First Contact
It was a beautiful July day in 2273. All around the White House lawn the crowds milled about. It had been more than a century since there were any serious security concerns. True, there were still some small points of civil unrest around the world, some due to the details of the World Unity Treaty; mostly relating to new regional treaties on trade.
The Eco-terror wars ended one hundred and three years earlier. They were the last of the real conflicts on the planet. Once climate change had finally been brought under control, there was nothing more for them to fight about. The move to global government became inevitable. In 2175 the first accords were signed. In 2180 world unity was a fact.
Many things followed. The crime rate dropped, dramatically, as many of the major crime families were eradicated by the new integrated global law enforcement strategy. The last remaining drug cartel came to an end when the local governments they hid behind were made redundant by the Global Congress in Washington. There was still some crime, human nature being what it is, but nothing near what it was before Unification. It seemed to all that things could only get better from here.
In Central Park that day the mood was equally festive as people walked about, stopping to sample the wares of the various food vendors, allowed in the Park for that special celebration. It just happened that the Park’s redesign, following the devastation of the New York landmark back in 2070, had created perfectly placed niches at precise intervals, almost as if this was planned back then.
Just as Mayor John Cetilla was about to begin his Unification Day Address a faint sound was heard high above. As he began to speak the noise became louder, causing people to look up. That’s when the world changed forever. Descending from the heavens was a small space craft.
Automatically the NYPD was alerted. Surprisingly, that was the only reaction, other than the mayor stopping his speech to watch the descending ship. The whole crowd stood transfixed, which, as it turned out, was the best thing that they could have done.
The vessel grew in size as it descended, coming to rest above Colford Lake, the larger of the two lakes in the Park’s 2070 redesign. The landing struts touched down with cloud-like lightness on either bank of the north and south sides of the lake. There was a long pause, and then a hatch slid aside and a gangway extended to the ground.
The pause lasted centuries. Actually, it was only a few minutes before three beings emerged. They were all humanoid in shape. The first, who proved to be the leader of the delegation, was only five feet tall. She had very gentle features and her dark toned skin was covered by an extremely fine fur. Each hand had five long fingers and an opposable thumb.
Flanking her on either side were two stalky males (at least they appeared to be male). They were nearly seven feet tall and extremely muscled. Their skin was a deep fuchsia with the sheen of fine leather. Over their shoulders were slung some rather impressive looking rifles; on their hips hung some equally impressive side arms.
The female commander of the group approached the podium and addressed the mayor: “I am Captain Ipzr Flyn of the Warp Ship ‘Starn’. I come from the planet Talin. My security agents are Borellian. We are here representing the League of Systems, a confederation of star systems scattered throughout our galaxy. We have been observing your world and its population for a great number of years.” Flyn paused to let that sink in.
“You see,” she continued, “your planet is sitting as close to the astrographical centre of our confederation as one can be. We have studied you carefully, and believe that here might be the best place, the most efficient place, to situate our new seat of government. To achieve this, the League would like to welcome Earth into our confederation. We believe that we have an offer for the people of your world that you will be pleased to consider.”
Mayor Cetilla was taken aback by her opening statement. One moment ago he believed that humanity was alone in the universe, now the representatives of other races that he hadn’t known existed, were inviting Earth to become the capital planet of a multi-world confederation. Fortunately, the mayor was known for thinking well on his feet.
“Captain Flyn, welcome to New York,” he began. “I should begin by telling you though, that this is not the seat of power for our planet. The World Congress sits in Washington. The Chancellor and the Cabinet are located in The Hague, and the World Senate meets in London,” he informed her.
“I am aware,” Flyn responded, with what, she hoped, looked like a friendly smile, “but of all the places I viewed in our reports, Central Park was the most intriguing, and since we had to land somewhere...” She shrugged and smiled again.
“Well then, that being said,” Cetilla continued, “if you’ll come with me, I will be happy to connect you with the World Chancellor and his Cabinet. After which, if you wish, I’ll happily give you a tour of the Park”
Once more Captain Flyn smiled, broadly.
The mayor indicated the path that led to his open-air limousine. The captain nodded and preceded him along the way, still flanked by her escort. The mayor fell in beside her with a phalanx of NYPD officers that formed an honour guard and security force. It was critical that there should be no incidents that would mar this event.
That was how the first contact was made between the Earth and the League of Systems. What followed were six and a half years of negotiations.
For their part, the League offered Earth many new technologies: medical technologies that would advance medical science in a great many ways. They offered engineering and scientific tech that previously had been the stuff of science fiction, or engineers’ dreams. Then there was “the biggie” inter-stellar technology.
For their part, one of the seemingly minor requests made by the League was to be given UN Plaza, where the United Nations complex had been carefully preserved, on which to build the new Capital Complex, and to house the member worlds’ embassies. This meant that the heritage site would need to be demolished to make way for a gigantic three hundred story League of Systems complex. It was one of the last details to be discussed.
