Galactic Council Realm 2: On Duty

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Two bogies evolved on the far side of the Swanhilde,” I reported, “They skipped the Patrol Boat and are following us.”

  He eased further into the cockpit area, pulled down a wall screen and studied it. For two minutes he didn’t say a word, just stared at the images.

  “Patrol Boats for sure but there are differences,” he said adjusting the image, “Galactic Council Navy ships of that type have a uniform shape from the bow to the ion canon wall. The silhouette of those displays a bulge in the center. Definitely not Galactic Council Realm construction.”

  “Could it be modifications or add-ons like a tramp steamer?” I asked referring to independent commercial ships. They use a base ship but add parts and hulls from different types of ships to enlarge their capacity.

  “No Sir. These are original construction,” he stated with authority, “I didn’t recognize the ship yard signature.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. As a trained gunner he needed the knowledge and confidence to identify space craft under pressure. Picking an alley vessel out of a crowd of targets isn’t easy. One wrong choice and he’d shoot up a friendly ship.

  “So, if you had to guess, who do they belong to?” I asked.

  “No idea, Sir. But for sure they are not ours” He stated, “I can tell you that based on their expanded mid-ship, they have more power than a Galactic Council Patrol Boat.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for my plan or us,” I said.

  “You have a plan? Oh, sorry Sir. Of course you do,” he mumbled.

  “Relax, I sort of have a plan. Care to hear it?” I teased knowing with a mind like his, he was dying for the details.

  “Aye Sir, please,” he said brightening up.

  “The Galactic Divide is a long cluster of space dust boarded on both sides by pebbles expanding outward to rocks and finally expanding into two separate galaxies. It’s caused by the mirror symmetry of one galaxy spinning right and the neighboring galaxy spinning left. For millions of years, anything that escaped its

  home galaxy’s gravity and moved towards the counter spinning Galaxy, have impacted. From large asteroids colliding, to rocks crushing against each other until finally only particles of dust occupied the Galactic Divide,” I said being sure he understood our area of operation.

  “Aye Sir and only a ship under External drive can safely pass through the divide,” he replied showing me that he had a grasp of our predicament, “What’s the plan?”

  “If we do an External evolution both ships can follow. One evolving short and the other long, we’d be caught in the middle when we go to Internal,” I explained, “Even though we’d be back in the Galactic Council Realm, we’d be trapped.”

  “Aye Sir, we studied the tactic in gunner school,” he said, “So what’s the solution?”

  “I’ve run the math. If I’m dead on and the Patrol Boats aren’t as fast as you think, we can evolve back in the Realm near the Reina de la Adosinda,” I replied.

  “That would ruin the Patrol Boats’ day,” Def̱téra said, “From chasing a GunShip to a greeting from a Navy Frigate, yes sir, I like it.”

  “There’s only one issue,” I said, “We need to be in position before we go to External drive. And, the Patrol Boats are gaining on us.”

  “How long, Sir?” he asked.

  “Ten minutes, an alignment and we snap to External,” I said looking at the growing images of the Patrol Boats, “A long ten minutes.”

  I used the time to go over my math, looked at the trajectory of known asteroids to avoid a collision and watched the advancing Patrol Boats. Def̱téra quietly monitored the screen until he spoke.

  “We are three minutes short and out of time, Sir,” he said with authority, “They are just about in weapons’ range. If they have the same guns and missiles as us?”

  I watched as a missile launched from one of the ships. It streaked towards us but before it got dangerously close, it detonated. A test shot to establish range, I didn’t want to chance another.

  “Strap in Lance Corporal. We’re evolving to External,” I said making a heading adjustment before powering up the External drive.

  My clocks were bouncing in and out of sync. The power for both drives balanced and we evolved. Yellow ions covered my view screen and the rumble of the ship smoothed out to a steady hum.

  ‘A single snap, not a bad transition,’ I thought, ‘Now if I could find the Frigate after evolving two and a half minutes early, we’d be find.’

