by James Palmer
The dead never talked back.
14
Space lab Science Station
Sheron Vandrell had just started her shift when the trouble started.
Everything had been running smoothly in Space Lab’s operations center. As part of the small contingent of United Planetary Alliance military personnel permanently stationed on Space Lab, Lieutenant Vandrell’s primary responsibility was to monitor incoming and outgoing traffic and to make certain that station functions ran like clockwork. Station operations ran smoothly, primarily because she was very good at her job.
Settling into her station, Lt. Vandrell expertly preformed a cursory check of all systems. This was a routine she had developed not long after arriving on the station. When she was promoted to running Space Lab’s Operations center she made sure the rest of her staff performed the same routine. The day-to-day operations of Space Lab were run by the book. She found there were less surprises that way.
Lt. Vandrell hated surprises.
Unfortunately, that meant that today was not going to be her day.
“Lieutenant!” called out Ensign Bailey, one of the other military officers assigned to the station. “We have an incoming ship on our scanners, sir.”
“We get a lot of those, Ensign,” she said sarcastically. “This is a space station. Ships come and go around here all the time. Try to calm down.” She waited a moment as the officer rechecked his computer console.
Seeing the pinched expression on his face she added, “What’s the problem?”
“This ship just passed the first outer marker and has not reduced speed as ordered. It’s coming in much too fast,” the ensign said, turning toward his superior officer. “Orders, Lieutenant?”
Instantly, Lt. Vandrell was on her feet. “Open a channel.”
“Channel open.”
“This is Lt. Sheron Vandrell of the United Planetary Alliance. You are in violation of safety procedures for docking at this facility.” She cast a glance over to the ensign.
With a slight nod he acknowledged that the lines were indeed open and her message was being sent, but no one on the ship had responded.
“Please reduce your speed as instructed,” she added.
“No answer, Lieutenant.”
“Damn.”
Vandrell turned to another subordinate. “Get Dr. Morgan up here A.S.A.P,” she ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Ensign Underwood said.
Vandrell turned to Bailey again. “Any response to our message?”
“None.”
“Are you reading any engine damage to the vessel? Communications failure?”
“No, sir. I have successfully linked with the incoming vessel’s onboard computer. The ship is called The Windsong, a commercial transport with a class three rating.” Ensign Bailey’s fingers danced over the control board. On any other day the speed with which he deftly worked his control panel fascinated Vandrell. This time, she was just glad he was on duty.
“The ship’s registered port is a space station in the next quadrant. Station McGintlee.”
“They are a little out of their neighborhood, aren’t they?”
“Yes, sir. A long way from home.”
“With all of the stepped up Scavenger activity in that sector, she could have been damaged.” Vandrell was speculating by this point, which was really all she could do until someone on that ship started talking to her. The situation was unusual and she really didn’t like surprises.
The doors to Operations slid open with a hiss and Dr. Cynthia Morgan entered almost at a full run. She has looked better, the Alliance officer noted silently. Aloud she said, “Doctor Morgan.”
Dr. Morgan took up position beside Vandrell. “I was told there was an emergency. What’s going on, Lieutenant?”
“The jury’s still out on that one, Doc. We’ve got an incoming vessel refusing to answer our hails. No communication and the ship has not reduced speed.” She looked at the doctor. Although she was ranking officer among the military contingent, Lt. Vandrell was under Dr. Morgan’s command. It was her station.
“I’m open to suggestions.” Vandrell said.
“Grapnels?”
“Too risky at the speed that ship is moving.”
“Force fields?”
“Not strong enough by half, Doctor.”
“Any Alliance ships close by?”
Vandrell leaned over and tapped a few keys on her station. “There is a ship docked at Bridger that appears to be ready for departure.”
“But…”
She scrolled down with great efficiency at the pertinent details. “There is only a skeleton crew aboard, but that does include her captain and first officer.”
“That’ll have to do. Send out a distress signal.” Dr. Morgan pointed toward the incoming vessel on the monitor. “Tell them we have twenty minutes before that ship plows into this station.”
Without waiting for confirmation from Lt. Vandrell, Ensign Bailey was already opening communications with the Pegasus.
“If that ship hits us at the speed they’re traveling,” Dr. Morgan whispered. “It’ll turn this station into so much useless junk.”
“I have the Pegasus’ communications officer on line. She is alerting her captain.”
“Tell them to hurry, Mr. Bailey.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Doctor Morgan stared silently at the screen, watching in stunned silence as the incoming ship sped toward them. Get it in gear, Cynthia, her inner voice commanded.
“Contact all departments and have them evacuate the outer levels. Lets move all dangerous experiments as well.” She looked at her watch and sighed loudly. “Tell everyone they have fifteen minutes.”
“You heard the administrator. Let’s move like we have a purpose.”
“Lieutenant Vandrell?”
“What is it, Doctor Morgan? I’m in a bit of a rush.”
“I think there might be something you have overlooked in all the confusion.”
“And that would be?”
