by Chris Hechtl
“I'll have to talk to a few people about that,” the warden muttered.
“We arrived on the scene after the fight had started. Prisoner THHL16533391 had managed to back himself into a tight area so his attackers could only strike at him from one direction. He took down seven and injured four others.”
“He killed seven people?” the warden asked, eyes wide.
“No. That is something that amazed me. Usually someone with those martial arts skills strike and kill. He obviously had the power to do so but pulled his blows. He built a wall of bodies essentially. He was down to a bear, human, and chimp when we got there. I saw him throw the human like a Frisbee.”
“Damn.”
“Right. Some of the people knew who he was but were put up to it. I've been listening in to their conversation. Some thought he was a sex offender. Others went after him because there is a hit on him.”
“A hit?”
“It is in the morning brief. He was supposed to be moved to the protected wing.”
“Another thing to look into.” He rubbed his brow. “I think I can guess what the unofficial version is,” he said, looking over to a sour faced Lieutenant Drapper. The lieutenant kept glaring at Admiral Logan, but when he caught the warden looking his way, he schooled his expression and then left the area.
“Right,” the warden drawled. “I take it that was what your rather intense conversation was about?”
“He wasn't happy I responded to the fight so … quickly.”
“Right,” the warden drawled. “Have the ID switched back. Put him in the protective wing.”
“The doctor is insisting everyone get checked out. He's been assessed, but for some reason, his bleeding has stopped.”
The warden turned curious eyes to the admiral. He grunted. “His implants?”
“Implants, sir?”
“He's a Federation flag officer. He's got implants.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied.
“All right, Sergeant, get back to the cleanup. I'll be around,” the warden said as he went to another guard to cross-check her story.
Sergeant Copper nodded but grimaced slightly. She didn't like what was going on. She had a lot of sympathy for the admiral and not just because he was an underdog. She wasn't certain if she could help him much, at least not officially.
She frowned and then shook herself slightly and went back to the paperwork. There was more than enough for her entire shift.
@
Doctor Hsiao dabbed at Horatio's cut cheek, broken lip, and swollen eye as gently but as professionally as she could. She kept working, cleaning him up. A tech had already come by with a camera to document the injuries. “Nice shiner you've got,” she murmured.
“Good,” he muttered. She caught his chin and held it and then lifted it slightly so she could see the cut with a critical eye.
“You stopped bleeding almost immediately. Impressive. I tried to read up on implant tech. I thought they only cut off major arteries though?”
“The more advanced the implants the broader the controls.”
“Ah.”
She worked for a bit. “Any problems with your teeth?”
He felt around his mouth with his tongue. “No,” he replied.
“Good.” Normally a nurse would be left to do the cleanup and assessment. He didn't mind the doctor's personal attention, but he was surprised by it.
“I'll glue these instead of stitching them. Will that work?”
“Yes, that's fine.”
“Any pain?”
“It's distant. My implants are blocking most of it. Minor cuts not so much. I'm going to be sore for a while though.”
“Glad you aren't a complete superman then,” she teased.
“Gee, thanks, Doc.”
“Don't mention it. This fight will put you in solitary. We'll watch you, check you regularly since you are injured, more often than they normally do.” He groaned wearily. “What?” she demanded.
“I'm trying to be thankful, Doc, honest, but it is bad enough with the two-hour bed checks. Every hour?” Horatio asked, shaking his head.
“You … bed checks?”
“You've worked here how long and you didn't know they shine a flashlight in your face and make you wake up and answer a roll call, right?” he asked, looking at her with his good eye as she dabbed at the other.
The doctor bit her lip. “Um, I've heard a little but …,” she squirmed and then shrugged. “I guess I forgot. Well, the good news is, it's a bit different there and here.”
“Yeah,” he said as he rattled the handcuff holding him to the bed. “I see that. I don't like having to ask for permission to go to the head, and I don't like being partially defenseless but …”
She bit her lip again and then looked away. She busied herself with the tray, then went to work on the cuts and bruises on his arms and torso.
She didn't have anything to respond to him so she patted him on the foot and then walked on to the next patient when she finished.
He watched her go and then closed his eyes and tried to meditate and let his body heal. Something told him he'd need to be back in top form as quickly as possible.
@
News of the beating and images of Horatio's beaten face got out to the media. The images sparked fresh support and angry protests. Marines were forced to step up to protect navy property near civilian population centers. When they came forward, the riots turned to other areas, usually on track housing or businesses nearby.
Some of the naval facilities had a breakdown in discipline as personnel abandoned their posts. Naval and Marine recruiting centers in business centers were shut down and in some cases vandalized and burned.
@
Admiral Childress was angry that the attack had failed.
“We'll get him the next time,” Lieutenant Drapper said. “But it will have to be a while; he's been put in protective custody.”
“No, the bastard is suffering, so I guess I can call that a small victory,” the admiral said.
