Citizen X - BP01

by DePrima, Thomas

  All three species had spread their seed around the Empire, but the Yolongi settlers had spread the furthest. Few of the Yolongi explorers had any remaining ties to the home planet of their ancestors, nor loyalty to the repressive government there.

  * * *

  Sydnee's role on this occasion was to check the papers of the travelers as they presented themselves for inspection. The Marines were still searching the ship for anyone in hiding, so the inspection team had begun their task with just a squad for support. SOP called for them to remain in full armor with weapons at the ready in case anyone refused to cooperate or became openly rebellious.

  Everyone whose papers were in order was allowed to move into a smaller ballroom next door. Where the papers were in question, the traveler was escorted to a small conference room guarded by two Marines.

  The translation device built into her armor's breastplate was keyed to her implanted CT, so everything said to Sydnee as she inspected documents seemed as a whisper in her left ear, and everything she said emanated from the small speaker that was part of the translation device.

  The first travelers to be checked were Mydwuard. Sydnee required them to pull back their hood so she could visually compare their appearance against their passports and visas. Only one hesitated, and she discovered why when it finally complied. It's head was horribly disfigured, as if it had been in an accident and unfortunate enough to receive care from a very poor surgeon. Of course, she knew little of its biological composition and perhaps the surgeon had only done what was necessary to save its life. She had to remind herself not to apply human physiology knowledge to other species.

  * * *

  "Currulla," the rebel at the tac station called out, "we have a ship on the DeTect monitors. It's a long way off, but it might be the one we're looking for. It's headed in the right direction."

  "I told you to call me 'Captain,' you imbecile," Currulla said angrily.

  "Sorry, Captain."

  "Better. How long before we cross paths with the contact?"

  "We won't unless we change course."

  "Then how long will it take us to reach the contact if we change course?"

  "Roughly thirty-eight centmers, if we maintain maximum speed."

  "Well, of course we're going to maintain maximum speed. Navigation, plot an intercept course for that ship."

  "Okay, Currul— I mean Captain."

  "The proper response is "Aye, Captain."

  "Aye, Captain," the rebel at the navigation station said as he rolled his eyes.

  * * *

  It took hours to check the papers of the thousands aboard the passenger liner, and the thrill of meeting six new species had worn off long before the task was complete. Once the Marines had determined that there was no one in hiding, they allowed those whose papers had been checked to return to their cabins. The dozen passengers whose papers raised some concerns had been forced to wait in the smaller ballroom until the first process was complete.

  After a detailed examination of the papers again, as well as a check of information available through the Perry's database, all but one of the passengers were cleared to continue their journey. It was proven that the one individual was using a forged passport and wouldn't be permitted to continue further.

  "What do you mean I have to turn around?" the Captain of the ship said when he was informed about the bogus passport.

  "The GAC has declared that the shipping company is responsible for validating passports and visas before entering GA space," Lieutenant Resono, the senior interdiction officer aboard on this stop, said. "Failing that, the ship must withdraw from GA space and discharge the passenger outside our border."

  "But it's at least ten days back to the nearest inhabited planet over the border. It'll add twenty days or more to our voyage. We'll have to refund ten percent of the ticket fare to every single passenger for the delay."

  "It would seem that in the future you should check the paperwork more thoroughly before issuing passenger tickets."

  "You can't expect us to know who is legal and who isn't."

  "Yet that is exactly what is expected. If the paperwork appears fraudulent or expired, require the passenger to provide updated documents before accepting them for passage."

  "That's unreasonable."

  "Not at all. But it's your choice. This time we're only turning you back. If your company begins to show a pattern of abuse, your ships could be turned back without a check even being performed."

  "You can't do that."

  "Yes— we can. The GAC has ordered Space Command to put responsibility for checking paperwork on the company. It's up to you whether you wish to cooperate or not. But it would be beneficial to cooperate."

  "I refuse to turn back. You must take the person into custody as you've always done in the past and return them to the border yourself if you don't want them in your space."

  "With the trouble we're experiencing elsewhere, we don't have the resources to do that at this time. If you fail to turn back willingly, I'm authorized to destroy your FTL generator so you can't continue into GA space."

  "You can't attack my ship. It's a violation of GA law to perpetrate an unprovoked attack on a helpless passenger ship."

  "If you refuse to heed lawful orders, that's all the provocation we require."

  The Captain began to sputter and stammer as he searched for words. When Lt. Resono began to receive a message on his CT, he turned slightly away, activated his CT and held up his hand towards the passenger ship's Captain.

  "Resono," the Lieutenant said.

  "Lt. Resono," Captain Lidden said, "we've received an emergency SOS from a Clidepp diplomatic yacht under attack by a warship. All hands are to return to the ship at once."

  "Yes, sir. We'll return at once. Resono out."

  Turning again to the passenger ship's Captain, Resono said, "The Perry must respond to an emergency call for assistance. You will wait here until we return so my Captain will be able to address your complaints."

  "How long will that be?"

  "Unknown. A ship is under attack by a warship."

  "Raiders or rebels?"

