Galactic Council Realm 2: On Duty

by J. Clifton Slater

  The tea shop was located between the hotel and the tram station. I planned to stop in and give my condolences to the owner and his daughter. As I drew near, I saw a new sign above the establishment.

  “Congress for Galactic Wrongs Righted,” stated the sign, “Headquarters.”

  I pushed through the door. The wondrous smell of tea was gone. Replaced by a sterile office aroma which was nothing.

  “Good afternoon, Sir, are you a member?” a fresh faced young lady asked.

  “No, I’m looking for Gennaro,” I said, “Is he around?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know him. Is he a member?” She asked.

  “Never mind,” I said turning and grabbing the door knob.

  “If you’d like to join,” she said as I stepped out onto the sidewalk, “The Congress for Galactic Wrongs Righted is here for you.”

  The Congress as far as I was concerned was a subversive origination. It was radically organized during a crisis. The evil part, the unrest, was orchestrated by their people for the express purpose of driving membership. No good could come from its birth. I’d put that in my report to Naval Intelligence and they’d keep an eye on the Congress. Except, nothing could be done as I didn’t have proof of traitorous intent or Gennaro for questioning.

  I strolled away from the Headquarters. As I approached the park, I saw a stooped figure in a brown robe. Sitting in a semicircle in front of his bench were a gaggle of children. The old Druid telling stories was a sign of normalcy. What wasn’t, was the security officer standing on one side of the park and a single Druid on the other. It’ll be awhile before trust returned to Construction Station.

  I got off the tram and found an empty station. The protesters were gone as well as the line of heavily armored officers. At the entrance to the Justice deck, security passed me through with just a cursory look at my military tag.

  Judge Birthe’s bailiff escorted me to his chambers. She knocked, pushed the door open and walked away. I was a little disappointed. She didn’t wink at me.

  “Their plan was to create mistrust between the Galactic Council and the Druids using civilians as the wedge,” I said taking the seat indicated by the Judge, “With the citizens confused and work supplies short, they planted rumors and performed attacks.”

  “Textbook propaganda campaign,” the Judge added, “It shouldn’t have worked. We’re missing something, Knight Protector of the Clan. The final attack on the Blue Heart Plant was beyond that type of campaign.”

  “I agree. For now, the threat is over. We’ve seen what can happen and we need to be alert for signs of more trouble,” I said standing, “Lieutenant Piran needs to report to the Navy for duty.”

  “Knight Protector of the Clan, from the Druid Council and the Elders, we thank you,” Judge Birthe said standing and bowing.

  Chapter 29

  I left the Justice deck and went to the Navy deck. My travel orders would get me on a ship heading for Command Station and Navy Special Operations. I was cutting it a little tight but I should make the deadline. Provided a ship was leaving Construction Station and heading in the right direction within a few days.

  After reporting in at Transportation, I sat waiting my turn to speak with a clerk. Somethings in the Military never changed, waiting was one of them. The thought of finding lunch occurred to me and I was about to inform the clerk that I’d be back.

  “Lieutenant Piran?” the clerk asked looking around the large waiting room.

  “Here,” I replied walking to his station, “Do you have a berth for me?”

  “Not that I can see,” the clerk replied, “Naval Flight Control wants to see you. It’s three decks up and.”

  “I know the way, thanks,” I said turning and leaving the room.

  My fear was they wanted me to test fly the DS GunShip again, delaying my departure. While I enjoyed test flights, I didn’t want to report in late to a new command. It’s happened before and the transferee always got a raw deal. Navy regulation’s stated, if you’re late, you’ve missed a troop movement. Even, if you’re the trooper doing the moving. The rule was report in on time, or suffer the consequences.

  If I’d known I’d be summoned to the Command deck of Construction Station, I’d have worn my uniform. Without the insignia, the tunic, the matching trousers and cover, I resembled a civilian. And, civilians get stopped and asked for ID at every twist and turn on the Command deck. Finally, I showed my officers tag to a Marine stationed at the hatch to Flight Control.

