by NB VanYoos
* * * *
It took time for Nurse Soldan to clean him up, even with his help. But after some painful rigors, they were able to dress Tyler in clothes befitting the Admiral rank. Various staff members came through, helping Nurse Soldan, adding pictures, flags and what Tyler assumed were flowers, to the stark room. He believed it unnecessary but dared not argue the point. He sat back watching as he was transformed into a regal and ostentatious representation of the Admiral.
Looking back through the Admiral’s memories, Tyler realized it was important to always present himself as bigger than life, loyal to the Emperor, the planet, and his troops. Tyler understood this was all a necessary evil for someone so important to the planet and its population. He was, after all, a hero on this world.
As the last person hung a large portrait Tyler recognized as the Emperor above his bed, he was ready for sleep. Instead, he sat upright wearing a rather regal, yet basic, white jump suit with gold and blue trim down the shoulders, sleeves, and front. Although he wore nothing on his head, the thin hair was washed, trimmed and neatly combed.
His nails were trimmed and sharpened to fine points, and though this scared Tyler, a quick check of memories made him realize how important they were for appearance and touch. On this world, a person’s nails were a distinctive aspect of the species, and as adults, their ability to use them was honed with fine motor control. Someone like the Admiral could pick up something as small as a grain of sand between any two nails. Still, Tyler thought they looked like claws, and that made him nervous.
On the right side of his chest, small insignias were placed in neat rows with care. Tyler searched the memories to find out what they were and discovered they weren’t medals or awards as he assumed, but were marks of the Admiral’s rank and years of military service. In all, Tyler felt like he looked pretty good considering he’d been in a coma for nine months.
After the last person left, Tyler sat alone accessing the Admiral’s memories. With little effort, he could call up bits of the Admiral’s life, different snippets of his world, and their language. It was beginning to become automatic. Tyler was becoming fluent in the sing-song language, and though it still required effort to read, he felt confident that would come in time.
He scanned the transformation of the room, and realized how efficient they’d been at modifying the stark room into something with a distinctive decor. He suspected it had been scripted long before today—waiting for their hero’s return! Efficiency was not an inherent attribute of people suddenly brought to task, so clearly someone had orchestrated the transformation, and Tyler felt certain it wasn’t Nurse Soldan.
With the room so quiet, Tyler started nodding off. The preparations had tired him and he longed for the rest of sleep once more. He was excited about the life he’d taken but nervous about playing an Admiral. The Admiral was bigger than life—a character larger than anyone he’d known before. He knew he had enormous shoes to fill, but then he also had access to the Admiral’s memories. He hoped it would be enough to fool whoever was coming.
The sound of the door banging open startled Tyler out of his dozing. One man walked straight to the side of the bed with two others standing crisply behind him. The first man wore a white suit similar to Tyler’s, appropriately trimmed in gold and blue. On his chest, he also wore the requisite insignia. The man appeared older than the Admiral, and his insignia seemed to confirm this. If Tyler was reading it correctly, the man had over twenty-five years of service to the Admiral’s eighteen.
The insignia indicated the man was a Grand Marshall. Almost automatically, the Admiral’s memories served up everything about the man. His name was Grand Marshall Goolen Sliss, and he was the Admiral’s most trusted aide, confidante, and advisor. He’d served the Admiral for seven years, having been passed up for promotion early in his career. Grand Marshall was the highest, non-command rank you could attain.
Marshall Sliss and the Admiral were a perfect match from the beginning. The Admiral was the thinker and planner, and the Marshall, the organizer and executer. It was the Marshall who made sure the plans were carried out properly and to the letter— reporting discrepancies back to the Admiral when required. The man’s strengths lay in his organizational skills and his ability to analyze battle plan logistics. More than once, his insights had prevented tragedy from a plan that hadn’t taken into consideration all the logistical complications.
Behind the Marshall, two younger officers, Vice Secretary Beelen and Command Communications Officer Kooren, stood almost at attention. Both were entranced by their handheld devices, and like additional appendages, the Admiral had never seen Marshall Sliss without the two officers. Both wore dark blue suits trimmed in white as befitting their junior ranks. They were worker bees, carrying out the Marshall’s orders and directing the communications for the Admiral’s command staff. Their efficiency was legendary.
Officer Kooren constantly wore communication devices attached to his left ear. Tyler couldn’t call up a single memory of him without the devices. As always, he listened intently to whatever traffic was carried across the air waves. As needed, Officer Kooren could relay commands and orders to staff and units almost instantaneously. The Admiral had always admired his effectiveness, and had relied upon it many times in tight situations.