“No, sir?”
“No. I'll call someone else in to deal with it. You are done,” the admiral said, dismissing his crony.
The lieutenant nodded and cut the channel.
When he was finished, he called in a black op’s contact who did occasional private eye work for his mother and the family company. She was amiable for the right price. He got into the navy slush fund to pay for her deposit.
She examined the problem and then gave him a series of options to take Horatio out. He considered them carefully. She informed him that it would take time to set up properly. He gave her the go-ahead and then left her to it.
@
Commander Thistle shook his head as he considered a shutdown. He had kept his mouth shut and done his job, but the images of Horatio burned. More than one of his people had called in sick. He was well aware that another sick-out was in the works. The military personnel couldn't hold a strike, but they had their own muted forms of protest. It would go on until the brass got tired of it and started to demand the doctor's notes.
He shook his head. A slowdown would also happen he knew and mistakes. Costly mistakes that would embarrass certain people. He wasn't certain if his new boss deserved it. He was getting along marginally well with Admiral Sung.
@
Captain Rising Tide saw the report of the beating and the images. At first, he thought they were doctored images until he heard otherwise. He groaned and immediately filed for a continuance.
The last thing he wanted was for the damn commodore to be in front of the members looking like that. The image wouldn't sit well with anyone.
He rubbed his temples as he gamed out how the additional delay would play out. It was their own damn fault anyway! He founded his fist impotently onto the desktop.
Admiral Shren had promised him a promotion if they got the trial done and over with and of course, in the navy's favor. He planned to cash in on that pro
mise. Once he made senior list, it was a guarantee that he'd make flag rank. Time alone would push him up to get his first star.
So, if a stubborn-ass commodore with delusions of being a rear admiral was in his way, well, he'd just step on the man like he was a rung in a ladder and move on to bigger and better things.
But first he had to wait for the bastard to heal.
It was ironic in a way. He had to wait for him to heal to be presentable so they could finish trying the man and then execute him.
Sometimes he wondered about the universe and how it all worked.
@
The court had to deal with another delay in the trial, this time one that bode ill for both sides. Admiral Thurgrad was unhappy with what had occurred, and how it had been allowed to happen stank to high heaven. He wanted desperately to get through the trial and on to the command Childress had offered him.
His wife was also unhappy. She had a guy on the side, one her husband knew about but didn't mention as long as they kept it discreet. While he was in port, she was his, and the long delay had made the situation nearly unbearable. That was too bad. She also didn't like being watched by the media. Again, too bad, her husband thought.
But, the following day he found out it was too bad for him. She muttered a little about the trial and her personal situation in her favorite hair salon. It was a way for her to vent, and normally, there was little harm in such things.
However, that wasn't the case in that instance. The saloon was frequented by people in the media watching the trial. Normally the gossip columnist would have chalked it up to some of the social snickering, but since it was trial related, she passed it on to her editor, including the recording a hair dresser had passed on to her for a hefty tip. She was surprised and a bit put out when the recording made the system-wide news the following morning.
And of course, the bastards had kept her name out of it. She was at first furious, but then when she heard how badly the navy was fuming and looking for heads to roll over the breach, she decided to keep her protests pro forma and in-house.
All of that didn't help Admiral Thurgrad. Having his family's dirty laundry dragged out into the open was embarrassing. Normally it was a career killer. “Thou shalt not embarrass the navy,” was ingrained in every officer and noncom.
He made certain Esmeralda regretted her stupidity when he got home. She acted like an errant child, resentment and lava-filled sullenness made him make other sleeping arrangements from then on. He wasn't certain if his marriage would survive the damn trial.
Chapter 43
B-102c
Commander Arnie Perth grinned as his new ship the Resolution Mark II class heavy cruiser Winterspell exited the rapids. She was followed less than a second later by the flash emergence of the Newmann class battle cruisers Admiral Butley and Stormkeeper.
“Made it again. And this time without a scratch,” CPO Zz'vv, the Veraxin sensor chief he'd been able to hang onto from his time on Caroline, said.
The Neochimp captain grunted as he turned to see the bosun near the bridge exit. He glanced at Mat and nodded once. The senior chief petty officer nodded back once.
He'd had been allowed to hang onto only a few of the personnel from Caroline when he'd been yanked out of his old ship. He missed the old girl, but he really couldn't complain about the promotion and his new ship. She was tougher and a hell of a sight better suited to handle the rapids.
“The battle cruisers report they have no damage. They are standing down their hyperdrives,” the communications tech reported.
“Very well. Nav, shape a course for the next jump point on the list. Comm, flash our IFF to the station and send a signal to the ansible letting them know we arrive safely.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
@
The arrival of a trio of ships in a single transit startled the sensor watch crew on the Harbor Station. They were even more surprised when their light speed sensors came back with a report of two battle cruisers and a heavy cruiser. A moment after their computers processed that information the ship's IFFs came in through the communications channels.
