Free Fleet Box Set 1

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Free Fleet Box Set 1 Page 56

by Michael Chatfield


  “So, it’s the metaphorical powder keg and we might be the match.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, seems like my job isn’t getting any easier. Is there a way I contact the leaders of the world?”

  “You could set up a summit, though you would need to go in person as they won’t negotiate with anyone who is floating above them and controlling the orbitals.”

  “All right, see if you can set up this meeting for me. Contact me if you need anything.”

  “Yes, Commander.” They cut the channel as I looked over the bridge.

  It had been a day and a half since we’d fired our first volley of missiles. Everyone was only on their feet due to Wake-Up.

  “All right, Rick, take everyone down to twenty-five percent. Combined Arms, work with the medics to get aid to everyone.”

  “Sir,” they replied, sounding determined but tired.

  “I’ll be in the station,” I said.

  “I’ll take a survey of the ship.” Rick put the fourth watch commander in charge of the Resilient.

  My protection detail fell in around me as I made my way to the dock, pausing and talking to my people when appropriate, though mostly just nodding or giving tired two-finger salutes as we went about our jobs.

  The bulkheads inside the station, as well as the hatches, showed the severe fighting that had occurred within the station’s tight confines. Lights flickered and sparks showered the halls as we continued on. I quickly moved to where an impromptu medical bay had been set up. I walked in, finding the cramped room filled with harried doctors and wounded.

  “Eddie, I need a work detail to my location, now. I am sending you the structural information of the area I’m in. I need med bays set up immediately in this area. I don’t care if they’re ripped from the training rooms and planted here. I’m expanding this med bay over four rooms and back two.”

  “I see. Be there momentarily!”

  I heard yelling as I cut the channel. I turned to my protection detail and any AMC still moving.

  “All right, we’re expanding the medical bay. Cut down those walls, now!” I jumped in with my men and as we hacked the walls down, more wounded were brought in. Eddie and his group arrived minutes later as we’d gone through the first wall. Eddie barked orders loud as any battlefield commander; his people rushed around the station, getting what they needed. An army of droids followed them, connecting medical bays to the power sources available and bringing other unused medical bays into the room. Quickly, wounded were placed in the remorseless medical bays, which did their gruesome work without painkillers, only bringing relief to their charges when they passed out from the pain.

  I kept expanding the med bay with Eddie and any engineers we could find. As soon as a med bay was completed, it was filled. There seemed to be no end to the wounded.

  I lost the track of time until I got to the last wall. Med bays, ripped from across the station, filled the rough space that encompassed two training rooms, a few storage closets, and a large multi-person bathroom.

  “See what you can help with. I’m going to talk to the injured Commandos.”

  They started to protest as I raised my hand. “Krom, you can come, but these are your brothers and sisters. We need to do everything we can for them.” Without another word, they got to work, putting their first-aid skills to use as I walked around, talking to those who could speak and assuring them. Some spoke in scarcely more than a whisper; I had to lean in close to understand them. I told them what was going on, how we’d taken the station thanks to their efforts, how they had saved my world, or their own world, and gave my deep thanks and praise to them. Some of them tried to get out of bed to go back and help their squads but, thankfully, Krom pressed a hand, keeping them down, and my severe glance ended their complaints.

  I heard the commotion of a particularly stubborn Commando trying to get back to the now finished battle.

  This is why our doctors are armored. I grinned.

  “Mrs. Cook, please, you need to sit down. Someone get me a tranquilizer!”

  I turned, seeing the bloodied, ragged, and cut Mecha that enclosed my wife. Before I knew it, I had crossed the room and was pulling her helmet off.

  “Yasu,” I said in wonder as I looked at her. She looked like hell, with her armor open in a dozen places, her shoulder ragged and bleeding.

  A doctor was beside me as I looked at Yasu, her eyes searching for the next attacker. I threw my gauntlets at Krom and held her head. Her eyes snapped to me and any anger I had for her disappeared as she looked into my eyes.

  She realized who I was and a sad, tired smile appeared on her face. “James,” she half whispered, half said as she let unconsciousness take her.

  I opened her suit manually with the doctors and they hauled her into a med bay. More wounded were following her as I got my gauntlets from Krom. We helped get people out of their Mechas so the doctors could treat them.

  Time disappeared as I opened countless Mechas, pulling the wounded and mangled AMC from the wreckage for doctors to attempt to put back together. Henry found me some time later, helping to hold down the wounded as doctors did their work. He detailed his men to take over as he pulled me outside. “We’ve made contact with the governments of the world and they each want to speak to you.”

  I nodded, not having the energy to wear a mask. I felt numb as he guided me past yet more wounded streaming in from shuttles and ships. I walked into the command center; my mask fell into place as I stood straighter and studied the room, which had seen better days. Electronics sparked and burnt holes marked where grenades had gone off. Techs were putting the room back in order, Mechas doing the heavy lifting. The intelligence officer I’d talked to earlier walked up to me as I entered. There was too much noise to hear whether anyone had called out my presence, so I thankfully kept my arm down.

