“It’s fifty yards due west of Star’s The Limit Body Art.”
Mike stared at the father sitting in front of him. He swallowed hard, and then it sunk in. The spot he asked Sharon!
“Mike, this will be the plan. I will take Corrine on a tour. We’ll eat at Mama Rooney’s and talk about your assignment. After dinner, you’ll go to the chapel, and I’ll take Corrine to the Star’s The Limit. We’ll go inside, where I’ll show her the tattoo. They keep a running tab on how many they’ve done. When we come out, I’ll lead her to the spot, you’ll be there. I’ll take the Triple A’s with me. You have forty minutes to ask her and get back to the chapel.”
Mike just stared for several moments. “Sir, that won’t work. She’ll know. Don’t ask me how, but it’s like she can read my mind…”
“Ha-ha ha! Oh, son, are you in trouble! Okay, don’t come to dinner. I’ll make some excuse blaming Marine traditions. You have to concentrate, hard, on some technical manual. Over and over. Meet us outside the tattoo shop per the plan, alright?”
Michael stood, smiled and saluted.
“Aye-aye, Admiral!”
Jock heard a creak and a giggle.
“Allison, close that damn door!”
***
Mama Rooney’s Bar And Grill
Cape Canaveral, Florida
Standard Earth Date June 21 3479
“Admiral! I have your table here! Follow me, please. A large group this year!”
“Yes, Wanda. You look as beautiful as ever!” Jock gave the lady a kiss on her forehead. “When are you going to retire, Wanda?”
“I retired years ago, Admiral. I only work one night each year, when a certain hansom, romantic, big tipper comes in.” Wanda continued in a quiet voice, “I loved the Four Musketeers too, you know!” She turned and followed her cane to a large table. When she motioned for them to sit, Jock leaned in close to her.
“Wanda, would you be kind enough to change to a sporting channel please? I can’t eat with another “kill the Bugs” talk show on.”
The lady smiled and said, “Anything for you, Mr. Mac.”
Jock set his bouquet of flowers down and motioned to the triplets to sit on one side of the table while he escorted Corrine to sit next to him. Alistair held the chair for Allison while Alexander held Corrine’s chair.
“OK, now let’s eat!” Jock declared as food started arriving.
“Dad, we didn’t order yet!” Alex protested.
“They bring the same food every year, squirt.” Corrine said darkly.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Daddy, he should be here!” Corry managed to both whine and pout.
“I’m sure he’ll find a way to join us as soon as he can, Corry.” Allison tried to comfort her big sister.
After dinner, the five walked to the tattoo parlor and stood outside. Jock began to explain the tattoo on his right shoulder that he got here, but Allison interrupted.
“Dad, can we get the tattoo now?”
“Not at this place, pumpkin, not until you graduate. It’s the only tattoo they’ll do on this night, and they won’t do it unless you’ve graduated or…”
“Then why is Corrine inside?”
Jock turned and saw his middle child sitting on the chair as the robot needle drew the pattern on her right shoulder. It took seven minutes before Corrine’s tattoo was done. She stood up and pulled out her credits, but the shop owner pointed to Jock, and refused to take her money. Corrine became quite animated, but the owner held fast. A few other graduates had formed a line to wait their turn, and they urged Corrine to end her display. Finally, she walked out.
“Corrine!” Jock snapped.
“Dad, you never told me it would hurt that much!” Corry pouted.
“Hey, how come you got the tattoo? Dad said you could only get it when you graduate!” Alistair whined.
“If you had let me finish; if you graduate or if you are engaged to a graduate. You’re…not…en…gaged!” Jock said. Yet! Oh crap, she played us! She knew!
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
“Michael!” Corrine gasped as she ran to him and jumped into his arms.
“Alex, Alistair, Allie, come with me. Now.” The image of the Triple A’s as toddlers, Allie riding Jock’s shoulders, hands on his forehead, and a boy on each arm flashed through Jock’s mind as he led his three youngest away towards the chapel. Even though she knew, she’s still having an unforgettable experience tonight. How do I top this for the next three?
