by Bob Mauldin
“Yes, Commander?”
“Normally, ma’am, I’d be bringing this to either Captain Hawkes’ attention, but...”
“Go on, Commander. I understand your problem. We’ll all be dealing with it for a long time,” Lucy prompted.
“I just want to report some strange occurrences in the computer core.”
“Define ‘strange’ for me, will you?” Lucy asked. With all the surprises I’ve had today, what’s another one? she thought and forced herself to take a calming breath. “And tell me why you feel the need to bring it to my attention right now.”
“Well, Captain Hawke left standing instructions that any time we found something new about Galileo, we were to report to him immediately. And since he’s... since you’re... I didn’t know who else to report to.”
“We’re all having a hard time right now, Commander,” Lucy said, consoling the nervous crewman. “So, what did you discover?”
“Well, you know that when we first started to activate the Heinlein, we were downloading programs from the Galileo to the Heinlein’s computer core.”
“Go on,” Lucy urged.
“We left out a lot of stuff, of course, because the new ships don’t need to have information about how to build bases and factories and things like.”
“I understand. Go on.” Frustration was becoming apparent in her voice.
“Well, Captain, there was a section of the core we couldn’t read. It seemed to be locked. We couldn’t download it to anything else, and we couldn’t read it or access it in any way. We assumed it was a locked file under some code we hadn’t figured out or possibly a voice lock that belonged to the previous captain. Anyway, that section is now active and doing... something”
Lucy felt a chill run up her spine. “When did you notice this section of the core become active, Commander?”
“About an hour and a half ago, I noticed some unusual activity around the file area, ma’am, but it wasn’t ‘til about half an hour ago that it actually started doing anything that caught my attention as far as the locked file itself.”
“A half hour, you say?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, thank you, Commander. Keep me informed of any changes, and if I have any questions, I’ll call you. Thank you for your attention to this matter.”
The conversation had reminded her that she needed to get in touch with the engineering department, so she called them immediately and asked the chief engineer if he would please be kind enough to go down to the sickbay and look into the matter of how they could possibly disengage Captain Hawke from the equipment. “I need to know everything you can tell me about the device we’re dealing with here. I don’t like being sandbagged.”
Lucy was beginning to feel very tenuous; like a cloud on a summer day, her attention and time were being nibbled at from one direction and then another. Handling the problems of her own ship was a headache in and of itself. Now, she had to solve the Galileo’s problems, too.
Both ships were overcrowded. The one she was now on had no commanding officer or first officer, and she didn’t see anybody farther down the chain of command ready to take over in anything less than six months. To make matters worse, radio and television from Earth was having a field day with the situation. Half of them were looking for some government official or other to hang, and the other half wanted to launch strikes at the “aliens in our skies.”
Stephen had been standing back, in as much shock as everybody else. He’d understood before anyone else that the situation wasn’t going to get better without people working to make it so. Simon, he realized, had always known. He’d been bull-headed, stubborn, and something akin to a force of nature when he got his mind set. Kitty was his lighter side, his motivator and his brake, when needed. She took what he created and somehow made those she came in contact with feel that it was the right thing to do. What he saw now was a rudderless ship with one chance to get back on track. That was why he had, even before Lucy, sent word out to all the bases with the suggestion that Kitty be put in charge “for the duration.”
The Heinlein finally matched orbit with the two ships already circling the stunned planet, and Lucy, Marsha, and Gayle shared a tearful reunion. When the three women broke apart, Stephen took his turn commiserating Gayle.
“I didn’t know him as long as you did, but you can’t work with someone for three years without something developing. I was going to ask him to be my best man when he got back from this trip.”
Gayle held him tight and said, “I saw the bond grow between you two, so I know you’re hurting too. Wait… best man?” She pushed him away and held him at arm’s length. “Is that a proposal?” At his nod, she said, “Lucy, Marsha, wanna be bride’s maids? This skunk just proposed! His timing sucks, but I think I’m gonna take him up on it just to teach him a lesson.”
People could only talk about a painful subject for so long before they had to get away from it for at least a little while.
After agreeing to be Gayle’s bride’s maid, Lucy turned to Marsha. “Okay, how did you get here so fast?”
“Actually, it was something Kitty said on our shakedown cruise,” Marsha answered. “She was the one who thought about the idea I call ‘micro-jumps.’ I wouldn’t try it out in the belt, but coming into Earth orbit was no problem.”
They sat in the Galileo’s ready room, and Lucy brought the others up to date on the goings on aboard the two ships, and as far as she could with what was going on downside.
“I’m willing to bet this whole thing was set up by that bastard Anderson,” she said and glanced around guiltily, recalling a very unpleasant ass-chewing she’d received in this very room for losing her temper once before. “I’m guessing he died in the explosion, but I’m wondering about Galway. He’s not answering the commlink we gave him, so I’m going to have to go down eventually and try his private number. It looks like Anderson is going to be their scapegoat. His name and face are already beginning to show up on television. The White House is trying to put the best spin on it they can. They’re saying Anderson was a rogue agent and that he had Vice-President Reese fooled. Communications is picking up transmissions aimed directly at us asking for contact, but I haven’t responded yet.”
