Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges

by Alan Black

  Danielle stuttered, “But, I don’t want —”

  “No backsies,” Stone laughed. “Oh, I hate to dump this in your lap, but I’ve been stalling Admiral Temple about what we’re going to do with the hundreds of Hyrocanian prisoners we have on another island. They’re too smart to leave trapped on an island and we don’t want them getting lose on the planet, or even worse, stealing a shuttle or a ship and getting off the planet. We can’t keep feeding them, they’re going to eat the planet bare. I couldn’t figure out whether to kill them or order the navy to take them somewhere else. Now, it’s your problem.”

  Temple joined Stone laughing at the horrified look on Danielle’s face. “Congratulations, your majesty.”

  Shaking her head, glaring at the message crystal as if the message itself was at fault, Danielle patted her distended belly. “Majesty comes from the old Latin meaning greatness. I guess I’ll be called your highness, but the next person who calls me “your greatness” in any language will be in big trouble. Wait! I’m queen, right? Off with their heads!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Stone packed his personal items from his bungalow to carry to his new quarters. He was prepared to clear his office, making room for the new queen, but Danielle declared her VIP quarters were nicer than his quarters and she planned on staying put. Nevertheless, he did what all junior officers had done since Alexander the Great had been Alexander the New Guy and began carrying his belongings down the path to the Bachelor Officer’s Quarters.

  A tiny room in the BOQ was set aside for him as befitting a low ranking ensign. His room was the third smallest room in the whole building. The smallest room was a broom closet at the end of the corridor. The FNG, the ensign from admin, who had a lower promotion date than Stone did, occupied the second smallest room. Unfortunately, Stone’s room had a view of the parking lot, whereas the other ensign had an ocean view. His new quarters were also far too small to share with any of his drascos. His new room was barely big enough for him and a bad gas attack.

  As an ensign, he didn’t rate any security guards so the marines were pulled off that detail and assigned to protect the queen and her escort. Maggot was slightly upset about his wife being crowned queen. Stone thought he was miffed only because he was relegated to consort or escort, not king. He did rate military protection until Queen Danielle was able to hire and train her own protection detail.

  The drascos were his responsibility, just not a part of an unnecessary protective detail. No one doubted their intelligence, but he’d dragged them out of their natural surroundings and they couldn’t go back to living in the wild. He would have to find quarters for them. All eight of them walked along beside him, each carrying their own possessions, chatting lightly amongst themselves.

  Ell tried to tie her bundle of personal goods on her cousin Anne’s tail. Anne shook them off and chased Ell in a circle around them, until Bea tripped Ell, letting Anne jump on her cousin, holding her head down and administering a furious tickling.

  Emily and Tee threw big rubber balls at the two rolling in the grass along the path. The pummeling by balls degenerated into a wild melee of dodge ball by all the drascos, including Jay and Peebee. A giant aquamarine ball zinged past Stone close enough to ruffle his hair, but he kept his steady pace toward his new barracks.

  Charlotte caught an errant red ball and flipped it back to her Aunt Peebee. She giggled, “I want to go live near the piglets at Cyrus Bay.”

  Emily giggled with her sister. “Me too. Like, they have the best food, for sure.”

  Stone shook his head at the girl’s choice of words. He’d tried to get them to stop saying “like”, “you know”, and “for sure”, with no success. Either they spent too much time with low ranking enlisted and young military dependents stationed on Allie’s World or they sounded like young teenage girls from watching too many late night videos. Maybe teenagers always sounded that way to anyone older. The girls may not be teenagers in years, but there was still an emotional maturity phase they were passing through.

  Peebee said, “Hush, girls. You can’t live there without asking the piglets permission. That’s right isn’t it, Mama?”

  Stone accidently dropped a heavy Hyrocanian skull he kept as a souvenir. Picking it up he wondered if he would have to get rid of it now. Keeping body parts of an intelligent species was a direct violation of military regulations. He’d gotten around the regulation because he was the governor, but things would be different now. He hated to get rid of the skull as this particular Hyrocanian had personally tried to kill him.