***
West Lake Road
Skaneateles, NY
Standard Earth Date July 4 3480
“Really, Ron, you can’t be serious!” Sandy sat in her living room across the coffee table from Ronald Sims. She set her tea down and leaned back. “Why me?”
“Sandy, you are the smartest person I know, and you have a great moral foundation. You stick to your principles no matter what. The people need you in office, Sandy.” Ron took a sip of his coffee, and then continued; “Many of us are worried about this “Kill All Bugs” movement. Quite frankly, we see it as taking mankind down a dark and evil path, where we become like the Birds and the Bugs. Sandy, we need to counter this, to shine the light of morality on the evil foundations that support all hate. You are that light, Sandy.”
“Ron, you’re already writing the speeches! Look, the kids are gone, and it’s finally quiet around here.” Too damn quiet! “What you’re asking could keep me from seeing Jock. You know that is the single most important thing in my life now.”
“Mom, you know Ron’s right. Everything you and Dad have taught me cries out for you to do this.” Mary MacAlister said from her seat next Ron. “Since I’ve joined the firm, we’ve seen this movement grow like a cancer in every aspect of society. Mom, you can do this. Dad would want it.”
“Talk it over with him, please. Consider it. Humanity needs you, Sandy MacAlister.” Ron urged her again.
“I’ll think about it.” Something does have to be done about this. It’s pure evil to willfully exterminate an entire species without even considering if it’s necessary.
***
Admiral’s Office
Lunar Station
Tsiolkovskiy Crater
Standard Earth Date December 4 3486
“Gentlemen, we are here to discuss the post invasion plans.” Fleet Admiral Jericho Bucktooth announced.
“What are the plans, Jeri?” Jock asked as he looked around the room. Only the four Admirals were there: Jericho, Mark Gordon, Karen Seymour, and Jock.
“As you all know, there has been a large push of public opinion to preemptively attack the Bug’s home world and annihilate them before they attack us. Countering that is a movement to completely disarm and hope the Bugs just shake our hand when they get here. Then there is a third movement towards a balanced outlook that defends the Earth while taking measured responses to any invasion.
“Our plans will include follow up strikes on the Bug homeworld to be executed after they invade; one plan will be to destroy the Bugs technology. The second will be to destroy everything.” Admiral Bucktooth gave that a few minutes to sink in.
“Killing every Bug, do we have the right to do that?” Karen asked.
“If we do it, are we any better than they are?” Mark added.
“Isn’t there a plan to try and reason with them, to negotiate their surrender? That seems to me to be the best course.” Jock offered.
“I have been ordered to prepare only for the two options I’ve outlined. Gentlemen, Ma’am, there is no indication the government is preparing any negotiation tactic at all.”
“That is the most foolish stand they could take! Jock, do you have any insight? Sandy being in the Assembly now, and all?” Karen frowned as she contemplated possible answers to her own questions.
“Just what Jeri has said, officially.” Jock shook his head. “They will likely ask us to kill them all.” Jock’s baritone voice was often most powerful when it was quiet. It wa
s both here.
“Jeri, how do we respond to that?” Mark asked.
“Does this situation meet the standard of Orders Demanding Immoral Action?” Karen added her apprehension to the group’s tension.
“What about war is moral? That is the question we would have to answer. Why is it moral to kill Bugs in our system but immoral to kill them in their system? We need to answer that before we can refuse those orders.” Jock pointed out. “I don’t think we have enough information to decide that here and now.”
“Jock is right.” Jeri sighed as he sat back. “We need to know the situation in more detail before we can decide that question.”
The four of them stared silently at the same empty point in the center of the office table for a long time after that.
Eventually Mark and Karen left. Jock decided to stay on a bit.
“Jeri, what do you do if negotiations are offered by the Bugs and the orders are to destroy them?”
