Op File Treason

by J. Clifton Slater

  “They shouldn’t be able to detect the four microwaves beams,” Kaito bragged. “We restricted the beams to pulses and focused them from the vortex of the transmitter.”

  “But how will the Galactic Navy locate the ship?” questions Diosa.

  “They have to be scanning for the frequency of the beams and be in a sector to the port side of the Enara,” described Kaito. “Once they detect a burst, they’ll be able to follow it to the warship. It’s the best we could do and not have the Constabulary Navy know we put a bug on their ship.”

  A sequence of numbers appeared on Diosa’s PID.

  “That’s the frequency for the bursts,” advised Kaito. “Pass the numbers along to the Galactic Navy. They’ll know what to do with them.”

  “I know this goes against your neutrality,” Diosa said. “Thank you.”

  “Ryo told me if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have any neutrality,” replied Kaito. “I’ve got to get this over to fabrication. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Can you pull all the information from this device?” Diosa inquired as she handed Enyd Kealan’s PID to the warehouse manager. “Even the encrypted sections?”

  “I’ll dismantle it and use a direct line to mirror the content,” Kaito advised her. “I can’t unlock the information but everything in the device will be available.”

  “That’ll work,” Diosa assured her.

  After leaving the workroom, and crossing the warehouse to the exit, Warlock climbed into the cart.

  ‘Master Sergeant. Please report to the command deck,’ a message popped up on her PID.

  ‘On the way,’ she typed.

  ***

  “What’s going on, Captain Maricor?” Warlock inquired as she pushed through the glass doors.

  “Our fleet of shuttles seems to have grown,” Iska informed her.

  “How did that happen?” she asked. “Or rather, when did that happen?”

  “When our fleet separated from the Enara. A new shuttle joined the eleven bringing down the salvaged beams, cut plating and the crews,” Iska informed her. “I’m attempting to get a lock on its location using the passive mode of our ground-to-air missile system.”

  “You plan on shooting it down?” Diosa asked in surprise. “I thought you were against the taking of human life?”

  “I am and that’s why I wanted to see you,” explained Iska. “If they land soldiers, there will be bloodshed inside the base. If I shoot it down, the Commodore might overreact.”

  “Overreact may be putting it mildly,” ventured Diosa. “After the repairs, she’ll lob a few of her valuable consumables at the base on her way out of orbit.”

  “I’ve analyzed the situation,” Iska advised her. “The best course of action is an intervention when they land.”

  “You want me to ambush them?” questioned the Marine. “They will die. Can you live with that?”

  “On balance, I’m willing to sacrifice a few soldiers for the sake of my crews,” admitted Iska.

  “Or one Marine?” asked Diosa.

  “If it comes to that, then yes,” Iska admitted. “It’ll give me plausible denial.”

  “Once you identify the Constabulary shuttle, send me the landing area,” Diosa said as she headed for the doors and the cart. “Do not call Major Kealan and Ryo back here. The Enara maybe disobeying her orders or not. We definitely don’t want the Major to be aware of our actions.”

  ***

  “Candela. It seems I need to take my armor to the surface,” Diosa stated as she approached the shipwright. “Can you run a check?”

  “Ha. Let me finish cutting this piece,” she replied indicating a workbench. “Someone needs a rush job and a notch for a transmitter.”

  As the laser sliced the plating, Warlock strolled over to a workbench and lifted the corner of a piece of cloth. Under it was the disc and the rectangle box.

  “The Galactic Council Navy thanks you,” Diosa said.

  “Ha. Not doing it for the navy,” Candela replied as she hit a switch. The laser’s arm drew back and the nozzle rotated upward. “Doing it for you. Don’t know why but I seem to like you.”

  “Then come with me to the changing room and check this armor for pressure leaks,” Diosa suggested. “Commodore Oskari is sending down a shuttle and I’m their reception party.”

  Candela ushered Diosa out of the fabrication area and together they crossed to the changing room.

  “Seal it up,” directed the shipwright as she took an oxygen sensor off a shelf.

  Once the helmet was secured, Diosa turned on the oxygen and the armor squeezed her body.

