by James Palmer
Legality issues aside, McKeen sympathized with their situation. They were trying to survive. If their situations were reversed and it was he who was starving, would he follow the same path they chose or would he take a different path? Who knew what you would do in that situation unless you were actually in it? He certainly didn’t. Thankfully, it was a position he had not found himself facing.
These settlers had learned to live off of whatever piece of land they could stake a claim. What they could not create, they stole. That was when the authorities took an interest.
But those settlers were not the ones that worried James McKeen. They were ordinary people just trying to survive. Granted, they were not going about it the right way, but he understood that desperate times often lead to desperate measures. No, they were not the ones who haunted his thoughts late at night.
There were others out there far, far worse.
It was these smaller bands of savages who concerned him. They were hiding somewhere in the quadrant, constantly moving from one place to the next, always one step ahead of the authorities. These were the ones to watch out for, the ones that rooted themselves in.
And once they were dug in it was damned near impossible to get them out.
They made long range plans, gathered their forces, and waited for the moment of their retribution. They made up the most dangerous group of Scavengers.
They were the ones the legislature had promised to rid the citizenry of the Alliance of.
It had been an easy promise for the politicians to make. If their promises came to pass they would look like heroes, but should the plan meet with failure the legislature could simply lay the blame on the peacekeeping forces of the marshal’s Office and the Alliance military fleet. Suffice it to say the threat posed by the Scavengers was a long way from a satisfactory ending.
McKeen wondered if there would ever be an end to it at all.
Of those in the UPA Legislature, only a select few were seasoned combat veterans. The rest were not as well versed in the ways of war and they made promises that ultimately could not be kept. Unfortunately, they had not learned from past mistakes. The same promises were still being tossed about.
Some people never learn.
It was in trying to enforce the new, tougher measures against the Scavengers that had cost James McKeen his left eye and a large portion of his face. During what began as a routine mission he had been captured by one of the larger, more ruthless bands. He was dragged before their leader, but not before being subjected to an intensive interrogation at the hands of men who thoroughly enjoyed dispensing pain.
And these men were damned good at their job.
That selfsame leader felt that the Alliance needed to be taught an object lesson and he chose Marshal McKeen to be that lesson. He was made an example to the people of what would happen if the Alliance continued to oppose the Scavenger nation.
Always a proud, stubborn man, McKeen refused to break.
Eventually, after countless days as their prisoner, he found the chink in the Scavenger’s armor that allowed him to regain his freedom.
After making a daring, bloody escape, McKeen gathered his forces and took the fight to the enemy. He went after the Scavengers and their leader full force. After tracking down his tormentor, justice --or was it vengeance?-- was served.
A short time after the successful campaign the marshal was promoted to admiral as a result of his actions. All field marshals were required to hold a rank of captain or higher within the Alliance military.
McKeen felt it was time for a change and accepted the new rank and position, although it took him out of the direct action and placed him behind a desk. That part he did not relish.
Being bound to a desk lasted all of two months before the admiral once again felt the itch to return to where he truly felt alive.
The stars.
He returned to space and the adventures to be found therein. Adventure he had wanted, and adventure he found. But at what cost? Bethany, his wife of thirty years had left him. She wanted a husband who would be there for her and not one off hoping around the galaxy from one crisis to another. It wasn’t working and she left. James was selfish to think otherwise as long as he pursued the adventure. He didn’t like her decision, but he accepted it.
All he had left was a career, an ex-wife he rarely spoke to anymore, and an eighteen-year-old son that refused to have anything at all to do with him. Occasionally he felt the emptiness of their absence, but over the years he learned how to bury it all beneath the job.
The job would never leave him.
And McKeen would never leave the job.
It was all he had left.
Once again he was back in the fold, aboard the flagship of the Alliance somewhere in the farthest reaches of the quadrant. He was as far removed from his old desk job as he could ever want, but not out of reach of the past.
The captain of the Ulysis was a friend and they shared a good history together. Putting to rest the old ghosts that haunted him was long overdue. He needed to get past them and focus only on those good memories of his past.
“This ship is quite impressive,” he said, not realizing until it is too late that he said it aloud.
“I like to think so, sir.”
McKeen turned. The first officer, he noted from the personnel file he had read aboard the Charleston while en route. The first officer was a head shorter than he and sported a grin that never seemed to dissipate.
Kids, McKeen thought.
The first officer seemed charming enough, but superficial charm was one of the few traits McKeen disliked in a commanding officer and something about the man seemed less than genuine.
Oh well. Can’t boot him out of the military for being charming, I suppose, he thought. Too bad. “Admiral James McKeen reporting,” he said, glancing around quizzically. “Permission to come aboard, Commander?” It was an absurd question, considering he was standing in the middle of the docking bay.
