“I’ll leave that up to you, Master Sergeant,” I answered, “but I wouldn’t think a good show was out of order.”
“Alert, Sir,” she replied and to her team said, “Heavy Rain, Thunder Eagle, once we’re clear, armor up.”
Chapter 32
The flight deck on the Frigate was small compared to the BattleShip we’d left weeks before. My DS was towed to a VIP area and from the hatchway of the GunShip, we could see Navy officers outfitted in their Dress Whites. A squad of Marines in Dress Blues were stationed to form a ceremonial funnel. Their formation stretching from the dock to where the ship’s officers stood waiting to kiss up to the Councilor.
I’ll give it to the Marines whose faces didn’t change expression when Heavy Rain, huge in his armor, stepped onto the deck. The Naval officers were a different story. They were expecting the Councilor to be first off. Instead, they saw a fully armored Striker, Earth element size, step out and scan the area. Bug eyes, gasping mouths and a few silent ‘what the hecks’, ran through their ranks.
“Clear,” Heavy Rain said after eyeing everyone on the dock.
“Councilor, if you please Sir,” Thunder Eagle said. Although compared to Heavy Rain, she seemed tiny, she could still clearly see over the Councilor’s head.
The Councilor took a step and Thunder Eagle call out, “Moving.”
The Councilor with an armored escort in front and behind him walked to the officers. He exchanged words with a man wearing the braids of a Captain. The Captain turned to another officer and spoke a few words. The officer got seriously busy typing furiously on his PID. The whole reception stood waiting for something. Two steps behind the Councilor, Heavy Rain and Thunder Eagle stood scanning the deck.
I found out what they were waiting for when a Fire Team of Marines came rushing out of a side hatch. They were armed and wore combat vests. One walked around Heavy Rain and zeroed in on Thunder Eagle. He must have decided it was more comfortable to look her in the eyes instead of up at the tall Striker. I didn’t blame him. Heavy Rain was an intimidating figure.
“We have the Councilor,” I heard on her radio.
“You have the Councilor,” Thunder Eagle replied.
She and the other Striker popped one foot behind the other and snapped an about face. Difficult to do in armor but they performed sharply.
“Do you think the Navy will take his security seriously?” Warlock asked from beside me.
“I believe, after your show, they will,” I replied.
Then my ears were assaulted by a thousand bees and I clamped my hands over them. My throat began to close up and my eyes began watering. The assault of berry and sea salt aromas threatened to empty my stomach.
I staggered back until I located a rebreather with one hand. Removing a hand from my ear to reach for the rebreather left me open to the noise and I folded to my knees.
While I fought to get control of my senses, Warlock grabbed Lorcan by the shoulder and pulled him to her. She stooped down and said something to the little boy. He nodded and ran full tilt out of the hatch. In my misery, I couldn’t figure where he was going.
A short time later, Lorcan reappeared in the hatchway holding a set of industrial strength ear protectors. Warlock took them for the boy, turned to me, and placed them over my ears. The bussing dropped to a manageable level.
Next in the hatch was an irate mechanic. He was yelling about a pair of missing ear protectors. As he pointed accusingly at me and his missing gear, Heavy Rain walked up behind him.
“You’re in my way,” the Striker stated flatly.
The mechanic, a well-built kid who seemed as if he liked a good fight, rounded on the voice. His fists were raised and he shifted his feet into an attack stance. While he might have been the champion of his deck, and possibly the entire ship for all I knew, he didn’t expect a large armored body.
“We’ll get your equipment back to you,” Warlock said, “This was an emergency.”
The mechanic nodded and almost fell off the deck as he shuffled around Heavy Rain. But he wasn’t about to let it go without at least a crude gesture behind the Striker’s back. As he edged by, he turned and executed the gesture. Feeling vindicated, he spun around and walked directly into Thunder Eagle.
“Problem here?” she asked.
Her fingers dug deep into his shoulder muscles and she had pulled his nose to her faceplate. She just stared at him.
“No problem. He was loaning us some equipment,” Warlock said.