  “I have flow. No dizziness or lightheadedness,” Diosa reported. “Because of the construction, you’ll need to check joints and flexible areas as well as the seams.”

  “Hold tight boss lady, I’m doing it,” Candela assured her. “I only have two hands.”

  “I’ve seen you operate the laser and I swear you have an extra arm hidden behind your back,” teased Diosa.

  “Flattery won’t help. If I stop to pat myself on the back this will take all day,” replied the shipwright.

  A few minutes later, Candela stood up and placed the sensor on the shelf.

  “That suit is air tight,” the shipwright announced. “I’d stake your life on it.”

  “I’m glad one of us is confident,” Diosa replied.

  “If you’re done with me, I have armor plating to construct,” Candela said as she headed for the door. “Good luck out there, Diosa Alberich.”

  Diosa unsealed the helmet and tucked it under her arm. She slung the rifle over her shoulder and followed the shipwright out of the dressing room. While Candela crossed to the fabrication area, the Marine walked to the ring corridor and her cart. Instead of getting into the driver seat, she climbed in the back, stretched out her legs and waited.

  Diosa’s period of rest didn’t last long.

  ‘Alberich. The Enara shuttle is breaking off from my flight group,’ Iska sent. ‘Based on its trajectory, the estimated landing site is a flat roughly three-point-six kilometers from manager Bagwis’ warehouse. Their landing zone is just over the horizon.’

  ‘I’m on the way,’ Diosa typed. ‘ETA?’

  ‘Two-point- five hours,’ Captain Maricor sent back.

  Once in the driver’s seat, Diosa made a U-turn and pushed the cart to its maximum. Unfortunately, the cart took fifteen minutes to reach the warehouse. She didn’t stop at the entrance.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Bagwis demanded waving her to a stop.

  “There is a Constabulary shuttle landing out there,” Diosa announced pointing to the other end of the warehouse. “I’m going to investigate.”

  “You can’t take the cart outside. The small wheels will bog down in the dust. Plus, the motor isn’t insulated for the cold,” the manager explained. “You’ll get maybe to the end of the truck apron.”

  “You’re saying I need an outdoor vehicle,” Diosa guessed as she climbed out of the cart.

  “Not necessarily. We plow off the dust from the harvesting field and push it in the direction of the flat,” Bagwis stated. “If you drive a cart through the piles, the wheels will raise a line of dust clouds that will hang for hours. To the Empress soldiers, it’ll look like an arrow pointing to you.”

  “What do you suggest?” inquired Warlock.

  “Can you drive a motorcycle, Master Sergeant Alberich?” replied Bagwis.

  “Yes. I can handle a bike,” Diosa assured him.

  “Well what I have in mind is nothing like that,” the manager said with a smile. “But it’ll get you there without a lot of dust.”

  ***

  Warlock eased off on the throttle and the nozzles hissed as she choked off the flow of compressed gas. Glancing back, she saw three sled tracks but little stirred up dust. That was on the relatively flat harvesting field. Ahead were the mounds. According to Bagwis, they marked the two-kilometer line. Much beyond the piles, she’d need to cl
imb off the material sled and go the rest of the way on foot. A crank of her wrist and the jets of gas pushed. The single front ski of the trike like machine climbed up the face of the first rise.

  The bare metal seat, designed for an operator pulling beams and hull plating to a pickup point, beat her backside. Not the armor or the foot pegs prevented the bumping and slapping as the sled bounced over the mounds. Once down the final pile, the natural moon dust folded around the skis and they began plowing the fluffy sediment. Warlock made a wide circle until the material sled face towards salvage base.

  Throwing her leg over the center bar, she stepped away from the vehicle. Oblong tanks of gas occupied the space behind the utilitarian seat and a simple set of handlebars with a throttle completed the steering mechanism. Shaking her head at the simplicity of the sled, Warlock pulled her sniper rifle from a tube mounted on the frame and walked in the direction of the flat.

  While still one hundred and fifty meters from the landing site, the Marine scurried to the top of an ancient impact crater. Although the rim was gnarled and chipped, the raised edges provided a barrier. From a pouch on her hip she pulled a light gray camouflage cover. As she pegged the material to the sides of the crater, Warlock marveled at the varied supplies the salvage base had in stock.

