“Sir?” Sanchez looked quite puzzled.
“Sorry, Raf. Lieutenant Aldridge, our new Tactical Officer is now on board, and probably waiting for us on the Command Deck.” Hood brought the box over the desk, opened it, and poured several small wooden pieces into a pile.
“You got that from that single line, sir?”
“Yes, actually. During my first command after the war on the Achilles, I had the opportunity to train Aldridge for tactical operations. One of my methods to keep her mind fresh and thinking was constantly running games of chess.” Hood smiled as he turned the box over, revealing a chess board, and began to place the chess pieces from the pile into their proper places. “I learned that she was a real student of the game back at the academy and offered this as an independent challenge for her. Now, whenever we cross paths, our matches start anew.”
“So who won?” Sanchez asked.
“It wasn’t about winning, Raf. The experience of the challenge and understanding the tactics involved were the lessons. Chess is very representative of life: open, brazen, deceitful, devious, comical, narrative and above all insightful. It is a game of endurance, skill, sacrifice, and discipline. I’m surprised you never picked it up at the academy.” Hood moved a pawn that sat in front of the white king two spaces forward.
“Didn’t have the patience for it. I took up hand to hand combat and starship weapons training instead.” Sanchez offered a curt smile. “Like I said, I like the direct approach. How long were your games?”
“Some lasted for weeks. I had to research so many grandmaster techniques it almost made my head spin. I am glad she still remembered.” Hood moved to the door and gestured for Sanchez to follow. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Sanchez followed the captain out the door. “Never heard you speak so highly of younger officers, sir. I hope I made the list,” he said jokingly.
“I always thought my job as a senior officer was to instruct and inspire, and I can see the effort that Styles put into you wasn’t wasted.” Hood laughed.
“Like you, sir, he’s a good teacher, but it was his ability to motivate his officers to do their best that I admired most in him.” Sanchez looked down at his watch. “I am due to check on the latest gunship exercises, but I want to talk with Lieutenant Aldridge first. Anyone that could match wits with you like that, I have to meet.”
* * *
The door to the secondary security station on the rear gunnery deck slid open quietly, and the intruder smiled as no alarms where triggered. The codes he obtained from the maintenance technician installing some of the security systems had proved invaluable. Not only were most of the inactive rooms aboard the ship easily accessible, it gave him access to other things as well. He would have considered thanking the man for his help, but he was sure he would have a problem finding his body floating in space. It seemed the airlocks on board were sensitive, especially during test phases. The incident didn’t even make the security log. He made sure of that. After all, accidents will happen.
Clad in a dull gray suit that covered all extremities, except for a sealed semi-transparent mask that hid his features, the intruder slipped inside the unoccupied room, and the door slid shut. The suit was designed to provide light refraction around the individual wearing it and with the reduced lighting in the corridor, his tall lean frame was practically invisible.
The small security station had two desks on the sides of the room complete with computer terminals and a small hardened, recessed cabinet on the back wall, which was clearly labeled “ARMORY.”
The intruder moved quickly to one of the desks and activated its computer terminal. The terminal screen came to life and displayed the EDF standard access authentication window. The intruder removed a small device from one of the suit’s pockets and inserted it into of the terminal’s access ports.
A flurry of activity occurred on the terminal and ended when the computer announced, “Override code accepted.”
The man moved his gloved hands carefully above the terminal’s sensory keyboard and began to type. A new window appeared on the screen and he typed in his query. Three distinct images of EDF personnel now appeared in small separate windows. The intruder looked at the three pictures and scanned the summaries of each person’s profile listed underneath. The nearly invisible hacker paused in brief contemplation then selected one of the images, which opened the full personnel record for that person.
Leaning closer to the screen, he slowly scanned through pages describing the individual’s profile and background, until a specific page was displayed that caught his interest. The intruder’s covered head nodded slowly as his eyes scanned the page. Satisfied with what he had found, he closed the files and typed a series of commands into the terminal.
The terminal screen now displayed an EDF logo, and he removed his access device from the terminal’s port. He gently pressed the button to turn off the terminal screen and removed a small bottle from his suit’s pocket on his lower left leg. After removing a cap from the spray bottle, the intruder sprayed four puffs over the terminal and two on the chair. The faint white mist from the spray settled onto its targets, flashed a brief pink then disappeared. Now confident that no DNA residue was left behind, the partially cloaked infiltrator placed the terminal key card and spray bottle back into the pockets of his suit and moved to the exit.
He had what he needed. All he had to do now was stash the information and supplies. He was needed elsewhere. Other resources would be activated and soon. It was almost too simple to just finish his task and get off the ship, but he would do what he was told. No one was irreplaceable, not even him.
His manufactured shuttle accident provided him the perfect cover to board unnoticed. With the maintenance tech’s ID and a pilfered set of work clothes, he could just walk off the ship and no one would be the wiser.
