by Wayne Watson
“Sir, I should have left that damned ship and gone straight home...”
The Colonel cut in “And gotten cut up by the ships laser when they realized there was a sniper out there. Those boys knew their business. You did what you were trained to do- not leave an enemy behind you if you can. Look- this will be with you all your life, so get this through your head right bloody now. One- you gave them the warning that prevented a successful first strike. Two- You took out the command group at a critical time. Three- you cut off their reinforcements and resup. Four- you stopped them getting away to do it again.”
Jenny gave a weary hit of a smile. “Thanks Sir- by the way- what happened to their support ship?”
The Colonel frowned. “They took off at the first sign of local forces activating. An Imperial courier ship got of a couple of long shots that looked like hits, but they managed to jump clear. Off the record, the ship was not Crow design- it was a damned traitor. Another mystery solved.”
He continued: “The staff and the girls in particular put up one hell of a fight- I'm not one for such things, as you know, but there will be a bucket-full of gongs handed out for this affair. They tell me that you were the local cadet commander and played a lead roll in training those girls. They did you great credit the way they conducted themselves- right down to the youngest...” his voice faltered and Jenny wondered what could affect the old warrior so. Composing himself with some difficulty, he continued.
“In the remains of the nursery, we found one baby alive- badly hurt, but saved by a girl of about eight years old who shielded her with her body... There were scenes like that everywhere- kids not even in their teens dead holding empty carbines- another who had thrown herself on a hand grenade- a stabbed Crow trooper with dead girl's teeth locked onto his arm... Jenny, I've seen some real hard fighting and this was some of the most intense- right up there with assaulting a ship and that is as full-on as it gets- but this- with kids...”
Jenny took a long drink from a water bottle. “At the mission we have a lot to do with the 'Second Chance' settlement- exchange programs with their school; sporting contests and so on- we- all the staff and older girls have heard the first-hand stories of those colonists being taken as slaves and what they suffered. Myself, I was very young and don't remember hardly anything before being rescued, but those people have a philosophy of 'Never Forget'. I grew up with that and trained those girls hard for just what happened. I should have done better though- one of them got killed trying to snipe off the bell tower- that never should have happened.”
Colonel John Atkins regarded Jenny for a moment. ‘She is going to make a fine officer and leader', he thought. 'She is looking at every detail to see what could have been done better- if only she doesn't drive herself too hard.'
“Now I have a bit of good news there- the young lady in the bell tower survived. She remembered her training well enough to get her head down smartly, but in her rush she fell down the ladder and broke her leg. She will be up and about in a week. Before you ask, all I know is that she was about 13 years old.”
The doors to the flight deck slid open and the pilot announced “landing in ten minutes.”
The Colonel gestured to the medic who had been sitting quietly at the rear of the troop compartment, who brought up a bag and handed it to Jenny. “Get cleaned up- there is a clean uniform in the bag- got to at least get the worst of the blood and dirt off before going before the board.” He followed the medic through to the flight deck, leaving her to clean up.
***
“What do you think Doc?” asked the Colonel.
The 'medic'- a military psychiatrist- had been quietly observing Jenny, while he read the brief on the mission incident. “Sir, she seems to have come through as well as can be expected- for somebody who has just lost a quarter of her family. Keep somebody close to her; keep telling her she had done things right, just as you have been doing. SOP, really. Her background shows she is a survivor, her attitude and demeanor is what I would want to see in a potential officer- I'm giving her a provisional up-check for her admission to the academy, but want to see her for a formal interview before she ships out.”
“That's about how I see it too, Major- now let's get this board out of the way.”
***
In the 35th century, the saying 'Justice delayed is justice denied' has been taken to heart. With laws minimized and rationalized and no such profession as lawyer, the delays of the 21st century are unheard of. With crime a rare event, there are no longer courts as they used to be known. Justice (as opposed to law) is served by a senior member of the civil service, a senior commissioned officer or an aristocrat- often a panel of all of these-especially for serious crimes. In this case, as there had been deaths, convention demanded a board of inquiry into the events.
Governor Bruce, as the planetary head of the ICS, had pulled rank to head the board. Also sitting was Lord Hamilton, ranking aristocrat and the Official Representative- Lieutenant-General (retired) Smythe. They had been in constant communication with the Mission relief task force ever since the emergency was declared, and had spent the night going through the evidence collected at the scene.
The Sergeant-at arms shouted “All rise,” and the packed chambers stood as one, as the board took their seats. The conference room was packed with the ranking ICS, Aristos and military. Most looked like they had been up all night- many were wearing uniforms of their territorial units, as well as those of firefighters, ambulancers and rescue workers. Almost all had sidearms and a few had their carbines and rifles slung.
“Citizens, be seated,” said the Governor. “This board of inquiry into the incident at the Cockatoo River Mission will now proceed. I have a volume of evidence of a most graphic and disturbing nature. It is my order that this will not be broadcast in pictorial form. Those members of the public wishing to view this material shall have it made available through the usual channels. Good citizens- the foul deeds committed do not need images to shape our conclusions here.
