by James Thomas
“Can your folks be trusted?” asked Mac. “It just takes one to mess it up.”
“Well, we’ve been through a lot together,” replied Don.
Only a few of Don’s previous mates had chosen not to come and were missing from his original list. It was not a question of persuasion or trust because his comrades had proven themselves many times. Most had been through the Tri-Sun War and now worked in many post-war professions, with the remaining still active ISF from the last squadron he commanded. However, not a whisper from their lips would ever tell what was in planning. The ones not onboard for the mission would now serve as Don’s eyes and ears around the Fleet.
“Well. . ..” said Mac.
“You know how I feel about that stuff!” replied Don.
“Yes,” said Mac, “Trust, but verify.”
“No . . . the opposite my old friend,” replied Don.
“Oh, right,” replied Mac with a smile. “I remember now.”
The viewing screen on the bridge came to life.
“Commander, we’re approaching planet Fandor,” reported Ensign Brock.
“Yes, we can see that,” retorted Mac.
The ISF outpost was on the far side of Fandor. However, with the three stars in the center of the five planets—Raspur, Melfar, Condo, Split, and Fandor—a ship could only approach by going around the three suns to avoid burning up.
Brock cleared his voice to ease his nerves. “We’ll be in range of their sensors soon, Commander.” He had purposely focused his report toward the commander.
“Very well, Ensign,” replied Commander Devlin.
“Don, my freighter may be big enough to hold the crew, but I’m not sure how long the ship will hold up to cannon fire from even a single Star Fighter,” said Mac. “My shields were designed to keep cargo in, not cannon fire out.”
Even though Mac had given the command of the freighter to his friend, he had difficulty not taking ownership of its current undertaking. It was not a military vessel, but nevertheless, he was equally proud of it. Years back, after his discharge from the ISF, Mac had joined the Merchant Service a journeyman. His apprenticeship was on the vessel while it was built, so he knew every part of the ship, including what was hidden within the bulkheads.
“Is the digital chit in order?” asked Don to his Administration Officer, the AO.
“Well, Sir, I believe it will suffice for at least one check. I don’t think we’ll need it again for the way out,” replied the AO. He figured that they could overwhelm the ISF due to superior numbers unless ISF reinforcements showed up.
“You know Mac, it was Ensign Brock’s idea for this,” said Don.
“I was afraid of that. I’m just not sure if it was right out naive or just plain foolish of him,” replied Mac.
“I hope neither, my friend,” added Don. He and Mac had been through a lot together, so he knew Mac’s words were aggressive but harmless in most situations.
Ensign Brock looked up from his console and started to open his lips in response, only to close them again. He was finished with the insults. He would not let an undisciplined civilian taunt him just to get a childish reply. No, Brock was a professional officer in the ISF, unlike Mac.
However, Don spoke before the Ensign could say anything. “Mac, you remember how many plans we made together? Did any survive the first contact with the enemy?”
“Nah . . . I guess not,” replied Mac.
The tension in Brock’s body seemed to relax a little.
“But this time I’m not sure if it’s the enemy I’m worried about,” said Don. “The ISF will hold back once they catch on to our plans.”
A red light on the center viewing screen flashed, followed by a general proximity audio alert.
“Captain, the ISF Station Janus is hailing us,” said the COM Officer. “They’re requesting our mission orders.”
“Well, let them know,” said Mac. He once again forgot he was not the Captain for this trip, or it was easier to conveniently forget. He and Don had flown together as young Ensigns during the Tri-Sun War. Prior to this voyage, Mac had been out of the military for many cycles and had worked his way up to Captain on the freighter. They regularly talked as though they had just served together yesterday, despite having lived opposite lives while apart. However, Mac was not a person who worried about being politically correct when he spoke.
Don just smiled as he received a counter smirk back from Mac. They both understood. Don admired his friend’s rough honesty since, as a commander, Don had to be rigid with decorum to support political correctness. It was a nice break, even in the present situation.
