by GARY DARBY
“If more of these M-class worlds keep popping up, the Helix could end up having more habitable worlds than even the Eagle Nebula.”
Grim, he looked at the two. “The politicians and corporations are drooling at the prospects, and don't care what it takes to explore that space.”
Jadar’s words were terse, bullet-like. “And we’re paying for their greed with our blood! Sir, there’s not a scout that’s unwilling to down planet just to find out what’s there.
“That’s why they join this outfit. But to do it just so some corporate CEO adds another billion Imperial ducats to his ledger—well, that’s not in our mission statement.”
“Colonel,” Rosberg replied, cool and brusque, “you don’t have to remind me of our mission. I seem to be wearing the Scout Arrow as well.”
A faint, dark blush crept up Jadar’s neck. Apologetic, he said, “Sorry sir, ever since Teng Rhee’s briefing, I—well, I just wish the politicos would send in the Navy and interdict the whole area if that’s what it takes and let us do our job.”
Both stared at each other before the general spoke. “I realize this touches a raw nerve, but the Imperium is not going to pull the Nav Fleet off its ops schedule to interdict anything.
“They’ve got their hands full with slaver interdiction, pirates, a half-dozen political flare-ups, dealing with the Omanian Caliphate’s rebellion, not to mention the Combine’s ongoing war with the Sadoc system which threatens to spill over into several other star systems.
“No, we're pretty much on our own, just as we've always been.”
Rosberg waved a hand and leaned forward. “Besides, how do I explain to the council that one of the most highly trained, able-bodied group of humans to ever set foot Out There can’t protect themselves against a bunch of hooligans?
“Our people confront dangers as bad, or worse, than the Faction and come out unscathed, but you want me to tell the council that we can’t hold our own against a bunch of thugs?”
“I understand sir,” Jadar conceded. “And no, we don’t have all the answers for you. That’s why I propose that you let us run this single operation, to get what we need—answers.”
Shar interrupted to say, “Sir; it’s risky, but I think Jadar’s got a good idea. And remember, you didn’t want any others in the command involved. So that means it has to be just the two of us.”
With his penetrating cobalt eyes, Rosberg peered at the two before he gave Shar a lopsided grin. “You haven’t been Out There on a live mission in what, four, five years? Jadar would have to spend more time watching over you than—”
“Begging the general’s pardon,” Shar replied, “but who placed in the top five the last three years running in the staff round-robin scout skills test? And who got lost in Patagonia last year and nearly lost his posterior to frostbite?”
“I still say,” Rosberg grumped, “someone sabotaged my geo-compass to bring me down in the standings,”
With a small laugh, he nodded at them. “Okay, point made. I still have serious reservations, but you can proceed.”
With an amused expression, he waved a hand at Jadar. “Besides, with Shar navigating there’s a good chance you’ll end up in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud, never to be heard from again.”
He paced a bit before saying, “You’ll need a cover story. After all, it’s going to look very odd for the Star Scout intel chief to be out in the field.”
“Aw,” Shar quipped, “I’ll just tell them I got tired of riding the turbo lifts up and down all day and just had to walk the trail one more time.
“Don’t worry, I’ll come up with a suitable cover story, something to do with a new ‘field study’ or some sort of usual staff nonsense that you personally ordered. That’s why we’re doing it and not lower-ranking personnel.”
Rosberg snorted in reply. “I doubt if it’ll fool anyone, but go ahead. In the meantime, I’ll check in with my counterparts in SciCorps and the Nav. Considering what you’ve uncovered, could be a right interesting discussion.
“I’ll let you know what I find out.” He paused before saying, “What else?”
“Well,” Shar started, “this is interesting. Teng Rhee contacted me last night. He’s offering a direct compu link from my office to SOG’s mainframe. He’s developed a unique subroutine to handle our joint task force data.
“The program can process and correlate our combined information in real time and give us a better overall picture. Of course, I told him that you would have to authorize the action.”
