The bridge crew had dialed in the security monitors in the corridor where Rachel and Sergei were walking and were following the conversation as avidly as if this were an end of season sporting event.
“She winged him! Look at his eyes!” Adele shouted.
“Go Rachel!” Vernon shouted.
“Wait until he sees Boris!” Boris waited at the end of the corridor. Instead of a formal dress uniform, he wore freshly pressed jungle fatigues with a pair of boots that no amount of polish would make look anything but what they were, well worn. “General Tsarevich, welcome to the independent colony Norseland.”
“Wow!” Vernon shouted to the others on the bridge, “Open fire! BLAM!”
“Funny,” Adele said, “I don’t see steam coming out his ears yet!”
In a study of restraint, Sergei addressed Boris, “It is good to see you Boris. I trust you will give me more detailed reports than the mere outlines you sent home.”
“My reports leave out nothing of significance, General. You will see that when we take you to the surface in a few days.”
“In a few days? Why not tomorrow?”
Rachel interceded. “Our ships capable of entering the atmosphere were damaged in combat shortly after we arrived. None of them are functioning at the moment. One is expected to be ready in a few days, and we will descend to the surface when it is safe to do so.”
“I demand to be taken to the surface immediately upon the completion of this gathering.”
“That will not be possible. Let me have you talk to my chief engineer.” She reached out for Reuben’s arm. “General Tsarevich, please allow me to introduce my chief engineer, Reuben Abrams and his wife Suwanee.”
Tsarevich took a sharp inhale. He had opposed miscegenation in every colony he had built. To see a white man married to a black woman boiled his blood. The fact that the man was dressed in Federation Space Force whites and the woman wore the uniform of a Federation Marine Lieutenant only made matters worse. Silently, Tsarevich turned away. Rachel smiled. So far, everything Anatole and Boris had said about the man was exactly correct. Rachel guided Tsarevich to a seat next to her at the head table. Her “battle group” sat to her right. Tsarevich’s senior staff sat to her left. Isaac sat next to Rachel. Tsarevich was intrigued with the idea of such a skilled military strategist as Rachel marrying a doctor of no small intellect. Isaac quickly dominated the conversation with Tsarevich. Isaac engaged the General in a philosophical discussion of the potential importance of an emerging field of medical research which was being hotly debated in the current medical journals. The conversation quickly sailed over Rachel’s head. Rachel politely excused herself to make the rounds of the guests. Every time Rachel sought Isaac out he and Tsarevich were in animated conversation over some fine point of medicine or science. The terms they used meant nothing to her.
The party went well into the “night” there being no “night” or “day” on the ship. When Rachel excused herself to go to bed, Isaac and Sergei were apparently in agreement on some key idea. Hours later Isaac finally came to bed. Rachel awoke as he settled in.
“Sounds like you got along with Sergei,” she said pleasantly.
“What a monster! Completely without ethics, morals or concern for the suffering he causes.” Isaac spat the words.
“That bad?”
“Your father would have shot him.”
“So we initiate Plan A?”
“If I don’t shoot him first.”
Rachel looked at the kind and gentle man she loved and saw the type of anger she had never seen in him before. This anger was familiar. She had seen it in her mother and father. She had seen it in herself, in her sister and in her son. When this type of anger surfaced, people died. Isaac had never shown this type of anger even when he was healing her wounds from the torture on Stonebridge. She pulled him tight and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sweetheart, in this family, I am the one that shoots people. If you want him shot, I’ll take care of it.”
“You would, wouldn’t you, if I asked.”
“Yes, for you,” she said softly, “anything for you.”
“Send him away as quickly as you can.”
“That’s the plan.”
They fell asleep cradled in each other’s arms. The tiger and the grown little boy that loved her slept soundly through the night.
COLONY SERVICE - CHAPTER SIX
THE STAFF THAT GATHERED in the conference room was eerily quiet when Rachel and Isaac joined the meeting. Rachel did not have time to get through the opening formalities when Isaac interrupted her. “I don’t know who the rest of you talked to or what you discovered, but Sergei Tsarevich is a monster. If he survives to see any of the colonists, I will be disappointed. If that is not your plan, it should be. I do not know what your plans are, and it is better that I not know. If it were my choice, I would shoot him before he could leave this ship.” Isaac strode out of the silent room.
Isaac leaned his head back against the wall of the elevator that would take him from the bridge deck to the operating room deck. He closed his eyes to contain his anger.
“Isaac?”
“Yes, Elizabeth?”
“You should see one of your trauma specialists before you see anyone else. Your vital signs are at dangerous levels.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth, I am aware.”
“Isaac, you are a wonderful doctor, and you are as vital to this mission as Rachel is, but sometimes you don’t take care of yourself like you should.”
Isaac sighed. “You sound like I imagine my mother would have sounded if she had not been killed by the Swordsmen.”
“That was the intent. I have learned from the women we transported. Would you like me to coach you in breathing exercises to help you calm down?”
“Yes, thank you.”
When Isaac stepped off the elevator, his vitals had returned to normal and his respect for Elizabeth had increased exponentially.
