The Belt Loop (Book Three) - End of an Empire

by Robert B. Jones

  He happily obliged them.

  * * *

  When the dispatch from Admiral Teals finally made its way onto Admiral Geoff’s desk and into his reader he was almost bowled over. He looked at the little titanium sphere as it spun to a stop. The image on his screen was familiar to him but it was not the one he was used to seeing. The logo was different, the message was one that had been forwarded from Ross to Haines-II to Freehold, amended there by a Captain Quinn, forwarded along the line to Gundy and ultimately on to Admiral Teals on Canno. He checked the original date/time stamp and calculated how long the dispatch was enroute. Six months.

  Geoff pushed the stud on his comm stack and ordered his yeoman to send a message to Admiral Vincent Paine at the Weyring Navy Base. His presence at the War College was needed soonest.

  The details of the message from Teals could only be viewed first hand from now on. Still concerned about spies and betrayal from within his Admiralty, Geoff decided to share the dispatch with his top man on Bayliss personally as he feared compromise should he send this sphere down the hill by messenger. In his mind, he knew that line of reasoning would hold up later should questions arise. He was in the process of performing some major ass-covering at this point.

  The face to face meeting would also give them a chance to catch up on operational issues concerning the Second and Third and afford an opportunity for an honest assessment of their war strategy. His time was running short and he couldn’t figure a way to pass this latest information on without jeopardizing everything.

  Another thought struck him as he locked the dispatch sphere in his wall safe.

  “Yeoman Ricks, see if you can scare up that courier boat pilot, the one that brought in the Susquehanna with this dispatch. Try to get him on the horn for me. He should still be hanging around the flight ops compound on Weyring.”

  His secretary acknowledged his instructions and she told him to standby for the incoming call. Geoff used the waiting time to go over his questions he wanted to ask the pilot. If the man had just left Canno some hours before, he should have seen the ships from the First. Geoff knew they were scheduled to sail sometime soon and he wanted to get an idea as to their readiness status. With older ships and towed cargoes, the incoming First wasn’t expected to make Bayliss until the middle of next week.

  His comm stack chirped. “Sir, I have another dispatch for you, one from Elber. Shall I hold the messenger, sir?”

  Elber? What was this about? Geoff wondered. Most communications with Elber Prime were ferried at week’s end, he thought. Something must have happened that needs his immediate attention. “Bring in the dispatch, Hanna, and hold the messenger until I have had a chance to read it.”

  She brought the square into his office. The edge of the dispatch was sealed with red tape. Urgent it cried silently. When Yeoman Ricks returned to the outer office Geoff slit the seal and put the metal sphere into his reader.

  The messsage was from Headquarters, CICCNFLT. Admiral Standi was dead. He had passed peacefully in his sleep at the Nova Haven Navy Base Hospital from pancreatic cancer. Services to be held with full military honors on 02 February 2790 at 1500 hours Earth Standard time.

  “Yeoman Ricks, release the messenger. I have no reply to this message,” Geoff said into his comm stack. He pushed back in his chair and looked at the gathering clouds bunching up on the western horizon. His thoughts went from war with the Varson Empire to the Bayliss Uprising almost twenty years ago when he had fought side by side with Oren Standi to help put down the rebellious mining zealots that wanted to break away from the Colonial Alliance of Planets and hold the other members hostage for its mineral wealth. Some of those battles took place not more than a hundred kilometers from this very spot, he mused. Geoff and Standi had both landed small boats on the surface and dumped their Colonial Marines right into fierce fighting on the ground. It had gotten hand-to-hand in the end and Standi had the scars to prove his bravery in that conflict.

  Geoff would take time this weekend to compose a flowery eulogy for transit back to Elber on the Monday boat. There was no way he could attend the services, not in the middle of the pitched battles going on daily in the Bayliss skies. The Commander in Charge, Colonial Navy Fleet should know that. Once again he decried the wisdom of having a Secretary of the Navy come into power with little or no actual Navy combat experience. The politicians could only see what was in their back pockets, their wallets, and didn’t truly understand what it was like on the front line.