“Oh, he’s kind of cute, if you like them soft,” the Striker said.
My eyes were still clearing but, I noticed, Thunder Eagle winked at the mechanic before freeing him. He jogged off without glancing back.
“The same thing every time,” Thunder Eagle whined, “One dance and they leave.”
I assumed, after a short visit, we’d collect the Councilor and relaunch for Command station. To facilitate our departure, I requested resupply and replacements for the expended rockets. I even added barf bags to the requests.
Warlock and the Strikers had taken the children to a recreation room and Hui had gone to attend to the Councilor. After everyone departed, I decided to change the ion cannons back to the original configuration.
Just as I was about to crawl through the ion wall access tunnel, my PID buzzed.
‘Lieutenant Piran, report to Combat Control, immediately,’ the message read.
It wasn’t signed so I assumed it was from a signal man on the Bridge. Why Combat Control, I didn’t know, but when you receive a direct order, you follow it.
I must have resembled a big eared bug with a long snout. At least that would explain the look on the Marine’s face. Or it could have been the wrinkled flight suit, my scruffy boots, and the strange strap hung across my shoulder. On a Navy ship the size of the Reina de la Adosinda, the dress code was strictly enforced. I didn’t look the part of a Navy officer.
“Lieutenant Piran, reporting as ordered,” I explained.
“Stand by, Sir,” he said as he lifted and spoke into a ship’s phone, “A Mister Piran requesting access.”
He must have received the proper response as he reached out and ran a scanner over my tab. After verifying my credentials, he opened the hatch.
“Permission granted,” he stated, “Have a good day, Sir.”
It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the low light levels in Combat Control. As in all centers dedicated to fighting a warship, there were screens stacked in front of work stations and mounted all the way up to the high curved ceiling. I stood waiting for someone to collect me.
“You Piran?” a Commander asked.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
“That’s not the proper dress of the day,” he said doing an exaggerated eye scan of my odd equipment, “You could at least remove the rebreather and ear protectors. Maybe changed to a duty uniform, before reporting in.”
“The message said immediately, Commander,” I explained, “So this is what you get immediately.”
He glanced at his PID, shook his head and skipped the rest of his lecture. I knew he wanted to say more but, something had drawn his attention off of me and my violations.
The hatch opened and Warlock appeared.
“Commander, Lieutenant Piran,” she said in greeting, “Master Sergeant Alberich reporting as ordered.”
The Striker team leader had taken the time to change into a green duty uniform. She’d even scored a pair of polished shoes. From head to foot she was dressed in the appropriate dress of the day. The Commander must have been satisfied as he nodded approvingly at the Marine’s outfit.
“I’m Commander Silvius, Executive Officer of the Reina de la Adosinda,” he explained, “I’d send you out to change Lieutenant Piran, but Captain Qiang and Councilor Peng are on their way. At least remove the ear protectors and the rebreather.”
“Sorry Sir, but I am unable to remove the gear,” I said knowing it was going to be a sore point between us, “Medical necessity.”
&n
bsp; “Unless you’re contagious, in which case you should be in sick bay,” he stated warming up to a command decision, “I order you to remove the rebreather and ear protectors.”
“With all due respect, Sir,” I replied, “I am unable to comply with your command.”
Now it was doom and gloom for me. As the ship’s Executive Officer, Commander Silvius was in charge of discipline and order among the crew. The enforcement of rules and regulations were his duty and I’d just stomped all over his stuff.
I was saved for the moment when, in the distance, Councilor Peng and Captain Qiang stepped out of a lift. Qiang waved for us to join them on the platform at the center work station.
Warlock stepped back indicating the Commander and myself should proceed her. As Silvius passed her, she locked eyes with me and shook her head no.
No to what? I thought as we crossed the ramp.
“Captain, Councilor Peng, I’d like to apologize for Lieutenant Piran’s dress,” were the first words out of Silvius’ mouth, “He’s on report.”