  Once her position was invisible from the sky, Master Sergeant Alberich reached into the pouch and pulled out a long box. From it, she extracted the scope and screwed it to the rifle. When it was fixed in place, she pressed a button and the laser scope aligned with the barrel. Then she stretched out in the hole, slid the barrel over the rim, and inspected the flat.

  The crater was the highest feature between the salvage base and the flat. Which wasn’t saying much as the entire area boasted almost no change in elevation. Through the scope, she scanned the area and guessed it gained the title flat because there were no big rocks in the landing zone. Other than that, everywhere she looked was flat.

  Her PID buzzed.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Iska sent. ‘I’ve stacked my shuttles for quick landings. The Enara shuttle will have to come down fast to keep from being detected. Passive ground-to-air targeting radar shows it’s still on course.’

  ‘Acknowledged,’ Warlock replied.

  She twisted her head as much as the helmet allowed and grabbed the drink tube with her lips. As she sipped the water, Warlock thought, not about the inbound shuttle, but the plastic taste in her mouth. No matter where she’d been stationed over the years, beverages from a bladder on her back always tasted nasty.

  ***

  The shuttle nose-dived for the surface and, at the last second, leveled out. Warlock caught sight of the spacecraft far beyond the flat. It grew as the distance closed and appeared as if it would fly right down her scope. Before reaching the crater, the vessel slowed and spun around. Then, it settled into the dust of the moon and a side hatch opened.

  Warlock placed the crosshairs on the first body to exit. He was huge and it wasn’t the vacuum suit or the armor. It was a Troop and the Marine had to force herself to release the finger pressure on the trigger. She should have expected the half human monsters in any Constabulary assault unit. But the sight of one was almost too much to resist the urge to punch a hole in his head. Letting out a breath, she drifted off the Troop and scanned the hatch for the rest of the unit. Two more stepped down followed by a normal sized woman.

  Only four? It was almost insulting that Commodore Oskari or maybe Major Kealan had only requested a four Constabulary unit to take out a Marine. Then, the four moved to the rear hatch of the shuttle, unsealed it, and lifted the cover.

  The Troops climbed in and a minute later they shoved one end of a shiny box into the moon dust. As it bounced over the lip of the shuttle, the Constabulary officer threw her arms in the air and danced around. Although Warlock couldn’t see the officer’s face or hear her words, she recognized the signs of frustration. They were more careful lowering the back edge of the box to the surface.

  One of the Troops went back into the storage compartment and emerged with an electronic jackhammer, a pickaxe, and two shovels. Their officer scuffed out a shape in the dust and the Troops began to dig. While they chipped away rock and shoveled out dirt and cracked stone, the officer went to the box and lifted the lid.

  Several minutes later, the officer closed the lid. She spoke to the Troops and one collected the pickaxe and the jackhammer. While he carried the tools into the shuttle, the other two pushed the box into the hole they dug. It settled in about half way up the sides. Then the two began shoveling dirt, dust and rocks until there was only a mound to mark the spot.

  A minute later, the four boarded the shuttle. Warlock watched until the craft vanished over the horizon. She never saw it launch skyward because she was on her PID.

  ‘Captain Maricor. Who do you recommend for bomb disposal?’ Warlock typed.

  ‘Bomb? What?’ he replied.

  ‘The Constabulary placed a box on the edge of the flat,’ Warlock typed. ‘I assume it’s a bomb but don’t know the specifics.’

  ‘Bagwis. I’ll send him to you,’ Iska sent.

  ‘Have him bring a shovel. They partially buried it,’ Warlock added.

  ‘How deep?”

  ‘Two meters,’ she replied.

  ‘I’m also sending Kaito and a team of diggers,’ Iska advised. ‘Stay there.’

  ‘Wasn’t planning on leaving,’ Warlock typed as she took another sip from the tube. If anything, it tasted worse than before.

  ***

  Three of the four-wheel surface vehicles left a trail of dust hanging. As Bagwis suggested, the dust marked their passage from the salvage base to the flat.

  ‘Master Sergeant. We can’t locate you,’ Bagwis sent.

