Empty Casket Conspiracy (Terran Patrol Book 1)

by Lewis Dually

  “Do you know the difference between you and me?” Sandra asked. “I’m a scientist, pilot and teacher. You’re a leader, fighter and risk taker. That’s why I think you will outrank me soon. Ok, we’ll do it your way. I’ll have her and Hollister’s commissions processed early and transfer them to the Dawn Rising.”

  “Thank you.” I said. “And, for what it’s worth, I think of you as a pioneer in space travel. History won’t remember my name but you’re already in the history books. You’ll make Admiral soon and I’ll probably never get past Captain.”

  “Oh no. You’ll be an Admiral. I guarantee that.” Sandra insisted.

  “Yeah well, if I survive the Krueg maybe.”

  Sandra stood up and walked around her desk. “How did you know she was Croiddan?”

  “Her facial features. You know how some Native American tribes have distinctive features that set them apart from the others despite their dark skin and hair. The Croiddan have dark skin and hair like many Native Americans and Hispanics but they have a heavy eyebrow and pronounced jaw. Once you see a couple of them you can start to pick up on their distinguishing features. She is the eighth Croiddan I’ve met and the first female but I’ve learned how to recognize them.”

  Sandra looked at the computer terminal on her desk. “I think I’ll go through my files and see if there are any others among us.”

  “We might just ask Blain. I’m sure she will know.” I suggested.

  Sandra opened her office door and called Blain back in. “Cadet Blain, you are being graduated early and will be assigned to active duty aboard the Dawn Rising. Pack your bags and report to the duty officer for your commission papers immediately. Before you go I have one question. Are you the only Croiddan in my school?”

  “Yes Sir.” Blain replied. “There is one Croiddan scheduled to attend the next class. His name is Sipredeus.”

  Sandra looked at me. “Well I guess I’ll have to keep this secret too.”

  “For the time being.” I said. “I’ll inform Albright and we’ll see where it goes.”

  I left Sandra to contemplate the ramifications of having Aliens in her school and headed out to the parking lot. Albright was either going to say good idea or are you off your rocker when I talked to him back on the station. Maybe I was jumping the gun a bit but I really wanted to have one of the Croiddan on my ship. Joydeus wanted to join up but he would be doing a year of training before I could get ahold of him. Basil on the other hand was ready to go and I wanted her. The Croiddan had been living on earth for a century. It was time they contributed something back to our civilization. That was a good starting point for my reasoning but it was much more than that. We were next on the Krueg list of worlds to conquer and we knew next to nothing about them. We needed the knowledge of the Croiddan and we needed that fighting spirit that I had witnessed in the younger generation. But above all of that we needed that younger generation on our side to help control the old generation. Maybe they weren’t all like Antwon but the impression I got of him was that of a Politian with no real values. He just did and said what he felt was good for him at the time and I didn’t trust him. His whole generation had the mentality of flight, not fight. It was my opinion that people who wouldn’t fight for their own survival couldn’t be trusted. Maybe I was wrong about that. Maybe not.

  The beep of my coms badge broke my train of thought and I answered. “Paul here, go ahead.”

  “Sir.” Walters’s voice responded back with that high pitch she used when she was excited about something and wanted to share.

  “I’ve been using the stations uplink to Home Land Security to verify the missing persons. It was easier than I thought it would be.”

  “Did you find anything?” I asked.

  “Yes Sir. We were wrong. The missing persons are real. They’re not fictional or Croiddan at all. I was able to link the files of each person to the Home Land data base and see their photo ID’s. They are obviously not Croiddan. As far as I can tell there are two hundred fourteen persons missing in the belt that were employed by Belt Line Staffing. That’s a very high number compared to the other staffing companies operating out there. About ten times higher than the others. I don’t know what to make of it and I don’t know where to go from here.”

  “Humph” I grunted. “I don’t know what to make of it either but I do know where to go. Send me the address for Belt Line Staffing.”