The silence in the conference room that followed Isaac’s departure lasted for several minutes. Anatole finally broke the stillness. “While I do not wish the man dead, I share the good doctor’s sentiments. You must follow your hearts. I do know this. Not all of his staff is as callous as he is. Some of them are worth saving. If I may be so bold as to suggest that we try to sort out the good from the bad and decide what we do about our judgments.”
“I agree,” Rachel said. “Elizabeth, have you maintained surveillance of our guests?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Please inform us of what you observed as we discuss each person in turn.”
“Certainly.”
“Do you spy on all your guests?” Anatole asked.
“Yes,” Rachel replied, “guests, captain and crew.”
“So the only way to discuss something you will not hear is to leave the ship?” Anatole said fearful of the implications.
Rachel grinned evilly. “Does Elizabeth have dirt on you?” Anatole blushed.
Dr. Terrell said, “A lady does not kiss and tell.”
Everyone in the room knew instantly that Anatole was her latest conquest, another testament to her insatiable sexual appetite. The explosion of laughter could be heard in the hallway.
Once everyone had dried the laughter tears from their faces, they began deciding who was worth keeping and who was not. They agreed that even those deemed not worthy of keeping would be given an opportunity to prove otherwise. The ones deemed worthy would also be tested to verify the correctness of the decision.
Elizabeth reported that Tsarevich and two dozen of his senior staff had appeared at the hospital reception desk for the tour Isaac had promised them. Joshua left the meeting to join the tour and quickly split the more technically minded from the others. In his mind he was already separating out the keepers from the rejects. He found ways to attach the potential keepers to members of his staff for detailed explanations of technologies that interested them. The rejects he kept with him. At the end of the tour, he would quiz his
staff on their reactions.
Taking his lead from his more rational younger brother, Isaac also split the keepers from the rejects, dropping visitors in Cardiology, Orthopedics and Trauma. When they returned to the front desk, Tsarevich was assured that his missing staff would be returned to him once all their questions were answered. Seven remained including Tsarevich that Isaac and Joshua considered beyond reclamation.
Two hours later, Reuben announced that a med ship was available to take a limited number of passengers to the surface, but they would have to leave immediately since the instrument guided flight equipment was not reliable. As if by magic, the only members of Tsarevich’s staff that could be gathered in time to make the deadline were the seven “rejects” that Isaac and Joshua had separated out. They were accompanied by a squad of Marines which included both Lt. Rattigan and Madison who were being sent to “relieve those on duty” although the people on the ground had long ago taken over their own security. The Marines only came to the ground occasionally to conduct advanced training on the combat weapons or to provide additional firepower when the colony expanded into a new territory. With their combat flight suits and their field packs, they could be inserted into hostile territory and survive for up to three weeks.
Madison and Rattigan were actually enjoying the thought of the adventure that lay ahead of them. Rachel had stood amazed after trying to apologize for sending them on this mission when they had told her that this was the kind of thing they did for fun when they were off duty. Having the advantage of full combat packs did make it a little cushier than what they usually went out for, but they were looking forward to a good time. When the med ship suddenly developed “engine trouble” the Marines knew the party was about to begin.
Brad, who normally flew back seat with Whitney in the PI, had not only volunteered for this mission, but had gone on a campaign with the med ship pilots to convince them that he was the best person for the job. A few days on the surface waiting to be “rescued” did not bother him. He had flown med ships before volunteering for combat duty. He went so far as to convince Elizabeth to review his flying record. When Elizabeth turned up the fact that he had been busted twice for acrobatics in a med ship, Alina agreed to let him go.
Faking engine trouble shortly after reentry was easy. Brad grinned as he listened to the cacophony of terrified voices in the back of the ship followed by the stern commands of the Marines as they took control of the situation. A slight wing slip in the thin upper atmosphere settled everyone down. Rocking the ship slightly for effect, Brad guided the ship under Buddy’s watchful eye toward the beach they had chosen for the “emergency” landing. Buddy informed Brad that he should not dally because there was a squall line headed for the beach, and they needed to land before it hit. Brad grinned maliciously. A little rough weather would enhance the effect. He diverted enough to fly into the storm. After ten minutes of totally unnecessary buffeting, Brad looped the ship around and pitched the nose up. Gliding in as close to a stall as he dared, he gently set the main gear down on the sand. The wheels dug in harder than he expected, and the nose gear slammed into the ground hard enough that if he had been landing on a permanent runway, it would have been damaged. As it was, the med ship skidded to a stop in a swirling cloud of dust.
The dust had not settled when lightning split a tree to their right. The thunder shook the ship. Brad could see the wall of water advancing in their direction across the bay.
“Open the aft ramp!” Tsarevich shouted. “We need to get out of this ship!”
Brad pondered for a second before he opened the ramp. “Where would I rather be? Warm dry med ship sitting on the sand? Running in the rain across open sand with lightning popping around me? In a forest in a thunderstorm with lots of tall natural lightning rods?”
As Brad watched Tsarevich roll out the ramp, he decided, “Warm dry med ship.” The Marines and most of Tsarevich’s staff appeared to agree with Brad.
