Galactic Council Realm 2: On Duty

by J. Clifton Slater

  The passageway was spotless. Most ships are as the air flow and consistent maintenance by the crew kept them clean. This ship went beyond clean it was practically sterile. Surfaces gleamed. Even the few pipes running overhead were shiny and everything sparkled. I lifted my cowl for a different prospective. The deck matched the bulkheads. Between the medicinal odor and the scrubbed surfaces, it resembled a surgical suite more than a space Yacht.

  I closed the hatch but didn’t torque it down. This would give the Striker team easier access when they arrived. Acclimation is a wonderful process. By the time I started towards the fore section of the Yacht, my senses had adapted to the aroma. I did notice I was taking extremely deep breathes.

  Two crewmen came in my direction. I blended into a curved wall. They passed without either one speaking, just marching to the aft of the Yacht. The passageway bent and I found a ladder and started down. If this strange ship was constructed along the lines of a Realm ship, the cabins would be on the lower deck.

  It wasn’t difficult to find a guarded door. He was tall, thickly built and holding a Prod across his arms. The weapon didn’t spark so I figured he needed a second to arm the device. I didn’t give him time.

  The blunt end of my right stick smashed into his temple. It rocked him and he started a sweep in my direction leading with the Prod. These guys were tough and well trained. But, so was I. A stick strike buckled his knees and as he fell, I pummeled him on his way to the deck. He finally lay unconscious.

  I cracked open the door and peered inside. The sole occupant was reclining on a rack. His cheeks were red splotched and he held one arm tenderly in the other. For an old man in obvious pain, he was alert. His eyes locked on the partially open door.

  “Councilor Shi Peng?” I asked while pulling the guard into the room.

  I forget the response people had to bodies moving into a room seemly unassisted. The upper half hanging in the air while the lower part dragged on the deck. The other odd thing people saw, if they looked closely, was a shimmer distorting the area above the figure. The camouflage lifted when I rolled back the hood.

  “Who wants to know?” the oldster asked, “Who are you?”

  “You first. Name, rank and serial number?” I demanded watching him try to digest the question.

  “Councilor Shi Peng of the Galactic Council,” he responded, “You and your people are in deep trouble. However, I’m a reasonable man. If you free me and give me transportation, I’ll see you get a fair trial.”

  “Transportation is no problem,” I replied, “Lieutenant Phelan Oscar Piran of the Galactic Navy. Councilor Peng. Where are Councilor Jalal and Captain Maelle?”

  “I don’t know. They separated us after taking our ship,” Shi Peng replied struggling to stand, “They treated the Captain badly. Jalal, they were gentler with, maybe because she’s a woman.”

  “It doesn’t look like they treated you very gently,” I said indicating the bruising.

  “Lieutenant. I’ve negotiated with rats, cowards and the meanest captains of industry in the Realm,” Peng explained, “These Pirates are amateurs. When do we leave?”

  Scooping the Prod off the floor, I turned to the Councilor.

  “We’re not ready to leave yet,” I said handing him the sparking weapon, “Stay here and wait for reinforcements. I need to find Councilor Jalal and the Captain.”

  The old man wrapped his thin fingers around the oversized Prod. It made him seem smaller in comparison, but he held it steady.

  “Go find them,” he ordered, “I’ll be fine.”

  For good measure, I hit the downed crewman a couple of times to be sure he didn’t awaken and bother the Councilor. It occurred to me the old man might take issue with my cruelty. Glancing back, I relaxed as he smiled and nodded his approval. He was a harsh old guy.

  With the hood back in place, I reentered the passageway. Further on would be the Captain’s cabin and towards the aft would be storage rooms. I decided to backtrack and have a look at the storage rooms.

  The first storage room, just before the ladder I’d used, was locked. Staterooms and personal spaces get locked on ships. Storage rooms, unless they’re securing private gear, didn’t.

  How do you open a locked door with no key? I’m not good at delicate lock picking so I reared my leg back and kicked it off the hinges.