  “I’ve talked to the different nations on your behalf. They’ve agreed to have a meeting in Canada. I don’t want to show them how badly damaged we are, or this command center. We need to prevent them gaining that kind of information.”

  I nodded, agreeing with the man’s logic as I let him guide me away.

  He turned to one of the rooms that was directly connected to the control center, finding inside a conference table with the intelligence group at one end as I sat at the other.

  “Before we start, get me some Wake-Up.” They all went out, which I found kind of odd. I noticed Henry had followed me and waved them away.

  “How are the Syndicate and recruit prisoners?”

  “There’s a few hard Syndicate believers. The human recruits are in a bad state. Though many of them are closer to civilians than savages, so I think it’s safe to say we allow them to decide for themselves what they need. The savage-like ones, I think we should train, at least give them some bearing. With Earth right there, we can hopefully get some more shrinks to make sure they’re okay. Ours are overtaxed with just us.”

  “See it’s done. How are the Commandos?”

  “They’re tired and strung out. I’ve got my people down to the lowest levels of readiness that I can with a good mind. Have to order those not on duty to rest. They keep trying to help in the med bay or to fix their ships and the station up. We’re so used to having to be always ready and most of them are cross-trained on something, so they’re falling back on their secondary skills and helping out. It’s tripled our workforce with the new droids that we’ve found. The crews of the factory ships, station, and Syndicate ships are helping out if possible on non-critical systems.”

  “So the question is, to let them continue to keep working and burn out afterward, or to make them rest for now.”

  “Yes. With them, we can get most of the ships at minimal standards in two days; without, it’ll be closer to a week.”

  “Force half of them to sleep—they need it. Get them to make sure that their barracks are good and secured then have them get at least six hours of sleep and an hour of maintenance. Then place as many as we n
eed on security and have the rest cycle through that as you make the second group sleep.”

  “I’ll see to it,” he said, about to leave. “What about the assault force from Earth?” he asked.

  I sighed. “They’re secured in a broken shuttle on the Resilient.”

  “I’ll go and have a look at them after this. You need some sleep, Commander.” He made his way out.

  “You do too, Commander!”

  I heard a snort as he walked away. Krom and Janice glided into the room and took up position behind the pickup that the intelligence group had set up. I looked at my hand covered in blood. I wondered how I looked as I put my gauntlets and helmet on a table that I’d secured for myself at some point. Hard to remember where it came from—concentrating on the small things was tricky. They, too, were encrusted in blood. I sighed as I sat back in my chair that squeaked visibly from my weight. I began thinking about what had to be done. It seemed everywhere I went and whatever I did, I always had more to do. I swept back my hair and tied it in place, trying to look a bit more presentable.

  The intelligence officer returned with a Wake-Up clear liquid ampule, which I put in my suit’s receptacle. It used the auto injector to deliver it into my entire system and my fatigue was washed away within seconds. I shook myself, waking up as the other members of the intelligence group filed into the room and sat behind terminals.

  “We’ve been able to contact the nations and they’ve agreed to the meeting, though we didn’t tell them that they would be part of a conference. We thought that if they knew then they wouldn’t have all agreed to it...”

  “Good work.”

  Hologram projectors shimmered as an alien symbol appeared. Then, as one, the holograms showed the leaders of every nation in the world. It was strange. I had seen these people on television less than two years ago, and now I was addressing them as the most powerful person in the solar system, with a fleet of ships.

  “Hello, representatives of Earth.” I could see the president of the United States look at me darkly as well as a few other leaders as their screens showed the other leaders of the world’s nations. Their political training caused them to recover quickly and keep their composure, but I’d learned to tell what people were thinking even when they wore the mask. Those who weren’t angry were confused and surprised by my appearance. I would be too if I was looking at a six-foot human in a Mecha covered in blood, with signs of battle scars and one red eye hidden by hair, while the other looked out at the video pickup.

  “My name is Commander Salchar. Though I am registered as James Cook in the United States and Choi Joo Mi in Korea.” The Korean president was the only one who hadn’t been shocked. I’d met him on multiple occasions; his grandchildren were avid Mecha Assault fans. He smiled knowingly as I half bowed to him, with him returning the gesture for measure.

  “As of today, if you accept the terms of the Free Fleet, we will protect the Sol system and help Earth and her population get into space.”

  “Wait, you want us to agree to be slaves again? I do not think so,” the Russian president said. Everyone around the table agreed with him.

  “Not slaves. Do you think my fleet—made up with a large amount of humans—would accept that? Definitely not. The terms are simple: allow people to join the Free Fleet as they desire and provide us with support so that we can keep the fleet working. Basically, instead of each having a huge military, you can cut back to, say, twenty percent, then give us a tithe of what you were giving your armed forces and use the rest to get into space.”

  “We will have to look at these terms before we agree to them,” someone said, my tired brain not registering who.

