The Aeolian Master Book One Revival

by John Northern

  *

  Brale, who was perhaps the quietest man in the bunch, was sitting with his arms folded on his chest and leaning back in his chair. He never questioned their mission, but he did consider it strange that they were never told why they were ordered to park on a pad outside the prison and to wait for further orders. Now, it seemed the Commanders did know, and they were involved in some nefarious plot against the Galaef. Why else would they have reacted the way they did?

  If it came to a fight to save the Galaef, Brale was not opposed to this idea. He had joined the space corps at the age of 18, full of spunk and ready to save the Galaxy from invading hordes of monstrous villains. Because of his high scores on physical and aptitude examinations, he had been sent to the cruiser-training academy on Zenel III—a small planet coincidentally close to his home planet. He graduated near the top of his class, and because of that he was stationed on the Galaef's command ship with orders to man one of the G15's. From the moment he graduated until now he had seen very little action. In fact, his life had become quite boring, so much so that he was considering serving out his term and then returning to civilian life. But now it appeared that his humdrum military career was about to change.

  Brale watched as Dahms pulled a computer disc out of her briefcase. She slipped it into the computer and spoke with a commanding voice as she looked at the group of skeptical men. "We're in an awkward situation," she said. She flipped a switch on the computer. "You don't know if I'm telling you the truth about the Galaef being a prisoner behind those walls. And I don't know if you're telling the truth about being a supporter of the Galaef or if, indeed, you're a Thorne supporter."

  Zorn didn't hesitate. "Believe me, ma'am. If the Galaef's a prisoner I would be willing to give up my life to free him. And I know that something strange is going on. Why else would the new Captain have acted the way he did?" He paused as if considering all the possibilities, and then said, "But how do we know you're not a Thorne supporter, and it's Thorne who you're trying to rescue behind those walls?"

  "You know if we can't come to an agreement, I'm going to have to lock you up and do this without you."

  "You can't do that," said Phist. "Am I correct in assuming that none of you know how to operate this destroyer?"

  "Don't you worry about it, Bud," retorted Sam. "We'll figure it out, and if we don't we'll just ram the damn thing into the prison walls."

  "Quiet down," said Dahms.

  But Sam ignored her and spoke out. "It's not just the Galaef we're after. My sister's a prisoner behind those walls, too. And I'm getting her out one way or another."

  Brale understood why everyone was acting as though the situation was hopeless. These revolutionaries from Newusa were suspicious that any of the five crew members were Thorne supporters, on the other hand, the crew members were suspicious of the revolutionaries. It was almost unthinkable that anyone would try to overthrow the Galaef—there were too many failsafe systems. So, were these rebels from Newusa trying to break their buddies out of prison? It wasn’t a good situation, but Brale had thought of a possible solution. He cleared his throat, indicating that he had something to say.

  Dahms ignored him, which led Brale to believe that she was the type of person who, if you wanted her attention, you had to speak out. She said. "We have to reach some kind of common ground so that we can make plans and achieve our goal."

  "It looks like an impossible task," replied Zorn.

  "We can't let it be impossible," retorted Dahms. Now, she was getting a little irritated. "We will find a way, if we have to stay here all night."

  "The problem is," replied Zorn, "there could be any number of reasons why you would want this ship and our help. As far as I'm concerned it's very probable that you want to get his sister," and he pointed at Sam, "and a bunch of your rebel buddies out of prison, and that's the only reason you're here."

  Brale thought he would try again. "Ahem," he said, but this time as he cleared his throat he raised his hand as if he were still at the academy trying to get the teacher's attention.

  Dahms glared at him. "What is your name?" she asked.

  "Name's Brale, ma'am," he said as he lowered his hand.

  "What do you want Brale?"

  "Just a suggestion," he said. And then he waited for permission to continue.

  Brale noticed as Dahms looked at the other men with an expression on her face as if to ask if Brale's politeness amidst all this turmoil—death of comrades, and distrust amongst this group of men, was feigned or really his nature. It was almost humorous. "Well?" she asked as the corners of her mouth turned up a little.

  Brale didn’t care. It was his nature to be polite, plus the fact that she had all the weapons, which put her in charge. "Well ma'am,” he started, “I have a friend aboard the Flagship—name's Blynthe. He's the Galaef's personal valet. He always knows the Galaef's every move. I could give him a call and find out if the Galaef is on board."