  “Commander Celio is waiting for you, Sir,” he said motioning me towards an interior hatch further down the hallway, “He said to send you directly to his office. Just down the hall to your right.”

  The Commander’s office was filled with models of Navy ships. He had a Shuttle, GunShip, Patrol Boat, Yacht, Fighter, BattlePlatform and Frigate mounted on the walls. They were minutely detailed and exact replicas of the space ships. But, dominating the room were two other replications sitting atop pedestals. One, a Heavy Cruiser and the other was a BattleShip.

  “All those classes of Naval vessels are constructed on this Station,” he said pointing to an empty shelve, “The DS GunShip will go there.”

  “It’s an impressive collection, Sir,” I said as I walked around the BattleShip marveling at the miniature elements.

  “All these vessels were conceived, designed and built to fill a need,” he walked from behind his desk as he spoke, “The Navy has always answered threats to the Galactic Council Realm by morphing into the appropriate sword and shield. During the years leading up to the Great Schism, we constructed BattleShips and Heavy Cruisers. We stuffed them with new weapon systems as the war raged. Once peace settled, we produced Patrol Boats to protect shipping lanes from rival transporters. Now, we face more than Clans who turned to piracy. Today’s privateers are well financed, bolder and more prevalent.”

  “I agree, Sir,” I said moving from the BattleShip to study the Heavy Cruiser, “I’ve heard we have a material shortage on Construction Station. Is it due to worker slowdown or the hijacking of transport ships?”

  “Unfortunately, both,” he admitted, “We can’t do anything about the workers’ strikes but we, as sure as a bad snap ruins a perfectly good space ship, can do something about the Pirates.”

  “You said when we met at the Justice deck, I’d be assigned one of the DS GunShips,” I said wandering over to the model of the older model GunShip, “When will the new DS fleet be delivered?”

  “Ah, that’s the issue,” he said his eyes closing as if to ward off a headache, “We’re way behind schedule. Construction Station wouldn’t be able to fill the Navy’s order for about a year.”

  “How many of the DS GunShips are ready to be delivered?” I asked.

  “One,” he said sitting down hard in his chair, “One.”

  “One? As in the one I flew?” I asked turning from the models, “How can that be?”

  “When supplies were delayed, we scuttled four. Used the materials for the one DS,” he said rubbing the Bridge of his nose, “We ripped and cut the guts out of the four so they’re now scrap metal. But we finished one and thanks to you, battle tested it.”

  “That’s all very interesting Commander,” I said, “But I’m running short of travel time. I need to get to the Navy Transportation level and hitch a ride to Command Station.”

  “Problem solved, Lieutenant Piran,” he said standing and offering me a hand, “You’re the first official Captain of a DS GunShip. I’ve adjusted your travel orders to reflect active Navy status while on route. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I said wishing I’d been in uniform. A salute seemed more appropriate, but we settled for a firm handshake.

  The Navy usually holds an Admiral rich celebration when launching a new class of warships. They’d have cocktail parties, inspection tours of the vessels, and make speeches to representatives from the media. My launch party was a salute from Commander Celio before I squeezed into a tug with my gear.

 
; “To the DS GunShip, my good man” I said to the civilian pilot with confidence, “And don’t spare the ions.”

  “Which one’s the DS?” he asked flatly.

  I powered up the GunShip and called Flight Control. There was surprising little traffic around Construction Station. The space surrounding the Navy’s main ship building facility should’ve been filled with Clippers, Sloops, tugs and Shuttles. Instead, it was deserted enough for me to get immediate clearance.

  “Thank you Flight Control,” I said after receiving an okay to launch, “Setting a heading for Armory Station.”

  “Safe sailing DS GunShip,” Flight Control replied, “You’re cleared for Armory. No traffic to report in your flight path.”

  I ran Internal power up and watched the clock. As the powerful ion cannons in the DS approached one hundred percent, I poured juice to the External drive. Clocks matched and I left Construction Station behind like a yellow comet.