  "Also unknown. But Raiders would seem to be the less likely of the choices."

  "You can't expect us to just sit here. That's even worse than going back. We might be attacked ourselves."

  "You will remain here until we return. That's an official directive." Activating his CT as he turned from the Captain and hurried towards the exit, he said, "Attention, inspection team. Captain Lidden has issued an emergency recall in response to an SOS from a ship under attack. Return to your shuttles at once. Resono out."

  Sydnee raced to the hanger deck along with the inspection team. Marines were already converging on the shuttle from every direction and Sydnee had to practically climb over their backs to get to the cockpit. There wasn't time for a preflight and Sydnee hoped that nothing had happened to the shuttle while it was unattended.

  Once everyone had been accounted for and the shuttle was sealed, Sydnee moved it into position for the temporary airlock to be erected. As the bay door reached the fully open position and the green light came on to signal that the way was clear, Sydnee punched the rear thrusters control and the shuttle zipped out of the passenger ship. When they reached a point where the engines could be ignited, Sydnee touched off the Sub-Light engines and the shuttle accelerated away so fast it would have been difficult to follow with the human eye. The occupants of the shuttle felt only the briefest sensation of movement, thanks to the inertial compensation generators.

  The emergency recall allowed Sydnee to bypass most of the usual safety protocols and the shuttle slid into the hanger bay's temporary airlock like a MAT arriving at a hot LZ. It was the most fun she'd had since flight training at the Academy.

  Lt. Kennedy screamed as the shuttle slid to a stop just centimeters from the temporary airlock bulkhead and then worked to re-swallow his heart as the hatch closed and the bulkheads rose before Sydnee moved the shuttle to its park
ing slot using the oh-gee engine. As he climbed out of the co-pilot seat, all he said, "Uh, great job, Lieutenant."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant Kennedy," Sydnee said. Despite her effort, a stiff informality was the best she'd been able to achieve so far with the by-the-book young officer.

  Sydnee disembarked after all the Marines had climbed down and left the area. She spotted the mechanic studying the shuttle's undercarriage as she stepped down onto the deck.

  "Problem, chief?" Sydnee asked.

  "I haven't found it yet, ma'am."

  "Found what?"

  "What it is that kept the landing struts from being twisted up like pretzels. I saw your landing from the control room and I was about to activate the emergency systems. I thought for sure you were going to crash through the temporary airlock. I can't understand why this undercarriage isn't crushed into scrap."

  "I've never yet damaged a craft I was piloting, chief. You see, the trick is to always stop the ship exactly one-half centimeter above the deck and then let it settle on its own."

  "One-half centimeter, ma'am?"

  "Exactly one-half centimeter," Sydnee said with a straight face before turning and heading for the flight bay exit.

  The mechanic was left scratching his head as he tried to figure out how she could have stopped the small ship exactly one-half centimeter above the deck.

  Chapter Six

  ~ Jan. 29th, 2285 ~

  Back in her quarters, Sydnee stripped out of her armor and flopped onto the bed. She couldn't stop giggling as she thought about the confused expression on the chief's face. Always stopping exactly one-half centimeter above the deck was an expression used with new cadets by one of her flight instructors at the Academy. It was as ridiculous as when a MAT flight instructor at the WCI would tell new students they wouldn't receive flight certification until they could perform a four-g reverse roll in atmo with a full complement of Marines on board. Such a maneuver was impossible with a Marine Armored Transport, but she and her fellow students had spent a lot of time trying to figure ways to accomplish it.

  Sydnee's watch had ended hours ago and she wanted to roll over and go to sleep, but instead she forced herself to get up and slip into her uniform so she could go down to the Auxiliary Command and Control bridge. The emergency recall meant that they were hurtling through space to assist a ship in trouble. If they expected to arrive within a few hours, Sydnee would resist the urge to sleep, but if the problem was further away, she'd try to grab what winks she could. She would be able to learn the true situation in AC&C.

  * * *

  "How did they see through our disguises?" Currulla screamed at the bridge crew, all of whom were of Yolongi ancestry and currently dressed in Yolongi Space Fleet uniforms. "They stopped when we ordered them to."

  "It must have been the recognition codes, Currul— Captain," the com chief said. "As soon as I sent the codes, they went silent and began building their envelope."

  "Striking their temporal generator from this distance was a lucky shot," the tac officer said. "If they'd gotten their envelope up, we would never have been able to stop them."

  "Stop them? We didn't stop them. We only slowed them down. They're running at their maximum sub-light speed and screaming for help."

  "Let them scream," the tac officer said. "There's no one out here to help them. Even at FTL, we're days from the Clidepp border. It'll take them light-annuals to reach it at sub-light."

  "Currul— Captain," the com officer said a few moments later, "I just intercepted a message sent in the clear. A Space Command Border Patrol ship is on its way here to help the diplomatic yacht."

  "Space Command? Wonderful." Looking over at the tac officer, he said, "So there's nobody out here to help them, eh?"

  "Well, there's usually no one out here. It must be a fluke."