Marsha ran her hands through her hair, gave her head a shake to settle her pageboy cut back into place, and asked, “Okay, so what do you want me to do?”
“What do I want you to do? What do I want you to do?” she repeated, voice rising. Picking up three pieces of paper and waving them at Marsha, she read, “Libra Base, Captain McCord commanding: How can I help? Gemini Base, Commander Gardner commanding: What can we do to assist? Orion Base, Commander Baylor commanding: Our deepest sympathies. Just ask. Whatever we can do, we will.
“And now you hit me with ‘What do you want me to do?’ Just who decided that all this shit was supposed to land on my shoulders? Simon was the one who had the vision, and Kitty made people want to... well, she just had confidence oozing out of every pore. And every time you stood next to her or she looked at you, you caught it. She led by ‘being’ as much as ‘doing,’ and I’m here right now because Stephen’s and Gayle’s ‘smoke and mirrors’ got our attention at that first meeting in Denver. But it wasn’t the smoke and mirrors that kept us, or it wasn’t what kept me. I’m here because Kitty made it feel right. Simon said, ‘Let’s go build a base in the asteroid belt,’ and Kitty didn’t blink an eye. Build a second base? The right thing to do. Command of the first ship to come off the line? The right thing to do. Take out the ship that tried to take out Orion, the right thing to do. (Okay, she went a little loopy there, but she’s human.) Negotiate for bases on Earth? It was the right thing to do. But for this to happen… for her to see Simon dead, for her to be hurt this badly. And for her to be in that… that… thing. To be in storage. You haven’t seen her. I have.” And with that Lucy finally got to break down and have her cry.
It’s said that catharsis is good for the soul
, and Lucy came away from her experience a new person but still unwilling to take any kind of command beyond the McCaffrey. “I’m only twenty-five for Christ’s sake,” she said.
Stephen, as the only male in the room, felt it incumbent on him to say something to try to help. “You know, Alexander the Great set out to conquer the world before he was twenty-four.”
Lucy considered that for all of two seconds and then laughed. “First of all, Alexander was absolute ruler of his empire. If you happen to have an empire laying around here for me to be absolute ruler of, I might consider it. Second, his two biggest problems were elephants and the Alps. I’m going to have to deal with spaceships and aliens—at least ,anyone who sits in this chair for any length of time will have to deal with it. And third, he failed.”
“Wonderful analogy, Stephen,” Gayle said.
“Well, my point is that Alexander tried. He didn’t just roll over and curl up into a ball ‘cause his daddy died. Uh, I mean...”
“Well, you still can’t expect me to take command of this... this bunch,” Lucy wailed.
“Yes, we can,” Marsha said gently, “and here’s why. One of the things Simon tried to teach us was the chain of command. And by us, I mean those of us young enough not to have any military experience and young enough to not know what following a chain of command meant. Which, if you think about it, is about ninety-eight percent of us out here. I talked to a couple of people on the way in, and they told me some interesting things about the chain of command. One is that you can’t be in overall command unless you’ve been in a fighting unit or come up through the ranks of a fighting unit. In other words, the head of the Quartermaster Corps can’t go out and command an army in the field. He’s not trained for it, although he has the rank. So nobody on the space bases qualifies to be in command. Right now, there are three other captains, and one is critically injured. And you’ve been a captain longer than me, Lucy. That’s why you’re it—not because somebody ganged up on you and not because nobody else wants the job, but because if we’re going to follow this thing the way Simon wanted, that’s the way it’ll have to be. I’ve heard of something called a council of captains, and we can think about that one. Call it an advisory board or delegating authority.”
“Well, if I’m going to be senior captain,” Lucy said. “I can’t command two ships. That’s my rule. My number one moves up and gets his own ship a little sooner than expected. We’ll have to name his new number one. And by the time that’s all done, there are going to be three ships ready and waiting for crews. I don’t know if anyone else has seen the bottleneck, but I have. What I want to see done is that in the next open spot we build a freighter with room for four hundred passengers and simulators. Figure the crew yourself, Stephen, since your job is to design a new ship. And this new ship’s job is going to be to go to Earth, fill up with passengers and go crew a ship. This ship will also have a transporter in it, and it will be armed. It will carry two flights of Mambas and have shields. We’ll try to fly her with an escort whenever possible. Gayle, Miranda Lee, and Robert Greene will be captaining the three new ships.”
Immediately after this revelation, Lucy’s commlink went off. “I’ve been getting this all day,” she said, “and I’m getting tired of it.”
The Galileo’s chief engineer, Titus Safer, reported to Lucy. “As you know, Captain, we’ve been mapping out the Galileo’s inner systems for over two years now. This just goes to show that we can still be surprised. We had no idea that any of these systems or equipment existed. What we have is some very sophisticated medical equipment whose monitors are piggybacked off sensors that are connected to the bio-monitors in our wristbands. We managed to get inside the pedestal below the tabletop, but I’m not willing to monkey with the equipment we found there—not with the captain’s life at stake. As for the rest, that was all in what amounts to a concealed room next to the sickbay. Apparently, what the system does is identify when someone is in critical condition, then takes over and begins repairs on its own.”