The three ships didn't stop at the station, however, but kept going across the star system for the jump point to B-104.
The flagship Admiral Butley sent out her own signal to the ansible. The ansible sent encrypted files from her buffer and then was monopolized as fresh data flowed from the ship to the platform.
Commander LaFleur arrived on her command deck and accepted a cup of coffee from the officer on deck. “What's the situation, Joe?”
“IFF confirmed, ma'am. It looks like we've got visitors, but they aren't staying long.”
“Oh?”
“They've apparently secured from jump and are already headed to B-104. From the speed we're observing, they are hauling butt too,” the Neofox said with a shake of his head.
“Ah,” she replied with a nod as she took a sip of her coffee. She needed it; she had only just gotten to sleep.
“We're receiving an update from one of the ship's, ma'am, the Admiral Butley. She's transmitting their orders and updated files,” the comm tech reported.
“I see them,” Echo reported.
“Process them. Is there mail in there?”
“Yes, ma'am, some.”
“Well, the intended recipients will be happy. What about news?”
“I don't know about civilian news, but there are some updated files. I saw the header of one, an updated war book.”
“Ah? Well, that's good to know,” the commander replied as she cradled her cup of coffee.
“Ma'am, all channels are busy with the data. It's a lot,” the tech reported.
“Very well. I might as well dive in and see what there is to see myself,” she murmured. Whoever was over there wasn't interested in stopping for tea and a chat, that much was obvious from their heading. They were damn determined to get to Bek and do something. She wasn't certain how effective they'd be.
@
News of the ships arrival quickly made its way through the station. Off duty personnel flocked to viewing areas to see the ships passing by. Galiet managed to get a look at the light of the drive signatures of the three ships before the station slowly rotated away. Somehow, she felt a little better about it. She looked around her and noted she wasn't the only one.
@
The news of the three ships arrival also hit Rolling Thunder and Ilmarinen. Captain Clayton found out about it when his former steward delivered his breakfast on the station.
“Something is going on, sir. They sent three warships, two of them battle cruisers,” the steward said as he held out the tray.
“So? What are three ships going to do?” he demanded scathingly as he took his tray and then closed the door.
The marine guard shook his head at the attitude. The steward looked disappointed but then straightened his shoulders and returned to his business.
@
Spacer Z'k'll stopped what he was doing with the weld to look up and out as the three ships passed by. He triggered his visor to close so he could get a good look at them. He wished he was out in a tug or on one of the salvaged ships, not on the exterior hull of Rolling Thunder.
Unfortunately, such decisions weren't up to him. All work on the salvaged ships had ceased, and all hands had been redirected to the heavy cruiser's repair. They'd just finished setting up the first section of scaffolding to help them with the work. The scaffolding was attached to the station and was a place for them to hang equipment, lights, robotic arms, armatures, and sensor pods. The pods would be very useful in measuring the ship's frame to make sure they got her square again.
Once he saw the blue ion thrust, he turned away. “Show's over people,” he said. “Back to work,” he said as he went back to the weld he had been working on.
@
CPO Alejandro Garcia saw the ships and noted in disgust that they were on the station's news channel. “So what? Yeah, cool and
all that, but what does anyone think three ships will do? Against everything Bek has?” he grimaced as eyes turned to him.
“They've got an admiral on board. One of their own, Sienkov,” Flick Gabsy said. He flicked his thick brush of a tail and then stopped it to examine it carefully. His fingers combed the long hairs to make sure nothing was matted or dirty.
“Yeah? So? Ilmarinen had Admiral Logan on board and look how it turned out for him,” the Neochimp growled. “I don't see how arriving in a warship, even a battle cruiser, is going to make that much of an impression on that bastard Childress. He'll either force them to surrender or blow them out of the sky.”
More than one person looked worried and a little horrified about that idea. He shook his head and looked away in pain.
@
“Ma'am, we're getting a request for an update from Admiral Butley, the flagship,” a tech reported four and a half hours later.
“Then send it,” the commander said mildly. She had been about ready to give up her vigil on the command deck and start her morning routine. It was still too early for breakfast though. There was no point going to sleep; she'd never get there before her usual wake-up time. She was still considering if she had the energy for her morning workout routine.
Most likely not. She was usually tired and cranky when she didn't get much sleep. She was a little sore from sitting in the hot seat and reading the files that the battle cruiser had sent. Some of it was fascinating reading.
“They want an update on our engineering as well as Ilmarinen and Rolling Thunder,” the tech reported, wrinkling his nose. “Why …?” he shook his head as he cut himself off from asking the question out loud.
“Ours is not to reason why apparently. Pass them on to both ships and call Chief Bailey up. Get his latest assessment and add that too,” Commander Lafleur ordered. “Maybe they've got something he can use.”
“Aye aye, ma'am.”