“COM Officer stick to the script,” added Commander Devlin.
“This is FC Promise. We’re here for a pickup for the ISF,” said the COM Officer.
Com silence was all they received at first until a division of four Star Fighters emerged from the ISF outpost. They were fully armed, causing the targeting sensors to light up on FC Promise.
“Sir, they’re targeting us,” reported Brock, who paused before adding, “That can’t be good!”
Mac laughed. “Ensign, you know which are the two worse ranks of the ISF?
“Ahh!” was all Ensign Brock got out before he received his answer.
“They’re both gold,” said Mac. “You see . . . as an Ensign, no one listens to you because you have no experience. To be blunt, you know nothing! That is the first gold rank. Understand? And when you finally wear the second one as Lieutenant Commander, no one wants to talk to you since you are not yet a full commander. You are no longer considered one of the junior officers by the lower officer ranks.”
“Ensign Brock, as the XO is trying to so kindly point out, it’s normal protocol to have a division of four fighters launch as cover when an unscheduled ship shows up. Especially for an outpost in the Tourian Void.
“Sorry, Commander, I didn’t know outpost had fighters. I thought they were unarmed.”
“Yes, those four to be exact,” said Mac trying to be a little nicer.
“Sir, eight more Star Fighters have appeared off our port and starboard quarter,” added Ensign Brock.
“Now, that’s not normal,” said Commander Devlin. “Where were they hiding?” But before he received an answer, a communication channel was opened.
“FC Promise,” the voice over the COM channel said. “This is Lieutenant Commander Bora Hoxha from the Space Station Janus. I do not have you on my manifest. State your purpose without delay!”
“COM Officer, I got it,” said Commander Devlin. “This is the Captain of the FC Promise; stand by to receive my mission orders.”
“Send it, COM Officer,” ordered Commander Devlin.
“Orders received,” replied Lieutenant Commander Hoxha. “Captain, just to make myself clear, power down your engines until I verify with Head Qu . . .” The Lieutenant Commander’s voice stopped in mid-word.
This time, after a short period, the Lieutenant Commander came back on the coms. “Captain, please state your name . . . ahh . . ., for order verification.”
“Devlin. Commander Don Devlin,” answered the commander.
“Ahh . . . Sir, I apologize for the procedure, but you know how things go so far out here—right?”
“Sure,” replied Commander Devlin. “But while you verify, could I have my personnel continue with the mission to Fandor’s surface?”
“Ahh . . . Sir . . . standby, I mean standby—ahh—Sir.” responded the Lieutenant Commander in an unsure voice. However, he did not come back on the COM channel.
Mac was trying not to laugh, but it was too hard. “Ahh, I think he knows—ahh—you—ahh—Don!”
***
Lieutenant Commander Hoxha took a long time to return the answer to Commander Devlin’s question, which worried Don. He was counting on his mole back in Bandor’s communication center to have remotely disabled the COM relays from the Station Janus. His orders were bogus, but it was a critical part of the mission for an isolated outstation that reli
ed on communication with Bandor. They could get around it, but not without placing his and the station’s personnel in peril. Don wanted to avoid a shootout, especially against any ISF. It was no use to add to an already bad situation.
“Getting hot in here, Don?” asked Mac. “Been a while. More than enough time to send off long-range comms to see the orders the as fake.”
“FC Promise,” radioed the Station’s Lieutenant Commander Hoxha.
“Go ahead,” replied the COM Officer.
“You are cleared. It took a little time, but our long-range comm is down, so our fighters will stay at the ready, if you don’t mind!” Lieutenant Commander Haxha was being cautious. He paused to let it sink into FC Promise’s crew.
Commander Devlin wisely let the silence hold, awaiting Hoxha’s next words.
Lieutenant Commander Hoxha finally continued, “Proceed inboard to Fandor when able. And Sir, may I say it is an honor to talk to a real hero.”
