“As you were,” I ordered the Marines while moving towards the pouch, “Holster your weapons. Stay at your posts.”
I would have laughed if the tension on the Bridge wasn’t thicker than my mother’s pea soup. Both sets of Marines, Haitham’s and Tuulia’s, had jumped in front of their Rear Admirals. The two senior Navy Officers were jockeying around attempting to look around or over the Maines. As soon as they exposed themselves, a Marine would shift to block any avenue of attack and thus block the view.
The view wasn’t much to see. Just me, kneeling at the rebreather pouch, peeling the cover back and staring horrified at the electronic trigger housing. I left the pouch untouched and crawled on hands and knees to the lower doors of the food cart.
I eased open the doors on the base of the food cart. Inside wasn’t filled with spare cups or additional snacks. It was stuffed with wires, batteries and a round mass. The mass was wrapped in greasy grey paper and it was sweating beads of clear liquid. I studied the bomb but couldn’t make sense of the apparatus. With all the senior NCOs on planet Tres, there was no one on the Ander El Aitor who had the training to defuse it. I needed guidance.
“Ma’am, Sir,” I stated looking from Tuulia to Haitham, “I’d recommend, you clear the Bridge. I’d suggest the Combat Control Center.”
I’d suggested because, you do not order a BattleShip’s Captain to do anything. Let alone abandon his Bridge. Whether they stayed or not was out of my hands.
‘Stone Angel, bomb on the Bridge,’ I sent on my PID, “Can you help?’
‘J-Pop, describe it,’ came back his reply.
‘Too many wires. Grey sweaty mass. Batteries and a remote trigger,’ I answered.
‘Sounds like Fire Dove,’ he typed taking a shot at his Sky element, ‘Do Not Touch. Picking up tools in Armory. There in 10.’
What was it with these Strikers? Here I knelt staring at an explosive device and Stone Angel was making a joke.
I glanced around and saw Haitham and Tuulia entering the elevator to Combat Control. The Marines and the Bridge staff were filing out the passageway. Only the Druid stayed. He’d taken a position at the hatch and it didn’t seem as if he’d be joining the others.
My heart rate had slowed. I expected it to be pounding on my rib cage trying to burst out of my chest. It wasn’t, as a matter of fact, I was calmer. Could it be due to all the personnel being off the Bridge? Everyone had left, expect, the Druid standing sentinel.
“How did you know the Messman had the trigger?” I asked the silent Druid.
“He was of many minds,” he stated with no emotion, “None of them were noble.”
I guess he meant the Messman had a lot on his mind being a suicide bomber and a turncoat. But that wasn’t the information I needed.
“How about physically?” I asked already knowing Druids were terrible conversationalists, “As in a rapid heard beat? Sweating palms? What signaled you to act?”
“He was of many minds,” came the same and just as unhelpful reply.
I placed one hand on the rebreather pouch containing the trigger to steady it. With the other, I rifle through the Messman’s pockets. They were empty. I’d hoped for a clue that would help me in identifying his fellow conspirators. There was none.
“Knight. His heart wasn’t calm,” the Druid spoke again, “Like yours, like mine, it was rapid.”
The Druid had also picked up on the disruptive force permeating the Bridge. While I couldn’t isolate the source, he had. There was something unusual going on with my senses. Before I could ponder the thought, a voice called out from the passageway.
“Hey, J-Pop. You want to call off your Druid?” Stone Angel asked.
The big Striker was standing dangerously close to the Druid. Broken fighting stick or not, Stone Angel was near enough to get hurt. Neither man would give ground.
“Gentlemen, at ease,” I called out, “Stone Angel is here to disarm the bomb. Please allow him to pass.”
The Druid shifted out of the passageway. As soon as the Striker walked by, the Druid resumed his guard position. Despite the danger of an exploding bomb, Elder Maredudd’s Druid was manning his post.
It was a good feeling to know, ‘I don’t have to worry about any of the Messman’s friends dropping by to complete the sabotage.’
I thought that, and felt it. The Druid turned his head, smiled at me, nodded his head and turned back to face the passageway. In my head, I sensed an emotion of pride.
