by Paul Phipps
“Harold, please ask Commandant Cappielo if he would be able to attend a secure meeting. Tell him to bring at least two of his people he trusts implicitly.” He told his Captain.
“Yes Admiral, I get right on it.” The Captain said and then exited the room too.
“Connection complete Admiral Caparelli.” He heard again.
“Good morning Admiral Caparelli, I understand you wanted to talk with me?” He heard the distinctive voice of the TSN Commander once again in a way that felt like he was using his ears but knew that no one else would hear the voice.
“Ahhh yes, I did. But it was made as a wish almost. I didn’t know that these gauntlets would let me talk to you. It’s good to know that.”
“Certainly is, now how may I assist you?” Ansel asked.
The Admiral brought him up to speed quickly, “Can a trip to Camp Heinlein be arranged for my staff and me and for any other interested parties?”
“Certainly we can do that for you. Anytime including today is possible.”
“If you can do that it might be very helpful.” The Admiral paused and then said, “Now that I know what is happening, so many things that have occurred over the last few years are making sense. I need these people to assist me in thwarting our enemies.”
“Yes, I can do that, why don’t we do a briefing on board the Mentor while I transport you and your party to Camp Heinlein? If I may I would like to bring some of our latest trainees, probably three or four of them.” Ansel asked.
“Certainly, how soon can you make it here to the Pentagon?” Admiral Caparelli enquired.
“I need to gather up some things and my people, Say about two hours?”
“That will work out for me here; I’ll gather up my party and meet you at the Helicopter Pad. There will be between twelve and thirty of us. I’m not sure at this time the total numbers.”
“Don’t worry if you need to bring more, please try to exclude any Quarn-Slaves if you can. And if not we’ll think of something. Anything else Admiral?” Ansel asked politely.
“No, not at this time anyway… and Commander Webster?”
“Yes sir?”
“Thank you.” Admiral Caparelli finished up with a sincere tone of voice.
* * *
Ansel got up from his desk and stretched once again. He thought for a bit and then went to his Command Master Chief’s office.
Asimov City operated on Greenwich Mean Time so as he came through the Trans-Portal into her office space he said, “Good afternoon Sarah! Do you have a few minutes?”
“Certainly sir, what do you need this poor hard-working chief to take care of now?” She said with a twinkle to her eye.
“Admiral Caparelli, the U.S. Navy Chief of Naval Operations is requesting that we bring some of their Senior Officers here for a tour of the training facilities and more importantly to bring some more trusted people into our circle vis-a-vis the Quarn. “
“Interesting… And you want me to set up a Dog and Pony show for them?”
“Yes please, also I need four of your recruits, two of your best pilots and two of your best marines. They are going to be on display as object results of our training methods. They will also be accompanying you and me to the Pentagon for the pick-up of our visitors.
“It just so happens that I know exactly who to use for this one Commander.” She said with a slight smile.
“That’s good, please have them and yourself get to the Mentor ASAP. I’m going there now myself.” And then with a jaunty bounce to his walk Ansel went to the Trans-Portal and was gone.
* * *
The Mentor was a TSN Heavy Cruiser that had been set aside as a dedicated training vessel for use by both the Naval and Marine personnel who were now just entering the practical portion of their training. She was a little more than three statute miles long and almost as wide.
The class had been designed with the idea of being able to operate as independent fleet elements in the heavy cruiser classes. They carried several squadrons of Starfighter Mk 1’s and the new MARS units in several dedicated configurations to be used primarily by the Marines in their various missions. Their heavy weapon was a forty inch railgun that used both electro-magnetic and gravity accelerators to fire a specially designed projectile that theoretically could reach .84c or approximately one hundred-fifty-six thousand miles per second.
Mind you it sounds impressive and is, but in terms of outer space? That is knife fighting range, but like a knife the projectile could theoretically penetrate a warships battle shields to deliver massive amount of physical damage to its target.
Ansel was in the Captain’s Chair at the Command Console on the bridge of the Mentor looking down and over the shoulders of Recruit Harrison and Recruit Marsh as they guided her into the upper atmosphere with their goal of parking the Mentor at 100K feet over the Pentagon. The former Lt. Marsh of the U.S. Navy was coordinating with Air Traffic Control as well as the North American Air Defense Command for their parking spot and the for the four MARS units that would be doing the transport of the CNO and his party.
The two Marine recruits had their Shipsuits configured in their Dress Blacks with Red Piping on the legs and arms. They were currently at the IGD command station examining the ‘take’ from the Intelligence Gathering Drones located in the Washington D.C. area on permanent assignment.
Recruit Tufuga a hulking former U.S. Marine from American Samoa reported to Ansel, “Captain, IGD DC-4177 is reporting that there are currently seventy-six Officers and Senior Enlisted personnel waiting at the Pentagon’s two Helicopter pads for us. I have positively identified all of the Assistant Secretaries of Defense and the current members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. There are also indications of Quarn Exudate in the gathering. Possibly five of them are parasitized from particulate analysis.”