“Sir, the Star Fighters have dropped the target solutions,” said Ensign Brock. He felt a little vindicated for being naïve.
“No worries Lieutenant Commander Hoxha, I’m sure you’ll remember our meeting for a long time to come,” replied Mac.
“Mac, he thinks that was me,” retorted Don. It was one thing to have fun with an Ensign, but that was putting the mission at risk. He was reminded of why Mac did not make a good ISF officer years before.
Mac was quiet as he thought to himself.
“Sir, do we continue the mission?” asked Ensign Brock.
But Mac considered himself old-school, so that meant school would always be in session for the Ensign. So only after a short break, he started back up. “Do you remember, Don,” reminisced Mac in a grand voice, “when we were Ensigns? How did that go? Oh yeah—Ensigns are meant to be seen and not heard, right?”
Don was losing his patience with his friend as he wished there were a few thousand light-years between them to make the conversation a little bit easier. Mac seemed more constrained with his word choices the farther they were separated. “Mac, it’s been too long to remember. You don’t want the Ensign thinking you’re serious.” He looked toward Brock giving him a smile of reassurance. “Mac, if I recall, you were also meant to be seen and not heard, Ensign or not.”
With that, Ensign Brock smiled a little.
Don was the only person who could push back at Mac without repercussions since he had a grounding effect on Mac.
“Ensign Brock, just having fun with you. Ensigns do serve a purpose. I’m just not sure of what!”
“Okay, back to the mission,” interrupted Commander Devlin. “Set Operation Hijack.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” responded Ensign Brock.
12
AMBUSHED?
Approaching Huldra
Thousands of star streaks flattened into distant pinpoints as the Grax ship came out of hyperspace, uncloaked. Cloaking during hyperspace required a vast amount of energy. Even with the advanced technology, the ship still could not do both simultaneously.
ISF also had cloaked vessels, but they could not yet miniaturize the technology to the equivalent size of the Grax fighter. This would give the Grax a huge warfare advantage if they could build them. However, Sadar had stolen the sole experimental prototype. Now, the ISF had the only fleet-deployed cloaking device and had already pushed it out to most of the larger task force.
Sadar was worried about the Grax detecting the stolen ship during the transition to invisibility. This risk was only momentarily, since ship’s command sequencer automatically triggered the vessel’s recloaking,, causing it to dissolve among the stars once again.
Sadar’s attention turned to their guest. “Joe, do you think he’ll wake soon?” asked Sadar.
“Well, from the sound he made hitting the bottom of the ship with his head, I would say he has quite a bit more battle damage to his skull.”
“From his life signs, he’s been awake for a while,” said Augie internally to Joe.
“But I think he’s already awake. Aren’t ya?” said Joe directing his last sentence toward their guest. He was quickly adapting to Augie’s input as he covertly used the knowledge passed to him without feeling guilty.
Robert opened his eyes as confirmation.
“So how long have you been listening?” asked Joe.
“For a while,” replied Robert.
“And what did you learn about us?” asked Joe.
“Nothing that I didn’t already know,” replied Robert.
“And that would happen to be. . .?” asked Sadar.
“None of your business,” snapped Robert. “You’re just kids and it looks like you’re in way over your heads.”
“You have to be kidding me. You chased us . . . and if you had caught us, then you were going to say none of your business . . . right!” said Sadar. “Even—I know you have laws on Bandor requiring you to have a cause for an arrest. So, well?”
“Well, I haven’t arrested you yet!” responded Robert.
“Okay,” said Joe thinking of a change of direction. “Your name then?”
“Robert Johann,” he replied.
“Well hello Robert,” responded Sadar. “So, you’re not going to tell us why?”
As an adult, being questioned by two kids seemed demeaning to Robert, who was out of his element by more than a few million light-years. Yet, he wasn’t going to admit it, not to these kids.
Robert responded, “You’re just babies, so I don’t see why I can’t just arrest you at this point, since you are in way over your heads.”