  According to my calculations, we’d be ahead of the big ship. I wasn’t worried about hitting it. Space was big. What made me nervous was the possibility of evolving behind it. Left in its wake with two enemy Patrol Boats wasn’t my idea of a successful snap.

  Six hours later, my cargo of Marines fed and watered, Breann fed and rubbed and me with a sick stomach, I snapped us to Internal drive. Immediately I scanned the surrounding area. We were in the Galactic Council Realm and not on a collision course for the Frigate. In fact, the huge ship was not within range of my scanner.

  My tormentors did however evolve per the designated tactic. One appeared far beyond me and the other behind. That solved which way I should head, I turned my GunShip to what I hoped was the path of the Frigate.

  As we moved away while the slower turning Patrol Boats nosed around, I redid my calculations. We weren’t that far off. The war ship should be in scanner range if it was on schedule. A felling of dread settled on me as I imagined it was far behind me. There was no way to check, I had unpleasant companions in that direction.

  Def̱téra emerged through the curtain as did Breann.

  “Any luck? Sir,” Def̱téra asked.

  “Not yet. We may have missed it,” I replied looking at the scanner, “Take a look.”

  ‘Big hunt,’ Breann passed to me.

  The Patrol Boats were advancing and making up lost time. I could only surmise that Breann meant them.

  ‘We are prey,’ I sent back to the Space Cat out of frustration.

  ‘Bait,’ came his reply.

  My scanner screamed and Def̱téra let out a war cry. Breann, he jumped up and settled on my lap.

  Out of the black and barren space behind the Patrol Boats, two yellow streaks evolved. I couldn’t tell the type but they’d come from Council space so I was pretty sure they were GC Navy.

  “BattlePlatforms, Sir,” Def̱téra reported, “A flight of two.”

  I breathed out hard and inhaled deeply for the first time in hours. One Brick was enough to take out two Patrol Boats. Two of the BattlePlatforms was just plain mean.

  Chapter 14

  The first mistake from the Patrol Boats was taking time to fire missiles at me instead of turning to the Galactic Divide and running. Their second error, they launched at the Bricks. Bad things happen to ships that fire on Bricks. You anger the pilots who are uncomfortably strapped into a hard form fitting seat. They start off irritated and only get more ferocious from there.

  Working in tandem, they buzzed down the side of one Patrol Boat. It disintegrated. The other turned towards the Divide and I saw a spark of yellow as it began an evolution to External drive. The BattlePlatforms spun, reversed course, went to External drive. They snapped back ahead of the boat. Returning on either side of the Patrol Boat, they raked the just evolving ship.

  The Patrol Boat began to stretch as its ion drive powered up in a mismatched evaluation. A long tail of pieces was momentarily surrounded by a yellow haze before it faded. There was less space junk from this Patrol Boat than from the first one.

  “Swanhilde Two to BattlePlatforms, thank you,” I radioed.

  “Rodger Two, stand by in this sector,” one of the Brick pilots replied, “We’re going to patrol the divide until the Glynis Gavin arrives.”

  I was stunned. The Galactic Council Navy’s BattleShip, Glynis Gavin, the Holy White Dove, was a big red monster. Like the other BattleShips that protected the Realm, it was usually patrolling far out of travel lanes.

  The route along the
Galactic Divide was already being watched by Patrol Boats, Frigates and ships from the Merchant Fleet. To drop a BattleShip in the sector would disrupt normal traffic. It must mean a big operation was in progress.

  A red streak hit the edge of my scanner and before I could comment to Def̱téra about the phenomena, the red faded. It was replaced with flights of Combat Shuttles, Fighters and Bricks that swarmed from the recently appearing BattleShip. The Glynis Gavin had arrived and this sector of space was closed to all ships except those invited within the protective screen.

  “Swanhilde Two, stand by to be boarded,” a voice commanded as two Shuttles and a pair of GunShips popped into my view screen.

  “Rodger, standing by. Be advised that I have wounded on board,” I replied.

  Without another transmission, a Shuttle pulled alongside and I heard an air-lock tube hammer into my GunShip. Moments later, the hatch flew open, three Marines crawled in and split up to cover the cabin. I had already unstrapped and with Breann nestled in my arms greeted them with a smile.