The younger man started to answer, but the stilted, irritating voice of the computer beat him to it with a flat, “Permission granted.”
Trying not to grimace, the first officer quickly extended his right hand. The admiral shook it fervently. “Welcome to the Ulysis, Admiral McKeen. Commander Jonathon Maddox.”
“A pleasure, Commander.”
Maddox looked the admiral over as if sizing him up. “May I take your bag sir?” he asked even as he reached for it.
“No,” he answered before the younger man could grab the bag. The admiral had never grown accustomed to people carrying his things for him. “No thanks. I’ve got it.”
“Very good, sir. If you’ll follow me.” Commander Maddox gestured toward the elevator with a wave of his hand. “This way, sir.”
“Thanks.”
Following on the heels of his superior officer, the commander entered the lift and pressed the appropriate button.
“Bridge,” the computer voice intoned, verifying their destination.
For a few brief moments there was only silence as the lift car moved through the bowels of the ship. It was an awkward silence and Commander Maddox decided to break it before the monotony overwhelmed him.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, admiral. The captain has spoken of you often.” Flattery. Always a good way to break the ice.
“Only the good stuff I hope.” The admiral tried to keep the smile out of his voice as he answered.
Maddox nodded. “Of course, sir.”
“Yes,” the admiral continued. “Your captain and I have had a few good years under our belts together. We moved up through the ranks together. He even came to work for me back when I ran the Marshall’s office. We worked together for several years before I was… disabled in combat. I accepted a promotion and left the police work for...” he swirled his left hand in the air, searching for the right word.
“Loftier positions?” Commander Maddox offered.
“Loftier positions. I like it. I’ll have to remember
that one.”
The commander smiled.
“Anyway, your captain resigned a short while later from police work to accept this command. I’d say the old boy made out like a bandit.” He slipped back into silence as his mind intrinsically relived some of those days of adventure and woe.
Once again the commander broke the prevailing silence. “So, what is it like to be a Marshall, sir? The captain doesn’t talk about it much, but what few stories he’s told have sounded exciting.”
“Hmm?” He scratched his chin, feeling the day old stubble on his uncovered right side of his face. “Oh, well, for me it was an experience unlike any I have ever had in my life. I never expect to be in any of those strange types of predicaments again though, mind you.” He rubbed at the metal plate that covered the damaged portion of his face on the left side of his skull. “Those days of grand adventure are far behind me, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, sir. There’s always something new out here on the fringe.”
“Maybe so, son,” McKeen said as he suddenly had the urge to count the grooves in the ceiling tile panels. “But some days these old bones just can’t muster up the energy for more. Running around the galaxy like some kind of cowboy in the old west is more suited to young men like yourself, Commander.”
“Yes, sir.”
The remainder of the elevator ride to the bridge was spent in silent reflection as one man basked in the glory of a hero and the other remembered what had gone before. McKeen hoped to never revisit some of the horrors he has seen over the course of his lengthy career ever again.
He suspected, of course, that was one dream that would probably never come true.
Terrorism had a nasty habit of never going away. Sure, the faces might change, but the evil that fueled the terror would always be lurking around every corner, waiting to pounce.
And as long as that threat remained, men like James McKeen would be honor bound to stand against it.
To the bitter end if necessary.
Though he hoped it didn’t come to that.
“We’re here, Admiral.”
The hiss of the automatic doors announced their arrival and McKeen and Maddox stepped out into the busy command center.
“Wow!” McKeen gasped.
“Welcome to the bridge, sir.”
“Wow,” the admiral repeated.
The commander could not help but smile outwardly. He was obviously very proud of his vessel. And with good reason, the admiral noted.
“Yes sir,” Maddox said. “My thoughts exactly.”
Like most Alliance vessels, the Ulysis was more than just a military vessel. The United Planetary Alliance’s philosophy was to explore and propagate the galaxy. The human race was growing exponentially and was perilously close to running out of room. New planets needed to be cultivated to house the growing populace.
With Earth off limits for resettlement, the Alliance was looking toward the rim.
Surveying the bridge with his good eye, the admiral took in the beauty stretched out before him. With nicely decorated interiors, sleek new controls, and fully up to date computer technology, the Ulysis truly was a state of the art vessel.
Those folks at Bridger really know their stuff, he thought, genuinely impressed.
Unlike some of their earlier designs, the Ulysis’ bridge was not at the forward section of the ship. The bridge was several levels down in the very bowels of the ship. This was a safety measure so the bridge would be protected in the event of a natural disaster, an attack, or Heaven forbid, in case of a collision in space.
He took a slow, almost wistful stride around the command podium to get a better view of the pit area where the starship’s four pilot stations were located. The first officer’s duty station was located there as well.
