by Dale Musser
“Okay, good. Make sure those efforts continue and keep me informed. We need to find out what they’re using for a power source and where they’re getting it.”
My stomach growled. I had been planning on a simple meal of noodles for lunch, but now I was famished.
“Have you eaten since this morning?” I asked Marranalis.
“No, sir. I’ve been too busy,” he replied.
“Same here. How about I have Pieamar prepare some fubalo steaks? He can serve us here while we go over the details of the new attacks.”
“That sounds good to me,” Marranalis replied with a grin. “I’m never one to turn down a fubalo steak, no matter what the time of day. Would it be possible to have a few afexes with it too?”
I had to laugh – not that Marranalis’s request was funny, but the almost childlike way he made it was completely incongruent with his hulking, muscular figure.
“Yes, I am positive we can have a few afexes too,” I said, grateful for the moment of laughter that broke the stifling darkness of war and death that had become our daily reality.
Marranalis and I had just finished the last bites of our fubalo steaks and reviewed the latest statistics of the synchronized sixteen-world attack, when an aide delivered a new report of an outbreak of Ming’s Disease on Quindatte. This was odd, in that there were no reports of Brotherhood ships appearing in the area nor of any canister aerial drops. Patrol ships were sent out to scan a one-thousand-square-kilometer area around the outbreak area to see if any canisters could be found. The search produced no evidence. Time-lapse satellite images of the area were digitally analyzed to identify anomalies and changes as small as a coin on the ground, but again, the findings were negative.
“Sir, do you think they used a new means of infecting the planet?” asked Marranalis.
“I’m beginning to think so,” I said. “It’s possible they shipped something contaminated to the planet and when it was opened, it released the deadly pathogen. It could have arrived on a freighter or it could have even passed through a planetary Cantolla Gate. Shipping and gate security has been redoubled, but it’s impossible to account for every scenario when it comes to this pathogen. Whatever means they used, we need to figure it out fast so we can avert a similar method from being employed on other worlds. Where was the first person found who showed symptoms? That might give us some clues.”
“I’ll check into it, sir.” Marranalis dabbed his mouth with a napkin and rose to return to his station in the War Room.
I watched him leave my office and thought about what an incredible officer he’d become. If the time came that I needed to step down as Rear Admiral, I wanted Marranalis to be the man who succeeded me. I knew that there would be those within the military who wouldn’t like that idea at all. They would be the same individuals who would feel that no Rear Admiral should be a soldier who had risen through the ranks like Marranalis, someone who lacked a family name or some other social prestige. But in my mind, there was no one better to lead the Galactic Federation Military. Nothing Marranalis said or did was motivated by pride or desire to elevate himself. All he wanted to do was serve and protect the Federation to the best of his ability by making decisions that were sound, objective and well-informed.
There was a soft knock at my door.
“Enter,” I said.
The door opened to reveal Reide. “Hi, Dad. I hope I’m not interrupting you at a bad time.”
“No! No, not at all. Come in, son. What brings you here today?”
“Captain Padaran needed to come here to meet with some of the officers in charge of the defensive troops onboard. When we finished up, he said he needed to discuss some things with the supply officer. He didn’t need me in that meeting and said if I wished I could come and say hi to you.”
“Well I’m glad he did and I’m glad to see you. I hope Padaran’s discussion with the supply officer isn’t about anything too serious,” I said, as I recalled we’d had problems with supplies and distribution in the recent past.
“I don’t know,” Reide said, “Padaran seemed pretty upset that troopers on the GLOMAR ROSA weren’t being supplied with the proper gear. He’s genuinely worried that the troopers may not be adequately equipped if there’s ever a crisis situation.”
“I thought that problem had been resolved,” I said. “There were some pretty serious reprimands handed out over this issue about a month ago. If it’s still a problem, maybe we need to consider some demotions.
“So how are things going with you?”
“Pretty good, Dad. Padaran keeps me busy. I have very little free time.”
“What does he have you doing?”
“With all the canister attacks, we’ve been training and drilling squads in donning HAZMAT suits quickly and we’ve developed fighting techniques and security and crowd control that are adapted specifically for situations where we’re wearing the gear, so we prevent any compromise to the suits. Padaran says that had the troops been better trained, we would have seen fewer casualties.”
There was something in the way Reide made this last statement that made me feel he didn’t agree with Padaran’s thoughts.
“And what do you think about that?” I asked.
“Well, I agree with the training and all, but I don’t see how it’s going to help in the long run. Once they’re in those suits, they can’t get out for risk of exposure and there is no hope of them being rescued. They just slowly starve to death. They would be better off getting sick, going into a coma and dying in two days than suffering in one of those suits for a week or more.”
“Sooner or later, we’ll find a way to pass them through a disinfectant and sterilization process so they can take them off. When we do, anyone in a suit will be saved,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“So tell me, how are things going with you and Volydalle?”
“I haven’t seen her in weeks. I try to call her every day, but our duty times conflict, so we just don’t get to speak as often as we’d like,” he replied. “But, we both have leave coming up this weekend and we plan to get together for a day.”
