Kayla remarked, “We still have the final obstacle course test to run tomorrow, and then the smelly sulphur springs swimming test in three days. You and Sham’S will leave the rest of us in your dust!”
“I’m going to try and beat him,” Sham’S said, backhanding Dan’L’s arm. Dan’L was without equal in his running ability. No one in their class could catch him.
The trainees waited at the starting line for their last obstacle course run. “Course record is five minutes, forty-two seconds. Try to beat it, you sorry-assed excuses for Rangers,” the course instructor yelled, then flipped the switch for the green light.
They ran a quarter kilometer up into the hills; leapt from boulder to boulder along the dry creek bed; climbed a sheer vertical wall of rock out of the canyon; swung on ropes over a wide crevasse; and crawled on their bellies while live laser fire blasted above their heads. The trainees climbed tall poles, and carefully walked the wire strung between the poles above boiling mineral pools. The hand-pulley zip line down the mountain was actually fun. The final leg was the quarter-kilometer sprint to cross the finish line.
The average time for the trainees was six minutes, twenty-seven seconds. Dan’L beat the course record of five minutes forty-two seconds by one second, with Sham’S right on his heels. Kayla crossed the line next, with six minutes one second, followed by L’Mun and three other trainees. They all passed the course.
One day of rest before the sulphur springs swimming finals. Each trainee received a special “Onesie” swimsuit, specially designed to protect their bodies’ sensitive areas from the hot springs. They also were issued insulated goggles to protect their eyes, ear protective caps, and fitted, sealed face shields. Still, it would be a test of speed, and burning hot spring water on their skin.
“I don’t even like real hot showers,” Sham’S confessed to Kayla. She could tell he was nervous about this final test, and tried to calm him. No one liked the idea of jumping into the hot sulphur springs, six interconnected pools of bubbling water and stinking gases. But it was mandatory to complete.
Kayla suggested, “Look at the pools, Sham’S. No more than six swim strokes each. One pool on your belly, one on your back, and so on. Why, you’re so tall, you’ll probably cross each pool in four strokes. Just chant, ‘Belly, 1, 2, 3, 4; Back, 1, 2, 3, 4;’ and repeat. You’ll be through in less than a minute!”
Dan’L listened to her, and added, “I’m looking at those pools as the last enemies to vanquish. Then I’ll be a Ranger!” They both bolstered their friend’s determination to succeed, as the three of them had done with each other the last year.
One by one, the trainees jumped into the hot sulphur springs pools, and swam as fast as they could. Everyone had burns on their skin, especially those who did not alternate belly and back strokes, as recommended. When they reached the last pool, two instructors quickly pulled them out, and they were blasted by chilly water from a large hose to cool off their skin. Then, they were wrapped in large white towels, and given intra-nasal oxygen to clear their lungs. But they all passed. The remainder of the evening was spent spreading healing ointments on their burns, some vomiting from the burns, and most laughing about their experiences. But their class set a record: every trainee passed the entire year and a half of Phase 2 and Phase 3 Training without anyone “washing out.”
The last two weeks of Phase 3 Training consisted of the trainees learning and practicing Royal Court Protocols, and learning to master their plasma swords. The powerful plasma swords were hand-held energy weapons, designed to be the trademark weapon of the Rangers. The plasma sword was sheathed in the Ranger’s backplate, where the energy weapon was kept powered-up. The backplate utilized the Ranger’s own body movements to keep the sword fully charged and ready for use at all times. The backplate and breastplate were mounted on special charging stands every night for maximum potency.
During the last day of plasma sword practice, Comm. Bok pulled Dan’L out of training and gave him grave news: Dan’L’s Father, Master Commander K’Ser, was killed in action against attacking Rebels on abandoned Space Base 5, yesterday.
“Does my Mother know this? How is she, Commander Bok? I must go to her now,” Dan’L said with urgency in his voice.