  At first there was stunned silence as if everyone had been hit on the head with a board, and then they realized that the most obvious, but allusive solution to the problem had just been revealed.

  Finally, Dahms laughed out loud. "By God," she said, "I think you have just solved our problem."

  She waited for a moment, but Brale didn’t move. He wasn’t going to do anything until she gave him permission.

  "Please, by all means," she said. "Contact your friend, Mr. Blynthe."

  "Thank you, ma'am," he said as he stood up. He crossed over to the intership communicator and punched in his friend's number on the keyboard.

  “I hope this works,” said Dahms.

  Just then a friendly face lit up the screen.

  "Hey Brale," said the face. "What's going on?" He paused as he looked past Brale. "Who are all those people behind you?" A puzzled look crossed his face. "I didn't know you had a woman on board."

  "Yeah," said Brale. "She was a last minute addition just before we left the Flagship."

  "Why's she wearing those funny clothes?"

  "Undercover work," said Brale in a whispered voice. "Can't really talk about it, you know."

  "Speaking of which, I thought you were under radio silence."

  "Yeah, we were, but we're finished with that phase of the mission. So, they lifted the cloak."

  "Must be exciting. Finally, getting some of that action you been wanting all these years."

  "I can't talk about what we're doing, but actually the reason I'm calling is I need some information in order to complete the mission.

  His face went from friendly to quizzical with an almost proud look that Brale would be asking him for information. "Anything I can do to help," he replied.

  Brale hesitated trying to find a way to ask the question without giving any clues as to what was going on. Indeed, if Thorne were behind this seemingly ridiculous scheme that Dahms was purporting, then they would definitely not want Thorne to know what had happened this evening aboard the destroyers. "First, you have to promise me, upon our friendship that you won't tell anyone that I have contacted you."

  "Sure, . . . but does that mean you weren't suppose to break the silence?"

  "I'm doing exactly what I've been ordered to do."

  "Okay, . . . go ahead then."

  "Both the Galaef and Thorne have information which we need, but again you can't let them know I've contacted you. Okay?"

  "They have information you need, . . . but you can't ask them for it?"

  "I know it sounds strange, in fact very strange, but I can't explain now. Please trust me."

  "Of course, I trust you. But how am I suppose to get the information?"

  "You're not. Listen, I'll get the information, but first I have to know if the Galaef and Thorne are aboard the ship?"

  Blynthe suddenly looked stunned. "How tight has this cloak of silence been? You haven't been told about the Galaef?"

  "The truth is, we haven't had any contact with the outside world."

  "You k
now, you gotta tell me about this mission when you get back. It's getting stranger all the time."

  "Sure thing. But right now, I need this information."

  Blynthe grimaced, and then said, "About a week ago the Galaef contracted a virus native to the planet Ar, and he was immediately put in a hospital in Newusa."

  "That doesn't make sense," commented Brale. "They have better hospital facilities aboard the Flagship. And if they wanted to get him away from the virus why would they leave him on Ar?"

  "That's what I wondered."

  "And another thing, why didn't they send you down to attend to him while he's in the hospital?"

  "I wondered that, too."

  "Okay," said Brale. "I'll contact Newusa to get more information. Now what about Thorne?"

  "He's been aboard ship ever since the Galaef was put in the hospital."

  "So, Thorne's been aboard, and you haven't had any contact with the Galaef since he went to the hospital, not even over a communicator."

  "That's right. How did you know that?"

  "I didn't. I was just asking." Brale put his hand on the off switch. "You've been a great help. And when I get back I'll tell you everything."

  "Yeah, I hope to see you soon."

  "Me too." And Brale flipped the switch.

  "Well?" said Dahms as everyone found their places around the conference table.

  Brale shifted in his chair while considering the situation and listening to Dahms and the others.

  Zorn sat straight, in military fashion, and looked her in the eye. "There's no longer a question about who's a prisoner behind those walls." He looked at his men to see if any of them had a different idea, but they just nodded their heads.

  He looked at Dahms. "I just don't understand how Thorne thinks he can pull it off."

  "We don't know the particulars yet. Later, maybe, but right now we have to formulate a plan." Dahms pushed a button on the computer and a hologram flashed into existence just above the center of the table.

  “That’s a good thing to have,” said Phist.