In a drawing room overlooking Central Park, the League’s chief negotiator, Jarem Zimm, of the planet Dariam, took a long drink of water. “I hope that we can get this agreement passed by our respective peoples,” he told Leonard White, Earth’s lead negotiator, “I love your water, and the League’s Chancellor has already promised me a posting here if you and I are successful,” he said. “Back home we have no open bodies of water like your rivers and lakes. Our water is extracted from plants found in our planet’s broad tropical region. We have no shortage of water, but no matter what we do, we can’t make it taste this good,” he lamented.
White smiled. “Then, I guess we had better make this work,” he said. The one thing that astounded Leonard was how easily friendships had grown between the various members of the negotiating team from the League of Planets and his people.
From the very beginning the human population had come to like their new friends from the stars. “Too bad,” White thought, “that everyone on earth is not of the same mind.” He was thinking of the sundry small groups that either opposed the Earth joining the League or the groups opposed to having the League set up their central government in New York.
Zimm continued, “With regards to our desire to build our seat of government on the United Nations Plaza, our selection of that site is partly symbolic, as the UN had been a major precursor of your United World Government. As to the height of the new building, it is just the League’s idea of economical use of space. We don’t want to make it seem as though they were taking over half of Manhattan to house our more than two hundred embassies and official residences. Of course, we want to be in Manhattan because it is the centre of the United Earth’s financial dealings. As much as anything, the League is about trade and commerce.”
White took that in. It was not the first time that he had heard it, and Zimm was not the first one to make that point with him, or other members of his negotiating team.
He looked Zimm in the eye, “Everything that the League has offered Earth is, to be honest, overwhelming, and if it were almost any other site there would be no problem, but to humans some elements of our heritage are critically important. This is why we have preserved that site for more than three hundred and fifty years.” White spoke softly, but his response was firm.
He continued, “Your people have been more than generous, Jarem. It is unheard of in human history that a negotiation has begun with one partner giving most of its bargaining chips away before a single agreement has been signed. Thanks to the League, the advances we have made in medicine, engineering and space flight have put us ahead by hundreds of years in less than seven. I feel badly about having to deny what probably seems to your people to be so small a request, but, happily, we think that we have an alternative.” Leonard White smiled again.
Zimm returned his smile. “You know the truth, Leonard. We started by sharing our technology and our knowledge because it was necessary. If we didn’t, it would be as if a super civilization had come to dominate and enforce our will on Earth. By leading with the gifts that we gave, we hoped to level the playing field, as you say. We are now negotiating with a civilization at par with ours in a great many ways. It was also a show of good faith with respect to what we promised would come with Earth’s joining the League.
As to the location of our new capital complex, after five years, I know you, Leonard. You, also, know the meaning of the word ‘generous’. I am intrigued. What is it that you propose?”
White pressed a button on the console by his chair and a holographic map of Manhattan appeared in front of them. With a remote pointer he highlighted an area just to the north and west of UN Plaza. “Since the creation of World Gov, the need for formal embassies or consulates between the various ‘countries’ of Earth no longer exists. Everything is done in the local government centres of our member states. This ten-block area here,” he pointed his remote and a large area turned green, “…was home to a number of foreign consulates from several pre-union nations. The actual area is seventy-five percent greater than the UN Plaza. It is also adjacent to the UN Buildings, preserving the symbolism, and perhaps even enhancing it. It will also allow the League to have greater space to build, in greater comfort. We have already spoken with most of the property owners and have obtained conditional agreements with them.”
Zimm sat silently, looking closely at the proposed site. “I like it,” he said thoughtfully, “…and I think that I can sell it,” he added. He toasted White with his glass of water.
“Moving onto, or rather back to, other matters, our Ministry of Mutual Security has provided your Secretary of Defense, in The Hague, with the final draft of our agreement on the timeline for setting up Earth’s branch of the Stellar Corps’ admiralty, which has been aptly called Terran Command. All that remains is to begin training your people.” Zimm drained his glass and looked hopefully at White with a smile.
So, on New Year’s Day of 2280 Earth became the Capital Planet for, and the newest member of, the League of Systems. A new era in human development was born.
Not all humans were happy!
Some things about humanity, even in the 23rd Century, remained the same as they have always been since the beginning of time; some people see conspiracy and villainy in almost everything.
While the vast majority of Earth’s population, or “terrans”, as they began to call themselves, welcomed the advances brought by the League, small protest groups had popped up around the globe. Most, like the “Earth Alone” group, were innocent protesters, ardent in their belief, but pacific in their attitude. Others like the “Humans Only” group, centred in Brooklyn, New York, were far more militant.
