"Welcome to the Glassama, Captain Pouurricas," Nesadeedis said.
"Thank you, Captain. I've just received a message from the council. They've asked me for an update on the situation here. How are your repairs progressing?"
"We've managed to adhere to the projected schedule. It takes time to rebuild a ship in space without access to the necessary parts."
"And you expect to be under power and on your way back to Empire space within ten kalins?"
"Yes, as planned."
"Very good. I admit that I don't like sitting here in GA space. Did you observe the arrival and departure of that Space Command tug?"
"Yes, of course. We DeTect'ed it as soon as it came in range."
"What did you make of that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Where do you think it came from?"
"I would have to say that it came from Diabolisto."
"Yes, we felt the same. It supports the decision to come here first. It would seem to suggest that Space Command has a presence there."
"I doubt it. If they had any other ships in this area, they'd already be here."
"Why?"
"Why would they be here? To help the Space Command destroyer we collided with."
"Perhaps they don't need help."
"I don't follow you, Captain Pouurricas."
"Perhaps the Space Command ship is not as badly injured as you suppose. Perhaps its role right now is just to observe you."
Nesadeedis stared at Pouurricas without replying. He was obviously deep in thought.
"Have you noticed the frequency of IDS transmissions from the Spacc destroyer?"
"Frequency? There haven't been any."
"And what does that tell you?"
"It's obvious. It means that their communication systems are still down."
"Then how did that tug know where to find them?"
"Uh, I don't know."
"Perhaps Space Command has some new communication system we know nothing about. They were the ones who developed the IDS, the AutoTect, and the DeTect systems, after all. Perhaps they have a new method of communicating. Hyperspace has many different layers."
"What are you driving at?"
"We've been unable to contact the crew of the Abissto since their original call for help. You reported that when you arrived at the planet, there were Space Command ships in orbit. Since your collision with the Spacc destroyer, you've been unable to detect any communications, yet a mysterious tug arrives and departs from and to an unknown location. There are obviously forces at work here that are unknown to us. We are beginning to feel uncomfortable about this situation."
"Space Command only has a few ships in this entire deca-sector. We only saw one at Diabolisto because that's all there were."
"Then what of the tug? Why did it remain just a few worllies and leave again. If the destroyer was as badly damaged as you believe, why didn't the tug tow it away?"
"You believe they're fully functional and just waiting to see what we do?"
"Yes, or perhaps waiting for a task force from the Empire to arrive. Perhaps Space Command doesn't want to create an international incident unless absolutely necessary. You reported how hard and how long they tried to get you to stop. Normally, Space command gives just one chance to stop and then performs the envelope merge procedure."
"Some of your points have merit. So what does the council suggest?"
"That you accelerate your repairs to whatever extent possible and get back to Clidepp space. Don't fire on the Spacc ship unless provoked."
"We're already following that line of thought. But if they fire on us, we'll respond."
"The council accepts your right to defend yourself, but they must fire the first shot. So far, neither side has used a weapon and the collision can be attributed to a miscommunication."
"And what of the crew on Diabolisto?"
"The council acknowledges that they are lost to us. It doesn't want either of us to further provoke the Spaccs by even going there to check up on them."
"There were almost three hundred of our people on that ship."
"The Spaccs won't harm them if they don't resist. When we've won this war with the Empire, our people will be repatriated."
"Very well. But if the Spacc destroyer so much as fires a shot across our bow, I'll destroy him."
* * *
Caruthers leaned back against the wall where Weems had spent his two hours on guard duty and yawned. It was going to be difficult to keep awake for another hour, but he had developed little mind tricks over the years when his duty schedule had been extended without notice.
He was concentrating on stifling a yawn when he heard a noise in the cave entranceway. He stopped everything, including breathing, and strained to hear the slightest of noises. When he heard what sounded like footsteps on gravel, he said loudly, "Lights, full illumination." The lights positioned around the cave immediately went to full brilliance. Then he said, loudly, "Who goes there?"
The noises had stopped when he raised the lighting level, and he heard just one word.
"Buttercup."
"What? Who are you?"
"Wrong answer. Put your weapon down and walk toward the cave entrance or we come in shooting."
Sydnee had awakened in time to hear the security recognition signal and the threat of violence. "Petunia," she said loudly.
A few seconds later, Staff Sergeant McKenzie walked cautiously into the dome. Seeing Sydnee, he lowered his weapon and brightened considerably. "Lieutenant, it's great to see you. We thought for sure you were gone after those fighters took off after you. It was cloudy, but we saw flashes of light from their guns."
"I guess I'm tough to kill, Staff Sergeant. Their first shots went wild and we went FTL before they could zero in on us. We didn't see any light flashes after that."
"Lieutenant MacDonald, ma'am," McKenzie said as she stood up and he recognized her. "Then the Perry is okay?"
"It's damaged but still somewhat intact," MacDonald said. "We didn't lose anyone, but the ship took a real pounding."
McKenzie looked at Caruthers and nodded. "Sir, sorry for the threats. When you didn't return the correct recognition word, I didn't know who was in here. I thought you might be Yolongi."