“She seems like a very nice girl,” I replied.
“She is, Dad. I really enjoy being with her.”
There was another knock at the door.
“Enter,” I said. The door opened and Padaran walked in. He saluted quickly, something I noted Reide hadn’t done when he arrived, but I didn’t mention it.
“Good to see you, Captain. I appreciate you giving Reide a few minutes to visit with me.”
“I thought the two of you might enjoy a moment to say hello. With the way this war is ramping up, it’s difficult to find time for family and friends.”
“Reide tells me you had a talk with the GLOMAR ROSA supply officer about deficiencies in the troopers’ gear. Nothing serous I hope?”
“It could be, if the ship was ever boarded by the enemy or if these troops were called to action ground-side. Many of them would be missing items from their combat kits.”
“That happened on Tombosem,” I said. “I thought the issue was resolved, but apparently not.”
“Well, the items are here aboard the ship, but they’re not being issued into the troopers’ kits – at least not consistently. Some kits have everything they’re supposed to, while others are lacking one or two items. From what I can tell, it’s just sloppiness or laziness on the part of the supply crew. Personally, sir, I recommend you demote and replace the entire lot of Procurement and Supply leadership and put the rest of that bunch on probation. You can't afford to have anything out of place on this ship.”
“You’re right. I’ll take care of it. Thank you for calling it to my attention. Reide also said your training the men how to fight and work in HAZMAT suits. Smart move. A’Lappe and Cantolla are trying to determine a means of sterilizing the suits after exposure, so wearers can get out of them without becoming infected.”
“How’s that coming along?”
“Nothing viable so far, though A’Lappe thinks they may be able to do something using sound frequencies. The only frequency identified so far that kills the pathogen is also one that is deadly to humans, so at the moment they can only sanitize an unoccupied space.”
“I hope they come up with something soon. Those troopers at the base on Sambal are beginning to die inside their suits.”
After Reide and Padaran were gone, I contacted Captain Hanges and asked him to come to my office. As captain of the GLOMAR ROSA, he was responsible for all the men aboard the ship. He arrived at my office moments later.
“You wanted to see me, Admiral?”
“Yes, what can you tell me about our senior supply officer?” I asked.
“Corporal Neisen? Not a lot really. He was up for a promotion and had served as a supply officer on several different ships in the past. Clean record, other than for an incident right before the commissioning of the GLOMAR ROSA, where he got into a fight. Why? Is there a problem with him?”
“Yes, I believe there is. As you know, at Tombosem our troopers were without proper body armor and cloaking devices, because Neisen hadn’t bothered to see that the supply room was fully stocked before we left port. He didn’t even bother to use the ship replicator or make last minute requests for gear deliveries via the Cantolla Gates and we had casualties as a result. He and his teams were given reprimands and I thought the matter was resolved. Today, Captain Padaran reported to me that troopers here aboard the GLOMAR ROSA have been repeatedly issued combat kits with missing items. I can’t allow this to happen. It is unacceptable performance on this ship and on any Federation military ship, especially now in the midst of a war.
“You said he got into a fight. What was it about?”
“Usual sort of thing. He was drinking and called one of the troopers a ground pounder and told him to pound ground, implying he should pound it up his rectum.”
“Usual sort of thing? We’re all troopers,” I said. “There is no difference between men and officers on a ship and the ones that fight on the ground.”
“Yes, sir, but some men don’t see it that way. Neisen is one of those who believe that those who serve aboard the ship are of a higher class of men than the infantry. You don’t think he deliberately withheld their gear because of the fight, do you? To be malicious?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen people do stupider things already. One thing I know is that there is no room for this kind of elitism in the military. We’re all troopers doing our jobs and no one is any better than another. I wonder how he is going to feel about being demoted and shipped out to serve with the ground pounders.”
“You’re demoting him?” Hanges asked with surprise.
“Officially, you are, but technically I am since I’m ordering you to demote him. You’ll also demote any of his supply team that have been complicit in this mentality and treatment of the troopers. I suspect that the elitism extends right into the Procurement Division, so clean house as needed, Captain, and anyone who you decide to keep in those departments are to be placed on one year of probation. New staff and leadership that is to be brought in as replacements are to be vetted by you personally. I’ll talk to Captain Padaran and tell him to make space for some new “ground pounders,” in his squads. I want you to transfer all of them to serve under him, as I know they will be treated firmly but fairly. I think in a few weeks Neisen and his elitist friends will gain a new respect for the infantry, once they join them. Oh, and before they leave, point out to them, if you will, that leaders like Admiral Marranalis and a large number of highly respected officers technically started out as ground pounders.”
A huge grin spread across Hanges face, his white teeth contrasting brightly with his dark skin. “By the stars, Admiral! You are much like a Ruwallie Rasson. It is no wonder we like you so much. I will see to it.”