Rosberg mulled over the proposal before saying, “Access to their super computer, eh? They must be getting some real heat from the politicos to make such an offer. Desperate times make for desperate individuals, and all that.”
He pursed his lips before nodding. “Okay, go ahead, with the stipulation that we can pull the plug at any time. Understood?”
“Yes sir, clearly understood,” Shar replied.
Rosberg walked over to Shar’s computer station and began speaking while entering commands. “Shar, you ever see an Anglerfish catch its prey?”
Taken off guard by the sudden shift in the discussion, Shar hesitated. “Can’t say that I have. Not real sure what an Anglerfish is.”
“Interesting creature, only found here on Earth. About half a meter long and as ugly as my first drill sergeant at the academy.
“The female has this tiny bio-luminous fleshy spine that juts out of the head and looks like a glowing, dancin’ worm. Jiggles the thing right in front of its open mouth.
“Little fish comes along to eat the worm, and the angler pulls the fleshy-worm back and leads the prey right into its mouth. Jaws close fast as lightning, couple of chomps, and down goes the fish in one swallow.
“Some species hardly ever move, just stay in one place all the time and wiggle that fleshy tentacle. Excellent fishing technique.”
Shar smiled at the general’s explanation. “Thanks for my daily zoology lesson, sir, but you’ve lost me; I don’t get the connection between worms, fishing, and our discussion.”
Rosberg motioned for them to join him. "Want to show you this. As you know, I’ve been thinking about our Faction problem for a while. I’ve put into play several ideas, this is one of them.
“Jadar, you’re right in one perspective, this thing’s getting more like an armed conflict everyday. Since the military can’t be Johnny-on-the-spot’ all the time, I decided we needed to give our scouts a little help.”
Jadar and Shar watched as the image of a scouter formed midair above the console. From Jadar’s perspective, the craft seemed to be the new SSLC-31 model but its outline had some distinct differences.
The concave shape of its undercarriage now held two small bulging protuberances, one on each side. A bulb-like apparatus extended out from the stubby nose. And the ship appeared longer and larger than normal though the overall design stayed the same.
Jadar swept a hand across the image of the craft’s underbody. “That’s different.”
“SupraMark IX missile canisters,” Rosberg explained. “For ground support, but they can be used in deep space too. One port and one starboard. That bulge is an ion cannon, with enough charge for several shots before you have to recharge.
“We extended the length and put in a Class II Hartbeld star-drive to increase its hyper light speed. Still not as fast as the thoroughbreds, of course, but it’ll get you out of the gate pretty quick.
“I’ve had four prototypes in flight testing at Luna Station. Everything is looking good so I’m hoping that we can start disseminating to our star side teams within a few weeks.”
Shar snapped his fingers. “Now I get the analogy. Bad guys see our scouters as harmless worms now, but won’t they be surprised when they go fishing and the worm bites back.”
“Correct,” Rosberg affirmed and shook his head. “I spent some restless nights wrestling with taking this step before I made the decision. We’ve always kept our weapon needs to the very basic and let the military handle the b
ig stuff.”
He stopped and then angrily spat, “But I had to do something! I’m tired of watching my scouts get murdered. If the Faction wants to play hardball, then they’re going to find out that we can play that game, too.”
Rosberg took a breath and in a calmer voice continued. “We’ll call them Zephyrs; means ‘gentle wind.’ Did that for political reasons, thought the High Council might swallow that easier than if I named them Death Scouters or some such.
“Sorry to say none of them will be ready for your mission, or I’d send one along with you. You’ll have to make do with a troop transport.”
He turned to Shar. “So J-deuce, while on this— uh—temporary duty, who will watch the shop?”
“Witte,” Shar answered. “She can handle it.”
Rosberg nodded to signify acceptance. “Okay. I’ll have to inform the chief of staff, of course. He’ll want to know why, but I’ll use your so-called staff study cover story.