Initially the HO group was powerless to do any more than publish propaganda and protest in Central Park or near Wall Street. So long as they remained impotent, no matter how militant, the authorities let them protest.
Security regulations kept them far away from any areas where they could do any damage. So long as that remained the case, no one in authority believed that they could pose a threat.
The group’s leader, a very dangerous individual in his own right, who changed his name officially to “John Everyman Smith”, was determined to drive the League away from Earth at any cost. To that end he recruited to his cause a diverse group of malcontents, including many psychotics, psychopaths and just plain “crazies”; anyone who he could infect with his own brand of paranoia. So far things had not worked out too well.
Around a table in a Brooklyn basement in May 2281 Smith was berating his lieutenants, yet again. It was of course never his fault when his plans failed. “You people have done a pitiful job of raising public awareness of the true evil that we are facing,” he ranted.
“Drake and Halpern, they had guts!” he continued. “Setting themselves on fire right there beside Colford Lake, where the heathen devils first landed, was inspirational; full of symbolism! Did any of you follow up on that? Did any of you make the same kind of sacrifice? We need to keep the public focussed on what’s happening. WE HAVE BEEN INVADED PEOPLE!” he shouted.
“Now, John, that’s not true,” Bart Soren countered. “Remember, Niko and Sato literally spilled their guts into the lake. You don’t think that it took courage to commit seppuku for the cause?”
“And what did it get us?” Smith demanded. “We need even more direct action!”
“You mean like attacking the League Headquarters? We tried that, remember? It got us banned. We are now illegal! That’s why we have to meet in this crummy basement, and why we lost so many members. Most people don’t like being hunted down and prosecuted. What more can we do?” Soren responded.
“Do you want to quit, too?” Smith asked.
“No, of course not!” Everyone around the table looked shocked and hurt at Smith’s suggestion, especially Soren.
“Then are you willing to go farther – a lot farther?” Smith asked the group. “Are you willing to go down in history as monsters before you are hailed as heroes?”
Most nodded their assent, though some seemed frightened. Soren spoke up again.
“What are you planning, John?”
“We need to catch the attention of the whole world,” he told them. “We need to commit so bold an act that everyone will sit up and take notice; so that that abominable ‘League of Aliens’ will know that they are not wanted here on Earth, and never will be. We tried getting a bomb into their complex and failed, so maybe we need to go bigger, a lot bigger! All of Manhattan must be sacrificed!”
There was an initial look of horror on everyone’s face. Pat Little finally asked a one word question, “How?”
“We build an atomic bomb!” Smith announced triumphantly.
Again, shock all around…
“You must be joking,” Soren said. “Do you even know how to build an atom bomb? There haven’t been any nuclear weapons anywhere on Earth for over two hundred years. Where will you get the parts?”
Smith grinned at them. “I already have them! In fact the bomb is built.” When all he got in response to his grand announcement was a table full of quizzical expressions, he continued. “You know how they say that you can learn anything on the internet? Well… I was able to find detailed instructions.” When the querying faces turned to shock again, Smith just continued his explanation.
“It’s been a century since any government agency has monitored the ‘net for so-called terrorist activity; the benefit of being a world ‘at peace’. I’m sure that my queries raised no red flags, anywhere.
“The real problem was finding the parts, especially the fissionable material. That was where I got lucky. It seems that when they decommissioned Three Mile Island some fool stole some of the enriched plutonium rods, and got away with them. Only, beyond his sticky fingers, our thief had little to commend him. When he tried to sell the stuff, he was caught. It was all kept very hush-hush, especially because they never found the plutonium.”
“…and you did?” Soren interjected.
“It was easy, actually,” Smith was basking in his self-congratulation. “All I had to do is ask myself what an idiot would do? The answer: He brought it home. His house is long gone, but the building next door is still there. During my research I found out that he was a member of the ‘society’ that owned that house, so I looked into it.
“From the outside it looks like a normal house, but I checked the records. The group that owned it classified itself as a preservation society. What it really was was a survivalist group, but because they called themselves ‘preservationist’, their status kept the house from being demolished, even though no one has lived there for decades.
“So I snuck inside. There, I found that the cellar was false. You go through the ordinary looking door leading to the basement only to find another hidden door just beyond. That door, it turns out, is constructed of lead-lined steel.
“When I did a search on the internet I was not surprised to find that the group has been defunct for a hundred and sixty-two years. Only, no one in authority ever bothered to check into its status or deal with the society’s assets. So, I simply reactivated the group as a legal entity, and legally took possession of the building,” Smith grinned. “These days you can do anything online.”
“So are you gonna share with us what is so special about this house?” Soren asked.
Smith continued to grin as he explained, “You see, behind that second door was a deep staircase leading to a fully stocked and lead-lined bomb shelter, built way back in the 1960’s.” Smith paused to let his information sink in.