  The ship was under External drive for a short time. During the run, I ran system checks and did a visual inspection of the cabin. There were no obvious cracks or damage to the shin. I matched the clocks and engine readouts. Powering down the External drive, the ship went Internal, as I approached Armory Station.

  “Armory Station, Deep Space GunShip, designation G.C.N. 48,” I called informing them of the ship’s Navy number, “Commanding officer, Lieutenant Piran, call sign J-Pop.”

  “J-Pop, I see they gave you the DS,” a voice replied, “Do you know why it’s number 48?”

  “No Sir,” I replied to the voice.

  “Because 47 of the prototypes ripped in half before they reinforced the structure,” the voice of Armory Station answered.

  “Ah, thanks for the information,” I replied, “Requesting a full loadout.”

  “We’ve got you. Bay number 2,” he said.

  I went to manual controls and guided the ship to armory bay 2. They were efficient and after the bots and articulating arms finished stuffing the DS with munitions, I received a call.

  “DS 48. You are armed and cleared for departure from Armory Station,” the same voice informed me.

  “Thank you Armory,” I said as the DS rose slightly and moved forward, “DS 48 departing bay 2.”

  “J-Pop. We appreciate what you did on your last visit,” the voice added, “If you hadn’t used your initiative, we’d, well we wouldn’t be here. The personnel of Armory Station left something for you in the GunShip’s bunker.”

  “Thank you Armory,” I replied not having any idea of what they’d left me, “DS GunShip, G.C.N. 48, vacating your space.”

  “Safe sailing J-Pop,” the voice said, “Enjoy.”

  I powered up Internal drive and pulled away from the small Station. In my screens, it shrunk for filling the viewer to being a small orb in just a few minutes. A scan of the area around me showed no traffic so I unstrapped and left the Bridge.

  The DS had wide center aisle boarded by three acceleration chairs on each side. It was configured for six passengers to swivel inward for meetings and planning sessions. Behind the last seat, a spiral ladder lead to the lower deck. Behind the ladder were two body cleaning closets.

  I descended to the lower level. Behind the ladder was a small but efficient food prep area. On either side, hatches lead to storage areas and the two recon pods situated behind the ion wall.

  Moving towards the fore section, I passed fold down bunks, stacked three high on each side. Fold down tables for use when the bunks were folded up occupied the space under the bunks. There was a medical area, more the size of a large cabinet and not a full treatment suite, next to the bunker door. It was stocked with a wide variety of medicines, surgical instruments and items for minor injuries.

  I spun the lock on the munitions bunker and pulled the hatch open. Inside, the deck was filled bulkhead to bulkhead with ammo drums. Above the gun ammo, layers of rockets rested on rails. The entire system was linked together by an auto loading mechanism. Everything looked neat and orderly, except for a small box sitting on the drums. The small brightly colored box didn’t belong among the ammo so I lifted it out and tucked it under my arm.

  The plot to my first evolution was 15 shifts sailing so I was in no rush. I placed the box on a side console, untied the bow and read the attached card.

  “J-Pop, we are in your debit. Cheers, the staff of Armory Station at Construction.”

  I smiled as I slid a finger under the box’s lid and pried it loose. My fist was a tight fit but I managed to get a grip with my fingers around a glass container. It slowly came free of the package. I inhaled deeply and my smile grew until my cheeks hurt.

  I cradled the gift in one hand while I brushed my fingers over the label.

  ‘James Daily, single malt scotch, limited edition.’

  In my travels, I’ve been to Hydroxyl Station and knew the storage limitations and environmental controls needed to produce this valuable bottle of scotch. Right then, I decided as the commander of DS GunShip 48 to reintroduce the time honored, but long ignored, tradition of a daily ration of rum. Except in my case, it would be a daily ration of exquisite scotch.

  I checked the clock, and sure enough, it was time for a ration.

  Chapter 30

  The first leg of my journey would take the DS along a busy transport track. This limited my power output. The lower power would serve to avoid my running into the aft section of a slower moving Sloop, Yacht or Tramp Steamer. Clippers would take different faster routes. The busy route also required me to stay on the Bridge. I could nap in the command chair, get up for bodily needs, or to snag some chow, but should the collision alarm sound, I needed to be at the controls.

