is more hot air in there than anything else."

  "Ha, ha, ha," Jake said, smiling. "Laugh it up, you two."

  Remulkin looked at him as if he'd suddenly remembered that Giard was in the room. The idiotic grin fell from the man's face. "Who's laughing?"

  Standing, Jake shook his head and turned back to Sandy. "Hey, baby. How's your training going?"

  "It's good," she said. Wincing, she rubbed her head. "I've made lots of progress; got the headache to prove it."

  Jake grimaced. "I know what you mean."

  From behind him, Thramorus's annoyingly nasal voice returned. "Uh, are you sure that's safe?"

  Sandy tensed visibly. Confused, Jake shot a questioning look at the Argonian. Remulkin just frowned at him.

  When Jake turned back to Sandy, he thought he'd glimpsed her giving Remulkin a curt head shake.

  "What the hell is going on?" Jake said. "Are you okay?"

  Sandy's face hardened into an expression he knew all too well.

  Oh shit, Jake thought. They rarely argued, but when they had, it usually started in this manner.

  "Of course, I'm okay," she nearly yelled. "I've told you not to treat me different, Mr. Giard. I'm not some helpless girl. I don't need rescuing. I'm an Air Force fighter pilot just like you. Anything you can do, I can do just as well, if not better."

  Jake's eyes softened. He raised his hands. "I'm sorry, baby. Is this about what happened in California? I know that dealing with those assholes outside of your mom and dad's house had to have been traumatic. I—"

  Sandy's eyes widened, her anger suddenly much more visceral. "And I don't need your God damned sympathy either!" Turning, she stormed from the Turtle. As she stepped into the open airlock, she shouted over her shoulder. "You don't know anything, Jake!"

  Slack-jawed, Giard looked after her. He turned to Lieutenant Thramorus. "What the hell was that all about?"

  A new emotion crossed the Argonian's face. He appeared to be struggling with a decision.

  "What?" Jake said.

  Remulkin's face hardened, and he shook his head. "You really are an idiot, Colonel," he said, pouring disdain into the military title. Still shaking his head, the portly man turned from Jake and reactivated the edification encoder. Another swipe of his hand sent the holographic symbols that represented the encoder's various modules scrolling like a hyperactive version of the wheel on The Price Is Right game show. As it slowed, Thramorus reached in with both hands and grabbed several virtual cubes.

  Jake didn't know that was possible.

  Looking at him with obvious disdain, the lieutenant shook his head. "You really are clueless," he said. Then he threw the collected modules into the holographic rendering of Jake's brain.

  The rotating, disembodied brain shivered violently. As the modules disappeared into the pulsing mass, three oilcan pops echoed through the Turtle's main cabin.

  Violent, disorientating waves of nausea swept over him. Jake had just enough time to register anger at the smart-ass's choice of material. Then the data dump of actual child-level learning modules overwhelmed his mind, and the black void of unconsciousness wrapped him in its cold embrace.

  PART III

  "The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war."

  — Norman Schwarzkopf

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The flight leader for the training mission's first wave, Colonel Jake Giard, flew the Turtle toward the hangar exit. As he neared the bay door, Earth's natural satellite slid into view. The Moon's scarred belly filled the bottom of the panorama, its night-darkened far side barely visible beneath the Galactic Guardian. In its opposition phase, the Moon was currently full as viewed from Earth, making its proverbial dark side truly dark.

  With a sideward look, h
e regarded his crewmate. Remulkin sported his now familiar dour look. Jake grinned. He slid his hand back into the flight controller and gave it a quick twitch. In the blink of an eye, the Turtle flipped upside down.

  Other than giving Jake a sour frown, Thramorus didn't react to the sudden change. "Are you finished?" he said sardonically.

  "Lots of fun you are," Jake said returning his attention forward. He righted the ship. The moon rolled clockwise, falling from the top of the field of view and, with abrupt solidity, locking back into position at the bottom of the panorama.

  To his right, Remulkin muttered something unintelligible. Ignoring him, Jake opened the squadron's EON channel. "Gunfighters, this is Six. Check-in."

  "Gunfighter One," reported the first pilot.

  "Gunfighter Two," said a second voice.

  Several iterations later, the last fighter checked in. Jake nodded and guided the squadron into its assigned position behind the Galactic Guardian. Watching the final ship fall into formation, he reopened the channel. "The asteroid passed here about ten minutes ago. I've locked it into the Turtle's navigation system," he said.

  While searching for training targets, Admiral Tekamah had identified an asteroid with a better than zero chance of leaving its mark on the planet in the next few decades. The elliptical orbit of this particular Aten-class Potentially Hazardous Asteroid or PHA had just carried it through the Earth-Moon system on its way outbound from its closest approach to the sun.

  Jake had designed today's live-fire exercise to hit the targeted asteroid from several angles. However, the net force of the attack would send the rendered debris cloud along a new orbit that would take it into the sun on its next pass, forever removing asteroid 2015 MK132 from Earth's freshly overgrown list of concerns.