The Belt Loop_Book 3_End of an Empire

by Robert B. Jones

  “Right this way, Admiral Zane, right this way,” Berger said, putting so much sarcasm and emphasis on his new rank that at first he didn’t understand the word. He followed her out of the kitchen and Fraze brought up the rear. Seated on the floor, with heavy ropes binding his arms, hands and feet, was Nood Teeluur. He barely raised his head when the new gawker entered the room.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Zane said. “How did you wind up with the Yorn look-alike?”

  Berger told him how Teeluur wound up on the floor. Walt Fraze marched back and forth in front of the captive and resisted adding words to her narrative. Things were substantially different now, Berger was no longer the boss of this outfit, no longer the one calling the shots. Now that she no longer had her rank to fall back on, she was just another talking head in a uniform — a false uniform, at that. Fraze noted how she embellished the part about her capturing him in the barn and left out the information about Teeluur getting the drop on her coming out of the pawn shop. Selective memory.

  Zane was almost in panic mode. What had started out for him as a way to make a few extra credits per cycle by helping his boss Berger, had become a nightmare of epic proportions. He watched slack-jawed as Berger finished spinning out the tale of Teeluur. Then she launched into her scenario for tomorrow and how she and Fraze were going to commandeer a shuttle and try to make it off the planet. She told Zane she intended to use Teeluur as a hostage maybe, a bargaining chip for sure. Her insanity was frightening. What possible use could this Varson spy have? Zane was sure the Colonial Navy would shoot this man on sight since he had no real value. Mols already had Inskaap and that operative had already spilled enough beans to hang them all. When Berger finished her tale of heroism, Zane shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he told her.

  The look on her face was one of bewilderment and pain. She had been in the Admiralty for so long that she really wasn’t used to anyone speaking to her in that manner. Especially not an officer junior to her. “You’re forgetting to whom you’re talking to, Captain Zane,” she said bitterly.

  “No, I’m not forgetting anything. You no longer have any power over me, Berger. You’re forgetting you’re an escaped criminal, a traitor, a disgrace. I only came up here to see if I could help you get off Bayliss before you take me down with you. I just escaped scrutiny from Mols’s bunch by the skin of my teeth.” He threw the valise he’d been carrying at her feet. “Take it. There’s enough there for you to bribe your way out of here. Him, too,” he added, nodding toward Fraze. “Go on down the other side of the hill to Garland. There’s a small aerodrome there and you should be able to get someone to smuggle you past the Naval pickets. If you try to hijack a shuttle from the landing pad at the War College tomorrow, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Before anyone could react, Zane produced a handgun from the pocket of his topcoat. “You don’t want to try me on this, Berger. I’ve got nothing else to lose here. Get over there with Fraze.”

  While Zane was repositioning his two co-conspirators, Teeluur did not appear to react at all. He shifted his weight on the floor just enough to reposition his hands. For the last two hours he had been slowly, silently moving them up and down behind his back, rubbing the ropes against a sharp knothole he had felt in one of the rough-hewn boards on the wall behind him. Up and down, flex, up and down, one centimeter at a time. Twenty minutes ago he felt the first rope break apart and now he was only minutes away from freeing his hands.

  Teeluur kept his head down and his movements quiet and beyond perception. He watched the humans act out their little power-play drama through slitted eyes. Zane had brought the cash. He had mentioned an airport on the other side of the highlands. All of the elements were in place.

  One more coil of rope to go, he figured.

  PART FIVE: Calm Before The Storm

  Chapter 29

  The auditorium was starting to fill. On the stage behind the dais nine huge flags were assembled: one for each of the seven colonial worlds, one for the Colonial Navy and one for the Admiralty of the Colonial Navy Fleet of Elber Prime. The colorful backdrop made for interesting still-camera angles for Holli Leaf and her crew and she prodded and pushed her troops in advance of the official ceremony to get it all recorded.