* * *
Major Arlen McGregor strode down the corridor with the proud confidence of a Marine. His mind on the other hand was a complete jumble. As he walked, he continued to replay the events of the last forty-eight hours over and over in his head. His career was over, and he sat on the cold floor in the brig at Tarsus base, waiting for the next stage in his nightmare to come. He was certain that EDF Command would send an escort to take him back to Earth for court martial, and he had resigned himself to a long sentence in an EDF military prison facility.
The surprising sight of an EDF admiral outside his cell block quickly caught his interest, and his soul soared when the Commandant of the prison opened his cell door. He informed him that all charges in his assault were to be dropped, and he was to report to his new duty station without delay. Whatever weight had been thrown around to get him released, McGregor was not about to let it be wasted.
He was dressed in his standard EDF Marine BDUs, carried his combat helmet under his left arm, and on his head was a royal blue beret. As was his normal custom, he rolled his two sleeves up to his elbow to reveal the insignias tattooed into his forearms. On his right arm, the McGregor Clan crest was clearly visible, with the words S Rioghal Mo Dhream emblazoned in green and red, the colors of his family.
On his left, the insignia of the Black Watch Regiment was equally prominent. The Scottish Regiment was his first EDF unit, and his first command as a new lieutenant. Training to command in battle was one thing, but experience was a harsh mistress. His armored infantry unit fought the Cilik’ti for months on the surface of Mars. Once the tide turned, and the Cilik’ti were forced to retreat from their positions, he spearheaded the final assault with his company of Marines that drove their remaining forces from the red planet.
He missed his old unit and still kept the red hackle in his belongings as a constant reminder of his service, loyalty and brotherhood. A member of the Black Watch Regiment was a member for life, and other units in the EDF often acknowledged and took notice of anyone that had served in their ranks.
McGregor arrived at his destination, paused, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to release the tension and clear his mind. He pushed his shoulders back and stood at a firm attention as he chimed the door. After a few moments, the door opened and McGregor stepped inside.
“Stand easy, Major,” Hood said from behind his desk as he looked up from the data pad he was reading. He watched McGregor put his helmet and hands behind his back. Despite what Hood had requested, the huge Marine assumed only a slightly less relaxed position. Purposefully prolonging the silence between the two men, Hood continued to flip through a few more pages of the open file on his data pad and looked up at the Marine Brigade Commander at least twice more. Finally, he set the data pad down and leaned forward to rest on crossed arms at the edge of his desk. “Please, sit down, Major.”
“Thank you, sir.” McGregor was much more relaxed now, and his natural Highland accent more apparent. He sat down in the left of the two chairs on the this side of Hood’s desk, placed his helmet in his lap, and stared intently at the data pad in front of Hood.
“I understand that Admiral Grant informed you of your assignment,” Hood said calmly.
“Aye, sir, he did, but nay in much detail. He said that you had a special mission and that the Tikis may be involved. He also said he needed someone to light the fires under a young unit. The admiral said he needed a motivator to get ’em ready to fight, and that I was it.”
Hood slid the data pad in front of McGregor. “Explain this to me.”
McGregor took a long hard look at the open page of the file on the data pad and immediately became agitated. He stood from his chair, turned away from Hood, and uttered something Hood didn’t understand.
“That’s Gaelic, isn’t it, Major?” Hood asked, still very calm.
McGregor collected himself and sat back down. “Aye, Captain Hood. I must apologize, I don’t like to curse in front of other officers, especially about a personal matter. But that man, he...” McGregor felt the rage in him begin to grow and stopped.
“It’s alright, Major. I understand what you’re going through.”
“Sir?”
“Believe it or not, Major, all of us in command have lost friends, and many died directly or indirectly due to the choices we’ve made. Most of the time, we struggle to justify it our minds, but we can’t dwell on it. We must honor them by striving to do all we can to honor the living serving under us today.” Hood closed the file and put the data pad in his lower desk drawer. “The mistake in this case was his, and those who placed him in command, not yours. Your tragic flaw in this horrible incident was making this issue one of personal responsibility and not Marine duty.”
“Aye. I should’ve gone to the brass, but just I didn’t trust that they would listen. I let it fester, and when I ran across him in the O’ club, I just reacted. I should’ve known better.”
“I trust that I can rely on you to speak your mind next time, Major.” Hood pulled out a new data storage card and passed it to McGregor. “Here is all the information on our current assignment and potential threat analysis. I need you to be ready, Major. Can you do that?”
McGregor beamed with enthusiasm, stood from his chair and issued a shout that Hood didn’t understand, but he got the intent. “You have no worries, Captain. My men will be ready. I’ll see to that. If we find the Tikis, they won’t know what hit ’em.”