  ‘That’s the point. I am overwatch,’ Warlock replied.

  ‘You are what?’ asked the warehouse manager.

  ‘Insurance in case the Constabulary return,’ answered Warlock.

  Diosa watched Bagwis and Kaito step out of different vehicles and meet off to the side of the small caravan. They glanced around.

  ‘To the right of the buggies,’ directed Warlock. ‘About fifty meters. Look for the mound.’

  Bagwis and Kaito got back into their vehicles and drove in the direction indicated. It didn’t take much searching to locate the discolored heap once they were in the vicinity.

  ‘They dug the hole, pushed the box in and shoveled dirt to cover it,’ Warlock typed. ‘Shouldn’t be booby-trapped.’

  Four crew members pulled shovels from the back of the vehicles and began digging. Soon, their work exposed the top of the box. Bagwis and Kaito opened the lid and stood staring at the interior.

  ‘Is it a bomb?’ asked Warlock.

  ‘A big one,’ Kaito informed the Marine.

  Bagwis and Kaito retrieved tool kits from their vehicles and spent the next hour bent over the bomb. When they finally stepped back, Bagwis glanced around looking for the Master Sergeant before typing.

  ‘It’s disarmed. We’re going to bury it,’ he sent.

  ‘Is it dangerous to move it?’ inquired Warlock.

  ‘No. Just a big hassle,’ responded Bagwis. ‘We’ll come back for the parts later.’

  ‘I want that bomb,’ Warlock informed the warehouse manager. ‘Dig it out.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ asked Bagwis.

  ‘I have an idea,’ Warlock responded.

  Bagwis and Kaito talked together before they signaled the laborers to begin digging around the box. After removing the dirt and rocks, they shoved the box out of the hole and left it sitting beside the hole. Then the crew members and Bagwis walked to their vehicles, climbed in and drove off.

  ‘You wanted the bomb,’ Kaito typed. ‘Go get your material sled and drag it back to base.’

  She went to her vehicle, got in and drove off without a backward glance. Warlock scanned the horizon for three hours before sending a message to Iska.

  ‘Any shuttles inbound from the Enara?’ she typed.


  ‘No. The sky is clear,’ he replied.

  ‘I’m coming in,’ she sent.

  The sled had skis strapped to the frame above the gas tanks for anything being pulled. Warlock discovered them after a lot of trial and error. Once the skis were shoved under the bomb, straps wrapped around the box and, the skis attached to the material sled, she threw a leg over the cross-bar and throttled open the gas jets. Unlike the trip away from salvage base, the journey back took twice as long. Even disarmed, the idea of bouncing a bomb over piles of dust and dirt seemed like a bad idea.

  As the sled approached the harvesting field, Warlock noted pairs of shuttles parked at the two warehouses she could see. She imagined the other warehouses around the salvage base also had pairs of the ground-to-orbital work vehicles as well.

  Modified for the task, the shuttles had the normal compartment forward of the ion wall. Behind the wall, a sealed bulkhead protected the ion drive and further back, the deck was open. A material sled, like the one she rode, hauled plating to one of the shuttles while another sled pulled beams to the other one. Despite the bomb threat, the repair operation was still underway.

  Stopping beside the warehouse entrance, Diosa dismounted and strolled through the air curtains.

  “I have a request,” she said to Bagwis.

  “Seeing as you saved the children earlier and salvage base just now,” the manager assured her. “Whatever you need, consider it done.”

  ***

  Three days later, the crew members of salvage base were zombies. Walking around in a daze from extended periods in space and naps in the shuttles up to and down from the Enara. They’d completed the repairs by working around the clock. Now they waited for the Constabulary engineers to finish inspecting the work.

  “Enara, this is salvage base,” Iska radioed. “We are requesting a personal shuttle for Major Kealan. What’s the ETA?”

  “Send landing instructions,” stated the warship’s communications center. “The shuttle is standing by. Advise Major Kealan three hours for arrival.”

  “Thank you, Enara,” Maricor said. Then he turned to Master Sergeant Alberich. “You heard?”

  “Yes. Be sure to delay Kealan,” Warlock said.