“I don’t know, Jock. I just don’t know. The more I think about it, the more I come back to my duty about following orders.”
“Jeri, you’re my friend. You saved my soul a few times over. I have to tell you to do the right thing.”
“What the hell is the right thing any more? We serve the leaders people elect. We are a reflection of society. They need us to follow orders.”
“Damn it, Jeri!” Jock stood up and walked around the office, running his right hand through his hair. “Listen to yourself. You’re defining right and wrong in terms of elected officials who spin the definition to fit the moment. Right and wrong do not change with each swing of the public opinion polls. Jeri, can’t you see that? What does Jericho Bucktooth think is right and wrong in this situation?”
“Jock, what are you telling me to do? Disobey orders? Stage a coup d’état? What is so right about Treason?”
“Jeri, think about right and wrong as your foundation. I’m not talking about stupid but lawful orders here. If the order is illegal, do we follow it? That is entirely different from a military coup and you know it.” Jock walked over to his friend and stood over the sitting older man. He looks tired, worn out. He’s been beating himself up over this for some time. “Jeri,” Jock’s tone softened considerably now, “what did you decide is the right thing to do?”
“Jock, I can’t disobey an order from the Commander in Chief, but I can’t stomach wiping out a species that wants to surrender. Even the Bugs deserve that chance.”
“Jeri, in that case, it is the order that is wrong, not your decision on what to do about it. Take strength that you are grounded in a stable moral foundation.” Jock reached his right hand down to his friend.
Jericho Bucktooth took Jocks hand and stood up. “Jock, you’re right. That order, under that circumstance, would be wrong. I would not be able to carry it out. I would refuse on moral grounds. Publicly. Very, very publicly. Thank you my friend.”
“Jeri, should that come to pass, understand that I will be standing right next to you.”
***
Asteroid Defense Station 1437
CIC
Standard Earth Date March 29 3488
“PROXIMITY ALERT!”
“PROXIMITY ALERT!”
“PROXIMITY ALERT!”
The computer’s alarm rang throughout the station. Within the Combat Information Center, alarm indicator lights flashed red along with the announcement, and then stayed red to indicate the threat.
“Report, Mr. Wilson. What have you got?” Commander Corrine Halsey slid into her command station.
“Three bogies at sensor edge inbound at high velocity. Course projection brings them into our fire zone in three-two minutes, Commander.” Edison Wilson gave his report as concisely as he could. Commander Halsey was always on him to communicate efficiently, and drill after drill had improved his ability to do so significantly. But he still never seemed to get it good enough to satisfy her, even though she frequently praised at his efforts.
“Weapons status?”
“Forty of forty-four plasma lasers have a firing angle on the bogies course at closest pass. All report charged and ready.” Lieutenant Jane Jones reported.
“Sixty of seventy-eight SHVRs have firing solutions viable for four minutes. All report loaded and charged.” Lieutenant Parker Yamamoto added. Super High Velocity Railguns were known as Shavers for short.
“Three hundred GravTorp tubes loaded and standing by.” Lieutenant Troy Hicks gave his report.
“Twelve hundred Shrike missiles hot in tubes, yields set to three Kilotons.” Lieutenant Stewart Montgomery reported.
“Forty-four gravitic grapples ready, Commander” Elsa Armstrong added her report.
“Screens at nine-nine percent and now passive.” Lieutenant Kevin Alvarez finished.
“ID status yet, Mr. Wilson?”
“Bogies match Target Delta drone configuration, Commander.”
“Yamato, fire four Shavers on each target when ready. Jones, stay alert. Hicks and Monty standby.”
“Aye-aye” echoed from each weapons station.
“Shavers away, Commander. Target intercept ETA twenty seconds.”
“Ready another round, Yamamoto. Hold fire on it.”
“Aye-aye, commander.”
“Shaver impact in: Three. Two. One. Impacts. Screen clear, Commander. All bogies destroyed.”
“Thank you Mr. Wilson. Computer; time from bogie detect to target destruction?”