  “The leader of the underground acquired this computer hologram disc of the prison,” she stated. She walked around the table and, with her finger almost touching it, she pointed at the tower. "This is the control center for the phasors. Whenever there's a riot or an attempted prison break or whenever the moment necessitates it, a guard in this tower flips a switch and the phasors start firing indiscriminately at different areas in the compound. Needless to say, the prisoners in the yard don't have a chance, let alone any small group of men trying to break in.

  “Obviously, the first thing we have to do is disable this tower and put the phasors out of operation."

  "No problem," said Xilil. "Once we hit it with a sonic bomb, you'll never know it was there."

  Xygliper smiled. "Just a pile of powder," he said.

  "That's right," answered Xilil. "Dust, floating in the air."

  There was a faint whistle as a little puff of air escaped from between Xygliper's lips as he made the sound of a whistling wind.

  Dahms withdrew her finger from the hologram. "Good," she said. "But now we have to contend with the guards on the walls and inside the perimeter. They're no match for the destroyer, but they might start shooting the prisoners.

  Sam turned his attention away from the hologram and looked at Dahms. "The only way to handle this is to blow a hole in the prison wall and move the cruiser inside the compound. From there we can handle any of the guards. And by God, I'm sure they'll all surrender.

  Brale cleared his throat again, like he did the first time he had something to say.

  Dahms didn't ignore it this time, but her face turned into a frown. She looked at him and said, "What?"

  "Excuse me," said Brale, "but it seems it’s probable that Thorne will have placed two or more of his own men in a position to watch the Galaef at all times. It's possible that they have orders to kill him if anyone attacks the prison."

  Everyone became silent.

  Dahms looked contemplative. “It is a possibility,” she said, and then paused. “No,” she continued, “not a possibility—a probability which I have overlooked,” she said apologetically. “You're right, of course. And before we can even think about taking out the tower, we'll have to find out if there are any of Thorne's men watching the Galaef."

  "And how do we do that?" asked Phist.

  Dahms pondered for a moment, and then said, "I'll have to contact the leader of the underground. Maybe he has, or can get this information. If he doesn't have it, or can't get it, or if he does have it and there are Thorne's men watching the Galaef, then we'll have to send two of our own men disguised as Newusa dignitaries.”

  "That really complicates the design of the attack," said Zorn.

  Dahms walked around the table toward Zorn until she was but a few feet away. "We'll have to take out Thorne's men just before we take out the tower."

  Phist stood up looking a little anxious, shaking his head. "I see all kinds of problems with that plan. For one thing what if our men can't get to where the Galaef is being kept prisoner, and then we take out the tower at the scheduled time? The Galaef would be dead."

  "That shouldn't be a problem," said Dahms. "We'll send our men in the day before, and they can advise us through Rogae X as to the situation."

  Phist sat down still shaking his head. "Too many complications," he muttered quietly.

  "Okay," said Dahms, "I'll contact Rogae X in the morning, and then we'll go from there." She paused and then said, "For now, only me and my men will carry phasors, and we'll keep the rest of them locked in the armory."

  Zorn stood up. "I believe that is the right thing to do," he said. "I know I am on the Galaef's side, and I believe the rest of us are loyal. I've known these men for a long time, and I trust them. Still with the Galaef's life at stake, I'm not willing to take any chances."

  "Good," said Dahms. "Now if there are no more questions nor comments . . . ."

  As Brale continued to study the hologram he suddenly thought of another problem which needed to be addressed and solved, or they would all go up in smoke—literally.

  Brale cleared his throat.

  "My God," said Dahms, "Now what?"

  "Excuse me ma'am," said Brale. "I foresee one more problem." And then he waited for permission to continue.

  Dahms gave Brale a look, and then she said, “I would like to break this meeting up, get something to eat, and sit back and get some rest. Is this something that needs our immediate attention?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid it is.”

  “I hope it isn’t going to make the situation more complicated than it already is. I’m starting to have doubts of our success.”

  “I’m afraid it will,” said Brale.

  Dahms remained silent while she waited.. After a few seconds, in a pleasant voice, she said, "Please, tell us what you're thinking."

  “Well ma'am," said Brale, "Our late Commander, the scum that he must have been, contacted Commander Mace every morning at exactly 8 a.m. to tell him that everything was proper aboard our ship.