“Five of them, Hmmm…” Ansel murmured, “Well, we will just have to separate them out and limit their data gathering. Any idea yet who they are?”
“No Sir, not at this time, they are mingling with the group and the sensors are still being used in the passive mode. Do you want me to go full-active?” he asked knowing full well that it was a dumb idea.
Ansel in turn grinned and rebutted with, “Well recruit, If you were in charge would you go full-active?”
“No SIR!” Recruit Tufuga said from a posture as close to attention as he could get while still manning his workstation. “The possibility of detection outweighs any possible good data we could get at this time. Once aboard then they can be scanned and positively identified much more efficiently.”
“Very well then, that’s just how we will do it. Recruit Harrison, when will we be at our assigned ‘Parking Spot’?”
“In another five minutes, sir. I am also detected a larger number than usual of tracking and targeting radar transmitters aimed at that spot. I believe they are working on a way around our radar stealth capability.” The former Navy lieutenant volunteered.
“Interesting, but not too surprising. Please come out of full stealth, increase the brightness on the hull and put on a blip enhancer, make us seem bigger than we are.”
A few minutes later they were hovering at one hundred thousand feet directly over the Pentagon of the United States. “All right everyone you know the drill. We each take one MARS Unit down. Master Chief Cavendish and Recruit Harrison will stay on board the Mentor and monitor the situation for us.” Ansel directed them and headed for the Trans-portal with his three recruits behind him.
* * *
Admiral Caparelli and the other officers who had previously received the communicator equipped gauntlets from Admiral Webster and President Richardson heard Ansel’s voice in their ears. “We are dropping at this time, arrival will be in ten minutes.” Then there was silence.
They could all see the bright white shape of the Mentor hanging high above them in the hazy early afternoon sky. Captain Eagleton smiled wryly and then turned to Admiral Caparelli and said, “I don’t know why, but it continuously amazes m
e at how many different ships they keep showing up in. Are they trying to make a point or is it something else?”
“Good question, I’m not sure myself. If it was to make a point wouldn’t they be showing up with their biggest ships all of the time? This one is large but it appears to be smaller than their Star Fighter Carriers and it’s a bit more… telegenic I guess is the word I’m looking for. It looks sleek and racy to me, sort of like comparing a DDX to a World War II Destroyer.” The Admiral replied carefully.
The murmuring in the group of people quickly wound down as they watched four dots fall simultaneously from the vessel high over them. It was several minutes as they faded in and out of view in the hazy sky, then they were slowing to a halt around five hundred feet above their heads. The leading MARS came down and then hovered above the ground while a wide ramp deployed itself from the bottom. Ansel came walking down the Ramp by himself and immediately approached the assembled Joint Chiefs of Staff.
He saluted them and they returned the salute, “Good morning Gentlemen, I’m pleased to meet you once again.”
There were pleasantries passed back and forth and then Ansel said, “Please come aboard in groups of twenty or less. As soon as we fill up one of the MARS then we’ll lift off and the others will come in one at a time to embark you and your party.”
The joint chiefs had drawn straws earlier on, General Owens had won the long straw and General Cappielo and his marine officers would be last. General Owens walked forward and his contingent of Colonels and Lt. Colonels followed him closely. Ansel raised one eyebrow as he glanced at Admiral Caparelli who in turn just shrugged and made a shooing motion with one hand. A quick smile between the two and then Ansel led the group up the ramp.
“Gentlemen pick your seat,” as he pointed to the seats along each wall, “General Owens there are three extra seats up front if you and two others would like to ride up with me.”
Once he was in the command seat, Ansel checked to see that everyone was seated and then raised the ramp and lifted off quietly and then configured the entire forward cabin wall into a 360 degree display with only the forward 120 degrees not being compressed by the fish-eye effect.
“This is a very different craft than the last one I got to ride in.” General Owens started the conversation. “I recognize the base design you know.” He finished with a chuckle.
“Really?” Ansel replied with the hint of a waiting laugh.
“Oh yes, War of the Worlds, the infamous Martian Fighting Machine. The only thing missing is that weird periscopic heat beam weapon.” The General said and then shivered, “I had nightmares about those things as a kid.”
“So did I, General. We like it though because it is a very versatile design. Soon I believe the design will be referred worldwide as the Terran Space Navy MARS Unit instead of the Martian War Machine.”
“Commander Webster,” Lt. General Tanaka a third generation Japanese-American asked, “pardon me if I ask you some questions that you’ve probably already been asked.”
“Certainly General Tanaka, ask away, we have a few minutes until everyone is embarked.” Ansel told him graciously.
“Good, First thing for me is do you have an idea of what percentage of the Human component of the TSN will be pilots?”