  A man in a shredded Navy Captain’s uniform lay on the deck. Face down, his arms tied tightly behind his back. The fingers on both hands were twisted at odd angles and the hands had turned gray from lack of blood flow. He didn’t move so I squatted next to the prone figure. His breath was labored and rings of blood crested both nostrils. He’d been punched repeatedly in the face. I couldn’t see the remainder of his body, but best guess, it too had been misused.

  After untying his hands, I rubbed them until some color returned. I rotated him onto his back and felt for protruding bones. It was a foregone conclusion, some were broken, but I couldn’t do anything about them or internal damages. But I could be sure none of his injuries became compound fractures. Satisfied, I lifted him to a sitting position.

  He moaned and, to me, it was a good sign. Somewhere inside the beat up body, there was enough life to register pain. His name tag had been ripped off the uniform. I retrieved it from the deck. Although he wasn’t able to, the tag confirmed, he was Captain Maelle, commanding officer of the Galactic Council Navy Yacht Suria. The name tag went into a pocket on his disheveled uniform. I slung him up onto my shoulders.

  Councilor Shi Peng was standing with one foot forward and the other back. A classic Martial Arts stance. Even if I didn’t recognize the posture, I did acknowledge the electric arc just a meter from my face.

  “Friendly. Lieutenant Piran,” I said being sure he understood me, “Captain Maelle’s in bad shape. Can you keep an eye on him until I get back?”

  “Yes young man. But your captive there woke up once,” Peng said pointing at the crewman with the Prod, “I believe, it would be best for our endeavor, if he were removed from the equation.”

  That confirmed it, he was a mean old man.

  Considering the guard had been one of the Druid Captain’s tormentors, my decision was easy. I placed the point of one Knight Stick above the crewman’s heart. Then, I spiked him.

  “That solves that,” Councilor Peng said with no emotion at all, “Go find Councilor Jalal.”

  ‘Mean old man,’ I thought as I slipped out of the room.

  I jogged down the passageway. Time was short. Unless the Strike-Kill team met with too much resistance, Doctor Warlock and her unit of angry assistants, would soon be here doing surgery on the crew of the Yacht.

  As I approached the ornate door to the Captain’s suite, a steward came from behind me. I passed the door and leaned against the wall.

  “Steward,” the man announced as he knocked.

  “Come,” was the reply from inside the room.

  He balanced the tray and twisted the handle. The door swung open and I was right on his six as we entered the room. He went to a small table and set the tray down. I drifted off to the side and squatted behind a couch.

  “Shell I serve, Captain?” he asked.

  “No, Madam Jalal and I will serve ourselves,” a gray haired man in a uniform with gold braiding on his shoulders replied, “That’ll be all.”

  “Very good Sir,” the Steward said as he stepped out closing the door behind him.

  A table with the tray separated a man and a woman. The man was fit as if he spent hours in the gym.. Only the lines and creases on his face and the gray hair revealed his maturity. Khalida Jalal sat across from him.

  She was of a slight build but sat as if she were on display. Her spine ridge and her chin cocked up so she appeared to look down her nose at the Captain. I though her very brave to put up such a façade in the presence of her jailer.

  “Captain. We’re running out of time,” Khalida Jalal stated, “If your people can’t find the DS, we can’t lure the Navy here. Don’t bother answe
ring, everything will just be another excuse.”

  “We’re combing the exterior of the ships and patrolling outside the net,” explained the Captain, “If the DS is in the vicinity, we’ll find it.”

  “I didn’t jeopardize my position on the Council to fail,” Khalida replied, “Know that your career, as well, is on the line. Results Captain, success and nothing else will suffice.”

  I was stunned. A member of the Galactic Council had orchestrated the kidnapping, the slaughter of the Suria’s crew and the burning of a Yellow Heart Plant. As the idea was churning in my confused brain, shots and shouts came from the passageway. Warlock and her merry band had arrived.

  The door flew open and an armed and armored woman poked her head in the room.

  “Madam Jalal. You and the Captain stay here,” she ordered, “We’ve intruders onboard. For your safety, stay here until my team and I’ve handled them.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply or to be excused. The door slammed shut and she was gone.