Comm. Bok replied, “Yes, Master Commander Javette has been informed of this tragedy. Commander Superior G’Rosk has authorized your immediate transport home to K’Halon Prime. I’ll shuttle you to the transport station in one hour. Congratulations on graduating Phase 3 Training, Dan’L, Son of Master Commander K’Ser,” Bok said, and saluted. Dan’L returned Bok’s salute and ran to the dormitory to pack out.
The trainees were shocked and saddened when they were told why Dan’L had to leave training camp a few days early. The graduation ceremony for them was usually a formal affair; but this year, it was more solemn than normal. Death was always in the cards for any Ranger, and the young graduates were reminded of this fact acutely. The graduation ceremony for the Rangers-in-training was held one week after the funeral celebration for Master Commander K’Ser, at the Royal Palace on K’Halon Prime.
IV
M’Wati, Secret Rebel Base
Within a week of his escape and rescue by the Rebels, Major S’Loc was placed in charge of two search and rescue squads. Steph’N was relieved. When the men took him to the old destroyer’s engineering deck, he praised the officers and crewmen profusely, saying, “How did you manage to bring this antique piece of crap back from mothballs? I’d have been hopelessly lost with these engines. I’ve never seen anything like them before,” he remarked. The current Chief Engineer – a hard man over 70 years of age – was more than happy to get the cocky, former Space Cadre Major S’Loc off his engineering deck. The destroyer was of his era, and he knew every part of it well.
Emperor P’Lau ordered Steph’N to gain the confidence of the Rebel Leader Duma Wat while in deep immersion. For over a year, Major S’Loc was kept on the ground, searching and rescuing the Rebels who survived battles with the Space Cadre, or the Imperial Army. His Ranger survival training served him very well. He became an excellent tracker and map reader. The Rebels had their identification capsules removed the first day they joined, and wore no expensive comm links, ear buds, or other communications devices. Unless they were on high-profile missions, none of the modern comm links were used. It made the survivors very difficult to locate.
One of his primary worries was being ordered by the Rebels to attack Space Cadre or Imperial Army personnel. So far, Steph’N was not involved in any battles or outright conflict situations. The Rebel senior officers were all former Space Cadre, Army, Air Corps, or Navy senior officers. They made the new Rebel volunteers prove themselves, and did not assume the new volunteers were trustworthy enough to place in command, or in battle, and be well-armed.
Steph’N listened night after night to the crystal recordings of the files for Major S’Loc, trying his best to assume the man’s life beyond suspicion. The mission—and his life—depended on it. Because the original S’Loc was such an unholy terror as a team leader, no one who worked for him socialized with him. The few Rebels who’d met Major S’Loc before he turned traitor tried to avoid any association with the brutal taskmaster.
He saw the Rebel numbers growing. The High Command of the Space Cadre was nervous about losing an increasing number of officers and crewmen to the Rebellion—and rightly so. But Steph’N recognized the Rebellion’s primary weakness was their lack of superior vessels and weaponry. On an outer planet or inhabited moon, the Rebels could invade and quickly establish a base, maybe even fortify a stronghold. But their equipment was sub-standard. Their laser rifles were at least ten years old or more. Land craft lined up for maintenance was easy to steal during lightning-fast raids by the Rebels against an Imperial Army base of sleepy security teams. But they had few replacement parts with which to work, and effect repairs.
Duma Wat had tried and failed repeatedly to commandeer any modern Space Cadre attack vessels in service today. He had a rag-
tag fleet of mercenaries, pirates, and former Space Cadre Rebels flying the poorest and oldest vessels still in service. His men were excellent at refurbishing old, “Mothballed” vessels waiting salvage. They stole the vessels, or bought them from salvage dealers at dirt-cheap prices. Their technicians brought them back to operational efficiency, and retrofitted them for newer weaponry. Most of their technicians were retired Space Cadre or Imperial Army men, collecting retirement pension checks from the Empire, and being paid by Duma Wat.
