“I’m sorry to inform you that you are incorrect, sir,” Sandoo replied.
“Who is higher ranked than me?”
“Well,” Sandoo said, “me, for one.”
“You? But you always call me ‘sir.’”
“I call everyone that, except for the ladies, of course. It’s just, as you put it, in my mishmash of zeroes and ones.”
This was unsettling news, to be sure. Geezer had always assumed that, besides the captain, he was the most important member of the ship. Who else could have hooked them up with all the gadgetry that he’d managed over the years?
“So who else is higher ranked than me?”
“Lieutenant Moon and Lieutenant Ridly.”
“Seriously?”
“Also Ensigns Middleton and Curr.”
“Holy crap. You can’t be serious.”
“Sorry.”
“Please tell me that I’m not beneath Jezden,” Geezer begged, recognizing how wrong that sounded but taking comfort in the fact that Sandoo’s mind was never in the gutter.
“No, you’re above him,” Sandoo said. “Middleton and Curr are second-level ensigns. Jezden is still first, and will likely always be.”
“Oh,” Geezer said with a relieved laugh. “Well, that’s a relief.”
“You’re ranked the same.”
His head sprang up. “What?”
“Before you get too upset,” Sandoo said calmly, “that’s only if you decided to go the route of soldier; otherwise, you’re probably the most important person on this ship…including the captain.”
“You think?” he asked. His confidence was in serious need of a boost.
“I do,” Sandoo said. “At least the most important robot, anyway.”
“Hey…I’m the only robot.”
“See?”
“Right.”
“Anyway,” Sandoo said quickly, pointing at the screen, “we should get back to tracking Vool. What is she up to?”
They watched as Vool walked around the lab. She was clearly waiting for some privacy as she kept ducking behind machinery every time someone got close. Finally, she moved to the middle of the room and glanced all around, demonstrating that she was most assuredly up to no good.
She reached down and pulled out a small device from her coat pocket, played with the wires on the back of it, and then reached under one of the handrails near the big chamber and pressed it into place.
After another quick scan around the room, she repeated this on the other side of the chamber.
“What’s she doing?” asked Sandoo.
“She’s placing explosives,” Geezer answered while keeping his eyes focused on looking out at the world through Vool’s eyes.
“So the captain was right,” Sandoo said with a hiss. “She is up to something.”
“Looks that way.”
“We should report…”
A ringing sound interrupted the commander.
Geezer looked around to see where it might be coming from. It wasn’t familiar. At first he thought it may be originating through Vool, but then he remembered that they hadn’t put any auditory devices on her.
It rang again.
“What the hell is that?” Geezer said as he fished around on his desk. Finally, the thing revealed itself sitting on the shelf beside him. It was shaped like a brick and colored like one, too. The difference was that this thing had lights on it and it was heavier than a brick. He pressed the only glowing button and said, “Hello?”
“Hello?” came a voice from the device. “Hello? Can y... hear m…?”
“Uh, sort of,” Geezer replied. “You’re kind of breaking up.”
“Sec…okay, can you hear me now?”
“Yeah, that’s better.”
“Good. Sometimes it’s hard to get a signal. You know how these intergalactic relays can be.”
“Not really, no,” said Geezer. “Who is this, again?”
“It’s your boss.”
“Uh, you don’t sound like Captain Harr,” Geezer said while Sandoo was mouthing, “Who is it?” Geezer just shrugged.
“Sorry. I’m his boss.”
“Frexle?” Geezer ventured.
“Correct, and who is this?”
“Geezer, and I’m here with Commander Sandoo.”
“Put me on speaker,” Frexle stated.
“How?”
“Just set the phone down.”
Geezer did and then heard a click.
“Uh…hello?” Geezer said, but got nothing in return.
“I think you disconnected the call,” Sandoo pointed out. “That’s probably not a good thing to do to your boss.”
It rang again. “Hello?”
“Put it down on its back,” Frexle said. “If you put it face down that will hang up on me. These minutes aren’t cheap, you know.”
“Right, sorry.” Geezer set the phone down. “You still there?”
“Yes. Can you both hear me okay?”
“Yep,” answered Geezer.
“Yes, sir,” said Sandoo.
“Good. Now, listen. I shouldn’t be contacting you, but I fear that Vool is planning to sabotage that test tomorrow. She’s likely going to be placing explosives somewhere, though I couldn’t tell you where.”
“My guess would be in the lab where they’re doing tests,” said Geezer as he watched Vool doing that very thing.
“Probably.”
“No ‘probably’ about it, boss-man,” Geezer said. “She’s already placed three of the buggers in there.”
“You have to stop her.”
“We’re on it, sir,” confirmed Sandoo. “Captain Harr did not trust Vool from the get-go, so he had us put view-film on her contact lenses and a tracking device in her tail.”
“I’m sorry,” Frexle said sounding like a man who was baffled, “did you say in her tail?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How the hell did you get her to agree to that? Maybe that Jezden fellow…”
“They’re wearing disguises to blend in with the Kallians, chief,” said Geezer. “The Kallians have tails. It’s prosthetic.”