  He looked at Charlotte, “Your Aunt Peebee is right. You can’t go and expect the piglets to take care of you without asking.”

  Anne said, “But we could help them move, like, stuff, you know? Carry, um, stuff and like … things.”

  Emily and Charlotte nodded.

  Bea wonked in great disagreement, shaking her head as if trying to clear something unsavory hanging off the end of her chin. She threw a big ball at Emily, who caught it and threw it back. Bea said, “The piglets don’t fight. I want to go stay with the marines.”

  While Emily was distracted throwing the ball at Bea, Ell hit her in the back of the head with a ball.

  Bea added, “I like it when they take us to the gun range. I like it when we make things blow up with big guns, you know.”

  Stone hadn’t realized the marines had taught his drascos to shoot. He would have to talk with Hammermill about their progress. Drascos were smart enough, but he wondered if the younger ones were mature enough to handle high-powered weapons.

  Tee sat in the grass, pulled up a mouthful to eat, and scratched the soft tender spot behind her back leg. “Don’t care. I have to go poop.” Leaving her goods on the ground, she raced off into the bushes, followed by Ell and Anne.

  Jay said, “We will stay together. We stay near Mama.”

  Peebee agreed. “Mama will take care of us. Jay and I will take care of you girls. But we do it all together.”

  Stone nodded. “My room is hardly big enough for me, but we’ll find some place for you girls to stay.” He shuffled forward with his stuff, actually amazed he could carry everything he owned in one trip.

  Peebee said, “There is a small grove of trees across the parking lot from your new place. We will —”

  Emily and Bea shouted together. “Camping! We get to camp out.”

  Jay raised herself up, wonking happily, stretching to her full height. “Good idea. It’s too stuffy inside. I like outside better.”

  Emily raced ahead, “Last one there is a stinky head!”

  Stone laughed as all eight drascos raced across the parking lot, Bea, Ell, and Anne racing to catch up. So much for any sort of protective detail. Letting the drascos sleep outside was good, that way he wouldn’t have to clean up drasco poop if they were cooped up inside. They were housebroken, but there is only so long any person of any species can hold it.

  His dataport buzzed. He stopped, set his personal goods down, and tapped the dataport open. A message said, “Contact CDR Butcher’s office immediately.”

  Stone sighed. Immediate didn’t leave him any wiggle room.

  Tapping open comms, he called up CDR Butcher’s office on the Rusty Hinges. He was sure word had spread around the planet that he wasn’t governor anymore. He could only imagine Butcher knew he wasn’t in charge, even though he hadn’t sent a message to all ships in Allie’s World space, leaving it to Queen Danielle to make her own presence known. He and Butcher had gotten off to a rough start back on Lazzaroni Base, but having the same creatures try to kill you tended to bond people.

  Stone admitted that some of the people he surrounded himself with in his tenure as governor were odd. Butcher wasn’t just odd, but changed.

  Everyone who’d known him for a while said he’d lost his sense of military bearing in the jungles of Allie’s World and even later as the commander of Rusty Hinges during the military’s investigation of the alien technology and the subsequent retrofit of the spaceshi
p. The consensus was that he’d lightened up or pulled the stick out. Either way, Stone liked the man and even if he wasn’t governor anymore, he would see if he could help Butcher until he got his new assignment.

  “Master Chief Thomas here.”

  “Master Chief, this is Ensign Stone returning Commander Butcher’s call.”

  Stone, even without the picture projected by the dataport, could’ve heard the smile in the MCPO’s voice. The man’s welcoming grin was evident. “Congrats on the promotion back into the navy, Ensign. Now maybe we can get a little work out of you.”

  “Master Chief, if anyone would recognize work it would be you. You’ve certainly watched enough other people doing it to identity it when you see it.”

  “Why you young snot! I’ll have you know I was in this man’s navy before you were a twinkle in your mother’s eye.”