Thank the Creator Duma Wat never got his hands on a new Space Cadre destroyer. The Rebel Leader had railed against Emperor P’Lau for twenty years, and promised his followers independent, democratic, separate planetary rule. But Steph’N was not one of Duma Wat’s brainwashed Rebels; he knew the Rebel Leader wanted Emperor P’Lau’s throne for himself, democracy be damned. In their camps at night, the Rebels talked about Duma Wat as if he were a demi god. He was called the “Savior of the People.” Steph’N nearly choked the first time he heard their tales of Duma Wat’s victories in battle, and recordings of his speeches. The legend was greater than the man.
After tracking a retreating Rebel attack force into the hidden and abandoned mining tunnels on M’Wati, Major S’Loc and his Rebel search and rescue squads rescued one hundred nineteen Rebel troops from starvation and infected wounds. The Rebel troops were over-run by M’Wati Imperial Army commandos and their attack vehicles, and retreated into abandoned mines for protection.
The old, unfortified tunnels at first looked like the perfect place to hide and await Rebel reinforcements. But the air inside the old tunnel was fouled with poisonous gases. The unused tunnel dead-ended into heaps of rubble and discarded ancient mining equipment, blocking further advancement through the tunnels. When the Rebels lit fires to warm themselves and cook what little food they had, the gases in the tunnels exploded, collapsing the only exit. They had many injured men, and were trapped.
Major S’Loc and his men tracked the retreating Rebels to the old abandoned mines, but they had no access to the tunnel where they were trapped after the gas explosions. The Major studied mining and geological maps from half a century ago, when those mines were working. Major S’Loc discovered the old air shafts for the mines. His men used robotic borers to reopen the air shafts, bringing fresh air to the trapped Rebels. Then he lowered comm links through them, and used their signal to pinpoint their exact location.
After three days of tunneling a perpendicular cross shaft from a parallel tunnel, S’Loc’s men broke through and rescued the trapped Rebels. Major S’Loc was brought before Duma Wat, at last. He was given a bronze star for rescuing the one hundred-nineteen Rebel troops in the mines. From that day forward, Major S’Loc was assigned to Colonel Vas, the second-in-command Rebel leader. It was during the second year of Steph’N’s deep immersion mission.
Major S’Loc was now a hero of the Rebellion. Colonel Vas held a feast on the M’Wati Rebel base in his honor, attended by over two hundred Rebels. Major S’Loc maintained his hard face throughout the feast, and drank only water. After he entered his quarters, a knock on his door was heard. Steph’N opened his unlocked door, and was greeted by two young teenage boys, “presents” from Colonel Vas. This was the moment he had dreaded from Day One of his mission. If he did not have sex with them, would Colonel Vas and Duma Wat suspect Steph’N’s duplicity as the traitor Major S’Loc?
He let the boys inside. As he closed the door, he said, “A man of my distinct and particular needs chooses carefully those with whom he finds his pleasure.” He invited them to sit on the sofa. The dark-haired, younger boy produced a bag of white pleasure-powder, and offered it to S’Loc. Thank the Creator; it was his “out.”
“Our leader, Lord Duma Wat, does not permit any drugs to be used by his men, and neither do I. You both need to leave me, right now,” he said forcefully. He stood and held his door open for them to leave. Both boys left and he closed and locked his door. Steph’N was grateful he avoided a potentially revealing situation. He got into bed alone, and rolled over. How much longer would this mission last? Steph’N wanted the mission over. But he wanted to gain the trust of Duma Wat even more. If he could just get closer to the Rebel Leader, perhaps he could discover his plans and tell the Emperor. If he could save just one Space Cadre or Imperial Army trooper’s life—all this would be worth his sacrifice.
What an incessantly boring flight. Steph’N rose from his seat, walked up and down the narrow aisle, and used all his self-control to not pull the pilot out of his chair, and take over the flight. The Rebel pilot flew the old fighter like an illegal taxi shuttle driver in Capital City, too slowly. Steph’N could fly this bird in his sleep. But his cover, Major S’Loc, was not a pilot.
Steph’N missed piloting so much. He flew the Emperor’s newest “ES” class warbirds; well, he used to fly them. They were small, highly maneuverable, and flew twice as fast as standard fighters. And, some ES warbirds even had the new stealth mechanisms installed, rendering them virtually invisible to scanners.