“Look here, Lieutenant,” Stone Angel said pulling me away from the internal confusion of feeling a Druid in my head and the shock of seeing one smile in public, “This is a pass-fail puzzle.”
“By that you mean disarm or boom?” I asked following his arm to where it entered the inside of the food cart. One of his big hands was wrapped around a gaggle of wires, “Ah, you’re not going to pull them all at once, are you?”
“No Sir. I’m just sorting which are primary and which are secondary,” he replied while separating wires until they were in groups running between his fingers.
“Redundancy, as in if the first trigger fails, the second sets off the bomb?” I asked.
My heart was fluttering. Suddenly I was aware the Druid could sense my emotions. I forced myself to calm down. It’s embarrassing to know someone else can read you that well.
While I worried about my personal privacy, Stone Angel selected a screwdriver. Running from the grey mass of explosives, through his fingers, the wires continued until disappearing into the side of the small metal box. He used the tool to open the box.
“It’s not that complicated, J-Pop,” the Striker assured me, “We’re not going to separate the explosive material from the wires. We’re going to separate the wires from the batteries. You see, the more complicated one end of any apparatus is, the more basic the other end. Take an assembly line. Hundreds of parts come in one end and a single finished product pops out the other.”
While he talked his hands were tracing the wires coming out the other side of the box. He paused and turned his head to look me in the eyes.
“Ready, Sir?” he asked.
“You’re going to separate the battery wiring?” I inquired letting a small emotion of fear creep into my mind. To heck with the Druid, sweat was dripping down the back of my neck.
“Well, I was,” he said grunting.
“Was?” I said too quickly with too much volume, “What’s wrong?”
“I was and now I have,” he said tilting his head.
I followed the direction indicated and in his hand was a metallic plate with wires dangling off of one side.
“I’ve got to seal up some hot ends,” Stone Angel instructed, “Get Warlock and the team up here. We’ll isolate the device in a bunker. The Navy can dismantle it later.”
‘Warlock. Need to transport device, Stone Angel has disarmed,’ I typed, ‘I want to put him in for a medal.’
‘Alert to both,’ the Striker team leader replied.
As the Strikers slowly wheeled the food cart off the Bridge, I typed a message to Admiral Haitham.
‘Bridge cleared and safe,’ I typed.
While I waited for the Bride staff to return, I caught a glimpse of the Strikers around the food cart. Thunder Eagle was pushing with Heavy Rain on the front walking backwards. Stone Angel was bent over with his arms inside the compartment shuffling along beside it. Warlock walked out front a few paces to provide security and clear the passageway. Walking drag, Fire Dove brought up the rear. I couldn’t be sure but I believe he was munching on a muffin as the food cart and the Strikers vanished around a corner.
“Lieutenant Piran. I’m putting you in for a commendation,” Rear Admiral Haitham announced as he dropped into the captain’s chair, “You handled the event bravely and engineered a satisfactory solution.”
“Sir, it was Stone Angel who performed above and beyond the call of duty,” I insisted, “I just did what a naval officer does. I supervised. Now, Sir, where would you like me stationed?”
>
“Well, I’ve given it a lot of thought Senior Lieutenant,” Haitham stated, “I do need pilots. I also need oversight at over fifty stations and departments. I also require a senior officer for Bridge watch. And I need a liaison for Councilor Peng.”
“Yes Sir,” I relied too soon, “What duty shall I assume?”
“I need all of them but you aren’t seventy-five people,” he replied, “But my overriding need is for internal security on this vessel. I’m making you head of security for the entire ship. Marines, Strikers, crewmembers, whatever you need to keep my BattleShip secure, I’ll back you up. And, I’ll need you to stand third watch while we’re under External drive.”
‘So my job was MBWA, except for my nights,’ I thought, ‘while most people slept, I’d be drinking weak coffee and dining on mid rats.’
“Yes, I know ‘Management by Walking Around’ isn’t glamorous,” Haitham admitted, “And you wouldn’t make a lot of friends on the Ander El Aitor. But with a Senior Lieutenant watching over my security, it’ll be one less thing for me to worry about.”