  Two hours later we landed the shuttle at Houston’s George Bush International and I checked out a car. Joydeus and Ohven had spent the last two hours catching up on the latest Croiddan gossip. I left them with the shuttle and headed for the car rental desk. As I waited for the clerk to set up my ride I contemplated my next move. I couldn’t just go into Belt Line and start demanding to see their files. Out in space I was pretty much the law and could do those sorts of inspections but here in the good old USA I had no authority. There was this long standing law that barred the military from operating within the confines of the Unites States. Not that I thought the law was wrong or anything but it did hamper my ability to investigate a privately owned company. Belt line had no Navy contracts so I couldn’t use that as an excuse for an inspection either. But I could go in and ask a few questions. Or I could go in and ask for a job in the Belt. That would probably be my best bet. Asking questions tended to put people on edge. Posing as a prospective employee might get me more answers than asking what they had done with two hundred fourteen missing people. That probably wouldn’t get me anywhere either and I would end up turning it over to the local law enforcement, but what the heck. I signed the paperwork the desk clerk handed me and found my ride in the parking garage. “Well here goes nothing.” I said aloud and pulled out onto Airways Blvd.

  Belt Line Staffing occupied a corner building at Rojas and 86th street. Their front window was plastered with signs advertising high pay and great benefits in the exciting far reaches of the solar system. I had been to the far reaches of our solar system and seen the places they were hiring laborers for. These people were shoveling more manure than a circus sweeper behind the elephant parade. The pay was good, that was true, but most people didn’t count on the extremely high cost of living in the Asteroid Belt. If you could live on the three meals a day the companies provided and wear only company issued uniforms then you might save some serious cash, but if you wanted something more your cash wouldn’t go far. I had recently heard of one outpost charging eighty five dollars for a pack of smokes and forty dollars for tooth paste or deodorant. That might explain the foul odors I often encountered in the mining colonies. The last can of snuff I bought at outpost nine set me back fifty four bucks. But there was something to be said for working in the Belt. It was the new frontier after all.

  As I approached the front doors they swished open and I was greeted with a cool blast of air-conditioned atmosphere that made a slight whistling noise as it rushed around my ears. Stepping in, I looked around the lobby and suddenly became aware of one obvious flaw in my plan. I was in uniform. The other fifteen or so people in the lobby were dressed like you would expect hard working men and woman to be dressed if they were applying for a job as a mechanic or miner. This might be more of a waste of time than I thought. I strolled up to the reception desk and was greeted by a smiling young woman sporting a grey business suit finished out with a mini skirt.

  “Good afternoon Captain. How may I help you?” She asked.

  “Commander.” I corrected her. “They haven’t seen fit to make me a Captain yet.”

  “So sorry about that. How may I help you Commander?” She replied.

  “I was wondering about working in the Belt area.” I said. “I’m soon to retire and was thinking about finding a real job. What kind of work would you have for an old retired Navy man who’s too young to retire and too old to keep taking orders from old Navy guys who should have retired years ago?”

  The young lady flashed a genuinely amused smile at me and said. “Oh, we have lots of opportunities for someone with your b
ackground and training I’m sure. Are you SWAFS immune?”

  “Yes I am.” I said as I grinned back at her.

  “Excellent. Let me see if Mr. Hoag is available to speak with you.”

  She picked up the phone and dialed an extension.

  “Mr. Hoag, there is a Navy gentlemen here who is looking for a new career after he retires. He is a Commander and is SWAFS immune. Would you have a moment to discuss a few opportunities with him?”

  As she listened to Mr. Hoag’s reply she gazed into my eyes and gave me a somewhat flirtatious smile. I smiled right back because after all it was the polite thing to do. And too, because she was quite the looker. After a few seconds she said. “Very good, I’ll send him right in.”

  Hanging up the phone she said to me. “Mr. Hoag is eager to meet with you and discuss several opportunities. Please follow me.”