“Elapsed time for this Class One Exercise is fifty-two seconds.”
Cheers erupted throughout the CIC as the computer announced a new USF record.
“Okay, people. CIC combat staff to my ready room in five for debriefing. Good job, people. The record is now twelve seconds shorter. Don’t get cocky.”
“Comm, open tight channel to ADS 1284, attention, Commander Tracy Singh. The record is now fifty-two seconds. Repeat, FIVE TWO SECONDS. C. Halsey 1437.” Oh, how I wish I could add, ‘Hugs and Kisses, Corry.’
A second round of cheering broke out on the CIC as Corry stood and walked to her ready room.
She left the door open as she walked into the office and looked around. This room did it to her every time. She’d seen the upgrade plans; this one room used to be the two crew quarters. She could be standing where her brother Jack was conceived.
I can’t imagine two people locked up in the small spaces this used to be. Now we’ve got thirty-six on a station sixty times the size, with hundreds of times the power. From here Dad captured that Bug ship. Unreal.
The commotion of the CIC staff walking in brought her mind back to the work at hand.
“At ease everyone.” Corrine began. “Good job. You busted that record. You busted the hell out of it.
“Edison; concise reports. Perfect.
“Parker; good shooting. Data indicates eleven of twelve Direct On Target. What is the Fleet record at this range, Mr. Yamamoto?”
“The current Fleet record is eleven of twelve, Commander. The previous record at this range was eight of fifteen, Commander.” Yamamoto stood as he reported in an emotionless voice.
“Parker, your section’s performance is again outstanding. Keep it up!
“Jane; great readiness. Keep it up.
“Troy; great job. Don’t let up.
“Stewart; great work, as usual.
“Elsa; great job, again.
“Kev, great job. You always squeeze a little more out of those screens.
“People, this is where I usually give you goals for your improvement. Today, I want you to give me goals for my improvement. You’ve shown me that you are the best, and as such, you deserve the best commander. Talk to me.” Corrine sat down and waited. The staff looked around at each other for a few seconds. Then Edison stood up.
“Commander, we need a name. Sir.”
“I don’t understand, Lieutenant.”
“We need a name for our Turret. 1437 just won’t do. Sir.” Edison sat down.
“What do you have in mind?”
<
br /> “The crew picked it, Commander. We took a poll, and everyone sent in the same name. Sir.”
“Well, what was the name?”
The entire group stood up and came to attention. Kevin answered his commander.
“Turret Halsey. Sir.”
***
Chrysler Building
55th Floor
New York City
Standard Earth Date March 29 3488
The woman was staring out the window when the messenger’s footsteps echoed across the huge room. Forty-Four steps, she thought. Such a short distance, yet I am so far removed from Humanity.
She ignored the messenger’s presence for several long seconds before she looked up at him. He will be enjoyable refreshment.
“What do you have for me?” the words slithered like a snake over his ears.
“The, eh, the progress report. Our objectives are, um, within reach, even with the unforeseen surge from MacAlister winning the Senate seat. We have ramped up both sides, so that people are either for total disarmament or for total extermination of the Bugs. The ultimate choice does not matter, since we know the USF’s analysis was correct; the Bugs will continue to attack, mindlessly following their instincts. When we defeat them, the ‘Evil of Humanity’ campaign will depress everything, and the ensuing chaos will allow our power to expand as planned.”
Mindlessly following instinct! If this fool only knew, he’d run screaming for his mother!
“Good. Now…” She stood up, her long brown hair falling in frizzled waves to the floor. She took a creaking step towards the messenger, and reached a wrinkled hand up to caress his face, flakes of her dead skin floating in the filtered light.
“Now, I think you are terribly overdressed…”
He shivered as she ran a wrinkled finger along his jaw line. He was suddenly naked without having moved. Terrified, he stood frozen in place. They told me she was thirty-four years old. She looks and smells three times that. What is she?
The Turret: Starclan Foundation Page 17