“He’s out of the office and won’t be back until after I head out to inspect training on the Jovian moons. That’ll save me from having to go toe-to-toe with him until after you’re on your way. He hates it when I mess around with staff without his being in the loop.”
He paused for a second. “Evaluation of training comes under the J3, so I'll have to make up some cock-and-bull story about wanting a neutral evaluator, so I'm sending you two.
“Won’t sit too well with the operations staff, I'll have to smooth some ruffled feathers, make some promises. They'll get over it.”
He then asked, “What will be your flight plan?”
Shar looked at Jadar. “Your call.”
Without hesitation, Jadar stated, “Conner's Cluster.”
He pursed his lips, knowing his next remarks might set off some verbal fireworks and real resistance, but he had a personal investment, so he was willing to take a chance.
“Conner’s is also near the destination for several no-notice teams. We could use that as part of our cover story, evaluating ops, trainers, training plans, procedures.”
Rosberg considered Jadar’s comments for a few seconds with a small frown. It was obvious that he didn’t like that part of the discussion. He wagged a finger at him. “Tread very lightly there, colonel, and you know why. Be as covert as you can. Is that understood?”
Both nodded as Rosberg went on, “You've got their flight plans?”
“Yes,” Jadar replied, “easy enough to find them once we’re in transit.”
Rosberg asked, “How soon before you leave?”
Jadar glanced at Shar and with a little shrug remarked, “My toothbrush is always packed.”
Shar shook his head and admitted, “This has caught me a bit off guard. I’ll need a day at least to get some things off my plate that only I can handle. Sorry.”
“That’s fine,” Rosberg replied with a wave of his hand. “It would be better for you to be here when SOG ties you in with their system anyway. You’ll need some coaching and a walk-through on their operating procedures.”
“No doubt about that,” Shar smiled.
“Before you leave,” Rosberg instructed, “give me your planned route. Make your departure prep look like a normal outbound staff mission. Keep it low-key and aboveboard, but as soon as SOG finishes, shoot out of here before anyone starts asking questions.”
He paused before saying, “I’ll have Maggie contact our Luna liaison to arrange transportation from here to Luna, and for a hyper drive vessel for your outbound trip. You’ll need to provide her with your expected departure time.
“Once you get Out There, make sure you send me that fake open n-space message. That’ll be my alert that you’re in place and ready to start. That about cover it?”
Jadar nodded in agreement that he was ready, so Shar said, “I think so, sir.”
“Frankly,” Rosberg grumped, “I’m not entirely convinced that your plan will work, but you’re right—we need some answers so I’ll buy off on this one attempt. Just don’t get yourselves killed.
“Not that I’m fond of either of you, but I’d hate to have to mentor a new J2. It’s taken me years just to get Shar trained to a mediocre level of competency.”
“Gee, thanks for the sendoff, boss,” Shar laughed in response. “I’ll go and brief Witte now, and get busy on those other projects. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
With that, he left the office, leaving Jadar alone with General Rosberg. Jadar turned to Rosberg and asked, “May I have a moment of the general’s time? A private matter.”
“Certainly,” the general replied. “And before you start, you know I wouldn’t have brought you back to headquarters unless it were necessary. We’re getting hit pretty hard by these slime balls. This is for Star Scouts.”
Jadar nodded in understanding. “I know, sir, and that’s not what this is about. In a way, it’s quite providential that I’m here. May I use the computer? There’s something I want to show you.”
The general stepped away from the console. “Help yourself,” he replied.
Jadar slid his hand over the console and brought up a holo-text. “Notice the highlighted name? It’s off the latest list.”
The general read the name and nodded. Jadar tapped in another command on the console. “His school record. Read the last paragraph.”
Rosberg leaned forward to scan the document. With a jerk, he snapped his head up. With an amazed expression, he looked at Jadar.
With his emotions welling up so that he could barely speak, Jadar’s reply was a strangled whisper, “It’s him.”