Brad unstrapped himself and wandered back to Lt. Rattigan. “Should I close the ramp?” Brad kept forgetting how much taller Rattigan was than everyone else. He looked up at the Marine for reaction.
Rattigan smiled. “Yeah.” He patted Brad on the shoulder and then gently pulled two of Tsarevich’s staff away from the ramp so it could close safely. Brad focused the aft camera usually used for monitoring loading on Tsarevich and the two members of his staff that had followed him out. Lt Rattigan sat in the copilot’s seat and Madison stood between them as they watched the antics going on outside. Tsarevich and the others had dug three holes in the sand and were industriously covering themselves with sand.
“What bonehead thought this up?” Madison asked out loud.
“Colony Service Operations Manual.” A new voice answered from behind her. One of Tsarevich’s staff was watching over her shoulder. None of them had heard him approach, but two of their Marines flanked him. The newcomer shook his head. “What an idiot.” The newcomer held out his hand. “Lt. Rattigan, I am Retired Federation Marine Gunnery Sergeant First Class Oliver Newton. It is a pleasure to know we are in good hands.”
He turned to Brad. “Nice bit of flying on the way in. I would have believed it except I’ve logged enough time in these ships to know what a real engine failure feels like. So, would one of you kind folks please explain what is going on?”
“We wanted to have General Tsarevich meet the colonists on their own terms,” Lt. Rattigan explained.
“That much I figured out. You don’t like what he does with the specimens he finds do you?” Newton asked.
“No,” Rattigan replied.
“What you rather he did? Kill them like the Americans did to the indigenous populations of people and animals as they pushed west?” Newton asked sarcastically.
“No, but these are not dumb animals. These are people who even now are assimilating into the population,” Rattigan challenged.
Oliver Newton sighed. “It’s a ticket for disaster. It’s been tried other ways, and it does not work. I’ll play your silly little game, but you will see what other colonies have learned the hard way. These people as you call them are clones, mentally deficient clones. Breeding with them is no different from miscegenation.”
Thunder rippled across the beach shaking the ship.
“Just because he’s an idiot does not mean he is wrong.” Newton said hoping to get the last word.
“Just because these people are clones, does not mean they are less than human,” Rattigan spat back.
“We’ll see.”
The next day dawned bright and clear.
“The colony is that way,” Lt. Rattigan said. “It could be a week before they send a ship to fetch us and we can walk there in that time.”
“Are there no helicopters?” Tsarevich asked.
“They’re in the cargo you brought, and the technicians to assemble them are still up there.” Lt. Rattigan pointed up. “We could stand here and talk all day or we could start walking.”
“No boats?” Tsarevich whined.
“Nothing big enough to make the trip. Shall we go?”
“If there is no hope of rescue, then we must.”
Lt. Rattigan organized his detail and taking the rearmost position for himself so he could keep an eye on Newton, they moved out along the beach.
Brad stayed with the ship to defend it against hostile natives that might appear out of the woods.
COLONY SERVICE - CHAPTER SEVEN
“Rachel, we have COMPANY,” Elizabeth announced.
“More company?” Rachel asked as she looked up from her desk.
“Yes,” Elizabeth affirmed.
“It is getting crowded in this corner of the galaxy. Who are the new arrivals?” Rachel asked.
“They claim to be an unarmed Constant News Channel studio ship.”
“Do you believe them?”
“Studio ships are generally converted freighters. Unfortunately, so are Q ships. This ship could be what it claims to be or not. I cannot tell without closer exa
mination.”
“Have you analyzed their communications?”
“Yes, there is nothing in their communications that gives any reason for suspicion, beyond the fact that your combat record would indicate caution is in order.”
“Can you patch me into their communication?”
“This is a recording of the transmission. They have it on a loop.”
The display revealed a stately woman seated behind what looked like a studio news room desk with the logo of the Constant News Network behind her. Rachel recognized the woman. She had been a news anchor on one of the broadcast channels they had watched at the Academy. She had aged gracefully although her blond hair had gone fashionably gray. She still held the dignity and poise that Rachel had admired in her from those long ago broadcasts. “Captain Rachel Solomon Cohen, this is Senior Executive Producer Jane Turner of the Constant News Network. We are the unarmed studio ship Edward R. Murrow. We request safe passage. I request a meeting with you personally and permission to interview you for broadcast.”
The camera zoomed away and faded to the network logo. The message repeated.
“Has Faye Anne seen this?” Rachel asked.
“Not yet.”
“Please have her, Wendy and Alina come here.”
Faye Anne watched the broadcast several times. She shook her head slowly. “The Edward R. Murrow was in orbit around Stonebridge’s primary when we arrived. No telling how long they waited for us, but they knew we were coming and that there would be a good news story. The Swordsmen did not know they were there. They could probably have slid in to this system without alerting us and waited for something to happen. The fact that they are here means that they know something we don’t. The fact that they told us they are here probably means they want to tell us whatever it is, and I think we should politely ask them to come in and tell us.”
“We should have the P I ships go meet them,” Rachel said. “Alina, tell Brad to bring the med ship home. We need him here. Where is the ground expedition relative to the first of the rescuers?”
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