  “The Admiral will take care of things,” the Captain said uncrossing his legs, “more coffee?”

  “How can you be so calm?” demanded Khalida Jalal, “It could be a full scale raid by the Galactic Marine Corps.”

  “Not likely, the only Galactic Realm combat troops in this sector are locked up on the Sloop,” he said with confidence, “It may be a band of Pirates looking for what they call bounty. Pity them but don’t fear. My Admiral is more than capable.”

  Yelling from the passageway ended abruptly and reports from the GCMP 45s became sporadic. Finally, there was no more pinging from kinetic rounds.

  The door burst in and two figures in black fish scale armor entered. One went left, the other right.

  “Clear Warlock,” one said.

  Master Sergeant Diosa Alberich marched in and aimed her pistol at the Captain. She paused for a second as if deciding something before firing five kinetic rounds into his chest.

  “That’s for Captain Maelle,” Warlock announced than to Khalida Jalal, “Councilor Jalal, we’re here to take you home.”

  “Oh thank you, thank you,” Jalal shrieked standing and visible shaking, “I was so scared. Thank you.”

  I didn’t move until they left the room. As a matter of fact, I didn’t move for a long time. Long enough for Warlock to get nervous and message my PID.

  ‘Councilors secure. Captain Maelle dead,’ her message read, ‘One Striker wounded but mobile. Your location?’

  ‘Checking the Bridge,’ I typed back, ‘Join you shortly.’

  I maintained the camouflage as I took the Captain’s access hatch to the ship’s command center. Stone Angel was leaning against the back of the pilot’s seat watching the two main entrances.

  “Stone Angel. J-Pop coming up,” I said warning him so I didn’t get shot.

  “J-Pop come on up,” the big man said with a laugh, “Good firefight, we made those suckers pay.”

  After throwing back the cowl, I opened the access hatch and stepped up to the Bridge.

  “Nice pajamas, J-Pop,” he said pointing at my Knight Protector of the Clan suit, “Got to get me a pair.”

  “You do that,” I said as I leaned around him to study the Yacht’s settings.

  The autodestruct on the Yacht was ticking down and displayed a secondary link. That link, led to seven TNC sites on the Tramp Steamer. It’s why they wanted the Navy to send in ships. This much explosives would damage any ship in the sector. Call it an ambush or a trap, I called it treason. Councilor Khalida Jalal had planned to cripple the Galactic Navy in this area of the Galactic Council Realm.

  “Stone Angel”, I asked Lieke Steyn, “Do Strikers practice on York 5000s?”

  “We sure do. Three hours, four days a week,” he bragged, “Great for cardo and stamina.”

  “Good because this Yacht is set to blow up,” I said stepping back, “Get to Warlock and get the Councilors moving. From what I’ve discovered, there’s more TNC on the Tramp. The entire raft city is a trap meant for the Navy.”

  “Aye, Sir,” Stone Angel replied.

  It was strange but I didn’t expect that much speed from so large a man. One second he was leaning on the chair and the next he’d disappeared out the main hatch.

  I didn’t care about the Pirates. They caused enormous trouble in the Realm. So I confused myself when I returned to the Yacht’s controls. My finger hovered over the switch, and as if it had a mind of its own, flipped on the warning alarm. A signal alerting all the surrounding ships to the impending explosion began broadcasting.

  Maybe it was the realization a Councilor of the Galactic Council was a traitor. Or, the possibility some of the ships rafting up were simple Independent Traders. In any case, I’d done what I could to save them.

  I rushed off the Bridge to catch up with the Strikers and the Councilors. They were half way up the tube to the Tramp when I caught up to them.

  Chapter 38

  “Nice look,” Thunder Eagle said as I came up behind her.

  She was guarding the rear of the group and nursing a bandage on her arm. Her comment was about my long johns. I’d stripped off the Knight of the Clan gear.

  “Nice bandage. Is it serious?” I asked.

  “Nothing broken. Just a flesh wound,” she replied, “Some girl came at me with a sword. Sliced me before I could put her down.”

  “Through the body armor?” I asked looking at the arm.