  And follow her I did. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why Mr. Hoag had hired this young lady to be the first person a perspective space miner saw when they entered the lobby. I began to wonder why it was so difficult not to stare at her swishing blond ponytail and tightly wrapped and very short skirt. Walters red pony tail could swish with the best of them and, quite frankly, she was much prettier and, you might say, more tightly wrapped than this young lady but I never had to resist the urge to stare at her. But then again she never gazed into my eyes with that flirty flirt look or strutted around the ship in a mini skirt either. We continued down a hall lined with interview rooms and ended at the office of J. T. Hoag. J. T. was standing in the open door and greeted me with a great wide smile and hardy hand shake.

  “Please, come right in Commander. It’s so good to meet you.” He said in a voice and manner that reminded me of the slick dressed slow talking mad scientist from one of the movies in my collection of twentieth century film classics.

  “My name is J. T. Hoag and I am the proprietor of this establishment. I understand you are soon to retire?”

  Actually he was more like the funeral director than the mad scientist. Or maybe they were the same guy in that movie, I couldn’t remember.

  “Yes.” I said. “I’m retiring soon and want to move into the private sector working in or near the Belt. I’m just looking at all my options right now. What could you offer me in that area?”

  “Oh we have numerous options in that sector, numerous options. Why don’t you tell me about yourself and your training? Be sure to include any areas of special training and all your flight qualifications and experience. Let’s start with your name, I don’t think I caught it.”

  “Ok, my name is Allen Paul, Commander Allen Paul and right now I am the skipper of the UES Dawn Rising 178. She’s a Solar class patrol vessel assigned to search and rescue in the Belt.”

  J. T.’s expression changed suddenly and he sat upright in his chair.

  “Really, that’s so interesting.” He said it with a smooth mellow voice that made you want to believe he really did find it fascinating.

  He continued as he slowly arose from his seat, “Let me step across the Hall and get a couple of our client’s folders. We should have no problem finding a man of your background a wide variety of positions for you to choose from.”

  J.T. made his way to the door and just before he pulled it closed behind him he said. “I’ll be right back, won’t take a minute.” Then he closed the door and the office fell silent.

  I studied the office of Mr. J. T. Hoag as I waited for him to return. All in all it looked like a pretty normal office for a small business owner. On the walls there were several certificates of achievement from various local business associations as well as diplomas from two well-known universities. There were also pictures taken at what looked like some sort of charity golf event. On his desk were two picture frames. One showed an image of a woman whom I guessed to be his wife and the other showed the same woman along with J. T. and three children. On the corner of the desk there was a shiny black coffee mug with the emblem of the new Star Fire auto company.

  Star Fire was the newest auto company to hit the market and the first new American auto maker in nearly three decades. They were also the first to offer a car with a mini GUTM-A power cell providing all its power. With a zero to one hundred time of eight seconds and totally hand built custom interior, it was the most luxurious American made auto you could get. And with a fuel supply that lasted two years it was the most efficient car in the world. Of course it was also the most expensive car in the world. Like so many others, Mr. J. T. Hoag had a dream of someday owning the world’s most expensive luxury car. Then I looked out the window of the office and spied a silver Star Fire Coupe parked in a reserved spot on the curb of 86th street. That weren’t no dream! That was the genuine article. Eight million dollars’ worth of dreams and desires setting right on the corner.

  As I pondered how the owner of a small business like this could afford an eight million dollar car a man passed by the window and turned left to walk behind the silver coupe. As he did the tail lights blinked and the driver’s side door slid out slightly and started to pivot upward on its forward mounted rotary hinges. The man turned right and walked to the opening door. As he started to slide down into the little coupe he turned his head and looked back over his shoulder at the window from where I was watching. Then he disappeared into the car, the door rotated closed and the little silver coupe sped off at close to its eight second takeoff speed the manufacturer promised it was capable of.

  “Well Crap.” I blurted out. “J. T. has left the building!”