  “Sir, I have Lieutenant Commander Gale on line one for you,” his comm stack announced.

  Geoff quickly returned his thoughts to matters at hand and hit the stud.

  “Lieutenant Commander Gale, this is Stanley Geoff. Do you recognize my voice, commander?”

  “Aye, aye, sir. The base comm shack authenticated your incoming, sir,” Gale said.

  “Good. What I am about to ask you is sensitive in nature and I would require you to keep this conversation just between us, is that understood?”

  There was a pause in the conversation. Finally Rich Gale said, “Affirmative, Admiral. I have moved to a secure booth in the comm shack. What is it you would like to know, sir?”

  “When you left Canno, what were the resurrected boats from the First Fleet doing? Were they assembled in orbit yet?”

  “Roger, that, sir. I counted three dozen plus ships heading to the fold. I passed the lead boat, the Mississippi River, just before I jumped. Captain Dryfus was at the wheel, sir.”

  “Good, that’s what I wanted to hear. How did the ships look to you, commander? Space worthy or not?”

  “Uh, sir, I don’t know if I can honestly answer that one. I mean, I was heading for my Dyson threshold and shot past the convoy at point seven nine cee. Really? They were just a blur in my viewscreen.”

  Geoff grunted. “Okay, I see. Well, young man, carry on. Thank you for the information.”

  “Aye, sir,” Gale said, then quickly added, “but one thing I can tell you about them, admiral. They were hard to spot. If it were not for their running lights on the towed ships, I could have just as easily run up their screws. The ships looked camouflaged and my radome flashed me their position at just the last second.”

  “Thanks for that, commander. Good sailing to you. Geoff out.”

  Gale said his goodbyes and broke the connection, leaving Geoff alone with his thoughts once again. So, the epoxy coating had some significant effect on the hull signatures of the First’s reconfigured ships. Where had that idea come from, anyway? Was it Paine? Where did he get it from? Uri Haad? Well, there would be time enough for that discussion when Paine gets up here, he decided.

  The next intercom page from Yeoman Ricks informed him Admiral Paine was on a flyer on his way up, ETA thirty minutes.

  Geoff acknowledged the information and looked at the reader on his desk. He thumbed the device into life again and looked at the message about his friend Oren Standi.

  Another sad day for the Colonial Navy. Or not, depending on which side you were on.

  Chapter 11

  If Har Hansen had been in a supermarket or grocery, they would have been announcing over the store’s annunciator system “clean up on aisle seven” to get someone to remove his jaw from the floor. When he saw Sergeant Ken Royal, formerly of the Nova Haven Police Department, formerly the guy sparking his mother, the guy with the big-ass gun on his hip, well, his jaw dropped so violently it was lucky that it was still attached to his face.

  Har and Cory had managed to make it to the school gymnasium without killing each other and they had been checking out the offerings on the bulletin board, paging through screen after screen of extra-curricular activities, when Ken Royal stepped out of the office and walked toward the locker rooms.

  After a double-take of epic proportions Har ran after him. “Hey, Sergeant Royal! Wait up!” Har yelled.

  Royal stopped his forward motion and turned. While not as drastic as Har’s jaw-drop, the expression on his face was one for the books
as well. He was outfitted in a loose fitting exercise suit with a whistle on a nylon cord hanging from his thin neck. As Har approached, with Cory close behind, his eyes automatically went to the sergeant’s waist, looking for the tell-tale bulge of his weapon. The boys squeaked their gym shoes to a halt on the polished wooden floor a meter from the policeman.

  “I knew sooner or later the big cheeses down on that Navy base would be sending me some personal protection, but, heck, I didn’t expect it to be you!” an out-of-breath Har said.

  The sergeant looked skyward for a beat and laughed. “The feeling is mutual, young Hansen,” he said. “But, just for your personal edification, I’m not up here to be your bodyguard. I work here now.”

  “What? The school’s got a police force now?”