CHAPTER TWO
Roland Daniels, FBI, on special assignment to the TAS Galileo, looked around and saw nothing but destruction. Actually, the destruction was a short way from where he sat in a copse of trees and brush while acrid smoke drifted through his hiding place.
His original intention had been to tweak the noses of the Hawkes when he left the Galileo unobserved because of the sensitive material he was carrying—material he was sure they wouldn’t let him leave the ship with because a lot of it concerned the weapons and propulsion systems he wasn’t supposed to get near.
He had managed to get near them, though, and he’d done that by the simple expedient of removing his wristband. He’d been sure that doing so would have raised a flag in the computer, but nothing had happened. Of course, it had taken McNalley’s help, and the only reason he’d been able to convince McNalley to help him was because he’d taught him to read and then helped him pass his ratings test.
A grateful McNalley had fabricated a fake wristband for him that he could wear around, and just so the computer wouldn’t get suspicious, he carried his real wristband around in his pocket to show that he was going about his daily activities, except, of course, when he wanted to be someplace off-limits, like weapons bays, engine rooms, shuttles, etcetera. Thinking his bosses would be very pleased with him, he’d managed to acquire one of those neat little hand lasers, and not the model they used in their Z-tag games. Being a fan of the old-fashioned methods, as well, he’d managed to get McNalley to fashion a taser, which he stashed in a hiding place along with the laser and the phony wristband.
His new-found freedom came in very handy the day he found out that Simon was going down to talk with the vice-president at Camp David. In the days leading up to that mission, he’d kept a close eye on the comings and goings of the technicians and other personnel working on the projects deck. The night before the flight, he’d secreted himself, along with his cache of weapons and information, in a storage locker near where he expected the shuttle to be prepped. He’d drilled several small holes for air and surveillance, and settled down for a long, uncomfortable wait.
A loud clang woke him from an uneasy slumber, and he peered groggily out one of the holes he’d drilled the night before. As he’d guessed, the shuttle was being prepped not far from where he’d chosen to hide—only fifty yards, in fact—and he waited patiently while the technicians came and went. Finally, the last preflight check had been made, and the last technician had gone off to lunch.
He’d slipped out of the storage locker and made his way to the shuttle. This would be the hardest part of his plan—no place to hide and no excuse for being where he was. And if he’d miscounted and there was somebody aboard…
The shuttle, designed to hold a pilot, co-pilot, and eight passengers, was empty. During his last three months aboard, Daniels had found time enough to inspect these particular vehicles several times and knew there was a space in the engine room large enough to hold him if no concerted search or inspection was made. He’d passed through a thick door in the aft bulkhead and slid it shut. Calling on his training in the service, he’d then slipped into a light doze and waited.
Muffled sounds and nearly imperceptible vibrations had brought him back to awareness of his surroundings. He made out what he thought were the sounds of people entering and then the definite sound of the shuttle door closing. Engines powering up left no doubt that they were about to depart the Galileo. It was the thought of having no control over what was going to happen in the descent and landing that had almost made him reveal his presence, and it was training that kept had him quiet.
His original intention had been to exit the shuttle immediately after the Terran Alliance contact team left it, depending on the taser to overcome anyone left aboard and his credentials to get him past any guards posted by the Camp David commander. But that intention was blown to hell by the rocket that streaked past Simon, blowing three of the contact team to pieces.
/> Daniels had opened the aft hatch a crack to see Simon walking down the ramp and managed to slam it shut when he saw the trapdoor spring up and a camouflage-clad soldier lift a shoulder-fired rocket launcher into position. Opening it again proved to be a problem. Warped by the explosion just on the other side, it required all his strength to get it open enough to squeeze through, but hearing urgent voices getting louder, he decided to stay put and instead peeked around the edge of the door. He saw five men racing past the sprawled body of Simon for the shuttle ramp, weapons firing into the interior. Stepping back into the shadows provided by an extinguished light, he was able to see into the main section of the shuttle and recognized parts of bodies here and there around the interior. With his gorge rising and skin crawling at the smell of burning flesh, he pulled the laser pistol and taser out of his waistband and waited.
Crouching down behind a cluster of power conduits near the doorway, he heard the screams of injured men and shuddered. Almost immediately, he heard feet thundering up the access ramp, and knowing how he would divide his forces had they been his, he pointed his laser at the door. Seconds later, he saw fingers reach around the door and try to slide it farther open. A rifle barrel poked its nose in and sprayed a fan of slugs into the room, which provoked an outcry from the front of the craft.
“That’s the engine room, asshole! Do you want to blow us all to hell?”
The soldier slid through into the room, and Roland Daniels joined the opposition when he raised the pistol and silently burned a hole through the man’s temple.
As he crossed the hatchway, pistol in hand, he could see the backs of two men standing at the controls. Wondering where the other men were, he angled himself so he could see out the hatch and down the ramp. Seeing Simon’s body lying there with a camo-clad body next to him, Daniels had a pretty good idea where the fifth body lay. Quickly stripping off the dead soldier’s shirt, he put it on, casting uneasy glances out the hatch.