  The reason I was using the longer and slower transportation route was to watch for Pirates. Commander Celio didn’t believe in wasting assets. So while the DS was technically being transported to its duty station, it was also patrolling a shipping lane.

  I reran the equations for my first evolution and checked them against the elapsed time and power output. Everything checked, and I did some more math. Yes, it was time for a ration of James Daily.

  It was day three and I was sleeping in my command chair. One minute I was walking along the edge of a clear mountain lake and the next, I was clawing at the knob to turn off the claxon. A glance at my forward screen and I relaxed. Two blips registered but they were far enough ahead of the DS for me to relax. I backed off on the power, cursing while I did, because now I’d need to reconfigure my first evolution point.

  The blips materialized into two ships, one a Sloop and the other a Tramp. They were creeping along at minimum power. Both ships were in the middle of a registered travel route making them a hazard. Oddly, neither ship was broadcasting a distress signal.

  What’s the use of having a Deep Space GunShip if all you do is trigger a siren and pull up behind offenders like a motorized security officer with your lights flashing? Out of boredom, I didn’t run a full power scan. It would have alerted them to my presence. Instead, I nosed out of the transport track and applied power.

  The DS pushed into empty space gaining time off the track until I arched her around. She came about on an intercept heading. I might register on a full power scan, which the ships weren’t using, but on a normal scan, the DS resembled a space rock. If someone bothered to track the rock, they’d see it closing on them fast.

  I came in steeper then I’d planned and had to adjust my heading. The DS jerked and I was behind the ships. Undetected so far but not for long, I ran full power to my scanners. The ships lit up as their hulls rang and the interior compartments echoed from the energy.

  “DS 48, Galactic Council Navy, state the nature of your emergency,” I sent out on an open channel, “State your emergency. Do you require assistance?”

  “Navy. Sloop Hendrina, we’re all good,” the Sloop responded, “Just, ah, exchanging some cargo.”

  I watched as a Shuttle left a bay on the Tramp Steamer and sailed to the Sloop. The slowness and matching speeds of the cargo
haulers allowed the small vessel to easily transverse the distance. The Tramp hadn’t responded.

  “Steamer. DS 48, Galactic Council Navy. State your status,” I said ignoring the Sloop.

  Another Shuttle departed the Tramp Steamer and docked with the Sloop. I was about to hail the Steamer again when two more Shuttles appeared and were swallowed by the Sloop.

  “Navy 48 this is the Independent Transport Ayman. We’ve been boarded by Pirates,” a woman almost screaming said.

  “Please confirm, Pirates on the Sloop Hendrina?” I asked seeking assurance of a Pirate attack.

  “Yes, yes, yes, they’ve killed our Captain and stolen our cargo,” came the strained reply. She was barely keeping her voice under control..

  “Sloop Hendrina. Stand by to be boarded,” I said.

  I had no intention of leaving the safety of the DS to execute a solo taken down of a suspected Pirate ship. I may be dense, but I’m not suicidal. I needed the Sloop to wait around long enough for a Navy Patrol Boat to arrive. I’d already sent a request. Via a secure message to Navy Command, asking for one.

  The Sloop replied, “Navy 48. I have no idea what the woman is talking about. We’ve exchanged cargo and now, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Sloop Hendrina. Negative, you are not cleared for launch,” I said tying to bluff the Captain.

  “Really my friend, you’ll take the word of a hysterical woman over mine?” he asked, “She’s just a bad negotiator and wants to withdraw from our trade agreement.”

  My reply wasn’t verbal. I selected two rocket targeting lasers and ranged them over the Sloop. I could have also added the four guns and two other rocket tube lasers but that would have been too much. He’d get the message.

  He got my message but his reply wasn’t what I expected or wanted. A gun fired from the Sloop. Close range, I could see gashes appear in the side of the Tramp Steamer.