“Are you okay, ma'am?” he asked.
Jessica was now embarrassed--she must have made a face. She tried to recover her bearing. “Yeah, just bad coffee,” she then continued, “I understand I don't have the command experience of some of our other captains, but I have been in your shoes before. I can still help you.”
“I hope so,” he replied in a low tone.
Jessica leaned forward on her desk, “Let's just start with our current assignment and go from there, okay? Did you get a chance to get spun up on everything before you got here?”
“A little. We are taking some specialists out to M051? Some sort of priority mission?” he stated.
Jessica pressed a button on her desk and the monitor rotated back into the desk, making it a flat tabletop. Then she pressed another button and a holographic image appeared over her desk. It showed all the systems under Earth's control. She then keyed in a series of commands into the computer and the image zoomed onto M051. “I don't know about a priority mission, but something has piqued command’s interest out there. For all intents and purposes, it is a barren rock with an atmosphere.”
“So no clue on what then?” he asked.
She pressed a button on the console and the image disappeared. “No. I even have a source on the planet who I thought could give me information, but that was a bust.”
Jessica looked at her watch and shot up from her chair. “Sorry to cut this meeting short, but we need to get ready to head out. Would you follow me to the bridge?”
“Sure,” he replied.
It was a short trip across the hall from Jessica's ready room to the bridge. Two Marines dressed in black flanked the entrance to the bridge. They snapped to attention as Jessica and Isaiah approached.
The tiny bridge reminded Jessica of the Roosevelt’s. In front was the main view screen. In the center was the command station where Jessica would sit. Just off to the right was the XO's station. It was a smaller version of Jessica's and had similar functionality. In front of the command section was the helm. It was single console manned by the helmsman.
Off to the right against the wall was the tactical area. This was manned by the tactical officer and a couple of enlisted gunners. Other stations were placed around the bridge to include Operations, Science, Communications, and even Senior Chief McKnight's.
“Captain on the bridge!” McKnight shouted for the whole bridge crew to hear.
“As you were,” Jessica replied loud enough for everyone to hear.
A young lieutenant of Chinese descent vacated the command area and returned to tactical.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Wei. How are we looking?” Jessica asked as she and Isaiah took their stations.
“We are looking good. Displacement drive is almost charged for the jump and all areas of the ship are reporting green across the board,” he replied.
Jessica sat at her chair and pulled her terminal in front of her. She keyed in to the console with her access code, and her terminal came online. She verified everything was as the lieutenant stated, “Very good.”
Jessica turned to Isaiah who was already sitting at his console and motioned for him to stand. After giving Jessica a look like he didn't want to, he stood up.
“Attention, everyone,” she started, “this is Lieutenant Commander Isaiah Sinclair. He is the new XO. Please make him feel welcome. We will get to formal introductions shortly, but we are up against a deadline, so let's get going.”
Isaiah sat back down, and Jessica turned her attention back to the main screen.
“Helm, how is our route looking?” she asked.
The young female ensign turned to Jessica and replied, “We are locked into a standard jump route to M051. We should arrive right on time in three days and two hours.”
Isaiah leaned over to Jessica and said in a low voice, “If we max the jumps we could be there in just over a day.”
“We could, but rules dictate those types of routes are only used in emergencies or times of war. Which this is neither, so we will follow standard jump procedures, but thanks for the recommendation,” she replied with a smile.
She then turned back to face front and asked, “Is the drive charged?”
“Yes, Captain.” the ensign said loud enough for the captain to hear, even though she didn't turn around.
“Okay,” Jessica started, “let's get this show on the road. Initiate first jump.”
Jessica could see in the corner of her eye Isaiah press a button on his terminal, and she heard the beep of the ship-wide communications open.
“All crew prepare for jump,” Isaiah said into his terminal, which echoed over the speakers.
Jessica gave him an approving nod and turned her gaze back to the front view screen and gave the command.
“Jump.”
7
Camp Chapman
Planet M051
Haley was sitting in what was considered tip-toe alley. The building of the base that housed the offices of the camp commander, vice commander, and senior enlisted person. She was anxious. There was no information given to her why Master Sergeant Lamb wanted to meet with her.
She stood up and walked over to the mirror on the wall. She looked over her uniform one last time. She was wearing standard brown-and-black desert fatigues, which fit her slim body well. No wrinkles or strings—good. She looked up to her face. She stared at her face. Her blue eyes looking over her freckled face and at her dirty blond hair pulled back in a tight bun. Everything was in place—good.
“Specialist Stollar, I am ready,” a voice said from behind her.
Haley turned around to see a woman in her late thirties with auburn hair wearing the same fatigues as Haley peering through an office door. Haley approached the door, and she opened it up to let her in. “Please have a seat, specialist,” she said and motioned for Haley to take a chair in front of her desk.
Haley chose the seat to the left of center and sat down. The woman closed the door and then walked to her seat behind her desk. She adjusted her chair forward. “How are things going, Haley?”
“Good, Master Sergeant,” Haley replied.
“It was an eventful day yesterday, huh?”