  The first seven rows of fifty-one seats had been roped off by a blue velvet rope extending from stanchion to stanchion from one side aisle to the other. In the two central aisles uniformed officers stood at the ready and directed the incoming crowds to their assigned seats. Behind the cordoned-off sections the general public, the media, the cadets from the Hayes Prep School and other interested onlookers were filling up the auditorium quickly.

  Ken Royal and his two charges were seated two rows behind the reserved section with about a hundred students from Hayes. Commander Holt, resplendent in his dress white uniform and white gloves directed traffic for his cadets, separating the trouble makers from his favorites and thanking his lucky stars he didn’t have to worry about the Hansen kid today. Two other instructors stood in the central aisles and helped with the seating of the Hayes cadets.

  Ken Royal looked around as the honorees started to fill up the seats in front of him. He recognized a few faces from the time he’d spent with the crew of the Corpus Christi back on Elber before the war started. He nodded to Mason, Blaine Diggs, Cain Washoe and a few others as they filed past his line of sight. The one he was looking for was Maxine Hansen.

  After ten minutes, the auditorium was almost at capacity. Military march music filtered into the auditorium from overhead speakers. Har Hansen stood and waved with one hand and shook Cory Chase’s shoulder with the other. He pointed out his mother to Cory and Ken looked where he was pointing as well.

  Royal had never seen her in her dress uniform before and she made a striking entrance, followed by Captain Haad and a few more crew members from the Hudson River. Max had her hat tucked neatly in the crook of her left arm and the stark whiteness of her tunic was balanced by the gold buttons, the black and gold shoulder boards and her medals rack with two rows of colorful ribbons. Her short dark hair was swept back away from her forehead and stopped just above her collar. Max saw them and smiled and waved and was in her seat on the first row of the auditorium before Ken could take it all in. His heart was filled with pride for her and just seeing her again brought joy and longing, and a desire to be sitting beside her during the ceremony. But, as a civilian, he knew his place. He would just have to wait.

  Holli Leaf jumped down from the stage and walked the space in front of row one. She stopped right in front of Captain Haad and bent down and whispered something in his ear. He laughed out loud and whatever the photographer had said to him, he passed the comment on to Max and a few others seated around him. Ken could see their shoulders shaking in laughter and he wished he could have been in on the joke. Off to their right a contingent of Colonial Marines marched in and took seats in rows four and five.

  Har and Cory were engaged in conversation with some of their classmates and Har was regaling Patti Mills about his exploits on the Corpus Christi while Cory made faces and twirled a finger around his right ear.

  At 1250 hours the room was almost full. Ken noticed a couple of empty seats in the front row and pined to go down there and be near Max. Several seats on the end of row one were vacant and one of the ushers was standing at parade rest near the vacancies. Ken looked around the throng and wondered who could have been missing, what dignitary could have been running late. His question was soon answered.

  A commotion at the rear of the 800-seat auditorium caused every head to turn. It was Doctor Isaacs, Commander Gertz and a tall officer Ken was not familiar with, having only seen a grainy picture of his doppelganger back at the Military Liaison Office in Nova Haven. It was Commander Davi Yorn, walking gingerly but quite erect toward the front. Soon the front row of soldiers stood and a spontaneous cheer erupted from the seats and spread rapidly throughout the assembly hall. Upon seeing his former XO enter the front row, Captain Haad immediately rushed
to his side. The two officers exchanged a man-hug and Haad shook hands with Issacs and Gertz. His joy was palpable and it seemed to lighten the entire proceedings. Yorn, returned to uniform, returned to duty. When the room settled once more there was a noise from the podium as one of the sound techs checked the microphones. Ken looked at his chronometer. One minute to go. And, still, one empty seat on the first row.

  The piped-in Colonial Navy Anthem began to rise in volume and to a man and woman, the entire audience stood. Those in uniform saluted, those not placed a hand over their hearts. It was time.