Commander Maddox motioned for him to take a closer look. “This area is designed as a last man bridge,” he said by way of explanation as the admiral looked around. “In the event of an attack or some sort of disaster, the bridge stations are all part of an integrated system. If necessary, one crewman could run the entire ship from the captain’s station in an emergency situation,” he said, pointing to the empty captain’s chair.
“An impressive set up, Commander. Are the units always integrated?”
“No, sir. All stations operate individually unless emergency conditions are in place. From that point it is a simple matter to integrate them, however.”
McKeen pointed to the pit. “Pilot control?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pilot control was situated directly below the captain’s station. As he walked down the ramp into the pit, the admiral’s fingers soaked up the textures on the walls, the chairs, the computer consoles, everything. Perfect.
Gone were the designs of old where everything was flat gray metal. Padding covered the manicured walls, reminding him of a resort where he once vacationed. He felt comfortable on the deck of the Ulysis’ bridge. This was a ship designed for peace, not war.
“She’s certainly different from the ships I served on when I was your age,” he said and instantly regretted the words. They made him sound like an old man.
Engulfing himself in all the natural sensations the moment afforded him, the admiral had not realized that all eyes on the bridge were on him. With his prosthetic eye, the admiral focused less on the people and more on the aesthetics of his surroundings; the way the layout was designed to flow around the captain’s command chair. The captain had line of sight access to every bridge station without having to leave his command station. In a crisis situation, this was especially critical.
“We have four pilots on station at all times,” Maddox continued. “Although we could easily function with only two. We run a standard four shift rotation. The pilots rotate within the pit every two hours within the eight hour rotation.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“This way our pilots remain fresh and alert, reducing the chances of error.”
“You run a fine ship, Commander. I’m impressed.”
Maddox nodded. He was afraid too many thank yous would make him look like a kiss-ass. Not the kind of first impression he wanted to leave the admiral with.
McKeen tossed a half salute to the pilots in the pit. “Keep up the good work, ladies and gentlemen,” he told them as he headed up the ramp again.
He noted the subtle variations in light rays around certain sections of the bridge that added to the comforting feel of this ship. The Ulysis was nothing like the stark steel gray ships with very little light he had served on in the past.
A new breed of ship for a new breed of adventurers.
A dinosaur like the admiral could easily find many of these changes overwhelming. Luckily, McKeen had learned to adapt to new situations quickly and easily. A concept many of his counterparts in the Alliance military hierarchy had yet to grasp.
“Incredible,” he said, clapping the first officer on the shoulder. “Damn fine vessel you have here son.” He cleared his throat. “And while I’d love to take the full tour, what I really need to see now is your captain.”
As if on cue, the hiss of an automated door from the right side of the bridge alerted everyone to the presence of a new arrival as the captain returned to the bridge.
As usual, the man’s timing is damn near perfect, the admiral noted with a proud smile.
“Marshal!”
The middle-aged man in the captain’s uniform strode across the length of the bridge in no time flat and embraced his friend. These two men had shared many adventures together and each in their own distinguished careers so that neither stood on ceremony.
The sight of his friend overjoyed the captain. A simple handshake would not suffice. “Welcome aboard, Admiral,” he started. “How was your trip? Everything went well, I take it? Have you had a chance to see the ship?”
The elder of the two friends held up his hands as if to hold back the onslaught of questions.
“Bill.”
“Yes, si
r?”
He laughed. “It was a long trip, Bill.” The admiral nodded toward the door the captain had just walked through. “Why don’t you offer a tired old man a seat somewhere comfortable so we can have a little chat.”
“Of course, sir.”
“In private,” the admiral added as if it were an afterthought.
Silently, the first officer moved off to rejoin the helmsmen in the pit, nodding to the captain and the admiral as he departed. The admiral acknowledged the respect for privacy the younger man displayed and made a mental note to congratulate Bill on picking a fine second in command.
“Oh and Commander Maddox,” he said, catching the younger man’s attention. “After I’ve gotten settled in and my business here is concluded, I’d like to take you up on that tour you promised.”
“Yes, sir,” Maddox replied with a sly smile as he took his station. “I look forward to it.”
“My office is this way, sir. You have the bridge, Mr. Maddox.” Without preamble or protocol, Captain William Andrews and Admiral James McKeen departed the bridge for the captain’s office.
As the two old friends vanished behind the closed door, Commander Maddox could only wonder what they were talking about in private. A flag officer like Admiral McKeen did not routinely fly out to the fringe unless it was a matter of the utmost urgency.
Whatever was going on, Maddox assumed he would be in the loop soon enough. The captain rarely left his first officer out of mission briefings, which had proven useful in the grand scheme of things.
Life aboard a high profile vessel like the Ulysis was rarely boring. With the arrival of the admiral, the commander felt a slight sense of trepidation.
“This should be interesting,” he muttered as he took his station.
“Very interesting indeed.”
7
Space lab Science Station