by Robert Culp
DRAWING BATTLE LINES
Robert Culp
DRAWING BATTLE LINES
Copyright © 2020 by Robert Culp
Cover art by Doug Sanders
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
FIRST EDITION June 2020
ISBN-13: 9798609481610
SET IN TIMES NEW ROMAN
“War is hell; even when it's a cold one.”
--Leo G. Carrol as The Professor in
North by Northwest
“Well, well, well. Who sent you here?”
--Joe Morton as Scratch’s Assistant in
Crossroads
Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.
Saint Paul
Holy Bible
New Revised Standard Version
In praise of Stepping Up
These have been edited for brevity.
The full reviews are available at https://www.amazon.com/Stepping-Up-Robert-Culp-ebook/product-reviews/B00FIPILTO/
This was a very interesting read throughout! The characters each had strong character and important roles in the story. It held my attention to the last page and I'm getting the second book in a couple minutes.
Liked the banter, the characters, and the flow of the story. I was pleased to see very good editing throughout, which is sadly lacking in these days of easy e-publishing. What made the main character so special that she was able "step up" to star ship captain from grunt maintenance worker in just two years.
WARNING... DO NOT READ THIS BOOK! It is too addictive. Once you start reading, you cannot stop. You will forsake your family, your friends, and /or your job to finish this book in one sitting. Unless you are caught in a snowstorm with absolutely nothing else to do, then by all means start reading.
In praise of Proving True
These have also been edited for brevity.
The full reviews are available at https://www.amazon.com/Proving-True-Robert-Culp-ebook/product-reviews/B01N4VRXR5/
This is the author's second science fiction novel. His first was a rollicking space opera. Few pages did not provide excitement.
This is an impressive follow-up to the first Sonia MacTaggert novel. The plot is much better developed than it was in the first book, while still providing compelling and entertaining "laugh out loud" characters. By the end of Proving True it is obvious that there are still many options for a third novel yet the ending is satisfying in and of itself. I look forward to reading Bob's next project.
I read about four books a week and spend most of my time with kindle unlimited authors. This is good read. The characters quickly become your friends. I could see this as a new series on the Sci-fi channel. Now I'm going to read the first book in the series. Good reading
DRAWING
BATTLE
LINES
CHAPTER ONE
I cannot look away. I must maintain eye contact. My eyes have locked with a pair of amber cat eyes. I am the more advanced life form. I possess the stronger will and the higher intelligence. I cannot break gaze first!
My name is Sonia MacTaggert. My best friend, Shawna Landers, and I are in the office of Angela Barron at the United People for Science suite. We, the three of us, are ironing out the details of my next command. Alternatively, we should be, but right now I am in a staring match with a cat. I turned my head towards it when I sat down and locked gaze as a force of habit. I have not been able to look away or blink. I used to do this all the time with my cat, Fuzzbutt, back on Tammuz. I rarely lost.
Shawna pokes me with her elbow and whispers, “You can’t win a staring contest with a ceramic cat.” A what? I tear my gaze away, shake my head and turn to her. Ms. Barron is looking at me. I’m sure my face is a mask of confusion. Angela’s assistant brings in three glasses of wine and departs without a word.
“I see you’ve noticed my Creepy Cat,” she says as she fits a cigarette into a jet-black holder. “At least that’s what my sister called it.”
We recently brought Cutlass back. Athena, my Executive Officer, is back at the ship with the rest of the crew. I would like to tell you that our retrieval mission was textbook from its planning to execution. However, that would be a lie. From the moment we left the safety of Star Chaser we experienced everything but good luck.
I get out of my chair to walk across the office and examine the cat. Now that I’m right on it, I can see that it is ceramic. But its gaze has not left me. It appears to be looking at me from under its brow.
“It’s an optical illusion?” Shawna asks. “No matter how I move my head, it always appears to be looking at me.”
No, it can’t be,” I say. The engineer in me thinks it has robotic eyes on swivels. “It’s still looking at me.”
“That is how,” Angela says lighting her cigarette, “it got its name. When we were children, it sat in our grandmother’s dining room. It reduced my sister to tears many times. And when the sunlight hits it at just the right angle—or gods forbid light enters the small hole in the back of its head—the eyes appear to be lit from within. Our mother got it when her mother passed, I got it from her.” She knocks ash from her cigarette. “But we were discussing your next command, Prophecy.”
“I am prepared to take command, but what happens to the present crew on Prophecy?” I ask as I walk back to my chair. “There were people on Cutlass I would like to bring with me.” I would not qualify Ms. Barron as “past her prime,” but as Da used to say, “she may not be over the hill, but she can see the crest from where she is.” Her hair was probably sable in her youth, but silver strands among the black have given her ample tresses a roan rather than a gray look. While not a glamorous woman, she is yet pleasant company. Yes, her eye makeup does little to hide the long droop of her nose. Moreover, her bright lipstick stresses the same feature. She has likewise been stricken, as I may well be one day, with age related weight gain. In order for her weight to be “ideal”, she would need to be at least a meter taller than she is.