“You could say that. Is that why you called me in?” she asked.
“In a matter of speaking, yes,” she said, leaning forward onto her desk,,“first of all, I wanted to say that on your end you handled the situation very well.”
“Thank you, master sergeant,” Haley replied, relaxing a little, “what will happen with Private Jones?”
“Nothing right now.”
Haley shook her head in disbelief. “What? He had a negligent discharge.”
“Yes, but he did uncover something of interest to the higher levels of EDF command and even caught the attention of the Alliance. General Shaw will be here tomorrow morning, and he wants to take a small group to look over the area tomorrow evening.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight. He got lucky by randomly shooting the hillside and uncovering a shiny object, breaking almost every rule of engagement. And he gets a pass because some politicians back at AON take notice? What sort of example are we setting?”
Lamb put a hand up. “I understand your frustration, but it’s the politics of the situation.”
Haley let out a sigh. She hated the politics of the military. Then again, that was probably why she was still a specialist. She just did her job and did not play politics. Jones on the other hand was so far up Lamb’s ass Haley had a suspicion that there could be more to the relationship. “What is the plan for tomorrow then?”
“Glad you asked. For tomorrow the general will have a small security team with four Centurions and a team of troopers along with the general’s security providing ground security. We will also have a a Quick Reaction Force with an additional Mech and two more squads.”
“Seems like overkill,” Haley said.
“Well it is the regional commander,” Lamb said sitting back in her seat.
“What about a
ir support then?”
“We will have a flight of Talons on alert, but we don’t anticipate any airborne threats right now.”
Haley leaned forward. “Okay, so I take it I will be part of the security tomorrow?”
“No,” Lamb responded straight-faced, “I will have Sergeant Glass’s team along with PFC Jones to provide Mech escort.”
Confused and slightly angered, Haley asked, “QRF then?”
“No, you have tomorrow off.”
“What?” Haley said almost jumping from her seat.
“Yes, you have tomorrow off. Enjoy it, relax.”
“So, you are telling me that not only did PFC Jones ignore rules of engagement and not get in trouble for it, he is getting to escort the general tomorrow?”
“Yep,” Lamb replied with a smile. Haley had to use every ounce of restraint to keep from leaping across the desk and choking that smile off her face.
Haley took a moment to regain her composure. “Is there any thing else, Master Sergeant?”
“No, I just wanted to give you that update. You can go. Enjoy your time off.”
Haley opened the door to the Enlisted Club. The place was dim, crowded and loud. Blue and red lights were moving around in alternating patterns close to the small dance floor on one end of the room, where the young soldiers were dancing to loud electronic music. She rolled her eyes at a few of them who were bumping and grinding against each other. That’s where the bad decisions start, she thought to herself. Flashing back to her first assignment and meeting her now-ex-husband.
She waded through the crowd and found a seat up at the bar. The bar itself was small, and the selection of drinks behind it was even smaller. A young female PFC filling in as the bartender approached Haley. “What will you have?”
Haley looked up at the selection of bottles behind the bartender. “Give me a rum and cola.”
“We only have the cheap stuff until the supply ship gets here next week.”
She looked up at the bartender. “It’s been a stressful couple of days so just give me what you got.”
The bartender grabbed a bottle of rum from behind her and a can of soda and mixed a shot of rum with the soda in a glass and gave it a quick mix with a small paper mixer. Then she slid it over to Haley. “Thanks,” she said, placing her left hand out. The bartender pulled out a small wand device and waved it over Haley’s hand. It flashed green. She nodded, placed it under the bar top and moved on to another customer.
“Is someone sitting here?” a male voice asked from behind her. She spun around to see a young man dressed in black fatigues that matched his black hair standing eyebrows raised looking at her.
“Um, no. It’s yours if you want it,” she replied then spun back around to take a sip of her drink. It was cool and she could taste the hint of rum.
The man leaned over and caught the attention and Haley overheard him ordering a drink. “Can I have a Long Island Iced Tea?”
“Sorry, sir, we are currently out of one of the ingredients for that,” the bartender replied.
“Okay, how about a Hefeweizen?”
Haley about spit out her drink. “Where are you from? We don’t have the luxuries of the Sol system out here. You need to keep it basic.”
The bartender nodded in agreement. He sighed, “What are you having then?”
“Just a rum and soda,” she replied lifting her glass to take another sip.
“Fine. I have what she’s having.”
The bartender quickly replicated the drink, slid it over to him grabbed the wand and waited. “You going to pay for that?” Haley inquired.
“Oh sorry,” he responded holding out his left arm. The bartender scanned the chip in his hand and went about her business. He turned to Haley. “Thanks.”
“I take it you are new.”
He chuckled. “What gave it away?”
“Oh, maybe the blank uniform or the utter lack of knowledge of the drink menu,” she replied with a smirk.
“True,” he replied, looking down at his uniform. He looked back up at Haley and extended a hand. “My name is Sergeant Jake Rooney, but my friends call me Rook.”
Haley giggled, “Rook? Really, Sergeant. Why?”
