“Having trouble fitting in?” Diosa probed. “Do you miss being home?”
“Nope. I needed to get away. All my friends were getting into trouble. Someone will end up in jail,” replied the sailor. “I didn’t want it to be me.”
“I’m Diosa Alberich. What’s your name?”
“Yoshio Himari,” he said then glancing up he noticed the braid over Diosa’s shoulder. Yoshio straightened his legs and started to stand. “Oh, sorry ma’am. I didn’t realize you…”
“As you were. I’m not an officer. In a way, I’m sort of in the same boat as you. I’m a junior counselor,” Diosa lied. His eyes opened wide at the comment. “I don’t even have an office for appointments. And look at me, out during mid-watch looking for someone to talk to.”
“Everyone starts at the bottom,” he said trying to comfort another rookie. “My instructors in boot camp and later in advance material handling school said you will be the lowest rung on the ladder. Buried up to your neck in slush with enormous pressure on your shoulders, but always remember, the top rung wouldn’t be up there without you.”
“Sage advice,” Diosa agreed. “This ship has over five thousand men and women floating in space with you. Have you checked out any social clubs or groups?”
“We just finished a major resupply and reordered all the storage spaces,” he advised. “I haven’t had time.”
“I’d think a rising star in material handling could find friends for a late-night conversation,” Diosa pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong. You’ve helped me out enormously, and I appreciate it.”
“I have? I mean it’s my pleasure, ma’am,” Yoshio stated.
“But I need help with something else,” Diosa suggested. “I can’t be everywhere. You have access to compartments on this ship no one else has. I would appreciate it if you’d keep an eye out for any unusual activities.”
“We were warned about people using our spaces for dastardly deeds,” Yoshio replied obviously using a phrase, he picked up from one of his instructors. “You can count on me. I’m going to the entertainment deck and check out the video games. Care to tag along?”
“No thank you. I’m heading for my quarters,” Diosa answered. “It’s been a long day.”
Chapter 15 – Narrowing the Search
‘The broadcast hath begun,’ Walden sent, alerting Diosa that he was beginning the process of isolating the spy’s cut-out.
Figuring the fake message from Admiral Nesta 4th Deallus would take a while to be picked up, Diosa finished breakfast and lingered over a second cup of coffee. Enlisted sailors and Marines flowed in and out of the mess deck. Some sat with her for a time and talked about their feelings. None presented large issues or monumental problems. They were just taking advantage of an available counselor. Between listening and dispensing suggestions, she sat. Waiting for what, she didn’t know. The ping returned to Poet would only isolate a quarter of the massive ship. Even narrowing down the search area, it left deck upon deck of hiding places for the spy’s contact.
‘Where should I position myself?’ Diosa inquired.
Warlock was a decisive individual and the text more of a snarky comment than an actual request.
‘Mid ship,’ Walden replied.
‘I was teasing,’ Diosa sent before picking up her tray and walking to the pass-through where a messman took the tray and utensils.
‘I know.’
Diosa left the mess deck and began what she thought would be an uneventful patrol around the heavy cruiser.
***
Counselor Alberich strolled slowly through the passageways. A lot of people greeted her and it came as a surprise. Yesterday had been long and she’d covered a lot of territory. It seemed the word had been passed, as it always was on a ship, that the new therapist made herself available and was approachable.
“Good morning,” she said for the hundredth time.
It happened so often, and Diosa recognized only a few of the greeters, she began to wonder if it wasn’t a ship-wide joke at her expense. But it wasn’t in jest. Good people get recognition and news had spread to the crew about the ease of talking to the new Counselor. Unfortunately, the gossip reached the medical deck.
The offices of the head of psychiatric care for the heavy cruiser caught wind of her and an officer was dispatched, immediately.
***
A naval officer marched quickly in Diosa’s direction and out of habit, she addressed him.
“Good morning, sir.”
But the officer neither returned the salutation or walked by.
“Master Sergeant. Lieutenant Commander Hendrina would like to see you in his office,” the Ensign informed her.
“Yes, sir,” Diosa acknowledged. “I’ll be along shortly.”
“No, Sergeant. The Commander said to escort you personally,” he snapped. “Before you cause any more damage.”
“In that case, Ensign, lead on.”
***
They took the closest ladder and two decks up emerged on the recreation deck. Diosa and the officer walked by a reading room, an arcade lounge, and a cinema as they moved in the direction of the medical deck. Near the end of the fun deck, a voice called out from the entrance to the video combat arena.
“Master Sergeant Alberich. Master Sergeant Alberich,” Yoshio Himari shouted as he shoved his way through a crowd.
“Yoshio?” Diosa acknowledged the young sailor with a wave of her arm. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying out for a video combat team,” he beamed. “I wanted to…”
“The master sergeant does not have time to talk. Stand aside, sailor,” insisted the ensign. “Move it along, Alberich.”
Yoshio, instead of stepping out of the way, leaned forward and swiped his PID over Diosa’s. Then he turned and fought his way back into the crowd.
Angry at the rude treatment of the young man, Warlock failed to look at what he passed to her. Quickening her steps, she forced the ensign to almost jog to keep up with her. At the end of the passageway, she hit the next ladder and two decks up, Warlock stepped onto the medical deck alone.