“Ah, I see. Well, here is some information you don’t know. She’s planning to press the button on those explosives at the same time the Kallians start their test.”
“We’ll have those bombs disconnected before then, sir,” Sandoo said smartly.
“How?”
“How, sir?”
“Yes, how?” Frexle said. “These aren’t some run-of-the mill explosives you’re looking at here, Commander. They can’t just be turned off with a flick of a switch.”
“Oh.”
“What’s the tech?” asked Geezer. “Some kind of DNA matrix?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Proximity switch, then?”
“Actually, no,” Frexle replied, “but that’s an interesting idea.”
“Made one a long time back,” said Geezer, “when the Segnal Space Marine Corps decided to shut down the G.3.3.Z.3.R. line. Wanted to cover my ass.”
“You’ll have to tell me more about that sometime,” Frexle said. “These devices are like nothing you’ve ever seen. There are two chemical chambers that are connected with a tube. In that tube is a piece of metal that keeps the solutions separated. A little explosive device is connected to a set of three wires. It’s triggered from a remote by entering in the proper numerical sequence and then pressing the ‘boom’ button.”
“Boom button,” Sandoo confirmed.
“You said three wires, honcho?”
“Correct,” Frexle answered. “Red, yellow, and green. You have to cut one.”
“I can’t cut one, hot dog. I’m a robot. Remember?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Bad joke,” Geezer said apologetically. “You were saying?”
“One of the wires has to be cut. If you choose the wrong one, end of story. The mixture of that chemical composition will take out the entire planet.”
“Those little
devices are that powerful?” Sandoo said with wide eyes.
“A single one of them will do the job, Commander. Vool is just being extra certain.”
“So you just cut the red wire, then,” Geezer stated. “That should do it.”
“Now, listen carefully,” began Frexle. Then he stopped. “Wait, how did you know that?”
“Honestly,” Geezer said while leaning back in his chair, “you guys have never seen Stellar Hike? I’m finding that really hard to believe. Or, maybe you’ve seen McKorkler?”
“Neither of them,” admitted Frexle.
“Not even the Z Team?”
“Sorry, I’ve never heard of it.”
“Amazing show,” said Geezer. “I especially liked the guy with the ear-to-ear Mohawk. He started a craze with that thing. He was one funny cat.”
“I’m not following you,” Frexle said after a few seconds.
“It’s simple, boss. You’ve got three wires, just like in all those shows. If you cut the red wire, it shuts off the bomb. Cut the yellow and it sets up a thirty-minute countdown. Clip the green one, though, and you’ve got an instant kapow.”
“Precisely,” Frexle said, sounding astonished.
“Nothing to it, boss. It’s all on TV.”
“I’ve clearly got to seek out new shows from new civilizations,” Frexle said. “It’s frowned upon here in Overseer-land, but I’m going to boldly watch what no Overseer has watched before.”
“Oh, come on,” Geezer bellowed in his robotic way. “That’s basically the tag line for Stellar Hike!”
“Honestly? That’s amazing. Well, anyway, it sounds as if you do know how to deactivate the bombs.”
“We’ll have it resolved tonight, sir,” Sandoo said as Geezer just sat shaking his head in disbelief.
“Great. I’ve got to say that you people are kind of impressing me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Frexle, out.”
Geezer sat staring at the brick-shaped device. The lights were still glowing. He wondered how the thing had gotten onto the ship, and specifically how it arrived in his office. He assumed that Frexle had transported it in before the Reluctant departed the station. These Overseers were simultaneously powerful and stupid, from Geezer’s perspective.
“That was nice of him to call,” Sandoo said.
“Something in it for him, no doubt,” replied Geezer. “That’s the way it is with dumbass bosses.”
“I’m still on the line,” Frexle said.
“Oh, sorry,” Geezer said as his head drooped. He flipped over the phone. “Well, that’ll teach me a lesson.”
“What do you mean?” Sandoo asked.
“Just that I’ve got to be one hundred percent certain that a stupid boss isn’t within earshot when calling him a dumbass.”
“Still here.”
“Damn it,” Geezer said, picking up the brick. “How the hell do you disconnect this piece of crap? I thought you said to just put it on the other side?”
“There are four sides,” answered Frexle. “Put it down on the side that says ‘hang up,’ dumbass.”
“Right.”
SPYING
Since it was getting late, most of the personnel had left for the evening. The command room still had a number of monitors flipped on and the sound of whirring fans in the vast set of computers offered a general hum of white noise that could drown out mental chatter.
General Struggins understood that he needed soldiers, but there was something about working with just a small team that made him feel like things were actually getting done, even if one of those soldiers was Private Deddles. The other, Technician Ewups, one of those individuals who Struggins’ grandkids referred to as a “geek” was so close to his computer screen that he wondered how the boy remained pale. Not due to radiation, just simply from the brightness of the light smacking the kid in the face. From the look of Ewups, Struggins assumed that he wouldn’t last more than two minutes in actual sunshine. The boy was also pudgy. This was expected in the Technician side of the military, but Struggins had never liked it. If Ewups had gone through standard boot camp like Deddles had, though, he would have been washed out before the end of the first day. Then again, Deddles wouldn’t last an hour in the version of boot camp that Ewups had gone through. Struggins would be surprised if Deddles could even turn a damn computer on, much less use it for anything helpful.
