by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
James stared out the portal of the ancient dreadnaught, newly renamed ‘Excalibur’, after its overhaul at the Crontiriny Navy Depot. He watched the painting crew finishing up the last touches of the new design emblazoned on the bow of the ship. Along with an ornate sword dripping blood, a giant skull and crossbones was affixed about a third of the way back along the ship’s side.
After puzzling over so many things, James had finally asked people in the know what was going on. First, he was a Marine officer and was supposed to be en route to the Fourth Fleet, to serve on the GoshStock. At the last minute, he had been transferred to the Excalibur just before leaving the Navy yard, no reasons given. Second, why the skull and crossbones?
Here’s what he was told: Someone high up requested he be placed in her command. All the person would tell him about his new assignment was that another battle group was being assembled, commandeering every available fighting ship and transport in the entire district. It was unofficially being called the “Dredges Battle Group” or “The Nazareth’s Miracle”. Commodore General Sarah had rushed its assembly as soon as its flagship, the Chisamore, pulled out of Crontiriny. It was also said that Commodore Nazareth was personally taking them into action immediately.
The skull and crossbones was the insignia of Special Forces. He found that out when an officer handed him one to sew on his sleeve. When he protested, telling her he was a Marine, she looked him in the eye and snarled, “Not anymore! Orders from the top!”
He later learned, to his chilling surprise, the motto adopted by the officers and enlisted of this elite fighting group: ‘There are no rules in war.’
The ship’s name? Well, that was also interesting. There were several people working on Major Garlock’s design team who were from the Second Realm. One such fellow, name of ‘Smythe’ - at least that’s what James recalled - oversaw the reconstruction of the hulks and derelicts being received at the Crontiriny Depot for salvage. He renamed this old ship ‘Excalibur’ after a magic weapon found in one of his people’s ancient fables.
It was the custom at that time for a ship to be renamed after being officially decommissioned, and then returned to service. It was generally up to the chief overseer of the reconstruction to choose the new name, if one was desired. For this reason, there came to exist many ships in this war that bore familiar names found in the Second Realm.
The eight-day journey from EdenEsonbar via the Teleohodos jump portal had not been accepted by James’ system. Something akin to what his people called ‘seasickness effect’ was common among inexperienced sojourners into the portal labyrinth network. Although the twist in time and space found along these mysterious channels was somewhat negated by gravity and other such machines on the ship, not all warp curriculum found here could be circumvented. It took time for the body to acclimatize; so, a form of seasickness often afflicted new and infrequent travelers.
For James, this had meant stomach cramps, lack of sleep, headaches, and the all-too-often simultaneous vomiting and diarrhea. There was little empathy to be had from the veterans aboard, either. One said to him, “Three or four more trips like this and you’ll feel fine!” She shrugged very casually, “And then, for some people, it takes a lot more.”
The Excalibur had exited the Hindly Page and joined up with the Dredges Battle Group. That was three days now, during which time little transpired until that morning. The Chisamore’s arrival created an air of excitement, a feeling that something was about to happen.
James began to see a flurry of activity from many of the smaller ships. Dozens of tiny fighting ships, all of them bearing the ensign of skull and crossbones and painted jet-black with blood-red underbellies, passed within sight, all headed for the front of the fleet. Many had grotesque, teeth-filled mouths or faces painted on them, along with names equally garish: ‘Hell’s Half Sister’, ‘Dark Lord’, ‘Slayer’s Song’, ‘Reaper’s Glory’, ‘No One’s Child’, ‘Only the Dead Surrender’, to name a few.
He asked a fellow officer, a veteran of the Great War, what might be going on.
She offered a grim smile. “We’re preparing to move out. Those are our WolfPack Marauders, the smaller patrol ships, mostly converted corvettes, howkers and ketches. Over there…” She pointed toward a distant ship. “That’s one of the new Gadfly class Marauders… has the size of a heavy and the fighting power of a large cutter, possibly even more.”
For several moments, the officer peered out the window as she leaned against the hull. As if startled from a dream, she bolted upright, sucking in a breath. Finally, she continued, “Those flight crews are among the most ferocious warriors in the Empire. Many are almost fanatical about their service. I think a few have a death wish, or something like it, the way they carry out their duties.”
She shuddered. “A close companion of mine is a torpedo’s mate onboard the Talon. The ship recently returned from a three month tour in the Trizentine. The things she told me, the combat fighting against the Stasis Pirates, and the way the enemy was dispatched made me sick just listening to it being described. But she spoke of it in such a matter of fact way.”