“You should visit the gym more, sir,” she suggested as she waited for the officer to reach the landing. “Which way?”
“To your right,” he huffed. “Third hatch on the left. Commander Hendrina’s office.”
Again, the Marine route-stepped to the door, opened it, and shut it behind her. While the Lieutenant Commander’s aide stared in confusion at the intruder, Diosa stood beside the door counting. Nine seconds later, the ensign came through. His face red and his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“You brought me here, sir,” Warlock stated. “Announce me, please.”
“Master Sergeant Diosa Alberich for Commander Hendrina,” he managed to spit out.
“I’ll see if the doctor is available,” the aide promised.
It never failed to amaze Diosa. When a superior officer was mad, they left the offending party in the outer office to stew. After years in the Marine Corps, Warlock ignored the power play and checked her PID.
‘After our talk, I realized some of my tie downs weren’t up to standards,’ Yoshio had typed. ‘When I went to adjust them, I saw a pharmacist's mate leaving one of the storage compartments. Everything stored there is for emergency use during combat operations. Just doing as you asked.’
Warlock had little interest in busting a drug addict or a dealer. Later, she would mention it to the ship’s security department.
‘Poet. Tell me some good news,’ she sent.
‘No response,’ he replied. ‘What’s your location?”
‘In a psychiatrist’s office.’
‘Lie about the inkblots,’ recommended Walden. ‘Fuzzy bunnies and blooming flowers worked for me last time.’
The aide cleared her throat to get Diosa’s attention.
“Master sergeant, the doctor will see you now,” the aide announced.
Diosa marched into the office and almost laughed at the sight of a c
ouch. She wondered if this meeting with a psychiatrist required her to stretch out and describe her fear of clowns. In truth, thanks to the Striker training, she wasn’t afraid of anything except failing to complete a mission.
“Do you see those?” Lieutenant Commander Hendrina exclaimed.
His hand pointed over his shoulder at ten diplomas arranged on the bulkhead in neat frames.
“Those are my qualifications. Looking at your record,” he blustered as he scanned a monitor. “I don’t see any of those. Is that correct or did I miss something?”
“No, sir,” she replied.
“Yet, you walk around my ship with absolutely no training holding therapy sessions in passageways,” he declared. “I have three highly skilled mental health professionals on staff. Their office doors are open daily and they are available for the needs of every member of this ship’s crew.”
Warlock didn’t say anything when he paused because Hendrina failed to ask a question.
“Well, Master Sergeant Alberich. What do you have to say?” he demanded.
“Very impressive credentials, sir,” Diosa commented.
“Let me say this in terms that might make sense to a Strike Kill team leader,” he uttered with a tone of disgust. All Strikers and combat Marines were accustomed to being viewed as knuckle-dragging, bloodthirsty savages with a limited number of brain cells. In truth, support staff without exposure to shooters missed the intelligence and philosophic nature required to succeed in combat. “The mind is a battlefield and it takes intense training to navigate the hazards. I would no more expect you to operate in the theater of the mind than one of my therapists to pick up a rifle and charge at the enemy. Does that make sense?”
“Yes sir. They would die,” Warlock acknowledged.
“That’s not what I meant,” Hendrina shouted. His face puffed up and his eyes bulged. Noticeably, he inhaled several deep breaths to calm himself. “Master Sergeant Alberich. I order you to take off that braid and refrain from further counseling of any and all personnel on this ship. Is that clear?”
Diosa started to bring up that her authority as a counselor came from Admiral Folkert. Although limited to Strikers and their personnel, it was a legitimate excuse. Then her PID buzzed and she glanced down at it.
“Am I keeping you from a prior engagement?” question the Lieutenant Commander.
A message from Poet flashed across the face of the device.
‘Warlock. We have a ping,’ Walden sent. ‘Are you still on the medical deck?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. The return came from that section of the ship,’ Walden informed her.
Hendrina slammed his hands on the desk to get her attention.
“Master Sergeant Alberich. I am speaking to you,” he raged.
“Yes, sir,” Diosa replied as she reached to her shoulder and unpinned the braid. “And you are correct. I should have never attempted therapy with the crew. Please accept my humblest apologies. Will there be anything else, commander?”
His eyes shifted from the fit looking woman with the goggle to the Counselor braid dangling from her hand.
“I guess not,” Hendrina responded. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”
“As am I,” Diosa said as she dropped the braid on his desk. “By your leave, sir?”
“Dismissed,” he ordered then turned his attention to a monitor.
He missed Warlock’s race out of his office, through the aide’s office, and the slamming of his door. Diosa had questions and she needed to find a bright young sailor who might have the answers.
***
Yoshio Himari bent his knees to lower his profile, swung his body from left to right, and then dove to the edge of a padded section of the arena floor. On a four-sided screen high above, his image was displayed as a warrior in tattered armor and the light plastic rifle in his hands as a forty-five over and under. The audience cheered his disposing of enemy targets and his progress. Crawling to a low wall, the video fighter rose up and got off a burst across a courtyard before a rocket-propelled grenade exploded in his chest. Yoshio remained kneeling in the empty space while his avatar disintegrated in a glorious spray of blood, bones, and soft tissue. Groans and yells from the crowd showed their support for the young sailor.