Like Kooren, Secretary Beelen carried a small device. However, Secretary Beelen’s device was not attached to his body and was similar to the one Dr. Fallil had used. It was a communication device, but based on the Admiral’s memories, it also served as official recorder for the Admiral’s staff. Tyler realized that these three were inherently responsible for the organizational aspects of the Admiral’s office. Without them, the Admiral could never function to his maximum capacity.
The minor details of his life, including his personal life, were always handled by Eyleeria. It was these four people Tyler would have to deceive if he was to impersonate the Admiral. Knowing their efficiency and intelligence, he was more than concerned.
The Marshall didn’t waste time. With sharp crispness, he executed what Tyler assumed was some form of salute. “Sir, it is with the greatest relief that we are able to once again be in your presence.”
Quickly recalling how, Tyler returned the Marshall’s salute. In response, all three bowed before Tyler. Coming up in unison, they stood formally, waiting for Tyler.
“Marshall Sliss, Secretary Beelen, and Officer Kooren, I, too, am overjoyed at this reunion—thank you for your concern.” Tyler finished by nodding his head slightly as appropriate for someone of higher rank. He was more than glad the memories were providing him with the required rituals and behaviors of the military.
With the formalities out of the way, all three relaxed, and the two junior officers went back to focusing on their devices.
The Marshall scanned the room before continuing. “I am satisfied with the efforts the hospital went through to make this room presentable. We have a busy schedule for the next several hours, and we need you to look your best, sir.” The Marshall signaled for his subordinates to sit on a couple new chairs brought in during the re-decorating, while he pulled one beside the bed.
“As I am certain no one has spoken to you about the incident, or about what has happened since, I must fill you in before the news conference.” He sat back, looking as though he didn’t know where to start.
Tyler heard news conference and his anxiety shot through the roof. “What news conference?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Not my doing, sir,” the Marshall pleaded, “you can thank the Emperor for that.” Tyler noticed a little irritation in the Marshall’s voice when he mentioned the Emperor. “We were contacted by one of the Emperor’s aides, Banteer Niishen, about an hour ago. It appears the Emperor wishes to hold a news conference with you before you answer questions from the press. It starts in two hours, and I have to brief you before then.”
“I see.” Tyler said. “The Emperor and his hero reunited again?”
The Marshall gav
e Tyler a strange look but continued, “Well, yes, it will be a public relations stunt and nothing more. Your status as Grand Admiral is naturally a critical element of the war effort, so your absence for the last nine months must be explained.”
Tyler thought about that. “You mean no one has known about my coma?”
“Apart from your staff, the Emperor, his staff, and the hospital workers … no.” The Marshall didn’t appear the least bit astonished by this fact as he delivered it with a dry tone.
“After the incident, your staff and the Emperor’s decided that such a defeat was not in the best interest of the war effort, so your injuries and recuperation were kept a closely guarded secret.”
Tyler couldn’t even imagine how they’d pulled that off for nine months. He began to respect the authority he had and the significance of his role on this planet.
“What did you tell the public of my disappearance?” Tyler asked.
“That is what we must talk about before the conference.”
The Marshall began his briefing, explaining the shock and devastation the incident had on the military. Unable to repair the Admiral’s flag ship after the damage it sustained, they had evacuated all the live personnel before it was plunged into the Krildon moon.
The Marshall ran down the total losses to their fleet: one flagship, three fast attack cruisers, two squadron carriers, and twenty attack squadrons. All told, it comprised forty percent of the Poolto Fleet. In terms of lives, over twenty-five hundred soldiers had died in the incident—three hundred on his flagship alone. Officially, they were only reporting a twenty percent loss.
The Marshall explained how this large loss couldn’t easily be covered up, so they had made the announcement that the enemy had conducted a sneak attack on one of the fleet’s supply stations in the asteroid belt. The Poolto fleet, caught off-guard by the sneak attack, had been unable to come to full battle readiness in time to ward off the enemy.
Although they did officially release that all the enemy’s ships were destroyed, the true amount of damage they had inflicted was substantially less. Still, it was a significant percentage. The official count of losses to the Krildon fleet was approximately half of the officially released losses, or about thirty-five percent of their fleet.