The officer shook her head in disbelief. “My companion is a good person. But to cut out your opponent’s heart and carry it around like a trophy? I just don’t know. It’s true that the woman was imprisoned and tortured for several months by the Stasis after taking her in one of their raids. Still, how far can vengeance be permitted to go before it is lust?”
James calmly replied, “My people patiently waited the day when vengeance would be handed over to us, to repay the betrayer of God and the murderer of our race. I understand that feeling of revenge. I think that the lust to kill one’s enemy is an acceptable part of vengeance.”
The officer stared at James. “You have the voice of a gentle man, but the tongue of your mother.”
James was shocked. “You know my mother?!”
The officer was incredulous. “Don’t we all!”
At that moment, an approaching line officer called out to James. “Message from the Chisamore! You’re to report there in half an hour. Better snap to it! A skiff’s already disembarked the Chisamore to get you.”
There was not time to continue the discussion, although James was burning up with questions about his mother. He was aware of her presence in this realm, but had not seen her in all the years he had been here. When he inquired about her of Lowenah, the only reply was that she was on some special assignment. How pleasant it would be to see her again. Her death in the Realms Below, so long ago, had pained him nearly as much as the death of his wife. Alba’s arrival here had been so refreshing to his spirit. And now his mother? If he could only see her for but a moment.
“Well, c’mon!” The line officer snorted. “You’ve got ten minutes to get your things together! And you still hafta report to the captain to get permission to leave.”
Excitement enveloped James as he became aware of what the officer was saying - saying it to him. He wondered what the fuss was about, but was cut off with a very curt reply. “Look, when the Commodore gives an order, you reply with a ‘Yes ma'am!’ or ‘Yes, Commander!’ Got it?!”
James nodded.
“Good! Now, get movin’! The Commodore has no tolerance for slackers!”
James took off in a mad hustle. He hurriedly packed his two duffels, rushed off to see the captain, requested permission to leave, then ran to the docking bay just as the Chisamore’s skiff arrived.
The crew aboard the skiff was equally as abrupt, urging him aboard without even a pleasant hello. No sooner had James boarded than a crewmember slammed the hatch and another threw back the throttle and began backing away from the Excalibur.
The return trip to the Chisamore was exciting, to say the least. For a man still thinking in the age of sail and horse, the speed they were traveling at was terrifying. No sooner would James see a tiny dot in the sky than it would explode
into an object of gargantuan proportions as the skiff raced toward and then past it. Finally, he could take no more. Clenching his seat’s arms, he closed his eyes and waited for the sound of a crushing impact.
It only took another ten minutes to reach the Chisamore. James swore it took at least an hour. A huge belly door opened in the ship’s side allowing the skiff to enter. It settled down on the flight deck, the biggest the wide-eyed lieutenant had ever seen, but quite small by the day’s standards. The pilot killed the engine while work crews hooked up grappling cables. With a whirr and hum of servos, the little craft was whisked away to the hangar deck. In moments, it was nestled into a storage bay between two much larger vessels.
The pilot released the latch to the main side hatch, calling over her shoulder, “Be careful, Lieutenant James, I can assure your safety only to the door.”
James puzzled until the hatch opened, allowing a look outside. There was a flurry of activity just beyond the door. Work crews scurried about their duties. Gear and supplies were being secured or hurried off to holding bins. Ships were being tethered to the deck. All the while, mechanical crews and technicians were busy doing final checks of the various fighters.
There was little time given James to soak in his surroundings. No sooner had he touched the deck than he heard his name. Turning, he saw a female officer wearing white flared pants with a wide gray stripe going up the outside of each leg, a gray, double-breasted, Navy jacket over a starched, white blouse, and a black kepi with a shiny bill and headband. Her black, hard-soled boots made a clicking noise on the tiles as she stepped forward to offer greeting.
With a waved salute, she asked, “Lieutenant JamesBethsaida?”
James nodded.
“Captain XeniaOikia.” The woman said, while extending her hand. “The Commodore sent me to assist you with your things.” She looked at the duffle bags that one of the skiff’s crew had just deposited at James’ feet. “Are these all the things you have?”
Taking a look at the bags, he answered, “Yes.”
“Good!” The captain motioned two orderlies. “Please take these to the lieutenant’s quarters. We have other business which needs tending to.” Without any further formalities, the captain requested James follow her.
The man was surprised at the speed the captain made without breaking into a run. He was certainly close to doing so. They exited the hangar deck, traversed several corridors, and climbed several ladders. When they reached the fifth hatchway leading up to the next deck, he asked why they weren’t using the elevator.