  At precisely 1300 hours Admiral Stanley Geoff made his way to the center of the stage, followed by his second-in-command, Admiral Paine. Geoff snapped off a smart return salute at the last bar of the anthem and told the audience to be seated.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests and honorees. It is my pleasure to welcome you to this ceremony. This is a time for celebration for the Colonial Navy, for the Colonial Alliance of Planets, for the public at large. Not only do we take this opportunity to honor our outstanding men and women in uniform, but we also thank them for their service and sacrifice. I will not bore you with a long speech, I will not fill your ears with useless platitudes concerning the Navy. Instead, I will let you judge for yourself, let you appraise these fine members of your community and see if you don’t come away with the same impression I have. These individuals have served to the limits of their abilities and beyond; and, collectively, they have upheld the finest traditions of the Colonial Navy, the pioneering spirit of every colonist, and, above all, they have done both the Navy and themselves proud.”

  Geoff paused for the applause. He turned to Admiral Paine and motioned him to the podium. A yeoman first class wheeled a small hand cart to the rear of the dais and departed quickly. When Paine was standing behind and to the left of the podium, Admiral Geoff spoke again.

  “To get things started, we are pleased that you could be here to witness us recognize one of our own here in the Admiralty, Rear Admiral Vincent Paine, on the occasion of his promotion to Vice Admiral. It is indeed an honor to have served with him for almost thirty years and a pleasure to conduct this ceremony. Admiral Paine, front and center.”

  Paine squared his corners and marched the few steps to the podium.

  “Attention to orders,” Geoff said to the crowd and the military personnel in the audience immediately jumped to their feet. “The Secretary of the Colonial Navy has placed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, the integrity, and the abilities of Rear Admiral Vincent Paine. In light of these special qualities, and his demonstrated potential to serve in the next higher grade, Rear Admiral Paine is hereby promoted to the grade of Vice Admiral, Colonial Navy of Elber Prime, effective this twenty-eighth day of February, twenty-seven hundred and eighty, by order of the Secretary of the Colonial Navy.”

  The two admirals shook hands and Geoff retrieved a packet from the little hand cart. The package contained Paine’s new rank insignia and new shoulder boards. They exchanged salutes and plenty of smiles and after the flurry of flash cameras fizzled out, the men faced the audience. “I present to you Vice Admiral Vincent Paine,” Geoff said, and ordered the company to present arms.

  Twenty seconds later it was over. Admiral Geoff relinquished the podium to the new vice admiral and Paine spoke for two minutes, obviously a prepared statement. Next he went through the same presentation speech and introduced the next wave of honorees as he brought up the captains slated to join the Admiralty. Haad, Curton, Fuller and Zane. When Lieutenant Mols walked on the stage and whispered something to Admiral Paine the room quieted. His niece departed stage left and Paine had the undignified task of informing the audience that, due to unforeseen circumstances, Captain Zane would not be in attendance for the ceremony and Paine apologized to any members of the captain’s family that might be in attendance.

  Holli Leaf took over two hundred photos of the festivities honoring the new rear admirals (lower half) and all the while Uri Haad was on stage she flitted around the well of the front row like a fairy princess in magic shoes. She skipped and twirled to a mystical music heard by her ears alone.

  And so the ceremony went. Next the commanders promoted to captain, then the lieutenant commanders promoted to commander, and on down the line. Ken Royal and Har Hansen stood when Max went to the stage to be promoted and they clapped loudest when she was presented to the audience. Next came the few lower ranking upgrades and finally the ceremonies worked all the way down through the enlisted rates. The Marines who served on the Corpus Christi were honored next with unit citations and one lance corporal walked away with a silver star. Ken wasn’t sure what that was all about, but he watched the pinning anyway. When the entire Navy members of the Christi were honored en mass, there wasn’t a dry eye on the stage when Davi Yorn was awarded the DSC for his bravery in the skies around Bayliss. Milli Gertz was at his side as he bowed his head to receive the medal and she noticed no hitch in his movements. She nodded at Isaacs in an “I told you so” manner and Isaacs just looked away.

  Both Paine and Geoff made final closing remarks, thanked the attendees, congratulated the honorees one last time and had the 348 awardees stand one final time to a rousing round of applause.

