Other Worlds Than These

by Gabe Sluis

  "Your goal is to gather a cohesive story centering on the actions of the Lieutenant and write a formal report to be included with the others. But more than just another investigating officer, you are my investigating officer. I want the inside scoop before the official report comes out. We need to get to the bottom of this. I want to know who will be held responsible. What happened out there may very well give us the key to defending ourselves against our aggressors.”

  Kanalet processed the information he was just presented with. He had heard rumors of a recent skirmish with the Scalies, the first and only alien race that humans had encountered. He had assumed the alleged contact was nothing more than an unexpected engagement on the far side of the rift. This full assignment to an inquisition team was illuminating to the nature of his previous partial assignment. Pulling unbiased officers from as far as Sulva to investigate the incident was even more peculiar.

  But, it was the wording of the speech that worried him the most. The Grand Marshal wanted someone to blame for this mess. He wanted definitive answers and hard leads to develop this chaos into something he could use for the good of Tellus. And it would be his job to look in the right place for those answers, his task to throw fellow service members into the engine exhaust if they had a speck of negligence in their actions. Most of all, his method of execution in performing this task would be a huge mark on his career and his future as an officer in the Space Service.

  “Your original orders were to collect a comprehensive past on Drogen. Have you completed that?”

  “I have, sir,” Major Kanalet said pulling his scroll from a pocket. “Would you like a brief on this now?”

  “Absolutely. Tell me about this young lieutenant. Start from his very beginning.”

  “Well, sir, I pulled a copy of Drogen's file, as well as copies of his training documents, evaluations and schooling. This gave me a good history from age seventeen to present. I looked at information from his security clearance application and found that he was raised in an orphanage in the northwest of Northern Colombia. Lacking any hard background from a majority of his life, I had my shuttle from Palus Somni rerouted to a nearby Ground Service Base.”

  “Excellent Major!” Midord broke in with a bark. He sat forward and pointed across his desk to the major who sat perfectly upright in his chair, “This is what we need in this inquisition, thoroughness! You got a real history from where he grew up…” Midord mused to himself. “To be frank, I have all my money on Drogen. This guy interests me. I looked briefly over his files, but I want the whole story. Start to finish, spare no relevant detail, I want to know what you know.”

  “Alright, Sir. Here are the facts, with as little analysis as I can. Here is all I have found about LT. Aros Drogen.”

  “Arthur Maurice Drogen was born the 19th of October, 2216. His father was a pianist and his mother was a nurse. During the attempted Scalie invasion of 2217, Arthur was separated from his parents but survived in the chaos. Both parents were assumed dead. Arthur was deposited at one of the many nunneries in the area, which took on children displaced by the attack.

  “Edgefield Orphanage had a thirty child capacity and seven full time nuns. I interviewed Sister Nora, one of the nuns who had been there since the beginning. She told me she did not remember much about Drogen the first few years. She said there were a lot of children in and out at that time and they were mostly quiet and still a bit damaged from the trauma of the attack. Sister Nora first took notice of Drogen around his eighth year. He was quite normal for a young boy, hyper, loud, rude and always into mischief.

  “And then, one day, she described a change. She noticed he calmed down and did not speak. Nearly at all. There was radical change in his personality. He did well in school, separated himself from any friends, and spent much time alone reading. Soon, no one was calling him Arthur anymore, but Aros.

  “I looked at the orphanages records. Here are the pictures of him that were in his file.” Kanalet tapped on his scroll and on a screen to the right of the desk, three pictures came up. They were not the best quality, digital photos of the old prints. The first was of a toddler with brown eyes, white skin and dark brown hair. The second looked to be a school photo of the young Aros Drogen posed in front of a bookshelf with his hands resting on a globe. Looking to be six or seven in the photo, he looked quite similar to the previous picture.

  “The orphanages records indicate that at age fifteen, Drogen has his name officially changed from Arthur Maurice, to just Aros. This third photo was from his service application. He looks slightly different in my opinion. You never know how kids are going to age, I suppose. But, the eye color listed on the form says purple, of all colors… That is also what his service records indicate.”

  “Are you suggesting that Drogen assumed this child’s identity prior to joining the service?” The grand Marshal asked.

  “No. The nuns recognized his service photo and identified him by name. Sister Nora was one of the original nuns who helped raise him. She mentioned nothing like that. I believe that it is possible for eyes to change color as you age.”

  “From brown to purple? Check on that.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Kanalet found his place in his notes and continued. “At age seventeen, he took the primary education exit exams and left school a year early. He got into a secondary education program at Mt. Carpathian College, entering the military officer education course.

  “His records show he took a normal course load but graduated from the three year program in two. His transcripts show twos in all his classes and ones in all his physical education classes. It appears that every quarter he would challenge a class, which is the reason for his shortened time at the school.

  “At age nineteen he applied and was accepted into the Space Service. He completed his basic training at Camp IV and moved on to Officer School. Comments from his Officer School instructors included mentions of excellent physical abilities, sound decision making and great potential. He was commissioned at the rank of Ensign before his twentieth birthday.”