  “On the morning of the fourth day after we had landed or Ar I was sent over to tweak a few adjustments on the onboard computer as they were having a few minor problems. In fact, I was in this very room that morning when Lizt called Commander Mace to tell him everything was in order aboard our ship.

  “When he signed off, Commander Mace immediately called the Flagship, but he kept the viewer off and talked rather quietly, so there was no way I could have known what he was saying. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but now I'm quite sure he was reporting to Thorne or one of Thorne's men that everything was proper aboard the two cruisers."

  "Yeah, that's right," agreed Zorn. 'Mace called the Flagship every morning at five after eight."

  “This is the worst news yet. By the curse of the Zorstras," swore Dahms. "What the hell are we going to do now?"

  Brale not only thought of the
problem, he also thought of a possible solution, so he said, "If you don’t mind ma’am?

  “By all means,” said Dahms.

  “Have Mace make the call. Tell him if he does anything out of the ordinary, he won't live to see the next sunrise."

  "That sounds good on the surface,” replied Dahms, “But you know they're going to have some kind of secret code. All he has to do is move his eyes a certain way or twist his lips or say a particular word which doesn't seem out of the ordinary to us, but turns out to be a signal to his contact. Then they'll send down a cruiser to drop some kind of bomb and blow us all into the next Galaxy, including the Galaef."

  "There's only one thing to do," said Xygliper as he stood up. "Someone will have to go to the brig and cut Bradon in half with a phasor."

  Brale understood Xygliper’s intent immediately, but everyone was suddenly acting confused and taken aback. "What the hell are you talking about?" asked Zorn.

  "You have to let Mace know you're serious. You tell him if he gives any kind of secret signal, he gets cut in half just like Bradon."

  Phist, and Zorn jumped out of their chairs. Phist slammed his fists on top of the table. "You're not going to murder a man just to make a point. Hell, we don't even know for sure he's a Thorne supporter."

  "That's not the point," said Xygliper. "We have let Mace see the blood run red and pool on the floor. We have to let him see the agony of death and the look on a man's face as he is dying. We have to let him know that once your dead, there's no coming back. We have to let him know that he's very close to suffering the same fate." He paused briefly, then asked, “Do you want to save the Galaef—what’s more important Bradon’s life or the Galaef’s?”

  "It's murder," yelled Phist. "No matter how you look at it, it's murder."

  "No," said Zorn as he straightened his stance. "This gentleman is right."

  Phist looked shocked that Zorn would agree. "What do you mean he's right?"

  "This isn't just some strategy of war," said Zorn. "And we're not just talking about our lives, we're talking about the life of the Galaef and what he stands for, which is countless lives throughout the Galaxy. Right now, we're the only chance the Galaef's got, and we have to make sure he gets free no matter what it takes—even if it means killing an unarmed man."

  "And who's going to kill this man in cold blood. I can tell you now, it won't be me."

  "It won't be me," added Brale, picturing the horror of it.

  "Me neither," said Xilil.

  Zorn held up his hands to keep anyone else from talking, and then he said, "Since I realize the importance of this, I'll do it."

  But Phist wasn't finished. "Damn it.” he said. "You can't just murder this man. I'm telling you . . ." he stuttered in anger and frustration. "Even though I don't know this man, I have seen him aboard the Flagship. I saw him at the park with his wife and his two children. He's a man with a life. You can't just murder him."

  Zorn started to say something, but Dahms beat him to it. "That's enough," she said calmly. "I've heard what you've had to say, and I can tell you right now no one is going to be murdered aboard this ship. Phist was right. You don't just murder someone in cold blood to make a point. I’m sure I have a better solution.” She looked at Zorn. "You can explain to him that we know about secret signals. And explain to him the bottom line: if they drop a bomb and we die, he dies with us.

  "On the other hand," she continued, "if you want to rough Mace up a bit, without any serious damage, so that he understands pain, I have no objection to that."

  All the men had resumed their seats at the table. Dahms looked at them for a moment and then said, "Brale, is there anything else."

  "Not at the moment, ma'am."

  "Good. Then the plan stands like this: tomorrow morning we have Mace contact the flagship, then I contact Rogae X, and after that, if we have to we send two men into the prison to assure the safety of the Galaef, and we synchronize an attack on the prison in order to free the Galaef and the prisoners."

  Xygliper let out a little laugh. "You make it sound so easy."

  "I can only hope," said Dahms.

  They adjourned.

  Chapter Fifty-Six