Trouble on Paradise: an ExForce novella (ExForce novellas Book 1)

by Craig Alanson

  “Coffee?” Perkins’ eyes grew wide. “Chocolate?” She had not tasted coffee in, she could not remember back that far. Her last bite of chocolate had been during the mission for Emby, and that had been a small piece of Hershey bar that was long past its sell-by date. “Where did you get this?” She asked with suspicion and guilt. Suspicion, because UNEF HQ had long suspected the Ruhar had a secret stash of human food from Earth. Guilt, because drinking or eating items from that secret stash would be betraying the entire Expeditionary Force, trapped as they were over a thousand lightyears from Earth.

  “We made it,” Baturnah beamed pride. “Your word is syn-the-size,” she said carefully. “Our scientists analyzed the chemical structure of these foods, they are confident they have created a reasonable approximation of these items.”

  Perkins poured herself a half cup, thinking that no matter how terrible it tasted, she could swallow half a cup without gagging. “Hmm. Hmmm,” she hummed, pleasantly surprised. The coffee was bitter, in a pot-sat-too-long-on-the-burner kind of way. Typical coffee in any Army office around the USA. Or in any gas station convenience store. She smacked her lips quietly. Something about the flavor was slightly off, until she realized the Ruhar had tried to add vanilla to the brew. Maybe the vanilla was there to mask deficiencies in the overall blend? “Administrator-”

  “Please, call me Baturnah, Major Perkins. We have known each other some time now, and often not under official circumstances.”

  “I will call you Baturnah, if you call me Emily,” Perkins replied with what she intended as a charming smile.”

  “Yes, Emily.”

  “This is good,” Perkins lifted her cup of ersatz coffee. “It’s not perfect, but everyone’s taste is different.”

  “Please, try the chocolate,” Baturnah requested, eager to see if her scientists had been successful with that concoction. They had warned her that, while ‘chocolate’ was a favorite treat of humans, it was a very complex mixture of subtle flavors and mouth feel.

  Opening the box, Perkins found twelve small cubes of chocolate, of a light brown color she guessed had been modelled after milk chocolate. She popped one in her mouth and let it melt on her tongue. It was surprisingly good! “Thank you, I,” she popped another in her mouth before she could think about it. It had been a long time since she tasted chocolate. “This is very good, just as it is. Please, offer my thanks to your scientists.”

  “I will. The scientists actually work for the fleet; they created this coffee and chocolate as a gift from Admiral Mohvalu. The Admiral is extremely grateful for your actions at Tavalen Island.”

  “We performed our duty,” Perkins said simply.

  “Please, Emily, do not be so modest. My nephew gave me a full report, in person. The actions of your team saved the lives of forty thousand Ruhar. My people, and myself, owe you a great debt. Because of your actions, and the fact that I am now the acting Chief Administrator,” the former chief had formally resigned and was awaiting transfer back home, “the public perception of UNEF has changed. Most people on Gehtanu are related to, or knew, someone on those two transport ships. Most of my people here would be mourning their loss, if not for the bravery of your team. Your team is not being disbanded, although there are few projector sites remaining to be reactivated, so we will need give you a new assignment. I was thinking your team could train with a Ruhar infantry unit, to learn our tactics and equipment. You could observe and advise us, and then your team could select and participate in the training of other humans, to serve alongside Ruhar security teams. If, that is, you choose to accept.”

  “Yes,” Perkins said without hesitation. “Yes, we would be honored. Thank you, Administrator.”

  “You would be serving what I believe your people call ‘dirtside’ at first, here on Gehtanu. Later, depending on circumstances,” she smiled, sure that Perkins would understand, “some humans might be offered the opportunity to serve as Fleet Marines aboard a starship. Admiral Mohvalu and his staff are favorably impressed by the quick thinking and inventiveness of your team. Using a drill to penetrate the powercells of that projector,” she smiled broadly, “was impressive thinking. Our intelligence people are also impressed that you located a stealthed Jawkuar dropship.”

  I got lucky. Perkins kept that thought to herself. “Thank you. Will, um, this new public attitude toward humans-”

  “Toward UNEF,” Baturnah corrected. “Not all humans. Not Keepers.”

  “I understand,” Perkins nodded. To hell with those Sleeper idiots. “Will this new perception of UNEF result in us not being relocated to southern Lemuria?”

  “No,” Baturnah answered sadly. “That project has acquired too much momentum.” Buildings and roads and water systems were already being constructed to create new settlements for humans. “I did ask General Singh,” the current UNEF commander, “about the issue, and he assured me the more temperate climate of southern Lemuria is preferable to the jungles your people currently occupy. However, the timetable for the movement has been relaxed, and some of your people can remain in the jungles, if they choose to do so. We will also be allowing your people to fly their own transport aircraft, and operate cargo ships.”

  That sounded like a win-win situation to Perkins.

  “Thank you, Baturnah.”

  “I do have two additional requests of you,” the Burgermeister said with a broad smile. “First, my nephew Nert has requested leave from school, to remain with your team. Serving as your liaison officer has been good for him, I would like him to continue with you, if you approve.”

  “Agreed. Nert is a fine young man, and he has been very useful. Your second request?”

  “Emily, could you perhaps try to ensure that your team’s future activities are not so,” she searched for the correct English word, “eventful?”

  Eric Koblenz flinched at the loud clanging sound, as the dropship detached from the cradle in the transport ship’s docking bay. Three days after the Jeraptha star carriers jumped away from Paradise, they had rendezvoused with a Thuranin star carrier, and the Keepers had transferred to a Kristang troop transport ship. Kristang soldiers had herded humans into very cramped quarters aboard the transport. Food and even water had been in short supply, and the attitude of the Kristang crew anything but friendly. Eric was not the only Keeper fearing that he had made a huge mistake leaving Paradise. After many jumps and at least one transition through a wormhole, the transport ship had left the star carrier and maneuvered for almost an hour. Then Eric and three hundred of his fellow Keepers had been roughly shoved into a dropship; Eric was bleeding from where a Kristang had jabbed him with the muzzle of a rifle to hurry him along.

  Although Eric was squashed in against the hull of the filthy dropship, and the air circulation was poor, he at least was next to one of only four tiny windows. As the dropship cleared the transport ship’s docking bay, a harsh shaft of intense sunlight shone through the dirty, scuffed window. Eric blinked and shaded his eyes with a hand.

  When his eyes adjusted, he peered out the window. The dropship fired thrusters and rotated, bringing a planet into view. Eric gasped.

  “What the hell are we doing here?”

  THE END

  Contact the author at craigalanson@gmail.com