Would he ever get to go home? The other Rebel officers on this flight chalked up his frustrations to Major S’Loc’s being such a control freak, and an obsessed taskmaster. He walked to the aft section and did two hundred push-ups. Month after month of being the homosexual Major. Bloody hell. It was really wearing on him.
They finally landed on Space Base 5; what was left of it, anyway. Major S’Loc and the officers stepped into their space suits and prepared to disembark. Steph’N realized he was in a thirty-year-old space suit, about to step onto a decommissioned space base deemed “Uninhabitable” by the Space Cadre forty years ago. Nearly a third of the base was missing, having been decimated by the humongous, errant “bomber” asteroid way back then. The direct hit on SB5’s engineering and central power core forced emergency evacuations of all personnel who survived the attack from Mother Nature’s bomber asteroid. The space base lost its ability to maintain orbit. It now floated in the White Belt with all the other “Space Junk,” broken planetary matter, and asteroids. The former Empress Tan reasoned the White Belt was too dangerous to send in Space Cadre salvage ships, forty years ago.
Duma Wat ordered SB5 restored to support human life. No one could repair SB5 to the point of controlled orbit outside the White Belt; no one without the resources of the Empire, that is. But Emperor P’Lau chose to leave the abandoned space base to natural forces, as did his predecessor, not willing to lose one more life trying to save the old base. Duma Wat believed SB5 could be partially restored, and used as a potent Rebel base.
Major S’Loc was now a trusted senior member of the Rebellion. He was assigned the task of restoring SB5 to minimum functionality. They assigned sixteen engineers and tech specialists to him for their task, all experienced former Space Cadre officers. Steph’N was a highly trained Borgund Ranger, and a certified pilot. But the former Space Cadre officer he was impersonating was a Chief Engineer, and a university graduate in Astro-Engineering. Steph’N knew he was outside his knowledge and experience level, and was not competent in a Chief Engineering capacity.
This deep immersion assignment became far more challenging than he ever considered. But he was determined to succeed for the Emperor. Being schooled and experienced with space fighters and their highly sophisticated computer control systems helped him a great deal. But knowing massive ship engines, and now, Space Base engines, life support systems, and operations systems, was another matter entirely. He studied the technical specifications manuals, engine computer control schematics, and everything he could find in the ship’s library on space vessel engines and their control systems. He quickly became familiar with the terminology. Hopefully, his assigned engineers and technical specialists would overlook any perceived flaws in his knowledge as unfamiliarity with old, arcane engines and previous-generation technology. Steph’N spoke very cautiously to his men and made copious notes of their conversations, to reference at night when he studied privately.
He implemented duty rosters for the o
fficers, and asked for his men’s recommendations to proceed with repairs to the space base. Steph’N decided to implement those repairs for life support first, then engineering, and bridge control a distant third objective. It made sense to him. His men worked diligently to fulfill the Major’s priorities. S’Loc drove them hard; Steph’N had to keep up the reputation of the Major and be a tough taskmaster.
The Rebels sealed off the destroyed sections of the space base and insulated the adjoining areas completely. Once life support was achieved in the living quarters and engineering decks, the remainder of their tasks flew towards completion. Steph’N read the status reports for the third time: half of the space base was completely sealed off, and was now fully functional. When the cargo ships delivered the replacement parts in a few weeks, the weapons systems would also be operative. Why did the Empire turn its back on the base so soon? Duma Wat did not.
With SB5 restored, Duma Wat reinforced its personnel with troops and attack fighters. The landing sites and docking bays filled with his old fighters, pirate and mercenary ships, and his rusty old cargo ships docked alongside the restored base. Talking in code language, Steph’N let the Emperor know the status of the base as the weeks passed, calling the private comm link every week and reporting, as ordered.
But his contact, “Nephew D’Wayn,” never transmitted any coded orders. All the comm links he sent were strategic on Steph’N’s part, and their responses mundane. Were they afraid the communications were monitored? Of course, they were monitored.
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