  The Marines, Breann and I were transferred to a medical Shuttle. As the injured were treated, the Shuttle cruised towards the BattleShip. From a metallic blur that took up a portion of the view screen, the Glynis Gavin grew until sections filled the screen. Finally, a black hole was all there was to see as we recovered through the first air curtain.

  “I’d like to get some chew, Senior Lieutenant,” I said to the tall Officer.

  “After you’ve finished your report,” he replied. His mannerisms were ridged and his voice clipped as if to intimidate.

  “After Action Report,” I stated correcting him.

  I’d been cleared by the medical staff on the shuttle. We docked and the Marines were taken away. Breann jumped from my arms and disappeared across the landing zone. I’d been escorted up sixteen decks and ushered into this room. It was barren. Just a steel table, two chairs on opposite sides of the table and a key pad and screen.

  “Whatever you want to call it,” he said with a shrug.

  I wasn’t getting a warm feeling from him. In fact, he vibrated with hostility. What was wrong with him? Nothing I could do about it. I stood by a chair figuring the sooner I finished my After Action Report, the sooner I could eat.

  Nudging my bag with the Clan Strap and my other gear under a chair, I sat and began to type.

  “What do you have in that bag, Lieutenant?” he asked.

  “Personal items, Senior Lieutenant,” I said coping his formal use of rank. This guy was getting on my nerves. What did he want more, the report or a conversation?

  “I’ll be back for the report,” he said abruptly as he marched to the hatch, “Then we can talk.”

  “And eat,” I said to the door as it closed.

  My fingers flew and the report unfolded to the best of my recollection. I finished, looked up and for the first time noticed a few things about the room. One, it was very bright and hot. Also, the air was stale, on a BattleShip with a red Heart Plant, the atmosphere should have had a cinnamon aroma. And, finally, I saw the cameras in the four corners of the room.

  The thought crawled across my mind. It was an interrogation room. My tired brain missed the clues when I entered. Then again, I was exhausted from hours of combat. Mister Happy Officer was about to find out just how weary, when he returned.

  I stewed and baked for a few more minutes before the hatch opened. My host entered, walked to the table, set a small cup of water in front of me before taking the opposing seat.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” he said turning the screen around as if he were going to read my report.

  I suppressed a chuckle at the theatrics. The report had been typed into the ship’s system so he had already read what I typed. In fact, he’d know when I changed a line or word as I wrote and revised the report.

  “Look here, Smiley,” I said leaning back and locking eyes with him.

  “What?” he asked returning my glare?

  “Oh, sorry, permission to speak? Senior Lieutenant Smiley,” I said.

  “My name is not Smiley,” he replied.

  “It is to me, Senior Lieutenant based on your pleasant disposition,” I said standing, “You’ve kept me here in this recreation room to finish the report but didn’t inform me of your name or any charges. Now, if you don’t have any questions, I want to get to the mess deck.”

  I reached under the chair and pulled out my personal bag. Before I could take two steps towards the door, Smiley shouted.

  “Guards, enter.”

  The hatch opened and the space was filled with the bulk of two huge Navy Shore Patrol men. Guessing the Senior Lieutenant really did want to talk, I set the bag down and sat. The Shore Patrol faded back through the hatch.

  “So your last assignment was on Nafaka?” he asked.

  ‘That wasn’t in my report,’ I thought, ‘the report began when the Swanhilde evolved to Internal drive. What was this Nafaka question?’

  “Yes, Sir. My last duty station was with the 49th Air Wing, on the food planet Nafaka,” I replied, “My duties involved flying supplies, local dignitaries and medical emergencies within the 49th Area of Operation.”

  “What about combat operations?” he asked not even pretending to read from the screen.

  “I took part in several operations involving the Nafaka Defense Force,” I related, “There was some insurgent activity and the mission of 49th is to assist them with transportation.”

  “Now when you arrived on the grain Station, you billeted in the Merchant Fleet Hotel. As a Captain, a bit unusual isn’t that?” he asked with an accusing knot in his brow.