  "We're inside the GA border. Where else would you expect to find a Space Command Border Patrol ship? Inside the Clidepp Empire?"

  "It's a fluke. Space Command only has a token force out here."

  "Fluke or not, they're on their way here. Let's finish off that yacht so we can be long gone when they get here."

  "We're almost in range," the tac officer said as he returned his concentration to the console readouts. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, si— Helm, hard to starboard."

  "What is it?" Currulla asked, stumbling over and slurring the words badly in his effort to get them out.

  "The yacht fired a torpedo at us— no— two torpedoes."

  "But we can't be in range if they aren't."

  "We were in pursuit, so we were closing the gap towards their torpedo while they were getting further away from the point where we would fire. We should be okay now. The torpedoes either didn't get a lock or lost the lock when we turned. They're continuing along their original trajectory."

  "Should I change course to pursue, Captain?" the helmsman asked.

  "Tac?" Currulla said.

  "I suggest an intercept course where we minimize exposure to their bow or stern tubes. It's unlikely a ship of that size would have either larboard or starboard torpedo capability."

  "Got that helm?" Currulla asked.

  "Got it."

  "Got it, Captain," Currulla said with great emphasis.

  "They know we're not Yolongi Space Fleet now," the helmsman said lackadaisically. "We can stop pretending."

  "We'll stop when I say we'll stop."

  "Aye, Captain."

  * * *

  "We're coming up on their starboard quarter and we're almost in range," the tac officer said.

  "Fire as soon as you get a lock," Currulla said.

  "Firing now," the tac officer said calmly, then hollered, "Damn! Helm, hard to starboard."

  "Again?" Currulla screamed as he sat up in the command chair and glared at the tac officer. "You said they didn't have starboard tubes!"

  "I didn't think they would in that small ship. They can't be normal-sized torpedoes. Damn, the torpedoes are still pursuing us. We didn't lose them this time."

  "Helm, maximum Sub-Light speed."

  "Already at maximum, Currulla," the helmsman said as he twisted the joystick again. No matter what he tried, the torpedoes continued to close.

  The laser array gunners weren't very accurate and three minutes later the rebel ship rocked from an explosion, then another two seconds later.

  "We've been hit," the tac officer shouted.

  "Oh, really?" Currulla said. "Com, find that genius of an engineering chief and ask him how bad it is."

  "Captain, should we move in again on the yacht?" the helmsman asked.

  "Oh, it's Captain again, is it?" Currulla growled. "No, you idiot, we can't re-engage until we know how bad our damage is. Stay on their tail, though. We don't want to get too far behind them."

  Over an hour passed before the ship's engineer reported in. "It's bad, Currulla. Both torpedoes hit the forward hull section where the oxygen regeneration equipment is located. They couldn't have hit us in a worse spot. Whoever fired those torpedoes is either very lucky or knew exactly where to put 'em. The entire section is destroyed. Once we use what oxygen we have in the storage tanks that weren't destroyed, the carbon dioxide level in here is slowly going to increase until we can't breathe."

  "Well, get one of the damaged systems working. That's why we hired you."

  "I can't fix what doesn't exist anymore. All you have down there is a hundred tons of twisted scrap metal."

  "How about the regeneration systems in the shuttles?"

  "They're designed to provide air for small areas, not an entire destroyer, and for maximum benefit, the shuttle's engine must be operating. If we evacuate the ship, the shuttles will easily be able to support a fully configured load of onboard passengers— for as long as the fuel and power cells last."

  "Do we have enough shuttle capacity for the entire crew?"

  "No, but we can save about twenty percent."

  "What are our other options?"

  "Evacuate the ship."

 
"You said that already. What else?"

  "There is no 'else.' We have a finite amount of reserve oxygen in the storage tanks. When that's gone, we begin to die. I suggest that all crewmembers reduce their activity as much as possible."

  "You're telling me that the ship can't be saved?"

  "No, the ship will be fine, but the people are a different matter. Everyone who remains aboard— will die."

  "Damn."

  "Exactly," the chief engineer said.

  * * *

  Sydnee managed four hours' sleep and awoke refreshed when the computer sounded her requested wakeup call. The computer never let up until the requestor was out of bed, and if they returned to the bed within five minutes, the computer renewed the wakeup messages via that person's implanted CT or ID. Having the computer talking inside their head was as bad as having a drill instructor shouting in their face. No one ever slept through a wakeup call on the Perry.

  After a quick shower, she slipped into her uniform and headed for the officers' mess. A buttered roll would satisfy her appetite until she had time for a regular meal, and she nibbled at it as she headed to the AC&C.

  Most of the off-duty bridge officers were already assembled in the much smaller version of the bridge when Sydnee entered. She nodded to the ones who made eye contact and found a spot from where she could see the large monitor at the front of the room. She didn't have long to wait as the Perry arrived at the last reported position of the ship calling for help. When the com chief made contact with the diplomatic yacht, the image of the ship's Captain appeared on the monitor. Everyone quieted down and listened as Captain Lidden's voice emanated from speakers in the room.