The Captain nodded wisely. He understood the need for proper discipline and acknowledged his XO’s decision with the nod. Councilor Peng knotted his brow and studied me and my equipment.
“J-Pop, having trouble with the Blue Heart Plant?” the Councilor asked.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
“Better get to medical after our meeting,” he stated, “At least I can see you this time. I remember the last time the Constabulary attempted to assassinate me. I can tell you, it’s disconcerting to have a mam shave you while hiding in a wash room.”
The Captain and his XO exchanged glances. They must have felt left out.
“If there’s an explanation,” Captain Qiang began to speak but the Councilor cut him off.
“There is, however, J-Pop and Warlock are with Special Navy Operations,” he whispered, “They’ve rescued me twice. J-Pop once in his underwear. So this equipment is not out of character for the Lieutenant. So, maybe in this case, you’ll bend the rules.”
Peng had backed off the Captain and his XO but, hadn’t divulged my Knight Protector of the Clan gear. I was grateful to him for not revealing my secret.
“I’m fine with dropping the report. How about you XO?” the Captain asked.
“In this case, I concur, Captain,” Silvius conceded.
It was really a shame when politics beats Navy regulations. Even if I was the beneficiary of the ruling, I worried about the consequences. Politics doesn’t win wars, the military does, if left alone by the politicians.
“When do we launch?” I asked figuring to get the meeting moving on course and off the, S.N.O., Special Navy Operations idea. Too much thinking might lead back to my Druid Council equipment.
“The Reina de la Adosinda has been tasked with transporting Councilor Peng to Command station,” Commander Silvius stated proudly.
“What about the defense of Construction station?” I asked knowing I’d over stepped my rank.
I was getting the feeling everyone was planning on business as usual, and forgetting the Constabulary threat.
“My XO and I went over the likelihood of that with the Councilor,” the Captain stated, “We decided it was unlikely a small enemy force could capture the station. Not that you rate an answer, but the Navy will be sending a Heavy Cruiser to the Ander El Aitor’s last location. We expect once an experienced command staff takes over, this Rebel threat will be dealt with quickly.”
“You see Lieutenant, it is our considered opinion, the ships you saw,” Commander Silvius added, “were just another Rebel unit from the original force that attacked planet Tres.”
I was struck by the arrogance and self-centered nature of their decisions. They had convinced Peng that their opinions, without a basis in facts, were superior to Warlock’s and mine. We had firsthand knowledge but lacked rank. They had a bad theory but held command positions.
“But what about the Empress’s Constabulary?” I asked feeling as if I already knew their answer.
“Yes, well, we agree that Councilor Khalida Jalal is a traitor and is leading a rebellion against the Galactic Council Realm,” Captain Qiang said. His next words confirmed my fears, “But this whole Empress Constabulary thing is unproven. No Navy or Marine Corps units have reported any contact with an invasion force. We think you’ve confused well financed Rebels with some mystical enemy.”
I started to say more, to defend my observations, to take them to task, and probably ruin my career, when Warlock placed a hand on my Clan strap. She jerked it hard.
“If I may speak?” the Striker asked.
“By all means Master Sergeant. We are always willing to hear the thoughts of a Galactic Council Realm hero,” the Captain said inviting her to speak. However, there was impatience in his tone. He really didn’t care but, again for political reasons, he’d allow her to voice an opinion.
“I’d like to take the Striker team back to where we disabled the Escort,” she suggested, “Maybe we can gather intelligence that will tell us about the, Rebel forces.”
NCOs have their own form of politics. One of which is how to extricate themselves and their people from a bad situation so they can get on with their job.
“Lieutenant Piran, your thoughts?” the Captain asked.
“I second the Master Sergeant’s request,” I replied, “We should gather additional intelligence.”
Warlock and I were dismissed. We didn’t speak until we were alone in the passageway.
“That was insane,” I stammered, “They…they’ve just condemned the Realm to a defensive war. The Navy should be on offense before the Constabulary takes more territory.”