Our finding are as follows- All occupants, staff and associates of the Cockatoo River Mission are formally exonerated from any and all blame in this incident and are found to have acted lawfully in the killing of the assailants or associates involved in this raid. The board determines the motive for the raid was to seize Imperial citizens for the purposes of selling into slavery for financial gain. All further investigations into the causation of the aforementioned incident are hear-by passed to Naval Intelligence,” pronounced the Governor, resuming his seat. After giving the audience a few minutes to talk amongst themselves he continued.
“I now call for volunteers to form committees for the awarding of honors, civilian and military and for the repair and restoration of the Cockatoo river mission.” The governor took a few minutes to select volunteers from the sea of raised hands then announced that a recess of one hour would take place, during which time refreshments would be served.
The groups split off into separate chambers and stewards carried in trays laden with food donated by the local service groups, as was traditional, from time immemorial.
Jenny's thought were far from food, but the province aristo, Sir Michael Fordson, took her arm and steered her to the counter, placing a plate in her hand. “You look about all in, lass- so eat up- food is sleep. You did a hell of a job out there- I must apologize that I had not done more to ready the mission- I should have foreseen...”
Jenny cut him off. “Sir, we are all feeling that- remember that YOU were the one who sponsored out cadet unit. Without those M114's YOU brought the girls, I doubt they would have held the mission.”
Sir Michael gave a snort “I though I would be offering up a few words of consolation, but you have turned the tables on me- yes, you will make a fine officer- as I always thought, and I hope that you will return to Yalumba when your service is done.”
“You can count on it Sir Mike,” she replied.
“But to the Missions immediate need- that I can help with- in fact, we have
been inundated with offers of assistance from all over the planet. We WILL rebuild and restore the Mission and we are already getting offers from old girls to come back and staff the place. You have my word as a member of the Imperial family that the events at the mission will never be forgotten. Now before the ICS get hold of you- will you travel with me to visit the field hospital after this?”
“Sir, of course I will.”
The Sergeant-at arms sounded a gong, signaling the gathering to come to order. The committees had reached their conclusions- the Empire did NOT work like old Earth.
The spokesmen took the stand. “The committee for awards and decorations has concluded that on precedent, the defense of The Cockatoo River Mission was by a regularly constituted military unit and a serving member of a regular military unit, whilst on leave from active service, thus are eligible to receive full military honors.
The following honors are conferred;
Cadet Sub-Lieutenant Williams- cadet force commander- is awarded the Victoria Medal of Honor.
Cadet Sergeant Bickle and Trooper DeVries are awarded the Combat Star in Gold.
Cadet Corporals Anderson, Williams and Bryce are awarded the Combat Star in Silver.
All other members of the Cockatoo River Mission Cadet Forces are awarded the Combat Star in Bronze.
The following civilians are awarded the St. George Cross (posthumously):
Blademaster Kessel, Dr Joan Deitrech, Citizen Wendy Smith.
It is our recommendation and appeal to the Herald of Lists that battle honors be awarded to all who were involved in the Cockatoo River Incident and that a commemorative medal be struck and a suitable memorial be raised on the site. God save the Emperor.”
The gathering rose, applauding. As the applause died down the Sergeant-at arms struck his ceremonial staff on the floor and shouted: “Party will now observe a minutes silence for the fallen.”
The military stood to attention, while the civilians placed hand over heart in the sign of reverence.
After a long minute, the Governor directed the relief committee to deliver its report.
“Good citizens- it is the wish of the committee that all parties look well to the distressed. The community of 'Second Chance' has, by precedent, drawn the honor of sheltering the folk of the Cockatoo River Mission, until such time as their home is restored and repaired. When the wounded are fit to travel, the Third Field Hospital shall deploy to Second Chance for such time as is needed to rehabilitate the injured. It pleases the committee to report that the estimated cost is already more than covered by public subscription, without redress to Imperial relief funds. The committee wishes to offer it’s thanks to the generosity of all citizens good and true.”
“As do we all," replied General Smythe, the Official Representative.
Jenny had hoped to miss out on the public spotlight with so many feats of bravery, but this was not to be. The General turned to her and then the Sergeant-at arms was at her side, escorting her forward.
“Worthy citizens all- here is our hope. A young citizen passed through the hardest school on our planet and is now off to the Imperial War Academy- the ultimate test of the warrior. She will do well.
It is my hope this young lady and those like her will take the war to our enemy. Too long we have followed a policy of 'live and let live'. We must go forth and tear out the hearts of those who prey on our children.
Trooper DeVries- you are a weapon and now you go to be further honed into a weapon to tear deep into the foe- go to your destiny with our blessings.”
The assembly rose as one and cheered, clapped and continued doing so while the old man came down and led Jenny off into the governor's private chambers.
“Sorry to put you on the spot like that Trooper, but right now our people need a hero and with the rest in hospital, you drew the short straw. I don't know if you have figured it out yet, but that is what you will spend the rest of your time on this planet being. If you want a rest, look to the trip to old Earth- you will get none here,” His voice softened, “and for what it is worth from an old soldier, keeping flat-out busy is the best thing for you right now. Welcome to the world of command. It will only get harder, but it is the only job really worth doing.”