The next four days were basically more of the same. Not only were there more body-bomber attacks at or near Cantolla Gate hubs, but the bombers also started attacking other heavily frequented areas and urban locations. Public gatherings such as concerts and sports events were becoming common targets and people were growing afraid to go anyplace that there was an assembly of people. Germ canister attacks were also increasing, which kept the public in a sustained panic, as no one knew where or when the next attack would occur. In just a couple of weeks the human populations had been wiped out on more than thirty worlds, and those few who managed to survive in HAZMAT suits were dying too, as we had not yet found a means of sterilization that would save them.
Even though we were unable to get much investigation done on Quindatte before the investigators took ill and went into a coma, we were able to discover that the first person to show signs of illness was not a native of the planet, nor had he arrived through a Cantolla Gate. By tracing the movements of the diseased carrier backwards, it was determined that he had arrived on the planet via a small spaceport outside the city. However, it was unclear how he had contracted the disease. Several scenarios were possible. He may have carried the pathogens with him in a sealed container and infected himself on arrival before continuing into the city or he may have been given a sealed package containing the pathogen with instructions to open it when he reached his destination and he may not have even known what it was. We might have been able to learn more, had we been able to send someone to examine his ship, but by the time we figured out this much, it was too late and everyone on the planet was dead. To make matters worse, there were no Nibarians on Quindatte who could conduct further investigations.
One of the strange aspects of the disease that continued to stand out to Cantolla was that it didn’t seem to have even the slightest adverse effect on other living life forms. She said this was a strong indicator that the pathogen was artificially engineered rather than naturally occurring, regardless of the fact that it was supposedly thriving on one of the moons of Plamos. Cantolla continued to investigate.
So far, Ming hadn’t made any new appearances since his withdrawal of the God’s Sweat from the Federation’s illegal drug trade. He had remained silent, making no demands of the Federation while he conducted his onslaught of attacks and body-bombings. But I knew his ultimatums would be coming soon; and when they did, I knew they wouldn’t be pretty.
I was beginning to worry that Ming might have found a way to defeat us, when Admiral Nugallie contacted me. A’Lappe had successfully enhanced the detection capability of our scanners and before long, Nugallie’s team had been able to locate one of the Brotherhood’s powered gate nodes. They brought it back to the GLOMAR ROSA and A’Lappe made one of those exceedingly rare exceptions about leaving the NEW ORLEANS and agreed to come to the GLOMAR ROSA to look at the device. I met him and the team in one of the ship’s launch tube hangar areas where the device was being housed.
When I walked in, I saw what looked like a pile of junk with cables hanging out of it and two short, stubby legs that I recognized as belonging to A’Lappe sticking out of one end of what used to be a small box-like structure.
“What have you found so far?” I asked Admiral Nugallie, who observed A’Lappe’s twitching legs from the foot of the metal pile with several other technicians.
“The power supply is much larger in physical dimensions than ours, but it doesn’t appear that it’s capable of producing enough power by itself to operate the gate. A’Lappe crawled inside to get a better look and figure out how this thing works.”
From inside the heap I heard a metallic thunk followed by an echoey curse in A’Lappe’s voice.
“Are you alright in there, A’Lappe?” I called in to him.
“I bumped my head,” he called out. Give me a minute and I’ll be right out.” For a short time, his legs were still and then they began shifting back and forth as he slowly began to back his way out. Finally, he worked his way out of the entanglement of wires, dusted off his hands and stood up with a serious look on his face.
“So what do you make of it?” I asked.
“
This thing is a total piece of junk. That it works at all is a miracle. While the design is brilliant, the panel and component fabrication are awfully crude and the assembly is even worse. This wasn’t intended to be used very many times.”
“What are they powering it with? Solbidnite?” I asked.
“No. That’s where the brilliance comes in. Whoever designed this is using only a small 4X fusion reactor to power it, but they’ve installed a network of several capacitors and amplifiers that store the energy until enough has accumulated to open and maintain gate operation for about two hours. I would say that’s its maximum storage capacity. After that the gate closes when the power is drained and it can’t be opened again until it builds up enough charge, which could take weeks. It’s nothing close to our gates, but it's sufficient for Ming to get several ships through for a quick raid and still have enough time for them to slip back through. Anyway, now it’s clear why the power hub for their gates are so much larger than ours, even though ours are more powerful. They’re just loaded with hardware.”
“Is there any way we can exploit what you’ve discovered?” I asked.
A’Lappe thought for a moment. “Possibly! Do you remember those electromagnetic pulse weapons we used against the Brotherhood when we captured one of their ships coming back from Earth?”
“Yes, I remember,” I answered.
“I think we can use the same electromagnetic pulse weapons against this gate. The pulse should fry this power supply and drain the capacitors, instantly rendering the gate useless.”
“Won’t that destroy our own Cantolla Gates aboard our ships?” I asked.
“No, not at all. Our gates of all types are manufactured with EMP shielding. The Brotherhood doesn’t go to the extent of protecting their devices – or their crew for that matter. To Ming everything is expendable and made so it is barely functional. Even so, I must admit the design is brilliant.”
“This at least gives us something to work with,” said Admiral Nugallie.