Captain Xenia frowned. “Don’t work. Lots of things don’t work. Still have service crews fixing her up. Parts and pieces of this old tub are scattered across the Empire. Doin’ good to have engines.” She started up the ladder, calling back as she climbed. “Don’t laugh. We’re the Empire’s secret weapon!”
The captain said no more. In a few minutes, and several more corridors, and another ladder, James found himself standing on the command bridge. Captain Xenia told him to wait there while she went forward to where a large group of officers was standing.
James couldn’t see who was speaking, but he could hear enough to understand that these officers were captains of various other ships in the battle group. He could feel a growing energy as the battle plan was explained.
The essence of the plan was this: WolfPack Marauders were to advance in front of the main body, screening its movements. The battle group was to split, with the Chisamore leading one division, and the converted collier - now light carrier - CortneyBay would command the other. Each division was to act independently but in concert with the other, unless redirected by the commodore. The two divisions were to head east, Q-north on a parallel course, about four hours’ distance apart.
It was Commodore Nazareth’s opinion that the enemy would be within range of the Navy’s defenses at MueoPoros before Dredge’s Battle Group could offer support. By running an intercept course toward at least two of the enemy’s fleets, they might be able to engage the attacking fighters, either en route or returning from a sortie. Should that fail, they would turn their attention to the fleets, themselves, seeking their destruction.
James was later informed by another officer that their trump card was secrecy. Dredge’s Battle Group received its name from the word ‘dredge’ - ‘to dredge up from the bottom’ - and that’s exactly what this battle group was. Out of every corner of the Children’s Empire, all the old derelicts, decommissioned, and abandoned ships had been gathered to repair depots for refitting, oftentimes with what one officer from the Second Realm had called ‘chewing gum and baling wire’. When work was completed, Special Forces had moved them to strategic locations in the Empire. This clandestine activity had gone unnoticed by the inquisitive. Even the Navy and Army had paid scant attention to disappearing scrap iron.
Although the ‘Dredges’ - as all larger Special Forces ships eventually came to be called - lacked creature comforts to the point of being harsh, and their construction sometimes exposed the crews to added dangers, they became most deadly contenders. Captain Ilaniya observed just how fear-inspiring they were, stating, ‘The arrival of one red-bellied, black-hulled, skull and crossbones fighting ship caused more consternation among Asotos’ sailors than a dozen Regular Navy vessels.’
In a few days, the legend of the Dredge’s would begin.
Captain Xenia motioned James to join her and the other officers surrounding the large chart table. As he approached, the commodore was just finishing up the details of her planned strategy. The entire top of the table was a flat screen from which one could see an animated, three-dimensional picture of their projected destination. By use of a set of buttons on a movable pad, the commodore controlled the rotation and angle of the map. She could also zero in on a very specific area or expand the scene to encompass the entire Empire and beyond.
The commodore finally leaned over the screen, resting her weight on both hands. “Fellow commanders, there is no need to caution you about the danger or importance of our mission. The enemy is bent on driving us from MueoPoros - something we cannot permit. Already there are reports of five of Asotos’ fleets converging upon our forces there, leaving us sorely outnumbered. Our pitiable number of fighters will make little dent in the enemy’s thousands, but we do not depend solely upon them.”
She stood back and glanced at James. “At this very moment, there are over six hundred WolfPack Marauders within striking range of the enemy - two hundred of which are with us. Already there have been reports of attacks by them on enemy outriders and stragglers. Yet this is just the calm before the storm.”
She smiled. “Tomorrow at this time, the Wolf shall be unleashed. All Marauders, except for the ones in this battle group will have a free hand to do whatever damage possible to Asotos’ armadas. Let me assure you, the show should be quite impressive. Nearly half of those ships are of the new Mosquito and Gadfly class.”
There was an audible note of appreciation heard from the others. They knew well the power those machines packed.
Commodore Nazareth continued, “Not only will our ships be harassing the enemy, I have information that TaqaEsem’s Trizentine armada is closing on Asotos’ personal fleet and intends to passively engage when practicable. The Tarezabarians’ lumbering ships are no match for Asotos’, but just their presence will divert attention away from MueoPoros.”
She scanned the faces of the captains, leaning again on the table. “We will rig for silent running from here on out. I don’t want the enemy to know we are approaching. There will be no radio communication between ships, light code signals only. Your flagships will be in direct communication with you. They will also be the only ones to reply to any incoming signals. If you can’t keep up or have problems, you will be left behind. Sorry...”
“One more thing: You will notice that you all have sealed orders. Do not, do not open them until you receive the command from me!” The
commodore wagged her finger. “You will not have to guess when that moment arrives.”