***
The next weeks were exactly as the old General had predicted. Before mid-morning local time, the story had flashed across the planet, along with an image taken as Jenny entered the broken Mission gates. 'Avenger' was the word most used as a title to the picture of Jenny carrying her hunting rifle. The story spread across the Empire of Man as fast as the courier ships and drones could travel and outrage was growing slowly but steadily, from system to system. A sleeping giant was awakening.
On Yalumba, Jenny had little time for the saber-rattling that was going on planet-wide. She was spending her waking hours doing all she could to rebuild the shattered community- recruiting volunteers to staff the Mission, directing repairs and spending as much time as she could with the wounded girls. With the advanced medicine of the 35th century- even on a backwater planet- all those who survived the first day were on the road to recovery and the field hospital and staff would soon return to their usual posts. It would be some months before new eyes, eardrums and limbs were grown for implantation, but the real work would be with the mental scars and a drone had been dispatched to New Chicago to request a specialist redactor team. 35th century psychiatry actually worked.
With the resources of a prosperous world and a legion of willing volunteers, the mission was well on the way to being put back to new. Even the trees badly damaged by the bombing had been plucked out and replaced, using heavy-lift sky cranes. Jenny had over-ruled erasing all the damage- she wanted the bullet-pocked walls on the stairway to remain as a badge of honor for the defenders, so the stains were removed and the surface of the stone re-sealed. The hardest part was choosing a suitable memorial- the survivors had delegated this task to her. It seemed that every artist, architect or landscaper on the planet had submitted a proposal. After much late-night study, she chose a simple plan- one done by a 'Second Chance' artist- the now famous Acacia hedge and a lawn with Iridium crosses.
This seemed the right one for the rural setting of the mission. The artist had captured her interest by making the site the knoll from where she fired the shot that rang the bell. The location would cost a few hectares of grapes, but there was no shortage of good land on the terraces and the cost of re-establishing the plantings would not be an issue now. There had been enough credit and labour pledged within first day to build the mission five times over.
As her six weeks of 'leave' were ending and her transport to the academy was soon due to arrive, a familiar ship dropped into the system. In tow was the freighter that had carried the raiders into Imperial space. Yalumba's picket ship received a brief transmission, along with an IFF signal.
“We have somebody you may be interested in talking to.”
***
'Hells Mouth'
Navigation Hazard Point (Singularity)
Three weeks previously
As soon as the freighter dropped out of subspace, the mass alarms started sounding.
“Cap'n- we are in a huge gravity well- but the singularity shows two light-hours away- OH CRAP. It's a tractor field!”
The Captain of the armed freighter and occasional pirate 'Belle Starr' was working franticly at his sensor board. This spot should have been clear- they had rendezvoused here on many occasions. Slaving a camera towards the direction of the tractor, his blood ran cold as he saw the bulk of 'Wotan's Fury' bearing down on his ship. He knew that this was no chance meeting- somebody had sold him out. “Dump the computer core,” he shouted. Better to limp back on skip-drive than to have Jamieson find THAT evidence.
Before they could activate the dump sequence, the hull breach alarms briefly sounded and the second officer slumped over his station. A smell of burnt flesh and scorched plastic filled the room- although there was no sign of a laser-flash or a kinetic impact. The
automatics had swiftly sealed the hull and as the Captain was wondering what the hell had just hit them, the comm screen lit up.
“X-ray laser- don't even twitch or I cook you where you sit,” said Commander Hendrik. “Stand by to be boarded.”
The Captain looked at his screens not believing what had just happened- the hostile was thousands of kilometers away and had just fired a shot with unheard-of precision. For that matter- they were well out of normal tractor field range and x-ray lasers were only used in books and vids. There must be another ship closer- he started an instrument sweep, as he opened a voice channel to 'Fury' to try and stall for time.
“What kind of piracy is this? We are an Imperial registered freighter in free space- you have no right too...”
Commander Hendrik cut him off. “Cut the crap traitor- you have been working with the Crow slavers, who have sold you out. Just give me an excuse to burn you.”
Now the freighter crew was really staring to sweat. It would be a simple matter of reading the flight recorder and tracing their movements. From there, a forensic team would be sure to find some trace of their Crow backers. After watching the second officer get burned down, nobody was making any moves towards their station controls, until Captain Jacques realized that there was no way they could actually see onto the bridge, even if a well-aimed shot could be fired at a workstation, using a plan of the ship. He closed the audio channel, realizing there was no negotiating with Jamieson's hard-nosed XO. “Quick now- they are bluffing. Start a soft data dump on the memory core and I will initiate auto-destruct for one hour. We can't leave any evidence for the damned Navy.”
“I wouldn't do that,” came from the bridge hatchway. All the crew spun about in disbelief- there couldn't be anyone else on the ship.
Wayne Jamieson leaned casually against the bulkhead, swinging a short length of duralloy strut in his hand.
“How the hell did you get on board?”
“You should be asking WHEN exactly did I get on board,” Wayne replied, implying that he had stowed away. "Now- will you co-operate and get a nice clean death by laser? Or is it to be the hard way?"