“His name is Yoshio Himari, team captains,” a voice echoed around the arena. “Untrained and available, he scored an impressive seventy-five on the qualifying program. If you are looking for a quick and lethal addition to your team, you can watch his run again at the reviewing monitors.”
Yoshio pulled off the VR helmet, handed the plastic rifle to the next person trying out for a video combat team, and left the mats. As he reached the bare deck, he noticed Master Sergeant Alberich on the edge of the crowd. She and those around her were applauding. Then he lost sight of her as three team captains converged on him.
Warlock thought she would have trouble getting through the mass of sailors and Marines when she arrived at the arena. Not only were most of the arena seats filled but those on the deck were packed tightly. Then she tapped the shoulder of a Marine in an attempt to get through. He spun on her ready to defend his spot. With his mouth open, no doubt to voice his displeasure, his eyes dropped and landed on the badge affixed to her chest. Immediately, he elbowed the person next to him. Both pressed back opening a hole for her.
“Striker,” he announced. The word spread forward and the crowd parted for the elite warrior. Everyone here wanted to play at combat. When a real fighter visited, they gave ground.
Her second worry was locating Yoshio in the crowd. It proved to be a non-issue as the sailor fought his way across the mats. Diosa, for a second, forgot her mission and mouthed unheard instructions.
“Don’t try and cross over the wall where you dropped down. Move further from that point and get over the wall quickly. If you don’t,” then Yoshio rose up and the RPG ended his run. “Duck-and-cover is deadly when attacking a fortified position.”
While his character died a glorious death, the player got solicited by teams wanting his skills. It seemed Yoshio Himari wouldn’t be sitting alone at mid-watch on the observation platform again. Warlock allowed a few minutes for the team leaders to meet and get Yoshio’s information. Then she moved forward, shoving two of them out of her way.
“Himari. We need to talk,” Diosa stated. “Now sailor.”
“Sure, master sergeant,” Yoshio responded. His grin spread almost ear to ear. “Was it the text?”
“We can’t talk here,” Diosa warned. “Follow me.”
“Sorry, duty calls,” Yoshio informed the team leaders. “I’ll be in touch.”
The captains were shocked. No prospect walked out during the interview process. But he did stroll out in the company of a Striker. Under those circumstances, leaving wouldn’t hurt his chances of being drafted by a video combat team.
***
“Can you open the compartment?” Diosa asked as they leisurely took the steps down moving deeper into the heavy cruiser.
“It is one of mine,” Yoshio assured her.
Not wanting to attract attention, they maintained the easy gait until reaching a passageway. There Himari guided her to an untitled hatch. It was numbered, as were all entrances but, had no sign identifying the goods stored inside.
“I don’t understand why we don’t go to security and report him,” Yoshio commented as he unlocked the door. “If I see him again, I can point him out.”
“Yoshio. I’m a little more than a Striker, a Marine NCO, or a counselor,” Diosa informed him. “And this may be more than a simple illegal drug situation.”
“You are with naval investigative services,” he guessed.
“Something like that,” Diosa said not wanting to lie. “Now, lock me in. Then go to the Striker command area and ask for Walden Geboren. Tell him you are in protective custody until this is over. He’ll clear it with your supervisors. And don’t talk to anyone on the way. Can you do that?”
“Yes ma’am,” he
agreed. “This is exciting. But you aren’t armed. Where is your gun?”
Diosa reached into a pocket on her utility trousers and pulled out a folded baton. With a crack of her wrist, the weapon opened. Each section snapped into place until she held a long metal rod.
“This should be all I need,” Diosa assured the young sailor. “Now get out of here. Oh, and once you’ve spoken to Walden, look for the oldest Striker you can find. Tell him or her, that Warlock said to give you a basic class on assaulting a fixed position.”
“Warlock?” he inquired.
“It’s my call sign. Now lock me in and get going.”
“Warlock. That’s so cool,” exclaimed Yoshio as he closed the hatch.
***
‘Poet. I’m sending you a gift,’ Diosa typed once the hatchway was sealed. ‘Run some pictures of the pharmacy staff by him.’
‘And while I’m doing all the work, where will you be?’
‘Sitting on cases of drugs and sundry items,’ she sent.
‘Want to switch?’
Warlock ignored the last, knowing Poet was only half joking. Around her were stacks of tied down containers. They lined the midsized storage hold filling all four bulkheads. Columns of supplies jutted out leaving access to the merchandise through four intersecting aisles. The personnel entrance behind her had a corresponding but much larger hatchway on the other side of the compartment. Diosa began a slow walk down the center lane while inspecting the stacks.
If the An Tiodhlac Òir lost gravity on this deck during an engagement the straps were necessary to prevent the supplies from tumbling around. But this presented a problem for hiding a receiver and a hard drive to download secret messages. The cut-out couldn’t easily unstrap a pallet, move boxes, and reconnect the clamps every time he or she checked for a broadcast. With that in mind, Warlock climbed up the containers in the last aisle on the right.
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