“All of them General, every single one of them. It’s a part of the basic training and since we are space oriented everyone needs to know how to use and operate all of our equipment. And before you ask, there are some who will be dedicated to that position as they show they possess extra-ordinary skills for that job. Others will specialize doing other needed things, but we all need to know how to fly.”
“Interesting… I’m having a hard time following that.” The general said slowly.
“I think it’s because there are so few aircraft in the Air Force compared to the number of people you have in total. For us it’s the opposite, there are far more ships and associated carried craft for them than there are people available to utilize them.” Ansel said with a smile.
“Ahhhh… Ok, I can see that logic. How long does it take to train a typical recruit to a proficiency level suitable to joining your active duty forces?”
“All training is on an individual basis General. But with that being said, Hmmm, perhaps two years subjectively and between three and eight weeks objectively. That also includes any medical time required by the recruit.” Ansel replied as he kept his eyes on the other MARS units as they landed one by one to pick up their passengers.
“Ok, I’m confused here. Subjectively, Objectively? Medical time?” The General asked in confused tone of voice.
“We use a virtual reality method for most of our classroom learning, it speeds up the recruits time perception so that a week of classroom learning is compressed into ten to fifteen minutes of ‘Real-time’. Real-time or one second by one second time is also called Objective time.
Now the Medical time I mentioned is for doing any repairs or age-reversal treatments.”
“Repairs? Age-reversal?” again came a confused tone of voice from the General.
“Well yes, if a recruit is missing any limbs or has Cancer or some such thing we repair that. If he or she is at an age that isn’t optimum for the work being required we adjust that for them.” Ansel replied candidly.
“How old was your oldest recruit so far?” The general asked.
“I believe he was seventy-two.”
“Amazing… So you really are not cherry-picking your people. You will take anyone who meets your qualifications regardless of their physical condition?”
“That’s correct sir. But with that being said, we ARE picky, perhaps one out of ten thousand will have the necessary mental and moral strengths required for being a member of the TSN.”
“I’m really looking forward to the rest of this tour. You don’t mind if I write this up and distribute it to my people?”
“Certainly Sir, all I ask is that you present everything in a factual manner.” Ansel told him politely.
At that time MARS #4 was setting down on the Helo-pad. Former Gunnery Sergeant Tufuga of the U.S. Marines now Recruit Tufuga smiled contentedly to himself. There in the front viewscreen was the man he was looking forward to meeting again. It was long road since Gulf-War 1 for both of them. He had been left a man in a broken body and the former lieutenant he had nurtured and defended to the best of his abilities was now the Commandant of the Corps.
Recruit Tufuga marched down the ramp from his MARS unit and saluted the Commandant of the U.S. Marine Corps, who in return automatically saluted back.
“Good Morning General Cappielo, please have your party follow me.”
General Cappielo nodded his head and started to follow the young and obviously fit man up the ramp into the MARS unit. He had a nagging feeling about the man in front of him, had they met once before?
Once aboard Recruit Tufuga instructed the Marine Officers to take a seat along the bulkheads and then told the Commandant. “Sir, there are three available seats in the command capsule if you would like to sit there.”
“Thank you …” The commandant said and then waited for a name.
“Recruit Tufuga, sir. Terran Space Navy Marines.”
“I had been told that there would be Marines but you are the first I’ve heard of or met for that matter.” The General said and then followed Tufuga into the Command Capsule
“Yes, sir there aren’t many of us yet and none have graduated from Basic either.”
“I see, and where do you see the Marines in the grand scheme of things of the Terran Space Navy?” The General probed.
“A fair question Sir, I’ve discussed that with Fleet Admiral Webster and Commander Webster as well as several of the Command A.I.’s . As they see it the marines are a Co-Equal part of the Terran Space Navy what sets us apart is the willingness to fight directly with the enemies of the Human Race.
We receive not only the same training as the regular Space Navy personnel but hand to hand, personal weapons and tac
tical training. As a symbol of our going that extra step we are the only members that are required to wear our personal sidearms at all times.”
“So I see, and do you think that is a good thing?” The Commandant probed gently.
“Yes Sir I do. As an abstract thing knowing that I as a Marine am capable of being the most dangerous person in any situation I find myself in is one thing. But actually carrying and displaying my weapons imposes that even deeper on me as well as the others around me. I must consider my actions and potential consequences to my actions at all times even if only in subconscious way.”
“Hmmm, yes I can understand that. And speaking of personal weapons what are they?”
“All Marines carry the Light saber,” He chuckled and blushed a little at that, “well that’s what we call it anyway.” He then indicated the slender rod like device that rode he left hip. “It’s really quite the versatile hand to hand weapon. It extends a rod in variable increments out to around four feet. The rod acts as a ‘carrier’ for the weapon field. It can be set to a setting similar to a stun gun all the way up to the light-saber setting at which point nothing material will stop it from slicing it in two.”