  “That seems pretty young. To be stationed off-word, the age limit is twenty and a half. How old were you when you were commissioned, Kanalet?”

  “I was 22, Sir,” Kanalet said. “Due to that age restriction, after his commissioning as a general automated weapons officer, he attended a string of advanced combat schools. Rarely do Space Service personnel get slots for Ground Service schools, so he must have impressed someone with some pull. I have an idea of who that might have been.

  “Ground Combat’s one and two, Advanced Interior Tactics, and Gold Crown; he passed each one. Gold Crown is the unarmed combat school that all Ground Commandos attend. Apparently he was one of a handful of Spacers to be accepted and complete this elite course. All performance reports from these schools place Drogen in the top twenty percent.”

  “Impressive. Almost sounds like he chose the wrong service.”

  “After that he was posted out on the North Station. All performance reports from this period were close to perfect. After a year on station, he was promoted to Leiutenant. With the new rank he was given cyclic command of a Buteo picket ship for his remaining two years.

  “Drogen was rotated down to a staff job in the security department of Headquarters. His supervisor told me he wrote and reviewed security force policies and actions for the fleet. He occupied an apartment in the city. I found no close friends. Co-workers in the department described him as pleasant and helpful, but I found no strong relationships.

  “His sealed apartment in the city was small and simple. It was clean and had very little personalization. His contact list was all work related. His scroll access history showed quite an extensive reading list, lots of history, mythology, the complete FarSeer works and some books on physics.

  “Records show a specific request for Drogen as a replacement weapons officer on the Prime Meridian by the XO of the ship, Colonel Plash, himself. Colonel Plash was the commander of Camp IV from 2232 to 2
237. Drogen completed his basic in the spring of ‘35. I will confirm that Plash knew Drogen from his time at the training camp.”

  “That, Sir,” Kanalet concluded, “is the history I have collected so far.”

  “Thank you, Major Kanalet. You know your task. Here is an official letter of authorization from me. This says that you are my agent and gives you total access. You will be released from your task after the results of the inquisition have been presented.”

  “Yes, Sir. I will take care of it.”

  “Before I dismiss you, I think you left one thing out, Major. The reason I picked you for this. You have seen Drogen before. On Palus Somni.”

  Kanalet nodded. The fight. He was there, in the stands, a month before.

  “Tell me what you saw. Stray beyond the facts this time. Tell me your impression of the young man you saw in that ring.”

  “I thought he had no chance,” Kanalet said. “He was just plain small compared to the giant he fought. But he moved so fast. He seemed to have real control of everything in that low gravity. I don’t think he was struck once. And at the end, it might have been my imagination, but there was so much power in his blow. I swear I saw flash of blueish light surrounding his fist…”

  Part III

  The Aurora and the Ushas departed the Palus Somni installation twelve hours after the Prime Meridian arrived in orbit around Sulva. The two large gunships with their oversized engines rose swiftly from the landing pads and flared their engines, moving off towards the ship that they were custom built to augment. For the past six hours, the crews had been waiting patiently in the landing pad’s ready room for the authorization to take off. Now cleared for launch, everyone was eager to finish their trip and receive new duty assignments.

  The two ships cruised as a pair over the channel of craft shuttling items to and from the flagship of the human fleet. Their big blue ion engines, moving up the chain of smaller ships, held a sharp contrast to the orange haze of sunlight produced by the twilight edge of Tellus. As a test run for actual operations, the ships moved together rather than in single file like the first half of the mission. The solidity and pure power of the two ships streaking towards their objective made everyone near a viewport capable of looking, stop and stare.

  The gunships reached the rear of the Prime Meridian and slowly moved into their docking housing, effectively becoming part of the larger ship, herself. Aboard the Aurora, the passengers and crew all began to stir as the circular hatch retracted its doors and a Tech Specialist floated up into the main cabin.

  “Welcome to the Prime, everyone. Debark and check your scrolls, you should be receiving a message shortly instructing you where to report.”

  With the brief welcome, the new members of the crew continued to grab their things and move down the hatch.

  Aros’s scroll chirped and he pulled it open. The message requested him to report to the officer’s briefing room and showed a map of the ship with a highlighted path leading forward through the main body of the ‘T’ shaped ship.

  “Which one of you is Crescent?” the welcoming tech specialist asked.

  “That’s me,” Cress responded. He turned to Aros and stuck out his hand as he shouldered his pack. “Thanks again, Sir. That was so ripper getting a chance to fly, and… all that other business, down there.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m sure we will see more of each other in the future,” Aros replied as he launched himself to the ceiling and then down to the hatch that led into the interior of the ship.

  ***

  “I really hope there is no more ‘Hammer’s’ in this new batch,” Tech. Specialist Gorra said quietly to the Lieutenant seated at the sensor terminal next to her. The sideward glance of Lt. Novalis made her stifle a giggle.

  “Specialist, the bride is no place to badmouth former officers assigned to this ship,” Jane Novalis whispered, otherwise keeping full attention to the terminal. “Despite his obvious character flaws…” she added. At this Gorra stole a glance back at her superior and shared in the repressed grin.