Morgan pointed a single finger toward the monitor. “If that ship hits this station the resulting explosion will undoubtedly rain debris toward the moon’s surface. Alpha Colony should be warned.”
“I’ll see to it,” the officer said. “But my first priority is to stop that ship. If we can’t, then it will all be up to the ship docked at Bridger.”
Dr. Morgan leaned in close to Lt. Vandrell, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think the Pegasus will make it here in time?”
“I don’t know.”
“Speculation?”
“I don’t know, Doctor.”
Dr. Morgan shifted uncomfortably. “That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”
“I hope it can, Doctor,” Vandrell amended. “But I just don’t know.”
Dr. Morgan blew out a breath. “Well, there goes our perfect safety record,” she muttered.
On the monitor, the Windsong continued with its silent approach.
15
Marshal’s Office - Mars
“The galaxy at large is separated into several sectors.”
The man at the podium pointed to the map on the screen behind him that showed a cut out sections of the spatial quadrants that made up the entirety of the United Planetary Alliance. “This is ours.”
“For the last thirty years the marshal’s office has patrolled the space lanes throughout the quadrant evenly and without prejudice. The marshal’s office, in conjunction with the military fleet, has done much good for the citizens of the Alliance.”
He paused, brought his knuckles to his mouth, and cleared his throat. He was not nervous about the speech. He had given it so many times that he sometimes felt he could deliver it in his sleep. No, definitely not nervous. However, despite being quite adept on the matter, he did hate giving speeches. He was more a man of action.
“I know many of you are new to the marshal’s office,” he continued. “Most of the deputies in this squadron retired along with the form
er Marshal, Admiral McKeen. There are still many men and women left in service that are here for you should you need, or want, a helping hand. But let us not forget that we are here to do a job, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get it done, but never forget, it is the people we serve that are important.”
He paused, then threw wide his hands. “That’s it. My only speech. If you were expecting something longer then you’re out of luck. Let’s go to work.”
He stepped away from the podium.
At the edge of the stage he stopped. Then, turning as if it were an after thought, which it wasn’t, he turned back to his audience. “Welcome to the marshal’s Office, cadets,” he said.
Applause filled the auditorium as Marshal Maxwell Vortex took a modest bow. The cheers from the audience of newly minted cadets did not die down nearly fast enough to suit him. He tossed the graduating class of 2193 a quick salute, then pivoted on his heel and marched off of the stage at a brisk pace. In his wake he left the large star chart, a UPA flag, a flag bearing the emblem of the marshal’s office, an empty podium, and an energetic crowd.
“That went well.” Lt. Commander Allison Grady announced from her perch off to the left of the stage. She waited there, hands on her hips and a broad grin on her face. A small manila folder firmly held in her left hand, she took a moment to admire the dress uniform worn by her boss. It was not often that anyone saw Maxwell Vortex wearing one.
“Have fun?” she asked.
“I hate these things,” Vortex grumbled as he walked past her, loosening the collar of his uniform as he went.
“What?” she asked. “The dress uniform or giving the graduation speech?”
“Pick one,” he answered smartly.
He walked off the stage past her. Without preamble she fell into stride at his side. As they exit the main auditorium into the waiting hallway the two soldiers drop their military postures a notch and suddenly they were as chummy as old friends. They walk in tandem, one matching the other step for step. Both of them were roughly the same height, around six feet tall. Both were tall and slender with Grady being the thinner of the two, but both officers apparently worked out regularly. They were in great shape.
Commander Grady’s long brown hair was in its customary tied up position, behind her head with a cap placed over it. Luckily for her she had not been forced to wear a full dress uniform and address a roomful of worried cadets. That job accompanied being the boss. A position for which she was happy was not part of her job description.
“Nice to see you, Grady,” the marshal said after they had traveled a few feet. “Why the special trip? Couldn’t stand to miss my speech?”
“No, sir. As much as I like to watch you squirm up on stage, I’m afraid I’m here on business.” Her change in tone quickly told him that joke time was over. She could pull a prank with the best of them, but when it is time for business, Allison Grady took her job very seriously.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“We’ve just received word of a raid being planned by the Earth Liberation League.”
“What’s so surprising about that? The League is constantly planning to raid something or other.”
“Not like this,” she said. “This is big.”
“How big?”
“Word is that they’re going for the big brass ring this time. They’re going after Earth itself.”
‘Really?”
“Talk about ballsy, huh?”
“Are you serious?” The marshal accepted the folder from her. Inside were several pages of information: maps, star charts, dates, locations, and times. Too much information to go through in time to be useful. He held the file up to Grady. “Translate.”
“I’ve had Natalie and Dexter working on it since we got this from one of our inside sources. It appears the first step is to take Space Lab and use it as a stepping stone to Earth. At least that’s our best guess at the moment. The stuff in this folder is cryptic at best. But I do have to agree with Nat and Dexter’s choice of target.”
“As do I.”
“I have a shuttle standing by outside the auditorium.”
Marshal Vortex increased his stride, noting with pride that his second in command could still keep stride with him. She was one of the few people he did not have to slow down to walk with.