  Royal chuckled again. “Not hardly, Har. Since I can’t get back to Elber and Nova Haven, I decided to find a job here on Bayliss until the war is over, or at least until I can get off the planet.” Royal went on to explain to Harold how he had been interviewed by Commander Holt and subsequently had been offered a job teaching in the History Department. His part-time work for the Physical Education Department was strictly voluntary he told Har.

  “You say. Sounds to me like some kind of conspiracy to get your eyes on the ground up here as long as that Yorn look-alike is still on the loose. That undercover stuff. Don’t worry, sarge, I won’t blow your cover. I’m real good in the trustworthy department, remember?” He offered a closed-fist greeting to Royal, then turned. “Hey, sarge, this is my roommate Cory Chase, but you can just call him Core, like in ‘apple core’, you know?”

  The boys shifted positions and Cory shuffled forward. Ken Royal hit his closed fist down on Har’s and then quickly opened his hand to accept the shake from Cory. “Nice to meet you, sergeant,” Cory said politely.

  “Likewise, son,” Royal said. “What are you boys doing over here today? Not a lot going on this weekend, it seems. The upperclassmen are all over at the War College for a seminar and most of the junior cadets are down at the arcade wasting their time playing virtual games.”

  “See, Har, told you. We should’ve gone to the rec center,” Cory moaned.

  “We just came over to see if we could sign up for some classes. You know, extra stuff they won’t be letting us take until we’re older. I want to learn fighting and hand-to-hand killing techniques,” Har beamed. “And, after that, I need some advanced weapons and special secret operatives training. I know you know about that. Lieutenant Mols told me before they shipped me off to this asylum that they have special operations that are so scary they don’t even let the Navy guys wear their special ops insignias on their uniforms, ’cause it would scare little kids if they saw them,” he finished, almost out of breath with his enthusiasm.

  Cory just stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Well,” Ken Royal said, “I don’t know about that ‘special ops’ training, but I can get you boys started on some basic self-defense techniques. Get you into the right frame of mind to take care of yourselves.”

  Har exchanged a knowing glance with Cory. “Spacin’ cool, man. Core, we can learn how to dust aliens and stuff!”

  “Yeah, well, before we go launching attacks on aliens, you boys need to get limbered up. Let’s start with a two-mile warmup run outside on the tartan track. Just to get your hearts beating, you know?”

  Two other cadets Har didn’t know sauntered in and headed for the rack of basketballs. Har looked at Cory again and shrugged. “I don’t know about this weenie here,” he said, shooting an elbow at Cory, “but, I don’t need any warmup run. I was born ready, sergeant.”

  “Really? Born ready, were you? Let’s go over to the mats then. You can show me how ready you are.”

  A huge smile crept across Har’s face and he followed Royal to the protected corner of the gymnasium. He pulled Cory with him and gave the bewildered boy a few slaps on his arm as they walked.

  Once on the center of the floor mats, Royal stopped and turned to face Har. “I’m an alien. Show me what you’ve got, Cadet Hansen,” he said, palms up, fingers beckoning. Har made his rush suddenly.

  Royal easily side-stepped Har’s rush, then pivoted, grabbed the boy by the back of his pants, spun him around, flipped him over his outstretched leg and finally slammed him onto the mat.

  Cory broke into a high-pitched squeal of laughter. Har was dazed and confused. It had happened so quickly that he really didn’t know what the heck had happened to him. “Hey, I wasn’t ready!” he screamed from the floor.

  “You told me just a second ago that you were born ready. Which is it, Mister Hansen, ready or not?”

  Har sat up and rubbed his back. “Okay. You’re right. I should’ve warmed up first. Help me up.”

  Royal reached out his hand. Har grabbed it and tried to pull the sergeant over but Royal was anticipating the deception. When Har applied his downward pressure, Royal went down on one knee, spun to his right, flipped Har over onto his belly and twisted his arm up behind his back.

  “Now, Mister Hansen, why don’t you get your ass up and hit the track. No more excuses. You want to learn something today? Learn how to listen to those in your circle who have the skill and expertise to teach you what you want to know. Real life is a lot different from a VR game, son. The people you will meet, the ones you may have to have physical confrontations with, they play for real. No reset buttons, no do-overs. And, for the most part, when they have you down, they will not let you up. That’s your lesson for today. Stuff your man-sized ego and get your head into the game of reality, Har. Now, let’s go outside.”

