by Ben Wilson
Bophendze kept scanning for hostiles as he closed on the bridge's hatch. A few meters out, he saw the keypad. Thinking back to his entering the control room, Bophendze stopped to type in his access code.
The access indicator on the keypad went from red to green. The hatch catches clicked in response, and the hatch opened. Bophendze rushed through the hatch firing at anything he saw moving.
The tactic worked. His first burst struck one of the bridge guards. As Bophendze fired a second burst, realizing that the guard was not wearing body armor. He thought it was a severe breech of protocol for them to fail to wear their armor, but he focused on the task before him. He scanned for the nearest armed crewman. He fired quick, steady bursts and dropped them all. He then turned on the unarmed crewmen who seemed intent to resist.
In the adrenalin, he failed to notice the time it took him to suppress the bridge. When he stopped firing, the only crewman left raised his hands. Bophendze lowered his rifle and noticed that it was an admiral—the fleet's commander. “Well I'll be.” Bophendze raised his rifle and pointed at the admiral. “Sir. You're my prisoner.” He was surprised at the falsetto in his voice.
“It would appear so. Where are the rest of you?”
“There is no rest-of-us.”
The admiral gasped. “What do you mean? You're the only postal on this ship? I've been getting reports of all sorts of mayhem.”
Bophendze smiled, though it would not have shown through the helmet's visor. “Sorry, Sir. Just me. It would have been much more mayhemical if my friends were with me.” He lowered his rifle politely. “Order your fleet's surrender.”
“I already have. Whatever it is you did tore us to shreds. There are only a handful of us left. The rest are either destroyed or false jumped to who knows where. It was the best I could do to stop the crew from completely abandoning ship.”
Bophendze thought back. Had the crew been trying to stop me from shooting at them under surrender? He shook the doubt out of his mind. The admiral could be trying to trick me. “Open a channel to my fleet.”
The admiral slowly lowered his arms and walked over to the communications center. He worked the controls and picked up the handset.
Bophendze moved closer. “Set it down and back away.”
The admiral complied.
Bophendze lowered his rifle slightly and picked up the handset with his free hand. “This is Postman Bophendze calling the Postal Fleet.”
“This is Commander Litovio. Is that Bophendze?”
“Yes, Sir. I have the Navy admiral here as my prisoner. I guess that means I captured the battleship.”
There was a long pause on the other end. “Postman, you captured the Navy fleet, not just its admiral. I don't know how you managed it, but what you did saved all of us.”
Bophendze's smile grew. “I was just doing my duty, Sir. Could you send somebody over to help me out? If they realize I'm by myself I might find myself captured.”
“We already have a detachment of marines coming. I'll tell them to meet you at the bridge.”
Chapter
Life settled into routine marine duties in the months that followed the battle. The first few days he was kept in sick bay, which for a destroyer was only two beds. Litovio remained in command of the ship until it returned to its normal duty system. At that point, Bophendze heard Litovio would return to his normal duties, whatever those were.
The Postal Service retained all the captured Navy ships, adding much needed combat capabilities to their arsenal. After he was pronounced fit for duty, Bophendze was put in command of a stick of marines as a lance corporal. He was assigned to the Battleship Tannenberg, what had been the flag ship he captured. He took responsibility for the lives of four other marines, many of whom had far more service time than he did. If any of his marines were upset by the assignment, none of them mentioned it in his presence. He managed to learn from them.
Bophendze felt woefully ill-prepared, but he tamed Smee. He resisted the urge to release the emotional hold he had over his inner demon. Instead, he let the fear of inadequacy fuel the hold. It also fueled his drive to study marine procedures so he could do right by his more senior subordinates.
“Lance Corporal Bophendze.” The voice carried the weight of command with it.
Bophendze jumped to attention. “Sir!” He resisted the urge to glance at the officer, but caught the ensign rank on the officer's collar. I have one thing he doesn't. I've been promoted.
“We're receiving a guest on board ship. You are to accompany us and report to the hangar immediately.”
“Sir.” Bophendze pivoted in place toward the hatch and walked out. Did the ensign have fear in his voice? Why does he have an escort. The only other person alive that knows about Makaan was Litovio. Has he moved forward with charges after all I've done?
He made his way purposefully, but still at a walking pace. The Tannenberg's crewmen moved out of his way as he walked. It was something odd how they started treating him after the battle. It never occurred to him to ask why.
As he walked in the hangar, he stopped in shock. The hangar was filled with ranks of ship's crewmen and marines in parade formation. A shuttle sat in the hangar with the Imperial seal. The diamond was naval blue with gold piping on the border. A gold inverted, broad “T” sat atop a broader “T” with the curved cross member, with “Yu” symbol beneath. Bophendze snapped to attention, unsure what to do.
“Corporal Bophendze, present.”
Using just his eyes, Bophendze looked to see where he was being told to move to. He saw Litovio at attention, facing the Imperial shuttle. A gap was to his left, then a rank of other marines and crewmen stood at attention.
A middle-aged man standing imperiously in front of Litovio. Bophendze saw Litovio gesture carefully with his hand, as if saying “next to me, idiot.”
Bophendze carefully marched over to Litovio, trying to exhibit the ramrod straight back marines were supposed to have. He turned and faced the man. The face was familiar, but he could not place it exactly. Off in the distance, a voice called out. “Attention to orders.”
“The Imperial Medal of Honor is awarded to Commander Ambrose Kaarel Litovio. During the Battle of Tannenberg he skillfully commanded the First Postal Armada in the defense of the Emperor's honor against the renegade Naval forces. His keen understanding of fleet tactics ensured swift victory, bestowing honor to the Imperial Postal Marines and the Emperor himself.”
The man reached over and picked up the medal. He placed the broad ribbon around Litovio's neck. The medal hung high on his chest.
“The Imperial Medal of Honor is awarded to Chief Danel Bophendze. During the Battle of Tannenberg he single-handedly assaulted the renegade fleet command battleship. With thoughtless heroism, he fought through the ship until he reached a critical location that led to the ship's capture. His selfless dedication to the Emperor bestows honor to the Imperial Postal Marines and the Emperor himself.”
Reckless abandon, more like.
Shut up.
With the same ceremony, Bophendze felt the weight of the award, and a new promotion, rest on his breast. “My uncle was amazed at your heroism. I think you had to have had a death wish. Either way, we will need marines like you in the days ahead.”
Uncle? The Emperor?
“The Imperial Medal of Valor and Fidelity is awarded to Corporal Makaan posthumously. He manned a medium projectile cannon on the Spaka single-handedly, giving the ship's crew precious time to evacuate.”
Bophendze tried not to smile. Litovio must have put him in for the medal. I guess you can't investigate the alleged murder of a combat hero.
The royal family member continued down the line.
Litovio leaned over and whispered. “I owe you an eternal debt of gratitude. Consider this a down payment.”
“After this, where else can I go?”
Bellicose
Bophendze and Smee will return in Luctation.
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