“Major, I am impressed by your enthusiasm, but I hope for all our sakes that we don’t encounter them.” Hood stood and moved to across the room to a cabinet closer to the door. “But, given the chance that we do, I want you to prepare for a few scenarios. The first is that we need to engage the Cilik’ti in an assault to save the colonists. From what we know, the Cilik’ti are not hostage takers, but we may catch them in mid assault.” Hood opened the cabinet and reached inside as he continued. “Based on my assessment of the colonists’ defensive capabilities, any structured defenses won’t hold long at all. They didn’t have access to any of our advanced materials or armor before they left, and I doubt that even the colony ship itself, could survive for very long. Any hope they would have should rest in a rolling defensive action or in some sort of natural structure, like a network of caves.”
Hood pulled a rectangular box and a sealed pouch from the cabinet and walked back over to McGregor. “The highest probability is an encounter after we have made it to the colonists and hopefully had time to prepare defenses. In case of an attack, I want a purely defensive action, where your men must hold them off, while we evacuate the colonists. If the Cilik’ti do come to play, Major, we don’t have the forces for a long drawn out fight, but we can hurt them, and get our people out at the same time.”
“Understood, Captain.” McGregor nodded his approval of Hood’s contingencies.
Hood handed the box he was holding to McGregor. “I hear it is customary in the Black Watch regiments to hand a bottle of scotch to the new commander. I know you aren’t with that unit any longer, but I would like to extend that tradition.”
“Now you’re talking my language, Captain,” McGregor said as he eyed the box. “Whew, Laphroig, twelve year single malt. That’s my father’s brand. Too much of that will remove the hair from your chest. More of a Macallan or Dalmore drinker m’self, but it’ll do, sir. Would you care to share a dram with m’?”
“Not today, Major. Once we complete this mission, and we find the first group of colonists, I’ll take that drink.” Hood tapped McGregor’s shoulder. “In the meantime, I have a job for you.”
Hood handed the pouch to McGregor. “I need you to head back to the station and deliver this communiqué. No one is to open it, and no one is to know why you are headed there.”
McGregor nodded and put the pouch under his arm.
“The address is printed on the label. I need you back by tomorrow afternoon. Commander Sanchez has planned a ship-wide briefing for sixteen hundred. We’re going to ship out shortly after.”
“Not a problem, sir,” McGregor said as he moved to the door. “I better get going, if I want to catch the last shuttle back.” He shook Hood’s hand, placed the scotch and pouch in his helmet and strode out the door and down the hallway.
Mars
Cydonia Labyrinthus
Saturday, January 18
Earth Year 2155
A lone figure in an environmental suit ducked under the large rock in a partially collapsed doorway of what remained of the Greywalker laboratory. Maya Greywalker walked slowly away from the entrance as the Martian wind howled.
When she reached nearly two hundred meters from the facility, she turned around, bent down, grabbed a handful of dry red dirt and stood back up. She extended her arm before her and stared at the only true home she had known with her luminous blue eyes. Then she opened her hand, and the Martian soil was slowly taken away by the winds. Inside her helmet, a single tear ran down from her left eye.
Once the dirt was gone, she slowly lowered her head and paused for several minutes. Lifting her head again briskly, she turned on her heel and strode back to the waiting shuttle on the nearby ridge.
Maya hoped that this assignment would lead her to a new
home and help her find purpose once again. She boarded the shuttle, and it slowly ascended into the sky. The small ship exited the atmosphere and changed course for the new EDF Dreadnaught.
Chapter Eight
Mars Orbital Station
Sunday, January 19
Earth Year 2155
12 Hours to First Jump
Arlen McGregor even as a kid had been an early riser, and today was no different. He arrived to the station late into the evening aboard the previous day’s final shuttle, and since most of the station was buttoned up for the night, he decided to wait until morning to deliver his package. Knowing that Captain Hood had planned for the Armstrong to leave the system later that evening, McGregor planned an early start and fast return to the ship. His knew his troops were some of the best in the EDF military, but he demanded operational readiness. Especially if the mission involved the Cilik’ti.
Most of his Marines had never faced the Cilik’ti in battle. Throughout his career after the war ended, he had helped to create some of the simulations that trained new units, but those scenarios paled in comparison to the real thing. Knowing that the simulation wasn’t real takes away a crucial element, McGregor thought. Fear. His troops were in no means cowards, but all men and women experience fear, and it is how they handle it that makes them hardened soldiers. He felt a surge of enthusiasm as he remembered his first CO’s advice. “Courage isn’t the absence of fear, son. Courage is doing your job in the presence of fear. Duty and honor are forged by it.”
As McGregor walked down the hall toward the primary living quarters on the station, he glanced down at the package and checked the address again. He boarded the nearest elevator lift and selected the fourth level, the primary level for station command personnel. It was still early, not even 06:00 on the station, and there was no one in the hall as McGregor exited the elevator.
The Epherium Chronicles: Embrace Page 10