  Royal released his grip and Har fought back his tears. He gritted his teeth and rolled over. Maybe this guy was right, he thought ruefully. This time when Royal reached out his hand, Har took it and allowed himself to be pulled from the mat. He rubbed his shoulder and shot Cory a blistering look.

  The two cadets and the ex-Marine policeman headed to the track in silence.

  Harold Hansen took his first steps toward manhood that day.

  * * *

  A few kilometers north of Har Hansen, Admiral Vincent Paine was just entering his boss’s office. He noticed the sideboard was laden with coffee cups and light snacks. An indication of a long meeting. Admiral Geoff motioned for him to get what he needed from the sideboard first, and after a couple of minutes of small talk, Paine was seated in one of the wing chairs facing Geoff.

  “How’s that niece of yours, Vinny?” Geoff inquired to get the proceedings underway.

  Paine put his cup down and leaned back. “Oh, Niki is doing just fine, sir. She has plenty to do and her efforts are starting to pay off. The Varson ships are using a rotating day-code with double key ciphers but she has found a way to keep up with them. They must have figured out by now that we have Inskaap and they are doing everything they can to keep us from listening in on their ship-to-ship, but Niki is only hours behind them. I know, Stan, it’s not much in a conflict decided by the second, not the hour, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Well, you have my assurances that she will continue to get whatever she needs to keep her shop above water, Vinny.”

  “She’ll be glad to hear that, sir.”

  “The news coming out of Elber is not good,” Geoff said in a somber voice. He told Paine about Oren Standi, news both of them had been expecting for some time.

  “That is bad news. That’s going to shake up the Second and Third. We’re slowly running out of men. And, with Coni Berger sitting in the brig, we have a big hole to fill in the Admiralty.”

  “That’s one of the reasons you’re up here now, Vinny. We need to plug the holes as soon as possible. I have your list of recommendations handy. I suggest we proceed with the promotions as we had discussed earlier. That means stars for Haad, Fuller and Paxton. Fleet assignments, battle groups for them all. You still on board with that?”

  Paine took another sip from his mug. “Yes, sir, I still stand by my recommendations. The matter with Captain Fuller is somethi
ng you have to decide on your own. He is proving himself an adequate captain, but you have to ask yourself, sir, how is he going to behave as an admiral? Has he had enough experience?”

  Geoff stood and walked to the window. He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke to the glass. “I’m sure you know he’s, well, involved with one of my little nieces. There had been talk of marriage somewhere in all of this, but with the war raging and all, I don’t know if I could bless that. Not now, not at this time.”

  Paine joined him at the window. The skies were moody and sullen, angry clouds forming in the southwest. “He would be the youngest one star in the history of the Colonial Navy, sir. Something else to consider. Right now I have over two hundred captains with sufficient time-in-grade to make the jump. Haad and Pax Curton are the most senior, their performances under fire impeccable. Beyond that, it’s a crap-shoot. If we take two out of the Third, to replace Berger and Standi, and we get two from the Second, and keep Teals and Hardaway from the First, that should at least get us through the immediate need. One of the men from the Second, Fuller, could be on the short list, but with Captain Fraze missing, presumed dead, the Second really doesn’t have many combat captains to choose from.”

  Geoff looked at his subordinate. Paine was telling the truth and he knew it. Vincent always spoke his mind and that was one of the reasons he was getting his third star. “Has Mols finished the vetting of all of Berger’s staff? What did they find out about Captain Zane?”

  Robi Zane was currently the captain of the CNS Casco Bay one of the oldest ships in the Second and, frankly, not very high on Paine’s list of competent ship captains. “He checked out clean. He’s back on the bridge of the Casco and still using all his fingers and toes to navigate with. He’s not exactly the best sailor in the Fleet, sir, and I think he could use a refresher course in simple spatial relationships. His reaction times are off, his ship is constantly in trouble, his readiness reports show —”