  When the new officers and rates sat for the benediction, Paine stepped away from the podium and, in a practiced bit of theater, returned to the microphone.

  “I just remembered I have one more thing to do here today,” he said with a devilish smile on his face. “Lieutenant Commander Mols, will you join me for this final presentation?” he said, looking off stage. She marched to the center of the stage and handed her uncle a packet and an engraved citation, framed in dark wood with non-glare glass covering the front.

  “Attention in the ranks,” Paine said, “Cadet Harold Hansen, Hayes Preparatory School, front and center.”

  Ken Royal looked at Har and nudged him. The young man’s face had the look of a startled deer just illuminated by a pair of halogens. Max stood in the front row. Patti Mills almost fainted. Cory Chase buried his head in his hands. When Har stood he looked over at Commander Holt just in time to see the man swallow a couple of pills. Midshipman Taft groaned out loud.

  Har made his way out of the row and marched down the aisle as best he could. All eyes were on him and he was visibly shaken. He had to concentrate with all his might not to stumble as he climbed the four steps to the stage. Once centered, he popped off a very professional salute and said, “Cadet Basic Harold Hansen, reporting as ordered, sir.”

  The cameras were rolling as Paine returned Har’s salute and turned the microphone over to Niki Mols. “Once upon a time I promised to show this young man a rank insignia that would be unique and cause the weak to tremble. Today I am proud to keep that promise. First, let me read to you the citation that goes with this award, Cadet Hansen.”

  Har braced himself. He really didn’t know if this was for real or some kind of sick joke perpetrated by Commander Holt or that stupid dorm queen Taft. But, he stood at attention and listened as Mols read the citation.

  “In recognition of outstanding performance in the face of hostile enemy fire and valor without regard to his personal safety, Harold Hansen is awarded this Grant Stevens meritorious Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewman medal as a testament to his courage under fire and shall henceforth be entitled to wear the Special Warfare Operator’s Trident as a symbol of a grateful Navy.”

  “Signed, Vice Admiral Vincent Paine, Colonial Navy Third Fleet Commander,” she finished.

  There was a disturbing quiet in the auditorium as Mols handed the citation and the gold insignia packet to Har. Suddenly Cory Chase jumped to his feet and yelled, “Way to go, Har!”

  One by one the rows stood and the cheering began. The members of the Christi’s old crew cheered the loudest and Max teared up and had to wipe at her eyes several times as Harold left the stage. Instead of returning to his seat he walked straight up to his mother and shared his joy with her. They excha
nged hugs and suddenly she had her little boy back. Haad motioned the row to move over one seat and make room for the latest awardee. Once the hall quieted down Admiral Geoff returned to the podium and held a minute of silence for those lost in combat and for the hundreds of thousands of souls killed on Canno. One of the Navy chaplains visited the dais next and said a few lines of non-denominational prayer and afterwards the group was dismissed by Geoff.

  Ken Royal and Cory Chase pushed their way to the front row and joined in the crowd surrounding young Cadet Hansen. He got so many slaps on his back and shoulders that if it weren’t for the incredible shape he was in now, it would have surely floored him.

  Chapter 30

  The ceremony was a simple one. Admiral Haad and Holli Leaf stood before Commander Vandi Bell, once the chaplain aboard the Corpus Christi and now serving a similar function on the Hudson River. Admiral Paine and Davi Yorn stood as witnesses to the occasion, with Yorn serving as Haad’s best man. Milli Gertz and Anson Isaacs were seated in the rear of the small chapel near the administration building on the south side of the War College campus. Haad had been first in line this morning at the municipal center in Weyring and had obtained the necessary legal documents to satisfy the civilian authorities. He refused to remember what Admiral Paine’s initial reaction had been when he broached the subject just minutes before the admiral left for the auditorium. But, all storms eventually blow over, Haad thought, and somewhere down the line this storm, too, shall pass. While neither endorsing nor objecting to the hastily put together wedding, Paine was satisfied that Haad knew what he was doing.