“Estimated time on the attack?” he asked.
Grady grimaced, but kept walking.
That look put a new worry on the marshal’s face.
“Your guess is as good as ours, Marshal. From what Natalie tells me, it could be anytime from right now to next week.”
“Well, as long as we’ve got it narrowed down,” Vortex sighed.
They reached the door to the launch bay and the marshal entered his six-digit access code. The double doors opened with a clang, followed by a release of air. The two officers stepped out onto the launch area, walked across the tarmac, and boarded the small shuttle waiting for them.
Once inside the marshal laid out a basic game plan. “Here’s what I need; Get Natalie cracking on finding us a time frame. Narrow it down as best she can. Have Officer Walker prep all vehicles for launch. Everyone else should pack and be ready A.S.A.P. We’ll probably have to launch on a moment’s notice so raise the alert status and recall anyone you need. Have Dexter get the weaponry double-checked and loaded onboard the Bounty. Have him and Walker work out their own schedules and turn them in to you so you can keep them on schedule.” He said all of that without a single wasted breath.
“We’re already on most of that, but I’ll take care of the rest as soon as we touch down.”
“Schedule a mission brief in one hour.”
Allison Grady had no trouble containing her enthusiasm. She loved this part of her job and the heat of battle, the thrill of the hunt were the things she lived for. It was the one high point that elevated her average, mundane life as a deputy marshal to something bordering on heroic. The action and adventure that had called to her to join the military was tugging at her loins. She could hardly wait to get out there and test her mettle.
But all of that remained on the inside. On the outside, Allison Grady remained as cool as a proverbial cucumber. She listened intently to her boss, absorbing every detail, every order.
Maxwell knew her penchant for adventure, of course. Still, he had no worries about her competence. She had proved her worth to him a long time ago. So much so that he immediately promoted her to his second in command. Still, he knowing he could implicitly trust her did little to stop him from worrying about her occasional bouts of over exuberance. He hoped it did not one day get her killed.
“Get me Natalie on the line.”
“Aye, sir,” the driver acknowledged. “Communications on line, Marshal. The channel is open and you are cleared. Scramble Code Thirteen.”
“Thank you.” The marshal faced the small screen on the backside of the driver’s seat.
A young brunette’s beautiful smile greeted him on the screen. “Marshal’s Office. Natalie Vortex. Can I help you?” As she recognized the caller her smile broadened. “Oh, hi Daddy. Grady.”
The marshal returned his daughter’s smile. “What have you got for me Nat? Please tell me it’s good news.”
“I wish I could.” She tapped a few keys out of view of the camera on her keypad and the small screen split into two smaller screens. Natalie’s image was on the left. The right side of the screen scrolled quickly through several hundred pieces of data. “We’ve got everything running at top speed, but I’m afraid I can’t get you a precise date and time for any campaign against the planet. They covered their tracks pretty well.”
“A best guess would be helpful.”
“Offhand, I would say that the Earth Liberation League is planning to strike as soon as possible.”
“You’re going to have to do a little better than that, Nat.”
“I’m getting to it,” she said in that exasperated manner that only kids could aim at their parents. “With the amount of planning they�
�ve got in the file our snitch smuggled out to us, I’d even go so far as to guess that the operation is probably already underway.”
“Damn.” The marshal slammed down a fist on the shuttle’s leather armrest. “Okay. Natalie, I want you to call the admiral and tell him everything you’ve told me. Talk directly to him. The less people that know, the better our chances of catching these guys.”
“Where can I find the admiral, sir. He’s currently listed as being off planet.”
“Admiral McKeen is aboard the Ulysis,” the marshal said. “They should be en route to our location even as we speak. If not, they will be soon. Inform the admiral that he needs to alter his destination.”
“What should I tell him his new destination is?”
“Tell him to meet us at Space lab.”
“The Ulysis, huh?” He could hear the pride in her voice. A couple of years ago, she had toured the ship before it went into active service. She hadn’t talked about anything else for two weeks straight. She said that it changed her life. It made her want to be a part of her father’s world more than anything else had before or since.
He was afraid she was going to run off and join the space fleet. Eventually, when she applied to and later joined the marshal’s office it had been against her mother’s wishes. Truth be told, however, her father was so very proud to have her by his side as part of his team. Even in a job as dangerous as theirs, he was happy to keep her close by.
“Yes,” he continued. “The admiral is bringing in the big guns to help us out.” He winked in her direction. “When this is all over, what say the two of us take that tour together?”
Her smile widened. “Sounds like fun. Natalie out.”
The screen blanked out, Natalie’s image had been replaced by a UPA logo screensaver. No doubt his daughter was probably already intent on her duties. Maxwell Vortex tried to contain his grin of pride and utter excitement, but he could not. “Out,” he said to the blank screen.
“Driver,” he called. “We need to get to the office A.S.A.P. Step on it will ya?”
“Yes sir!”
The briefing had gone pretty much as he had expected.