  Stone picked up his goods and continued on to the BOQ. He said, “Well, I will certainly let my dad know you’ve been close enough to his wife to know about the twinkle in her eyes. And it’s two eyes, Master Chief. She still has both of hers.”

  “I’m sure she needed two eyes to watch you as a toddler, just to keep your backside out of trouble — sir.”

  “Speaking of trouble, Master Chief — the commander’s message?”

  Thomas tapped a series of files on his desktop. He opened a list of file names and pointed at one. The file size was immense compared to the others near it. Having been read by dozens of people, there was a long list of access codes included. “This is your service file, Ensign Stone. The emperor help us, I don’t know how you managed to get a file that’s twice the size of mine. Vice Admiral Temple has reverted your chain of command back to your last navy supervisor. That is Commander Butcher. He wants to see you in his office at — oh, wait a minute. There isn’t any time on his schedule for tomorrow. No … here. Zero six hundred hours, tomorrow, Ensign.”

  “Yes, Master Chief.” Stone shuddered. Six o’clock in the morning was early for meeting anyone, much less a new — or retread — supervisor. He was distracted enough to trip over a small root growing up through the sandy path. Someone should have reported the tripping hazard and had it fixed. He’d get a detail out — no. Island maintenance was now up to the queen. He would report the hazard, but that would be all he could do. “Is that ship time or my time?”

  “Ship time. Come on, Ensign! You should know without asking. It’s his meeting, in his office, aboard his ship. What other time would you expect?”

  “Yes, Master Chief.”

  “Listen up, sir. You aren’t governor any longer. No more meetings with cold fruit drinks in a beach cabana. It’s navy now.”

  The MCPO was still smiling, but Stone knew he was making a point. “Navy, Master Chief. Got it. Zero six hundred, thank you, Master Chief.”

  He closed the communication as he reached the BOQ and slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor. Higher ranking officers filled the cabins on the first floor. The narrow corridor would be a tight squeeze if his drascos tried to get to his room. The farther he went down the corridor, the closer the doors were together, signaling smaller and smaller rooms.

  He palmed open the door lock and pushed his way into the room. He dumped his personal goods onto the bunk and sorted through them, putting everything away in the tiny cubbyholes and an even tinier closet. Mission accomplished in less than three minutes, he turned in a slow circle. He’d been in command of one of the navy’s largest spacecraft, larger than many space stations. He’d been the governor of a planet. He’d been in charge of a whole solar system. Now, he was in charge of a room so small he could almost touch both walls at the same time.

  The room did have an undersized patio with a stellar view of a fern lined ground vehicle parking lot. He tried standing on the patio, taking in what view there was, but the heat coming off the plasticrete seemed to funnel directly into his room. He stayed long enough to catch sight of his drascos playing and setting up their campsite across the lot under the trees or rather under one tree as it was a single plant with numerous branches and trunks.

  He glanced down. Peebee wonked and raised up on her hind legs. Stretching to her full height with her neck extended, she looked him in the eyes. He reached over and rubbed a fist full of knuckles across the top of her head. His thick skin felt her rusty pig iron wrapped sandpaper hide, but it didn’t hurt.

  “You girls get all settled in?”

  “Yes, Mama. Some of the girls are complaining that we are too far from the beach?”

  “But not you?”

  “No. Where you go, I go. I like our new campsite. There is a fresh stream and lots of bushes to eat, even for my pig-like daughters. But if you say go somewhere else, I go somewhere else.”

  “I don’t know where or if I’ll be going anywhere, Peebee. I expect it’ll take the navy a while to decide what to do with me.” Since his change of status had been news to him, he was sure it would be a surprise to the navy. His status was first on his list of things to discuss with CDR Butcher. He needed a Plan D regarding his vacation with Allie, but a leave — as short as it would be by now — was a high priority.

  “Promise me that you won’t let them take you without us coming too?”

  “You know that I can’t promise, Peebee. I do promise I will do what I can, but it isn’t up to me anymore.”