To date, the story held, but questions from family members of the fallen troops, and the persistent bombardment by the press were beginning to mount. Although the Emperor’s staff was quick to denounce the press as unpatriotic when they questioned the incident, they were careful when responding to family inquiries. Many of the families were provided compensation to make-up for their losses, but the buy off only went so far.
There was a sense of fear and unrest on Poolto, and questions kept mounting. As for the Admiral, it was reported he’d been elsewhere during the sneak attack, and able to launch his own retaliatory attack in response. It was this retaliatory battle that kept the Admiral out of the lime-light for nine months.
The Marshall admitted they’d brought out old recordings of the Admiral addressing Poolto in rallying speeches now played on the air. After some creative editing, they had changed it enough that just about everyone had bought the ruse. Today’s news conference was to be the triumphant return of the Admiral after his highly successful, secret retaliation against Krildon.
The Marshall confirmed Tyler was to be interviewed in the hospital, after sustaining minor injuries during his battle. At the same time, the Emperor was to present him with the Distinguished Medal of Poolto, his fourth, in tribute to his undying patriotism, courage and dedication to the war effort. After the ceremony, the Admiral was to field questions about his retaliatory strike from the press. Each member of the press was individually picked by the Emperor’s staff and briefed about what questions were appropriate. This was all under the guise of planetary security, so suspicions weren’t yet running high.
The Marshall ran down details the Admiral would need for the Q&A session. The twenty percent loss of the Poolto fleet in the Krildon sneak attack he already knew. This was followed by minor losses during the retaliatory battle they had supposedly launched against Krildon.
The retaliatory attack inflicted a staggering sixty percent loss on the Krildon fleet and had reclaimed several asteroid outposts captured earlier in the war. The reality was the real incident had inflicted only thirty-five percent damage to the Krildon fleet, and the reclaimed outposts had actually been abandoned prior to the battle because of their lack of resources and non-strategic locations.
Tyler diligently listened to it all, staggered by the immensity of the lie that had been fabricated. He thought back to Earth, and wondered if the government had ever done the same thing. He vaguely remembered Nixon, but that seemed small compared to this. He’d always assumed the government lied, although there was never any evidence to support it. But seeing this, he began to think he’d always been right.
The Marshall stopped the recitation, waiting for Tyler to respond. Tyler remained silent, trying to formulate a response. The Marshall waited with infinite patience.
“Very good, Marshall, I’ll want to review it with you to be certain I have it all.” Tyler lied. His memory recalled every word the Marshall had said, but he needed practice speaking to be sure it sounded real and not rehearsed. The Marshall nodded, satisfied with the response.
“I have other business, military business, which we must attend to as well,” the Marshall began, “but your current situation and the pending news conference must take priority. We can address the rest of it tomorrow. I can say, however, it concerns Vice Admiral Teesen, and is of utmost importance.”
With that, the Marshall finished, leaving Tyler slightly mystified by the final remark. His memory served up Vice Admiral Teesen flawlessly. Teesen had been left in charge of the remainder of the fleet. He was more than capable, and the Admiral had relied upon him many times during battles. His record of service was equally impeccable, and he’d been decorated by the Emperor nearly as numerous as Admiral Osloo. The Admiral himself had also awarded him for meritorious service during multiple conflicts. What could be so urgent that the Marshall would mention him? Tyler wondered, but couldn’t find anything.
He hated it when people gave only a taste of something, holding the rest for later. He remembered Raul, who’d also do that. However, with Raul, Tyler suspected it was to keep him safe.
Searching the Admiral’s memories, Tyler confirmed this was a common Marshall attribute, and that surprisingly, the Admiral did not mind. It bothered Tyler, but he dared not change how the Admiral reacted to it. The Marshall and the Admiral were like a hand and glove, and Tyler needed to be careful he followed the Admiral’s memories as much as possible when the Marshall was around.
Tyler recited the information with the Marshall until both were satisfied he was prepared for the news conference. The practice made Tyler more confident, and his anxiety level eased. The Marshall suggested he eat a light meal before the conference, and it was only then that Tyler felt the strong pangs of hunger overcome him. He wondered how they had fed him during his coma, and he was a little concerned about how he would handle food after being unconscious for so long.
The Marshall sent Secretary Beelen to fetch food and the Doctor, and he asked Officer Kooren to track down the Admiral’s assistant, Eyleeria, so she could be there for the conference.
Tyler sat back in the bed, watching as Marshall Sliss launched into action with his usual efficiency. The hunger started to overwhelm him as he wondered what kind of food these people ate.