  “It was electrically charged,” Thunder Eagle replied, “If I’d been slower, I’d be the toughest one-armed Striker in the Realm.”

  For some reason, I didn’t tell her she’d taken out an Admiral from an unknown force. Or that, the Admiral was a warrior of fame according to her Captain. I stayed near Thunder Eagle not wanting to face Councilor Khalida Jalal.

  “J-Pop has joined us,” Thunder Eagle reported to Warlock, “In his underwear.”

  The Bridge of the Tramp was a bloody mess. Five Pirates had attempted to defend it. We passed through ignoring the carnage and the bodies.

  We found the same on the Bridge of the Sloop. From there we rushed straight back to the ion wall passages. Bundling into two crew carts, we let the trams carry us deeper into the cargo section. My PID pinged at the debarkation location. We dismounted from the trams and descended the ladder. I went last.

  As I stepped off the ladder, I heard a few chuckles from the Strikers. Shi Peng cocked his head in an inquisitive manner and Khalida Jalal rolled her eyes. Everyone seemed to have a different opinion on my long johns. I just shivered.

  It was freezing in the cargo hold. I was cold until we reached the other ladder. The chill lasted long after I’d dressed in the stashed vacuum suit. Part of the chill was watching Heavy Rain fawn over the distressed Councilor Khalida Jalal.

  As commander of the DS, I was first up the ladder. Thunder Eagle followed and stood watch on the hatch while I powered up the GunShip. By the time everyone was on board and the hatch sealed, the Internal drive was lifting us from the Sloop. The Councilors were taken to the lower deck. Jalal on her own and Shi Peng supported by Stone Angel.

  The trip through the damper net was uneventful despite the number of fleeing ships. I did some quick dirty math hoping other ships didn’t use the same vector. Pushing power to the External drive, I matched Clocks and evolved out of the blast radius. Several minutes later, we evolved back to Internal drive.

  Nobody had attacked or attempted to delay us on the rush back to the DS GunShip. I imagined the Pirates were powering up and trying to save their own skin. In hindsight, putting out the alarm worked in our favor. If we’d been delayed for a gunfight, we might not have made it.

  The Tramp Steamer, the Yacht and a number of slow Pirates vessels experienced the extreme rapid expansion. My scanners noted the intensity. Everything in the sector behind use was engulfed by an expanding ball of energy.

  I plotted a course towards Planet Tres. Both Councilors were from there and according to Warlock, they wanted to go home. Naval Movement Command
approved the first leg of my course. They’d have a new vector once we evolved to Internal drive deeper in the Realm. It helped that we had VIPs on board. Who am I kidding? It was because we had Councilors on board the Navy cleared our path.

  Three days later, the DS evolved to Internal drive. We were back in the Galactic Council Realm and I adjusted our heading. I had planned to get Councilor Shi Peng alone and speak to him about the traitorous Khalida Jalal. But everywhere the old man went, the second Councilor appeared. They’d come to the command deck for a demonstration and Stone Angel and I put on a show. Jalal gushed over the abilities of the DS while Peng simply nodded. He was still recovering from the punishment he’d endured so his lack of enthusiasm was understandable.

  On day four of cruising, we received a call.

  “Council Vessel 48. This is Combat Control for Ander El Aitor,” a voice announced.

  I picked up the phone, switched to radio and answered the BattleShip.

  “Acknowledged, Ander El Aitor, GCN 48 standing by for instructions,” I responded.

  “48 please correct your logs,” Combat Control ordered, “As a vessel with Councilors on board, you are C.V. 48.”

  I was in a world I didn’t understand. Protocol for a knuckle dragger was keeping your fingernails clean, and for a Navy pilot keeping your mind sharp. Nothing had prepared me for being the pilot for two of the most powerful people in the Realm.

  “Be advised, you have an escort inbound on your position,” Flight Control advised, “Two flights of Fighters.”

  I wanted to sarcastically point out the few times I’ve approached a capital warship, I was threatened by GunShips, Patrol Boats even BattlePlatforms. I’ve never been escorted by two flights of Fighters.