Rosberg sank into a nearby high-backed chair. He let out a long, drawn-out breath while sighing, “After all these years. Where were they?”
Jadar tapped on a line of the text. Rosberg grunted after reading the note. “No wonder. Space knows you looked everywhere, but that’s about as far away and isolated as you can get and still be considered in civilized space.”
Rosberg turned to Jadar. “Have you—”
Jadar shook his head sideways. His eyes misted, and he blinked hard several times before saying, “Couldn’t.”
He brought up another page. Rosberg read the document before saying, “Ah, I see.” He remarked to Jadar, “There are exceptions to policy. I would be more than willing to override the no-contact rule.”
Jadar shook his head. “I spoke with his Scoutmaster. He’s already Out There, and we agreed that even under these extraordinary circumstances it would be better to wait. The distraction could be too big a mental and emotional jolt. He’s worked hard for this; I wouldn’t want to jeopardize it for him.”
Rosberg nodded. “And his mother?”
Jadar choked when he replied, “Death certificate. Over a year ago.”
Rosberg reached over and squeezed Jadar’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
Jadar didn't answer and had to swallow hard before he could say, “Thank you. I appreciate that, and everything else that you’ve done for the Marrel family. I just wanted you to know before I left.”
“Who’s his Scoutmaster?” Rosberg asked.
“Tarracas. And Grolson is one of his instructor scouts.”
Rosberg stared in stunned silence. “Amazing,” he breathed out.
“Yes, especially given how the selection process works, but that’s who he ended up with, and I’m grateful that he did.”
Rosberg peered at Jadar and asked meaningfully, “Veni?”
Jadar nodded. “He’s read what’s in the public archives. Tarracas and Grolson shared what they could with him.”
Rosberg grunted. “Tarracas and Grolson. Well, he couldn’t be in better hands. The kids who make it through that program are top-notch.”
The general ran a hand through his graying hair and mused, “After so many years.”
Rosberg stood and became businesslike again. “Colonel, thanks for sharing. It’s put some bright light in an otherwise dark day. I’ve got to get back to work, and you’ve got a mission to prep for.”
“Ye
s, sir,” Jadar acknowledged.
Rosberg gestured toward the computer. “One last thing. He’s in good hands and will be fine if he keeps a level head. You, on the other hand are about to go swimming with human sharks that bite and bite hard.
“Don’t let this throw you for a loop. We both know that preoccupation with the wrong thoughts has cost many scouts their lives. Keep yours on the job at hand.”
“Roger that, sir,” Jadar replied while Rosberg headed for the door. After the door had slid into place, Jadar reflected that the general had painted a pretty accurate description of the Faction.
They were indeed becoming like sharks with blood scent in the water. Vicious and uncaring as to whom they attacked.
A sudden chilling thought came over him. Yes, he could soon be swimming with blood-crazed sharks, but so could a very special novice scout.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Star Date 2433.059
Aboard The Queen Bee
Pressing his hands hard against closed eyes in what seemed an endless time later, Dason winced and grimaced as waves of pain coursed through his brain, one after another, as if someone hit him with a hammer every few seconds.
He was so intent on the hurt that at first the voice speaking to him uttered unrecognizable words. There was pressure on his arm and a slight burning sensation. Seconds later, the intense pain eased.
Cracking swollen eyelids open, Dason could tell he was back in the Queen’s infirmary. The poacher medic, Stinneli, leaned over and asked, “That’s better, how do you feel?”
Dason didn’t move his head, afraid that the excruciating pain would return. “Head feels like a nutomic explosion detonated right behind my eyeballs.”
He peered at Stinneli with a weak smile. “And surprised to be alive, I think.”
Stinneli gave a little nod. “Sometimes it’s good to have some pain, means you’re at least among the living.”
Dason massaged his forehead, trying to recall what happened. “Sami, Jy, Bianca?”
“They’re safe and aboard ship. I suspect that your teammates will be along in a bit to visit once they find out you’re awake.”