“A good commander always does,” she says around an exhalation of smoke. “I’m sure that staffing overlaps concern you; you want to put people you know and trust in prominent positions,” she takes another long pull on her cigarette holder. Releasing the inhaled smoke as she places the holder in an ashtray, she continues. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. But before I address those, I have a question for you.” She takes another drag on the cigarette and levels her gaze at me. “You are prepared to take a starship and crew into the great unknown. I want to know why.”
“Because she’s damned good at it,” Shawna says leaning forward. “I’ve worked for many ship captains. Some better than others, but Sonia MacTaggert, if not at the top, is very close to it.”
“No one doubts your passion or your loyalty, Miss Landers,” Angela says ash falling from her cigarette as she picks it up. “I’ve read fitness reports and after action reviews until my eyes are crossing. Nevertheless, this is not the military; they go exploring and such because that’s what they do. We are a civilian organization—more or less—which means we have the option of refusing some opportunities. As you both know, interstellar travel is dangerous. So I want to know why the Academy should trust Sonia MacTaggert with one of their ships.” Her gaze comes back to me. “You have successful commands in your past. Your armor production facility is making you a very wealthy woman. So you aren’t in this for the money. You aren’t looking to start a family because it will be easier for you to do that off a ship than on one. I don’t see you chasing fortune or fame. All of that make
s me curious. So before I turn over an incredibly expensive starship and her very valuable crew, I want to know what is motivating you—for all intents and purposes a spoiled rich girl—to take command.”
I have to agree with her. Despite Shawna’s praise, being good enough simply isn’t good enough. Nor can I argue with anything Angela said. I have money. I have prestige. I have experience. Who in their right mind will intentionally leave a warm, safe home to go risk a violent death in the dark void of space between solar systems? “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone else.” Angela nods her head agreeing with me. “I do have something to prove to myself.”
“And what would that be?” Angela asks.
“That I can command a ship from its place of origin to an end of mission destination.”
Angela waves dismissively at me. “I can hire a cadet to do that.”
“All of the commands I have had, I more or less fell in to. Night Searcher found herself without a captain. I’m still not sure it was the right thing to do, but they gave it to me. On Star Chaser I was put in command of Gallagher for what should have been a milk run by my supervisor who expected I would fail.”
“Which she did not do,” Shawna says. “She had a successful command.”
“And when Gallagher was destroyed, you took command of the abandoned pirate vessel,” Angela says, fitting another cigarette to her holder. “You’ve brought two crews—one could argue three—back home safely. Isn’t that enough? Let’s be honest, Sonia. You’re not exactly a spring chicken. Are you willing to postpone marriage and/or motherhood for another handful of years?”
“Would you ask a man that?” Shawna almost leaps out of her chair, one hand grips the arms of her chair like a hawk’s talons, the other shakes her wine glass. A bit sloshes out but no one pays it any attention. Her eyes blaze and her lips draw back in a snarl.
“Actually Miss Landers,” Angela says as she lights the cigarette, “I would. If his resume and experience matched hers,” she’s gesturing at me with the cigarette holder, “you better believe I would. Because I don’t want them to be six hundred light years from anywhere and then hormones start polluting the brain.”
“That’s pretty insulting,” I say.
“You bet your sweet heart shaped ass it is,” she says knocking ash into the tray with a loud clink. “And you still haven’t given me a satisfactory answer. Because you want to see if you can command from point A to point B? Is that what it really comes down to?”
I can’t really argue with that, either. “There’s more. I promised Marsha I would get her into a comfortable ocean. She isn’t there yet. And I can’t be more specific, but I started my space career thinking I had to be more than what I was at the time. And I have. I’ve grown considerably. But I feel like I’m just getting started.”
Angela puts her cigarette in the ashtray, leans back and folds her arms, glaring at me. I keep very still. My hands are in my lap. I can only see her in my peripheral vision, but I think Shawna may actually be vibrating. I can only see her peripherally, because I’ve locked gaze with Angela now. And I have lots of practice.
She breaks first. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.” She picks her cigarette holder back up. “That you are sincere. The final decision is up to the Academy and to be perfectly candid I will express my reservations to them.
“Now, about your personnel issues, your desire to bring your own people aboard is far from unusual and I would worry if you didn’t. Captain Sterling informs me that thirty-four members of her crew are due to rotate off of their contracts. Those that aren’t coming off contract will receive the opportunity to transfer to another ship or duty station—pending availability and need. Of those that remain, any overlaps will be supernumerary unless they conflict with your chain of command. For example, you can’t have two chief engineers or two executive officers. That just won’t work. Our standard practice is to work out any overlaps and if we can’t come to an agreement, we transfer both and bring in a disinterested third. For the record though, that almost never happens. The Academy will extend similar offers to the crew of Cutlass.”