The commodore said a few more parting words concerning the need for surprise and then encapsulated their strategy. “Remember, our objective is to prevent the enemy from retaking the skies above MueoPoros. Whatever that may cost us, to turn their flank, is acceptable. But we are at war and this is but one battle. Once our objective is realized, we will not attempt the destruction of our foe. Asotos has many armadas at his disposal. Needless to say, he is not committing them all here.”
She reached out and put a hand on the shoulder of one of her captains. “Already we have emptied the territories of our naval forces to win this coming battle. Asotos will launch an offensive at any moment on our frontier colonies in hopes of confusing his true objective. We must allow the murder of those colonies, but we must not squander the hope of their eventual rescue, so it will be necessary to preserve intact whatever of our ships that we may.”
Commodore Nazareth looked the captain in the eye. “Surrender in defeat is left up to the decision of the commander of each ship. Remember the MoonDust and Exothepobole, if you choose to surrender. If that is not an option for you, keep in mind each ship of the line carries a thermostatic nuclear torpedo that can be used defensively, or… well, I think you understand. Do be cautious when using that weapon as a last resort.” She wagged her finger again. “It is much more effective if your enemy is close…real close!”
Slapping the captain on the back, Nazareth wished them well. “Good hunting and God’s speed.”
James watched the officers after they were dismissed. There was some small banter, many hugs and long embraces, but no tears or mournful goodbyes. He only saw resolute determination on each person’s face. They parted, each knowing this would be the last time to offer salutation to fellow comrades. The ancient ballad, ‘Red Ocean Red’, was on many a mind as the captains returned to their ships. Their hope was to be as stalwart and brave as Captain Schmalling, commanding her guns as her frigate, Sand Dancer, sank beneath the waves.
There came a brief moment when the commodore was quietly talking with Captain Xenia that James was able to study his new commander. She was medium build, average height and muscular, like a highly trained athlete. Although attractive - especially her rich brown eyes and satiny dark brown hair - what he noticed most was the woman’s attire.
Commodore Nazareth wore a black, double-breasted officer’s frock coat with ornate epaulettes and gold braiding sewn around its cuffs, collar, and lapels. It covered a flame-red blouse with a standing collar, tucked into form-fitting black britches half-hidden in shiny, black, knee-high boots. This was topped with a gold-braided cocked hat, embellished with a chrysolite cockade skull and crossbones. In fact, as James observed, that insignia was an integral part of her uniform, from the golden buttons on her coat and blouse collars to its burnt-gold belt buckle.
He suddenly caught the commodore’s attention when she noticed him staring. She stopped talking and turned toward him, keeping her eyes fixed on his. As she drew closer, her lips curled into a smile and a twinkle appeared in her eyes. James continued to stare, puzzled over his feelings. The nearer this stranger came, the more his heart fluttered with excitement. There was something peculiarly familiar about this person, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
A sudden chill raced down James’ back. Long-buried memories were clawing their way up from the hidden recesses of his mind. The woman’s face! Her face was so much like that of his youngest sister, Naomi! That smile the same she wore the last day he saw her alive. Could it be? Was it possible? No…no! It couldn’t. She was only seventeen when death came, the labor premature, the birth breach. Then, who was this person? An apparition from his past, sent to haunt his mind and heart?
“Hello, Lieutenant JamesBethsaida. I have long waited to make your acquaintance.” The commodore’s sweet cooing voice sent a shudder along James’ spine.
She extended her hand in greeting. “Your face is filled with consternation and your tongue has lost its speech. Tell me, my good officer - for I have been told that you are a good officer – what secrets does your heart conceal from me?”
James fumbled for something to say. He attempted to speak several times, searching for just the right words. Awkward with frustration, the man finally let go with a barrage of disjointed babble. “My Commander…er...Commodore Nazareth…I…er…well. I’m sorry…er Ma’am, but you have rekindled long-forgotten memories from ancient days…days now buried in dust and stone...days filled with joy and drowned in sadness.” He shook his head in a quandary. “Your appearance fills my heart with painful longing for someone… no, several someones over which my soul still aches.”
“Who?” The commodore whimsically queried, tilting her head to one side.
James was startled. “Why…why, my sister, Naomi! And…and the rest of my family.” A longing sadness echoed in his voice. “You do carry the smile and dancing eyes of my sister to the point of my nearly calling out to you in her name.”
The commodore nodded understandingly. “That has been said of me by others.” She stepped up close, her face only inches from his, asking, “Tell me, my good officer, do you also long for your mother?”
James said nothing. Tears welled up in his eyes as he nodded.
The commodore could contain herself no longer, wrapping her arms around James, letting out a joyous cry as she began to weep. “I have missed you so much, my son.”