  “Of course. The rates of what you will have to support, in resources and monetarily, will be waived for the immediate future. Earth needs to rebuild and we’ve got four factory ships to do just that. Plus a station that we can turn into living quarters for close to a million people. Also, the moon and the asteroid belt just got closer.” I could see their imaginations working as they thought of the opportunities of the future: some optimistic, others looking hungry. I made a mental note to have my intelligence department see which nations would be interested in what.

  “I am transmitting the terms to you, which I hope we can discuss in person at the meeting in Canada our aides have set up.”

  They nodded around the room, obviously used to group conferences and how out of order they became when people yelled their agreement to a simple question.

  “I believe that time is of the essence. We need this ironed out. So shall we agree to a meeting in three days’ time?”

  “We would like to make four stipulations.” I nodded to the president as he spoke. “Could you begin returning personnel from the station and the Marines we sent up, as well as their assault craft? We wish to extract data from their computers and have a line of defense for Earth other than your people and your word,” he said in a way that made it clear that he felt my word was as worthless to him as gum on the bottom of his shoe.

  “I will return your personnel. As for the recruits, we wish to have volunteer shrinks talk to them before we allow them back to Earth. We don’t need to release people who will feel they have to kill for their next meal let out into the world en masse.”

  The leaders of the world looked at me with shock as I sat back. Although training was something that had turned me into who I was, these people didn’t know what training meant for the men and women who had been taken.

  “The Syndicate trained us by pitting recruits against one another, first hand-to-hand and then Mecha-to-Mecha. If you lose, you don’t eat. If you don’t fight, you don’t eat, and you get pain treatment. With the first recruits, we made rules so that people wouldn’t lose their humanity to the fights. The ones who came after us would as quickly kill a human as they would an enemy. To them, to kill is to survive. Killing means they get to eat. The third-generation recruits attacked my Commandos as much as they attacked the Syndicate forces.”

  “By Syndicate forces, do you mean the Planetary Defense Force?” the prime minister of Australia asked.

  I was quickly thinking of all the things the leaders of the world would need to know in order to be prepared for our meeting, another thing to get the intelligence department to worry about.

  “Yes, the Planetary Defense Force was created by a union of races to protect themselves. They grew weak as criminals grew stronger. The criminals banded together after a great war ended and destroyed the PDF. The criminal syndicate used the PDF as a cover to go to new systems, saying that they would give them membership to the Union but they treat the people like slaves.

  “Though they have many other systems under their thumb that they use for several different reasons. I will have an information packet given to you all.” That seemed to solve lots of issues as there was a lull in talking.

  “I think we’ll be able to find a few psychiatrists for people to talk to, to expedite the recovery,” the prime minister of Korea said. Everyone nodded again.

  “Please communicate when and where they will require pick up and I’ll have shuttles collect them. Also, we were wondering if my people would be allowed to visit their families. If you have any rules on such matters, please email the address that will be provided shortly.” Another thing to do, I thought as I got my head back to how I’d gotten here, feeling as though I’d missed something.

  “What were your other two stipulations, Mr. President?” I looked at the president of the United States. He was a large man, bordering on fat, but his face was angular and hawkish. To most, he would have looked handsome; I could see the anger and loathing behind his eyes.

  He looked more like a vulture. “Yes, I will agree to this meeting if you are out of armor and have a security detail of no more than four.”

  “Agreed.” I looked away from him and looked at all of the representatives. “Now, I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time. I look forward to seeing you all in three days.” They again nodded and murmure
d agreement as I cut the channel to all of them.

  I stood and stretched. “All right, see what they do through their channels. I’m going to check on the station and the ships. Also, get that packet, email, and all the rest sorted please.”

  “Of course, Commander,” the department head said.

  Krom and Janice went in front of me as I walked out and into the control center. In the time I’d been talking, it was already looking better. Droids were putting things back together and there were crew, mostly AMC still wearing their Mechas, sitting at stations.

  Damn, I have good people. They worked tirelessly. Complaints could be heard and annoyed voices, but that was natural in any military group. There was a saying that I’d heard—I can’t remember the author—but they said that the role of a soldier is to bitch; the second they aren’t bitching, then you better run for cover or stop, because you’ve got a problem on your hands.

  It seemed that the factory ships had brought with them not only the sections of the station but hundreds of thousands of droids, which were now crawling over our ships, putting them back together. I wandered the new station quickly, going past the med bay again and back to the Resilient. I first went to the mess and grabbed a box of energy bars. My protection detail closed in on me as I walked to the shuttle that held the Marines who had assaulted my ship. I walked through the air lock as the commander came to attention. I snapped off a salute in return.

  “At ease, Commandos. Protection detail two, front and back.” Krom and Calerd took the front as Dave and Janice took the back. I tossed the Commandos energy bars. “Have a seat and get some food in you.” I gave the box to the commander. “Get them as fed as possible.” I nodded to the Marines and their pilots.

  “Yes, sir.”

 

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