“Superb, then. Well, it’s my habit to not sign anything I haven’t read,” I tell her. “Especially contracts.”
“That’s why we keep them short and free of legalese. For Ms. Landers we tried to make every word monosyllabic, but that didn’t work out too well.” Shawna cuts her eyes at Ms. Barron. Shawna is still pretty upset, I almost expect her to leap across the distance between them and slap her. Until Angela’s face splits in a huge grin filled with teeth stained by years of smoke, coffee, and probably wine. “I’m sorry, Shawna, but she gave me a straight line I couldn’t resist.” We all laugh, although Shawna does so without joy or mirth. I don’t know, but I suspect she thinks it will reduce the palpable tension in the room. It doesn’t.
“Oh, I get it, Angie,” I guess she’s going for condescension? “But I don’t understand why I’m the butt of the joke and not her.” I don’t think she’s angry at that, I do think her feelings are hurt.
“Because,” Ms. Barron explains, “one never belittles a commander in front of his or her subordinates. It simply isn’t done.”
“If that lets you sleep at night,” Shawna mutters. But I can tell she’s still a little put out.
We take the time to read our contracts; Shawna actually finishes before I do. I reach for a stylus and hear hers slide across the page. Was she waiting for me to sign? We each hand them to Angela who places them in a wooden document box. “Ladies, that concludes everything we can accomplish right here and right now. Captain, I presume you’d like to inform your first officer of our arrangements and have those of your crew who desire to continue serving with you to come sign their own contracts.”
“I do indeed, thank you again, ma’am. I’ll contact you in two weeks?”
“Make it three, and if anything jumps up between now and then, I’ll call you.”
“Do you have a glimmer as to what our first mission might be?” Shawna asks. She may be studying to become an Executive or Operations Officer. I suppose she doesn’t want to be a pilot or flight wing commander forever.
“As it happens,” Angela takes another long pull on her cigarette, blowing out smoke as she says, “I do. The cetacean you brought with you, Marsha, has expressed a desire to travel to Ardurandes, also known as planet 457. Prophecy will be the first available ship that won’t need to redirect here to pick her up before you’re ready to depart. So, you’re the best fit and it gives you a relatively easy run for you to get acquainted with your crew and ship.” She takes another long pull on her cigarette. “A ‘shakedown cruise’ if you will.”
“I presume there is not a suitable aquarium aboard Prophecy today,” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Not to my knowledge, Captain.” Figures. “That’s why I want that third week.”
“I like what I've seen so far,” I say as Shawna and I stand to leave her office. Her assistant takes our empty glasses. Angela has walked with us to the outer door of her suite. “I’ll review the video and I look forward to the tour once the ship berths,” I tell her. Part of her sales pitch is a virtual tour of my future command, Prophecy.
“There is one thing, a mystery, perhaps you know what this means?” Angela pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and holds it out to me. I take it from her and unfold it. In a very precise, formal script—apparently handwritten—is a message of nine words. But it’s the signature that sets my teeth on edge.
Please don’t let my device be taken from Neptune.
Captain G.J. Grangiere
“It showed up on my desk one morning about a week ago. My assistant has no knowledge of any delivery. Nor does anyone else. But the name 'Grangiere' appears in your AARs. What's the device?"
“We aren’t certain; the best guess we have is a sort of teleportation device. But I can’t imagine why he’d want it. According to the computer he left his ship with a copy of the schematics and designs."
&nb
sp; “And where is it now?” Angela asks.
“Broken down into its major components aboard Cutlass. And I’m going to order a guard posted over it at my earliest opportunity.” I hand the note back to her, “If that’s all, we'll be going."
“Had you considered surrendering it to the Academy?”
“Why should she?” Shawna says. “It's ours. Hers. He left it; we collected it. As Freddie would say, ‘we stole it fair and square.’”
“I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to say the full resources of the Academy could be directed to understanding and protecting the device from this Grangiere person?”
Shawna starts to speak, but looks to me instead.
“I don't think it would, Ms. Barron. I'm an engineer. We'll have lots of time in Transit for me to study it.”
“I thought you were a captain and as such would be busy with the vagaries of command.” Our eyes lock in a cold stare. “But, I’ll pass that on as well. The rules of Fair Play suggest I must inform you: If I get my way, you will be able to study the device at your leisure. Right here on Neptune. Good day, ladies.” The door closes.
Once we’re back on the street, I call Athena. “Send a medium priority message to the crew. Anyone who wishes to remain in the employ of the corporation in general and us in particular, by which I mean serve aboard our next ship, Prophecy, needs to come by Ms. Angela Barron’s office, I believe you have the address, within the next three business days to sign their contract and collect their signing bonus. And I want a continuous guard detail on the components of the device. No less than three troopers and in six hour shifts. Any questions?”
“Only one, ma’am,” she says, “May I accompany you to Prophecy? Not that my desires matter, but I would prefer to as I have learned much in your service.”