  He recalled the navy regs about keeping pets. A dog, a cat, or a goldfish was what the regulations had been designed around. There were regulations on certain bases and some ships where he would be within his rights to bring a wife and children along — should he ever accumulate such things. But eight full grown drascos was a different matter all together. If he couldn’t keep them, maybe Queen Danielle would keep an eye on them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Stone rapped his knuckles on the hatch leading to CDR Butcher’s office on the Rusty Hinges. The knock rang hollow along the bare corridor. He double-checked — again — his uniform, knowing it was as perfect as a navy ensign could make it. He flicked off a few invisible pieces of fluff and straightened the immaculately placed gig line.

  The hatch lock popped open, displaying a two-inch gap. A mechanical voice said “Enter, Ensign Junior Grade Blackmon Perry Stone.”

  Stone pushed the hatch the rest of the way open. Keeping his eyes on the hatch, he stepped into the cabin and facing the hatch, he pushed it shut. Snapping to attention, he spun around in an about face maneuver, prepared to say the tried and true traditional announcement, “Ensign Stone reports as ordered, sir.” The words caught in his throat leaving him gawking.

  Months had gone by since he’d visited the Rusty Hinges. With Admiral Temple in the system, the old Hyrocanian warship was a navy matter and his tenure as governor only mildly touched upon the retrofit of the ship. He’d known that every nook and cranny of the ship had been secured by MAJ Numos’s armed marines, inspected by CDR Butcher’s navy technicians, and investigated by Doctor Wyznewski’s civilian scientists. But, Rusty Hinges was a huge ship even by navy standards. He hadn’t realized how much room there was until he saw Butcher’s office.

  Bare of any decoration, carpet, or wall covering, the commander’s office was bigger than many warehouse bays. Butcher had an old metal desk against the far wall. And far was exactly that — far. Stone marched across the cabin estimating the distance at close to a hundred yards. He passed remnants of high walls and cages the Hyrocanians used to contain the living creatures they dined on. The commander had broken the pens down and had them removed, but the outlines of the old structures were still visible on the rusty deck plating.

  Stone wondered if this cabin had been the highest-ranking Hyrocanian’s office containing the creature’s personal dining room. Even as large as the room was, the retrofit would have been made easier by Butcher putting his own office in the same location as the previous ship’s commander. Any hardwired communications systems wouldn’t have to be changed and it was conveniently located near the bridge, engineering, and command and co
ntrol. He hesitated in his march to reach Butcher’s desk, but the commander waved him on.

  Standing in front of CDR Butcher’s desk were his three marines. He shook his head. They were no longer his marines. They belonged to the emperor. Even though chairs were arrayed around the desk, MAJ Numos, 1LT Hammermill and 2LT Escamilla stood. Stone amended that. Hammermill and Escamilla were standing in a stiff at ease. Hammermill’s face was poker-face neutral, but Rainne Escamilla allowed her concern to show through.

  Numos was bent over Butcher’s desk, propped up on tense fists. Neither man was bothering to keep his voice in check and echoes raced around the empty room like gossip around an old ladies sewing circle.

  “At least consider it, Dash,” Butcher shouted. “You’re not even giving it a second thought.”

  “I don’t need a second thought,” Numos shouted back. “You aren’t giving me enough information to think about, Thom.”

  “What’s to think about? My sailing orders say I have to have a marine company aboard. I just want your outfit to volunteer.”

  “That’s the problem, Thom.” Numos pounded an iron fist on the beat up old metal desk. Stone wasn’t close enough to see if the man’s knuckles were putting more dents in the thing, but he doubted it would hold up under a marine’s onslaught for long. Numos continued, “You aren’t telling me what we’re volunteering for.”

  “You know I can’t —”

  “Of course you can’t tell me. But Marines are built for combat. We’ve been stuck in the Allie’s World system and on Rusty Hinges for a couple of years now — since we captured this ship. All we’ve done is swab floors and guard doors. Look at us, man! Hammer is practically getting fat and lazy. Escamilla is going to forget how to kill if we don’t get some action.”