  CHAPTER 18: Ranger Merle Baca.

  Sargent Boils with the Harris County Sheriff’s Office was a blunt man. At least that was my impression when he informed me that I had no authority to issue a Bolo or A-P-B or any other thing on any civilian anywhere in the state of Texas. He also informed me that if I were to continue trying to do so he would charge me with impersonating an officer of the law, making false reports and being a general nuisance. He was right of course but it still irked me that my Navy Commander rank had absolutely no pull with the civilian authorities. Didn’t they know we were on the brink of war? Well of course he didn’t as the Navy and the Planetary Defense Agency had elected to keep the whole affair under wraps sighting a wide spread panic in the streets as their reasoning for doing so.

  My second call was to Admiral Albright on board the U E One. He listened to my brief retelling of the events and questioned my reason for being there.

  “Why are you worried about missing miners from the belt? What’s that got to do with your mission?”

  “I think the Croiddan are connected to this business and to several missing persons from the Belt.” I informed him.

  “And you just decided to go snooping around without notifying me about it?”

  “Yes Sir. It was a spur of the moment thing, just a hunch really, and I didn’t want to trouble you with it until I was certain there was some connection to the Croiddan. I’m pretty sure there is now. As soon as Hoag heard who I was, he bolted. Pretty incrementing behavior Sir. I didn’t even tell him why I was here. Just introduced myself and he ran.”

  “Well shit!” Albright snorted. “Ok. Hold your ground while I call in the PDA. Let’s keep this thing out of the local law’s hands.”

  Three minutes later my coms unit beeped and I answered.

  “Paul here, go ahead.”

  “Commander Paul, This is Sargent Boils with the Harris County Sheriff’s Office. I have six uniformed officers in route to your location. We have been instructed to secure the site and preserve it until the PDA can take control. I have also been instructed to give you my full cooperation. Is there anything more I can do for you Sir?”

  “Yes. You can find me that silver Star Fire and take the driver into custody.”

  “Yes Sir, I just issued your Bolo for it and the driver.” He replied.

  Apparently the PDA didn’t mind using the local law. I thanked the Sargent and hung up. I wanted to start digging into J. T.’s files but decid
ed to wait for the PDA guys so I walked back out into the lobby where I found all eyes glued to the TV hanging in the upper corner of the room. It was tuned to one of the twenty four hour news channels and the banner across the bottom of the screen read Navy battle at Neptune as yet unconfirmed. The news anchor was talking via satellite link with two men. The captions posted on top of the screen identified them as Captain Wallace of the New Horizon Space Station and pilot Skip Sherman with Bartlet Mining Consortiums. Skip was explaining what he heard on the unscrambled Navy transmission about the battle at Neptune.

  “The radio said The Dawn Rising had been attacked by three Alien Battle ships and had defended itself resulting in the destruction of all three Alien ships and heavy damage to the Dawn Rising. Then the transmission switched to a scrambled channel and that was all we heard.” Skip reported.

  The news anchor, Roger Stalls, then asked Captain Wallace. “Captain Wallace do you know anything about the attack or the condition of the Dawn Rising and its crew.”

  Wallace replied. “Well I don’t know any more about the attack than you. As Skip said the broadcast was scrambled after the first report but I do know the Dawn Rising put into space dock number one on the United Earth One space station early this morning. Dock one is used for ships needing heavy repair so I can only guess at her condition.”

  As the news anchor continued asking fruitless questions of the two men I glanced over to the reception desk where the young lady in the mini skirt was talking on the phone. She hung up and walked toward me.

  “We need to talk Commander.” She said in a stern voice that took me by surprise. “Follow me.”

  I followed her back down the hall and took note of the change in her demeanor. Gone were her flirtatious smile and seductive walk. Replacing them was a stern voice and determined purposeful stride that covered ground quickly. All was not as it seemed with her. We entered an interview room and she closed the door behind us. When she turned to face me she cut loose with both barrels.