“We need to put an eye on that Dr. Welder,” said Struggins, “or whatever his name actually is.”
“What about his assistants, sir?” asked Deddles.
Struggins didn’t mind the occasional suggestion from a soldier, but Deddles had a tendency of grating on the nerves, so when he suggested something, it rubbed Struggins the wrong way.
“Look around this room, Private,” he said sternly. “Who would you say is running the show here?”
“You are, sir,” Deddles said after a quick look around.
“And what happens when I don’t run the show, Private?”
“Things get fouled up, sir?”
“Things get fouled up,” Struggins affirmed. “What does that tell you, Deddles?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“It tells you that whoever is in charge is the one who makes the decisions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, let’s say that you wanted to have someone keep tabs on our group, Deddles,” Struggins said, and then quickly added, “hypothetically speaking, of course.” He didn’t want Deddles to get into his head that there was a desire from his commanding officer to have his personal crew under surveillance. Mostly because they already were and he didn’t want Deddles, or anyone else for that matter, to find out about it. He didn’t do it to glean information, as that would be pointless. He kept an eye on them to make sure they were doing as they were told. “Would you bother keepings tabs on the likes of yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No, you wouldn’t, Deddles,” Struggins patiently corrected the private. “The reason you wouldn’t is because you’re not a decision-maker. I am. So you would keep your eyes on me. To do otherwise would be an utter waste of time and resources. Do you understand that, Private?”
“I do, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Good. Just to make sure we’re clear on this, can you tell me why we shouldn’t bother keeping tabs on those who don’t make the decisions?”
“Because the people who aren’t the decision-makers, sir, do not need to be followed because they are being told what to do by those who are the decision-makers, sir.”
“Not bad, Deddles,” Struggins said with surprise. “Not bad at all. To drive the point home, though, I’ll add that good leaders never let subordinates do anything too important. So, seeing that we have no interest in watching Dr. Welder’s assistants fill out forms, flip switches, or whatever it is that inspectors do, I’d say that we should just keep our eyes on Welder alone.”
“Understood, sir.”
It probably wasn’t understood, but as long as Deddles did as he was told, which he most often did because he wasn’t exactly what you’d call a “self-starter,” things would go smoothly enough. With any luck, Ewups would prove more beneficial to their current cause.
“Ewups, are we connected to the video network yet?”
“Yes, sir,” Ewups said in a voice that cracked now and again. “Dr. Welder and Dr. DeKella have just exited Good Time Leeko’s.”
“That place has a great Snarling Bloodstick appetizer,” Struggins said absently. His stomach was growling since he hadn’t gone in for the sandwich at the clubhouse earlier.
“I like their Vulcanic Hawk,” Deddles said.
“I’m more of a Swaying Drunk Turnip Roast kind of guy, myself,” Ewups added.
Damn hippies.
“Deddles,” Struggins said as his hunger won him over, “remember how I was saying that leaders do the important stuff and delegate the lesser items to their underlings?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go pick up some food for us,” he commanded. “Ewups and I will watch the feeds.”
“Yes, sir,” Deddles said glumly.
Struggins had recovered a bit from his irritation at the boy’s lack of intelligence-gathering prowess, but he still couldn’t help but sit amazed at how the military had changed since the time he’d enlisted. It used to be that soldiering was what young people got into because they felt a sense of pride in serving Kallian.
Wars were a thing of the past, except the occasional skirmish between start-up groups and terrorists, but even those were few and far between. After the last major war, the various countries had pulled together to create a single governing body, which meant it had a single military. Struggins was near the top of that militaristic chain of command, though not so far up that he’d become moot. He was a 13-Star General, and that meant he still had time to make a difference. The day a general was awarded his 16th star was the day that things went downhill. Being a 20-Star General—the highest rank on Kallian—meant that you essentially became a figurehead. You went to parties, waved at people, and shook the hands of cadets. Day-to-day operations fell back on those at the 15-Star General level and below. Plus, in order to hit 20-Stars, you’d have to be damn near 100 years old anyway, which typically meant adult diapers, incessant drooling, and not even knowing where you were half the time.
Regardless, he hated the thought processes of today’s recruits, but their numbers were dwindling and so the Kallian military had to take what they could get. It was a volunteer service, unlike in his day when a minimum of four years was mandatory for any able-bodied Kallian. Last checked, the volunteer numbers were a dismal 4.7 percent. Just a decade ago, they were in the mid-twenties. Those who did volunteer typically had an angle, such as having their debt wiped out, or getting money for education, or learning a new skill, or all three. The Debt-Wiper Bill was probably the most ambitious tool for adding recruits, but it didn’t perform quite as expected because the military didn’t accept volunteers over the age of 25. Most people didn’t get to a scary level of debt until hitting 40.
What Struggins hoped for was that one day he’d have a space fleet in place where intelligent, strong young people came out of the woodwork begging to join up so that they could travel to the stars.
Platoon F: Quadology: Missions 6, 7, 8, and 9 (Platoon F eBook Bundle 2) Page 13