“Aye, aye Sir, I accept,” I said, “Is there anything else?”
“Once we evolve to External drive,” he added, “I’m calling an all pilots’ meeting. They need to be reorganized and flight leaders appointed. I’d like you there for two reasons.”
“Two reasons Captain?” I asked.
“One, I want the pilots to know you have my backing,” he said holding up a finger, “They can get rowdy and they need to know my head of security has my full backing. Two, I want you to tell them everything you know about the Empress’ Royal Constabulary.”
“I don’t know much,” I admitted, “But if you don’t mind some conjecture in the mix, I can brief them on the enemy.”
“That’s all I ask,” Haitham said, “Dismissed.”
I met with Warlock and the Strikers. After them, I called a meeting with a group of Marines. While we talked, an announcement came over the public address system.
“Standby for External evolution. All hands, standby for External evolution in ten minutes,” the voice stated.
I continued to talk about guard stations as we all grabbed something solid. If it was a good transition from Internal to External drive, we wouldn’t feel anything. If it wasn’t, we’d feel a snap, and depending on which drive was miss timed, we’d either be jerked forward or backward. Of course, there was always the possibility we’d just dissolve in an expanding field of red ions. No one gave that much thought as there was nothing to be gained from the exercise.
The evolution to External drive must have happened because we were still discussing assignments long past the time announced. We hadn’t felt anything. ‘Nice job Tuulia,’ I thought as a Corporal volunteered to assume Sergeant of the Guard duties for third watch.
My PID buzzed. Haitham wanted me in the flight briefing auditorium. I excused myself and headed out to tell a bunch of combat pilots they were no longer the only intimidators in the Tres sector.
Chapter 21
“What are you a pansy?” someone shouted from far in the back of the auditorium.
“A delicate flower,” another yelled.
I was on the Flight Commander’s platform. It placed me at a height mid-level with the rows of terraced seating. Rear Admiral Haitham had finished his talk. Lieutenant Perwira, who was popular, talked briefly telling the pilots they would break into sections after chow. New flight leaders had to be selected. But, before junior pilots would become flight leaders, they had to listen to me.
They saw a man older then all of them. A little over dressed compared to everyone in the auditorium. What I saw was a sea of young faces filled with confidence. Make that over confidence, it was my job to bring them down a notch. Maybe if they listened, they’d be prepared for an enemy who was equal, or even better, then themselves.
Sitting behind and to my flanks were Rear Admiral Haitham and Lieutenant Perwira. Better known in this area as Eaglet and Wind Chime. They both reacted to the heckler. I held out my hands, palms down, to let them know I could handle it.
“I’ll get my prom dress out of storage, if you need it,” another pilot shouted.
Again, the speaker was just an anonymous voice in the assembly. They’d reacted to my comment about being afraid of the enemy. I wanted them riled up and emotionally defensive. Now it was my job to bring them back to level.
“I killed six Constabulary in hand to hand combat,” I stated looking down and studying my hands for effect. I raised my head and said, “They didn’t go down easy. Their equipment isn’t more advanced then the Galactic Council Navy but, they have more experience fighting.”
A round of groans and hollers greeted my comment. I ignored the outburst.
“While you’ve been dealing with Pirates and some disorganized Rebels,” I lectured, “The Empress’ Royal Constabulary has been conquering worlds. Destroying militaries with superior technology. Not by out smarting them, but through sheer tenacity. They are accustomed to giving no quarter, or showing mercy.”
There were a few growls from some of the more aggressive pilots.
“Remember your military history. As the Empress’ forces withdrew from planet Dos the ship to ship fighting was fierce,” I stated, “They’ve improved since then. Gotten stronger. Plus, they have a mission. The conquest of the Galactic Council Realm.”
“Over my dead body,” someone shouted.
“Let’s hope not,” I corrected the speaker, “I have no doubts about your abilities. You swore an oath to protect the Galactic Council Realm from all enemies. The Royal Constabulary is devoted to an individual and they consider her almost divine. It’s pretty much spelled out in their creed.