"No problem, Staff Sergeant. I wasn't aware a recognition system had been created."
"That's my fault," Sydnee said. "It slipped my mind."
"Did you come back to get us, Lieutenant?"
"Um, not exactly, Staff Sergeant. I'll fill you in tomorrow. Where have you been? I ordered you to come back here after the attack."
"We're just returning from the original campsite, ma'am. When we thought you and Morales had bought it, I decided we'd better pick up our reserve of Corplastizine charges. My intent was to blow those two fighters to pieces so they couldn't attack any more of our people when rescue finally came. It's a long trek to the original camp. We started back last night, found a place to lay up when dawn broke, then continued our travel after sunset."
As they talked, the rest of the platoon had entered the cavern. Some were scrounging around the mess area, looking for something to eat, while others just dropped onto their bedrolls.
"There's fresh Lampaxa if anyone's hungry," Sydnee said. "Sgt. Morales cleaned it and sliced it, so it's all ready to cook."
"You bagged a Lampaxa?" McKenzie said. "Anybody get hurt?"
"No one was hurt. Sgt. Morales and Lt. MacDonald jumped in to help me after I was attacked. The three of us were able to turn the tables on the Lampaxa. He wound up on the dinner table instead of me."
"Ma'am, did you check to see if the poison sac was ruptured after you killed it?" Sgt. Booth asked.
"Sgt. Morales verified that it didn't have the ammonia smell, and just to be sure, he ran a small piece through the alien food analyzer."
"That's great. I've been hoping we'd find another one of them critters. What happened to the head?"
"It's in the waste barrel," Morales said.
&nbs
p; "Man, don't throw away the head; I'm starting a collection. I'm thinking about a new group insignia."
Sydnee smiled as Booth hurried over to retrieve the enormous head from the trash.
"Where were you attacked, Lieutenant?" McKenzie asked.
"In the sinkhole at the original camp. It was filled with water."
"Yes, we saw that. I guess we'll never recover the MAT now."
"All taken care of. That's why I was in the water. We managed to recover the MAT this morning. It's too bad you had already left the camp area. We could have saved you a long walk. I tried to contact you but I didn't get a reply."
"We didn't have the radio with us because our trip was unplanned, and the helmet transmission/reception is no more than five kilometers. Where is the MAT now, ma'am?"
"Far from here, securely locked, disabled, and camouflaged. The tug I stole is nearby though."
"Then why aren't we leaving?"
"It's long story. Get some food and rest. We'll discuss it at length in the morning."
"Aye, ma'am. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Staff Sergeant."
Chapter Twenty-Five
~ Mar. 15th, 2285 ~
Breakfast consisted of powdered eggs, biscuits, jam made from local berries, and, of course, spicy Lampaxa patties. At the rate it was disappearing, the twelve meters of Lampaxa wouldn't last the day, but there were no doubt plenty more available for people willing to risk their life by jumping into the right swamp.
Following breakfast, the officers and noncoms held a conference to discuss the options.
"So you want to take the Clidepp destroyer to where the Perry is sitting in space to help protect it from attack?" McKenzie asked Sydnee.
"Yes. It won't be easy, but I'm confident we can do it. We have a bridge crew able to handle the ship if the systems are automated enough to be operated without constant engineer involvement and enough Marines to act as laser array gunners and torpedo guidance specialists."
"But you said the ship has no atmo."
"It has an atmosphere and artificial gravity. It's simply that the CO2 concentration is too high for anyone without supplemental oxygen because the oxygen regeneration equipment was destroyed by a torpedo from the dip ship."
"So we'd have to wear our armor at all times, and then run back to the MAT every so often to refill."
"Essentially, but the rebreather units built into our armor will pull some oxygen out of the air, extending the time between refills."
"And that's it?"
"Well, not all of it. The Captain told me that the Perry might very well be destroyed in any engagement with the rebel ship because they can't maneuver properly with one side-mounted engine and two stern engines destroyed, not to mention fire control and the sensor grid systems being so severely damaged. He told me we should remain here on the planet until someone comes to pick us up. There's a possibility that anyone who participates in my crazy idea might be court-martialed for disobeying orders."
"I never received any such orders from the Captain," McKenzie said. "Did he order all officers to remain here?"
"No," Weems said. "We were only ordered to accompany Lt. Marcola to Diabolisto and make an effort to recover the MAT. She was named as commander of the operation."
"Then it would seem that the only one here who could be court-martialed for not remaining on the planet is Lt. Marcola."
"Thank you, Staff Sergeant, for pointing that out."
McKenzie chuckled. "Sorry, ma'am. I certainly don't mean that anyone wants to see you court-martialed. Nothing could be further from the truth. I only meant that the rest of us have nothing to fear in that regard. It must be your decision alone."
"Everyone's involvement must be their decision alone. This is strictly voluntary. Even if you aren't risking a court-martial, you'll be risking your life if you come. If you remain here, you'll be safe."
"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I don't think we could live with ourselves if, while our comrades were fighting and possibly dying aboard the Perry, we chose to stay safe. I'll put it to my people, and anyone that chooses to remain here, can do so, but I'm confident that everyone is behind you a hundred percent."