  “While I was in transit to my duty station, I happened to be in a position to help the Merchant Fleet. They credited me with saving a Clipper ship and its cargo,” I reported, “They certified me a reserve Captain in the Merchant Fleet as a reward.”

  “And the large sum of Pesetas recently deposited in a Marine Corps Credit Union account under your name?” he said leaning forward, “Interesting Credit Union choice for a Navy Officer.”

  “Part of the reward and the G.C.M.C.C.U. is a fine financial organization,” I said as crisply as possible, “Are there any real questions, Sir?”

  I reached out and took a sip of the water. It was warm, of course, I was in an interrogation room.

  “Feeling nervous Lieutenant?” he asked puffing up a bit as if to intimidate me.

  Just for a second, a flash of emotion, I shoved it down, before I started to show him how I really felt. Pausing to calm myself, I restated the information in my report.

  “Let me help you. In my After Action Report, I stated the case of the destruction of a Clipper ship with a modified cargo sleeve. The modification transformed the sleeve into a torpedo launch platform. It is my belief the purpose was to attack a Galactic Council Frigate.”

  “So you say,” he replied.

  “Yes, Sir, I do say, plus there are questions about the posters on the walls of the Clipper,” I said pointing to the back of the screen, “Look it up, it’s in the A-A-R.”

  “We are not interested in artwork, even if your account of the supposed action on the Clipper was to be believed,” he said smiling for the first time, “What we are interested in is how you managed to survive an attack that killed most of the crew of the Swanhilde. Then, came back to save a few Marines before being escorted back to the Galactic Council Realm by a couple of strange ships.”

  “All of this to ask me if I had something to do with the attack on the Swanhilde?” I asked my mouth dropping open, “Senior Lieutenant, I don’t see any ribbons on your uniform so I can’t be sure. But, let me guess, you’ve never seen combat. Have you?”

  “I’m asking the questions here,” he shouted, “Now sit down!”

  I was finished with this rear echelon mutt. Snagging my gear from the floor, I was two steps to the hatch. It opened and the two Navy Cops blocked my way. That was fine, I had planned to go without a fight. At least in the brig, they would feed me.


  “Handcuff him to the chair,” Smiley ordered, “I’m not done questioning him.”

  The Shore Patrol men both produced cuffs and approached me. I didn’t want a hassle so I dropped my bag and held out my wrists. I planned to go easily, until.

  “And hand me that bag,” the Senior Lieutenant ordered, “Let’s see what he is hiding.”

  Personal gear was not off limits in the Galactic Council Navy and was subject to inspection. However, personal items were usually respected. In my case with the Clan Gear, which I didn’t want uncovered, it would bring up questions I didn’t want to answer.

  So I hooked the elbow of one Shore Patrol and whipped him around in an arc that ended in a collusion with the other. I glanced at Lieutenant Smiley for his attack. Not an inch, he hadn’t budged. Just as I thought, all bluster, no guts.

  Then again, he didn’t need to participate as two more Shore Patrol entered the room. Now there were four and two were not happy with me. It wasn’t going to be a joyous day and I was so hungry.

  I kicked my bag into a corner and backed up to it. They fanned out and held positions.

  There were two options as far as I could tell. Let them lead me back to the chair. That would mean hours if not days of questions about my Clan gear. Or, a fight with four men, trying not to hurt them and hopping they didn’t injury me too badly.

  ‘Neither choice has a satisfactory outcome,’ I thought.

  There were the sounds of a scuffle outside the doorway. It ended and six Marines swarmed into the room. They quickly placed themselves among the Shore Patrol.

  Great, reinforcements, could my day get any better?

  A Marine Corps’ Captain stepped into the room. You could cute your flesh on the sharp creases of his dress blue uniform. His four rows of ribbons announced his combat experience. And his ridge posture allowed no room for disagreement. There was something about him that spoke of honor, duty and left no room for disagreement. He took three steps, stopped and swept the room with his eyes. Never moving his head or shoulders as he took in everything with those cold calculating eyes.