I recited the oath I’d discovered when I found an Empress’ prayer book.
By oath, we serve at her pleasure
For we are immortal by her hand
When blood be spilled for her
The honor be with our band
Untouchable, Unwavering, Unbendable
We cannot be bought by Gold
We cannot be turned by Word
We cannot be swayed by Deed
Untouchable, Unwavering, Unbendable
For we are the sword, the lightening, the strong shield of her faith
We are the Royal Empress’ Constabulary.”
The oath brought silence. Being pilots they believed in their equipment and their abilities. Realistic to a fault, the idea of a government of faith didn’t sit well with them.
“I just wanted you to know what you’re facing,” I professed, “Let’s talk about their engineering. I only know two types of Constabulary ships. Their Patrol Boats are faster but easily recognizable. Their profiles are in your system. Two of your BattlePlatforms have experience with Constabulary Patrol Boats.”
“Bricks two, Constabulary zero,” someone shouted causing the assembly to cheer.
“True, and as they saved my GunShip, I’m grateful. However, a BattlePlatform against a Patrol Boat is hardly a fair fight,” I pointed out, “The other Constabulary vessel I know of is a missile boat.”
I was letting that sink in when a pilot in the bottom row asked, “Sir, what’s the purpose of a missile boat?”
“Think of the warships you’d need to conquer armed sectors of space,” I challenged, “A missile boat is a standoff vessel loaded with torpedoes or missiles. They fire their munitions from concealed positions. Ambushing unsuspecting ships. The sort of warship the Galactic Council Navy hasn’t needed for hundreds of years.”
“Sir, what other vessels might they have?” someone in the top tier asked.
“That would require a leap of imagination, I’m not prepared to make,” I admitted, “But, you are pilots. What would you design? What refinement would you make if you planned to conquer the Galactic Council Realm?”
They were quiet, hopefully thinking about ways to defeat an enemy they haven’t met, yet.
I turned to Wind Chime and nodded that I was done speaking. She v
aulted to her feet and announced, “Assembly attention. Dismissed.” Then she turned to me and asked, “J-Pop, do you think they have carriers? Not troop carriers but carriers stuffed with Fighters, GunShips and BattlePlatforms?”
This is why Eaglet promoted Wind Chime. She had a creative mind and was thinking about scenarios. Planning for the enemy her pilots might face, she was already war gaming possibilities.
“They’ve engineered Patrol Boats for deep space missions and created specialty ships designed for one purpose,” I replied, “There’s no reason to believe they wouldn’t have standoff ships design to bring maximum fire power to a battle.”
“That wouldn’t be good,” she admitted, “Not good at all.”
Haitham listened to our exchange before speaking. “J-Pop, Wind Chime and I will be busy organizing the flights. I need you on the Bridge with Admiral Tuulia. She’s working on the wording for our message to Command Station. You two put it together and I’ll review it when I’ve finished with the pilots.”
“Aye, Sir,” I said.
I took the steps from the platform leaving Eaglet and Wind Chime discussing which of the junior pilots would make the best flight leaders.
Rear Admiral Tuulia would already be working on the message and I didn’t see me adding much to the Navigator’s narrative. Still, I gave it some thought as I walked to the lifts.
The message needed to be brief in order to reach Fleet Command in the shortest possible time. There hadn’t been time to compose a proper one before we went to External drive. So, it made sense to wait. The small data packet would be sent once we’d evolved to Internal drive.
Rear Admiral Tuulia glanced up from her screen with a pained expression on her face.
“Problem Admiral?” I inquired.
“Lieutenant Piran, this is not possible,” she complained, “There are six salient parts to the message. The inbound Constabulary fleet, the Ander El Aitor command staff held hostage, Constabulary troop on Tres, the traitorous activity of Councilor Khalida Jalal, the battle field promotions without a battle to justify them and the rescue of Councilor Shi Peng. And, the bothersome aspect is, Fleet Command will require an explanation for each of the items.”
Galactic Council Realm 3: On Guard Page 17