"I thought you'd feel that way, but I wasn't sure about every member of the platoon. Okay, assuming that everyone supports this idea, we'll begin preparing immediately. We have no idea when that other rebel destroyer will attempt to move, but we have to be ready. Getting there an hour late won't do at all. We're going to want some fresh food with us, so let's do some forging this morning and be off-planet by sunset. Let's gather as much of the fresh vegetables, nuts, and berries as we can. I don't want to look for any Lampaxa, but if we can take down a couple of buflo, we'll have fresh meat for a week."
"I'll put the issue of involvement to my people, then send my hunters out," McKenzie said.
"Hold off on the buflo for a few hours. We saw some small herds near where we left the MAT. It'll be easier to transport them in that area than trying to get them to the cave."
"Aye, ma'am. Should I send people out for the other items?"
"Yes. And the rest of our people should begin packing up."
"Aye, ma'am. We're on it."
"That's all for now, Staff Sergeant."
"Aye, Lieutenant."
As McKenzie left, Weems said, "Syd, what about the Yolongi rebels on the planet?"
"What about them?"
"Do you intend to just leave them here?"
"We can't take them with us. It might make an almost impossible task impossible."
"We can't leave them here to die."
"We didn't maroon them here; they did that to themselves. They have the foodstuffs they scavenged from the destroyer and some light arms to scare away the predators. They should be fine until the Pellew arrives. Now, let's pack up, guys. We have a lot of work ahead of us before we even get off the planet."
The fresh food foragers returned before lunch, loaded down with the leafy vegetables the platoon had been eating and an oh-gee sled overloaded with berries and nuts. The mess people had to set up two more of the large, collapsible refrigeration units to hold everything. It was good that the newcomers had brought two more sleds with them.
The platoon left the cave pretty much the way they'd found it, except someone had scratched 'The 4-4-3 was here first, as always' on the wall. For the RP, Sydnee selected an open clearing a few kilometers away where the MAT would have enough room to land. The platoon would head there with Lt. MacDonald while the other three officers headed for the tug. They would retrieve the MAT and meet the platoon.
As the tug descended into the clearing where the MAT was located, Sydnee suddenly sent it upwards again and landed it a hundred meters away.
"What going on?" Weems said curiously.
"Look at the MAT."
Caruthers and Weems stared out the windows.
"What is that?" Caruthers said.
"I'm not sure, but I know it wasn't there when we left."
"Then park this thing and let's go look at it," Weems said.
As the three officers walked towards the MAT, the huge green and brown object lying across the black thirty-five-meter-long vessel shifted position. All three instinctively stopped and took a step backwards.
"It's alive," Weems said.
"Yeah," Caruthers agreed, "but what is it?"
"According to the alien database," Sydnee said as she read the description associated with the image, "it's called a Milossa Wayn."
"A Milossa Wayn?" Caruthers repeated back. "Sounds like a cookie."
"Yeah, well this cookie can weigh up to sixteen tons and reach a length of seventy meters."
As Caruthers took another quick step backwards, he said, "Is it dangerous? Is it going to attack us like that Lampaxa?"
"The DB says it's a herbivore, but it will attack if provoked."
"What's it doing on the MAT?" Weems asked.
"Maybe it thinks it's an egg," Caruthers said, "and it's trying to hatch it."
&nb
sp; Weems chuckled. "Yeah, and out pop forty baby Marines in full personal armor."
"He might be right, Jerry," Sydnee said.
"I am?" Caruthers said, "I was only joking."
"I know, but your joke is as good an answer as anything I can come with. It looks like it's sitting on a nest. Perhaps it built a nest atop the MAT."
"Since yesterday?"
"How long does it take?" Sydnee asked him.
"I don't know."
"I don't either, but while some animals on Earth take a long time to make it just so, others simply find a convenient place and plop down."
"Well, that's definitely not a convenient place for us," Weems said. "If we could take off, we could simply dump it off with a roll."
"But that would mean getting inside first," Caruthers said. "That thing could stomp us without breaking a sweat. I don't think our armor would protect us."
"Any ideas, Syd?" Weems asked.
"Just one, but I hate to do it."
"We have to do something. The Marines will be waiting on us. We can't wait until that thing goes for a dinner break or potty break or something."
"I don't think it has to go for a dinner break," Caruthers said. "Look."
Sydnee and Weems turned towards the creature. A long neck, perhaps ten meters, was stretching towards a nearby tree. A second later, the small head opened its mouth, then closed on a branch. As the head dragged along the branch, it stripped off everything except the bark.
"So much for going for dinner," Weems said. "What's your idea, Syd?"
"We shoo it off."
"Shoo it off?" Caruthers said. "Like that's gonna work. If you even get near enough to that thing for it to notice you, you'll be flatter than one of those Lampaxa patties we had for breakfast."
"I didn't say we do it personally. I was thinking of using the tug."
"Yeah, that might work," Weems said. "As long as you don't let it get you in its jaws."
"Me? You're the tug jockey. I'm the MAT pilot. Besides, my job is more dangerous than yours."
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