“Thanks!” said Joe sarcastically. It seemed he had an unwanted companion who was already presenting a high risk that Joe was not willing to put up with.
Robert turned toward Sadar. “For you, ISF marked you as a high-valued individual. Probably a crummy criminal, but the ISF didn’t give details and we don’t question the ISF with a war going on.”
“You see, that was easy,” said Joe.
“Now as for you . . . you’re a Devlin and a traitor to Bandor. Never thought a Devlin would be one of those,” said Robert with disgust.
Robert was tied to an observer’s chair behind the flight console. Due to his height and muscle density, Joe and Sadar had a difficult time binding him. Every time he moved; the ropes needed to be adjusted to keep them taut against his contoured muscles.
“A traitor,” replied Joe. “Hardly! Why don’t we just eject him into space!” Joe did not mean it, but he felt like he was up against a wall and wanted to scare the rookie police officer.
“Well, Robert, you’re not giving him much of a case to release you,” said Sadar.
“Joe, may I remind you of the six laws you would break,” added Augie internally.
“Augie stop it,” said Joe.
Robert gave Joe an inquiring look, but Sadar understood what had just happened and remained quiet.
But Joe did not miss a beat. “Release him! Why would I ever do that!” said Joe. “And what gives you the right to call me a traitor? Again, I say we launch him into the vacuum of space. I’m sure that, with us being just kids, we wouldn’t break any laws.” Joe waited for Augie to speak again, but Augie remained quiet. The AI was learning, adjusting to Joe, but it still was not clear if Augie knew deception versus real intentions.
Sadar motioned Joe to the side, away from Robert’s ears.
“Joe,” said Sadar in a whisper. “Well . . . we can’t keep him tied up on an undertaking like this. He’ll break free if we’re not here to keep the ropes tight. We can’t have him telling someone and we can’t launch him into space. Stop letting him get to you and making you seem like a cruel person even though you’re not. Maybe being nice to him will change his mind.”
“Nice—we’re in Grax territory,” Joe reminded.
“Sorry, Joe, it’s too much of a risk,” said Sadar. “He’s going to have to be freed and probably will have to help us. I don’t believe he will want to help the Grax out either, so he’ll pick us for now if g
iven a choice. But when the time comes, expect him to turn against us. If he even helps us initially.”
“Okay, you’re right! Nice it is,” said Joe.
“You know, I can still hear you both. You whisper like my grandpa who’s hearing aid is on max volume, yet he thinks it’s on low,” said Robert. “And yes, if you free me, I’m going to do my best to capture you two. Especially the traitor.”
“We’re all in enemy territory!” snapped Joe.
“Well, it’s not what I would prefer, but you see I have a reputation as a seasoned officer,” replied Robert.
“Okay, Rookie,” taunted Joe.
“I’m no rookie,” replied Robert. He was lying, but these two were not adults, so he felt justified for the deception.
“Yeah, that’s a lie,” replied Joe laughing. “Only you rookies are still in shape. You officers plump up fast after a few months of eating pastries. By the way, are ya hungry?” Joe held up a pastry from his food pack.
“Traitor,” mumbled Robert.
“Rookie,” replied Joe as he tossed the pastry into Robert’s lap. “You can eat this once you come to your senses.
Robert was a little surprised by Joe. He had heard the stories, but his captor’s sarcasm did not seem fitting for a hero who had saved Dansburg. While still a first-year cadet.
“Can we trust you?” asked Sadar.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re both traitors.” Then Robert went silent, refusing to answer any more questions. He was finished with their conversation.
Joe and Sadar returned their attention to the approach to the planet Huldra. The major forces of the Grax remained on the far side of the planet, so it was unlikely they would run into the Grax army.
“Well Joe,” whispered Sadar, “It’s kind of how we met, don’t you think? Maybe we’ll grow on him as you did with me.”
Joe just shook his head.
A warning flashed on the instrument console as audio beeps sounded.
“Well, that can’t be good,” said Joe. “Any idea?”