“Well it’s because of—”
“Is this turtle bothering you, Specialist?” the familiar voice of PFC Jones cut in.
Rook jumped out of his seat and stood to face Jones. Rook was a stark contrast to Jones. Rook stood over six feet tall, whereas Jones was barely pushing five foot seven. “What did you say, Private?” Rook sneered.
“You heard me, Sergeant,” Jones slithered.
Haley jumped from her seat to get in between them. “Okay that’s enough, you two. Jones, go back over to your little corner.”
“You siding with him?” Jones responded, “He’s a lowly turtle and he shouldn’t be mixing with Mech pilots.”
Haley quickly looked at Rook’s uniform and noticed the unit patch. The 103rd Exo-Ground Brigade. He was a exosuit trooper. The term turtle came from the half-shell power pack the suit used that was strapped to their back. “Why are you complaining about it? Hanging around with a certain turtle seems to have helped your career,” Haley jested.
Jones quickly turned to face her. She was now staring at the man face to face his brown eyes now scowling at her, “What did you say?”
“You know what I am saying. Everyone knows it,” she replied with a smile.
He huffed, “At least I don’t have daddy issues.”
“What was that?” She asked.
“Everyone knows if your dad wasn’t some military hero, you would have been drummed out of the EDF a while ago.”
That comment caused something to snap in her, because before she knew it her leg snapped forward hard connecting with his groin. He toppled over, squealing in pain. The room suddenly went silent and everyone was looking at her. She scanned the room to see if anyone was going to come to his defense, then she saw Master Sergeant Lamb standing at the front door. “Oh shit.”
“What the hell were you thinking, Haley!” Lamb yelled at her pacing behind her desk. Haley was now standing at attention.
“Birth control,” Haley responded.
“What!” Lamb said stopping suddenly.
“I figure I was doing the universe a favor, because someone that stupid should not be allowed to reproduce.” She thought Lamb was going to explode with that one.
The master sergeant leaned against the desk, “Okay, smart ass. I guess you are going to get what you want.”
“And that is what, Master Sergeant?”
“Duty tomorrow. I was being nice, but I don’t think I can have you running around here with nothing to do. So you are now the QRF pilot tomorrow,” he replied, typing in some commands on a tablet she picked up, “congratulations.”
“Wonderful. When do I report?”
8
Unknown Vessel
Unknown Location
Captain Magnuson could feel that he was sitting in a chair. When he tried to move, he could feel the restraints dig into his wrists. He tried to move his head, but it seemed like his neck was restrained. He tried to open his eyes, but the bright light stung, and he shut them.
“How long was I out?” he thought to himself. All he could remember was the encounter with the alien vessel and a bright light. Then darkness.
He tried to open his eyes again, slowly this time, trying to give his eyes time to adjust. He was alone. What he could see was that he was in a small white room with no distinctive features and a tall ceiling. Magnuson could make out a rectangular seam on the wall to his right. He concluded that must be a door, but by judging by the dimensions, the door would be about twelve feet tall.
He looked down to the chair. It was bright metallic in color with no padding, from what he could see and feel. His arms, legs, and feet were bound to the chair by black straps. He tried to break free, but the straps would just tighten against his force. At one point the strap across his chest clamped down so tigh
tly he couldn't breathe for a second. That ended his struggle quickly. Once he stopped, the restraint loosened slightly, just enough for him to catch his breath.
“Is there anybody out there?” he yelled out hoping for an answer.
There was a hissing sound and it made Magnuson’s attention go back to the door. The panel slid open and in walked a being dressed in white robes, gloves and boots. Its head was encased in a white helmet and the face mask was mirrored and obscured any facial features. It stood at what he could estimate to be about ten feet tall and had a thin frame.
“Hello, I apologize for my tardiness, but I was attending to your fellow crewmen,” it said in a mechanical voice.
Magnuson was stunned. “English--how in the hell would an alien species know English?”
The alien began to walk towards him and the door behind closed. The alien stood in the middle of the room about two feet in front of him. It looked down, and he could see his reflection in the faceplate.
“Would you mind answering some questions for us?” the alien asked.
He stared at the alien. Normally in situations like this they would only be required to answer with name and service number, but this situation is different. He didn't think aliens signed the Geneva Convention. Plus, he wanted answers too.
“First, where is my crew, and second, I want to know how you know our language so well,” he demanded.
“Very well, if this is how this is going to be, I will answer if you will answer my follow-up questions,” it replied.
Magnuson nodded.
“We got your language translated by conversations from your other crew mates and from analysis of your ship. What you hear is our translation device voicing out the English version of our language,” it stated as it took a step back and folded its arms. “Now tell me what happened 22 years ago outside of your planet Neptune. What happened to our ship? Was it captured or did you destroy it? If it was destroyed, how did you do it?”
Magnuson took a moment to think. How did they not know what happened to one of their own ships? Why did it take so long for them to respond to it being lost? Then again if he told them how, would he be giving up a secret on a possible weakness they found?
Stollar's Gambit Page 5