“You’re right, J-Pop,” she said softly, “but going to the brig for insubordination won’t help anyone. And, Sir, I’d prefer to face the Constabulary than spend time on this floating barge of regulations.”
“Alert,” I replied, “I’ve got something to take care of. Gather your team and let’s go prove the Constabulary is more than a bunch of well financed Rebels.”
I sent Heavy Rain a message asking if he had eyes on the Druid children. After receiving directions, I headed to the recreation room. When I arrived, there was an older female Druid standing in the doorway. She wasn’t actually smiling as Druids don’t smile in public. However, she was beaming at the sight of the children.
“Asthore’ Mother,” I said giving her a slight bow.
She stared at me for a few seconds. I wasn’t surprised by her reaction when I unexpectedly called her Asthore’ or ‘My Dear’. Childhood habits did die hard. It always surprises Druids when I revert to old habits. Her eyes roamed from the ear protectors to the rebreather, over the clan strap, and finally landed on my collar and the Knight Protector of the Clan pin.
“Asthore’ Knight,” the Druid said, “Are these your charges?”
“They were until half an hour ago,” I explained, “Now I require help in seeing them to the home world. Can you check with your Elder about it?”
“That Knight, will not be,” she replied, “I am Elder Belana. The children will be cared for and taken home.”
“I appreciate your help,” I said, “and I have another request.”
“Say your words,” she replied.
I filled her in on the arrival of the Constabulary, the Navy’s denial of their existence and the Empress’s dislike for Druids and Heart Plants. The last part got a reaction from her. She raised her eye brows. For a Druid in public, it might as well have been an open mouth scream of shock and horror.
“I need the Druid Council made aware of the threat,” I said finally and added, “I have no more words.”
She stepped into the play room and called the children to her. I left as the children politely introduced themselves to the Druid Elder.
I was sick of the rebreather mask, the ear protectors and mostly the attitude of the Navy. Warlock was right. I’d rather face the Constabulary then play politics. Pieces of the Galactic Council Realm were about to be broken
off and gobbled up by the Empress and I was almost helpless to stop it.
As I approached the DS, I spotted the young mechanic whose ear protection Warlock had requisitioned. He was sitting at the hatchway. My first thought was, if he’d done anything to my GunShip, there wouldn’t be enough of him left to hold a courts martial. The though faded away as Thunder Eagle stepped out of the GunShip and sat beside the man. They were grinning at each other and didn’t see me approach.
“Mechanical issues?” I asked.
They scrambled to their feet looking sheepish.
“Ah, no Sir,” Thunder Eagle said. For once, she didn’t look like a vicious member of a Strike Kill team. She resembled what she was, a young woman, caught keeping time with a handsome young man. I just couldn’t think of her as Thunder Eagle at that moment.
“You’ve got three hours’ ship’s leave,” I informed her, “Don’t be late.”
She reached behind her and produced a package. The package was presented to me with a smile.
“Aye Sir,” Arna Thorsten said taking the mechanic’s hand and leading him away.
With a smile on my face, I opened the package. A pair of noise suppression ear cups fell into my hand. Once in the DS, I switched head gear. The new ones fit better. I set the borrowed set on the dock. Then, I began preparations for another trip through the star’s danger zone.
Chapter 33
If anything in this situation could be called lucky, the course of the Reina de la Adosinda was lucky. Her heading brought her close to the violent star so we saved four days off the travel time. The Frigate would never enter the danger zone. However, she was close enough for the DS to have a straight shot after a minor adjustment.
Before we went to External Drive, the Frigate turned and left the area in a blue streak. I inhaled the air of the DS and was relieved, for the hundredth time, by the lack of berry and sea salt aromas.
“Stand by for External evolution,” I announced.
“Standing by, Lieutenant,” Arna Thorsten replied.
I couldn’t see the smile but, I heard it in her voice. The clocks bounced and the power levels flowed back and forth. I feathered the internal power, matched the clocks, balanced the powers, and the DS evolved. All the while, I had a stupid, no reason for it, grin on my face.
Galactic Council Realm 3: On Guard Page 25