  Major Maekyss, the bride watch officer rotated the command seat towards the two women. “Sensors, report.”

  Lt. Novalis elbowed Tech. Specialist Gorra. “Sir…” Gorra began, buying time to formulate her answer, “QuadDAR is tracking forty-two ships within three squal of our position. Twenty-one are waiting in queue for docking and offloading of material. Sixteen are conducting survey or repairs. The remaining craft are in route to return to the surface.” Gorra took a deep breath and again glanced at her LT, who gave a nod of approval.

  “Thank you. Engineering, what have you got…”

  ***

  Colonel Plash expertly floated down the large main corridor in the central neck of the Prime Meridian. He was a short man with a cap of silver hair. He had the movements in zero gravity that telegraphed he years he had served off world. With his legs cocked slightly back and efficient arm movements pulling himself along the hand grips and crash padding lining the corridor, Plash reached the end of the central neck. He entered the next area which contained the officers ready room. All the new officers and civilians assigned to the ship had received orders to dump gear and report to the ready room, but the two gunships containing the new crew members had only just arrived. Plash drifted his way to the front of the room and strapped down. He wanted to watch everyone’s entrance.

  Plash sat like a gargoyle and watched the five replacement officers and four new civilians trickle into the room. When all were present, a nervous silence stole over the room. They waited and Plash finally began.

  “This will be no easy duty. I am Colonel Daniel Plash. I am the XO of this ship and the senior personnel in charge of personnel. I picked each you, so you can blame me, should things go south. Likewise, I will have no one to blame except myself if you all turn out like the ones you have come to replace.

  “This is where things get serious people. There is no communications off this ship until our mission is complete, so we will give you all the hard truth and have you sworn to confidentiality when we return. The maiden voyage of this ship was a bit more complex than just a system confirmation run out to Glundandra. We had picked up some strange signals from that area of the Field and went to check it out. And sure enough, we ran into the Scalies on the ice moon. Some members of this crew did not live up to the elite caliber demanded of service members aboard this ship. You are their replacements, and you will be the infusion this ship needs. I will see to it, personally.

  “Now that the serious stuff is out of the way, welcome to the Prime Meridian,” Plash said and paused for effect. “We do things slightly different aboard this ship. Our commanding officer, Captain Bartlett, has devised a particular work rotation that has come to work exceptionally well. When Bartlett makes Marshal after this tour, you can be sure this style of rotation will become standard across his command.

  “Each of you will be getting your schedules sent to your scrolls now. Civilians, yours is a modified one from the rest of the crew, but as a general overview, lets take our new bridge officers as an example.” Lights flashed and the most of the room popped open their scrolls to read the new messages.

  “Lieutenants Veldt and Drogen are your new weapons officers. We run off a thirty-hour clock, with each shift being ten hours. Ten on, twenty off. SRT on your own time, mandatory hour in-tank. We code shifts red, green and black, for the first, second and third shift. LT. Judaic controls the weapons station on red shift, Veldt, you are on green, and Drogen is black shift. We similarly have three Majors that rotate the bridge commander position. Major Farris, you are filling the position in green shift. Captain Bartlett usually drops in and takes over command of the bridge on and off during the day, but when readiness is called, he takes over the bridge and whoever is on shift, stays in charge of their station until relieved. If you are off-shift when a readiness is called, you will precede to a secondary posting. Civilians, yours is always your quarters. The weapons officers secondary posting is ship
security. The three we ponds officers command teams of security troops. Ensign Mathers, you are assigned to red shift in Engine Room Two. Your secondary post is in command of a damage team. There is no time specifically assigned to working with your secondary team, so officers, find time to drop in and get familiar with the specialist who runs your team.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  Ensign Mathers spoke up. “How bad was the Scalie contact? Are we going back after them again, Sir?”

  “We will receive a through briefing on this mission soon after departure. The Captain and I believe that everyone in this crew, all one hundred fifty, should be fully informed on all aspects of this ship. That being said, only members of this ship and the leaders at the top have the real story on our last mission. Feel free to familiarize yourself with it, but if you want the short version, we forced them out pretty quick. We also have a live feed of the bridge activity at all times, which I’m sure our civilian crew will enjoy on their secondary assignments.”

  There was some small laughter, but no other questions. Plash dismissed the room and sat to watch the new crew leave.

  “Drogen, can I have a minute,” the XO said before Aros could leave.

  “Absolutely, Sir,” Aros said He made his way to the front of the room. “How are you, Sir. I haven’t seen you since Advanced Interior a couple years ago.”

  “Yeah, well, someone must have really messed up putting me second-in-charge of this place!” Plash said ironically. “I wanted to tell you I accepted your request for assignment not just to help you get out of Headquarters. That proposal you wrote, that we should install sonic shields at critical junctions in case of a boarding scenario, was a large oversight that should have been brought up sooner. Leave it to a young, gold crowned L.T. to point out that lapse in judgment. We have specs working on the install now and should have the job complete before we hit the rift.”