“These ‘preservationists’ had evolved, by the end of the 20th Century, into an urban militia. Not only did I find the key component for my bomb, I also had the perfect place to build it. Down deep in that shelter where I found the plutonium, I also found protective suits and all the tools I needed. That was two weeks ago. I finished the device yesterday.”
Everyone sat stunned. Eventually Soren spoke up again. “So, that’s step one. Now how do you leave an atom bomb in Manhattan with enough lead time to get off the Island to somewhere safe, before it blows up, without the bomb being found?”
“I don’t,” Smith answered smartly. “I’m not using a timer. The bomb has been assembled in two pieces. The device itself is one, the other is the detonator. I have enlisted Remi Saint-Jacques and Jack Boliker to carry it by subway into Times Square, slap the detonator into the bomb and flip the switch.”
“How did you manage that?” Pat Little asked.
“Boliker is a psychotic with a messiah complex; a saviour looking for a chance to die for the cause. Remi is just plain suicidal. I offered him a chance to make his suicide count. I promised that when they build the ‘ground-zero’ for Manhattan there will be statues honouring both of them. That sold them.”
“So, when do we go?” Harry Croll asked.
“On the last weekend of June; the way I see it, after the mess that Earth Alone made at last year’s Unity Day celebrations, the cops will be much more vigilant this year. But I still want it to happen as close to July 17th as possible. If we wait any longer than the Saturday before Unification Day the more stringent security will be in effect. We would never be able to smuggle the device into Times Square.”
“About that,” Soren came back, “once you take it out of the bunker won’t it be detectable?”
“I thought of that, so I’m having them wrap it in one of the protective suits, and carry it in a cloth sack. It will look just like a sack of laundry.” Smith was really pleased with his perceived cleverness.
To Smith the plan seemed flawless, but then, every would-be “great man” makes one fatal mistake. Smith’s was not explaining to Boliker and Saint-Jacques why he wanted the two elements kept separate until they were in the Square.
As they were preparing the device for transport the two would-be suicide bombers discussed their task.
“The big part is very heavy,” Remi noted as he hiked the protective suit containing the bomb into the laundry sack. “…I think that you got de light half, no?”
“Let me see how heavy the bag is?” Jack asked. Remi handed him the bag. “Shit, yer right. It weighs a ton,” Jack said as he hefted the weight. “Maybe we can trade off as we go. Like, you carry it to the subway, and after we get off I’ll take it as far as the assembly point in Times Square.”
“Sounds good to me,” Remi said, “but your jacket is de one designed to hide de detonator. Dat means that you will be carrying both parts. We’ll never be able to put the two together in a hurry if someone catches us before we get to the assembly point, like Smith told us to do. You need be to able to take your jacket off to get the detonator out of dat special pocket.”
“So, we’ll assemble it here.” Jack said as if it was the most obvious idea in the world. “I dunno why Smith didn’t tell us to put it together here anyway. What’s he afraid of?”
Remi agreed. “Yeah, it makes sense to put dem togedder here. Eh? and maybe we should take de new elevated tramway dat opened last month. If da bomb is already assembled, we can set it off as de tram car crosses Times Square. From what I hear dat would cause a lot more damage…”
Jack hesitated at first.
“…and more people in all de boroughs of the city will see it.” Remi continued. “Even Smith didn’t think of dat one!” They grinned at their own brilliance, as Jack reached into his jacket, withdrawing the detonator.
As Smith had promised, the two parts fit together with ease, and the bomb was quickly armed. Still pleased with their ingenuity, the pair began to climb the long staircase to the surface. All went well for the first ten or so steps. Then Remi began to huff and puff under the weight of the bomb.
He stopped for a rest. Jack took the bag from him, initially intending to carry it for the remainder of the climb, but being in even poorer shape than Remi, he, too, was soon huffing and puffing.
John E. Smith had not believed that the bomb would be too heavy for Remi to carry by himself. He never added in the weight of the protective suit that it was wrapped in. By the time the pair reached the top of the stairs both were exhausted. Things had reached the point where they were handing the bag back and forth every third or fourth step, and their handling of it got clumsier each time.
When they were passing through the lead-lined door at the top of the stairs. Remi reached out to retrieve the bag from Jack, and that was when they learned the number one reason for travelling with a disassembled bomb.
Just outside the upper doors to the bunker Remi tried to take the bag back. Both men were breathing heavily, worn out from the climb. It was no surprise when the bag slipped from Jack’s fingers, and tumbled back down the stairs, end over end. Two stairs down was all it took before the device landed on the detonator’s trigger.
The lead-lined door was meant to protect against fallout, not an atomic blast within the structure. Only the fact that the house above was solidly constructed of concrete kept the blast from levelling all of Brooklyn and the southern part of Queens. As it was, the halls and windows of the structure above directed the blast outward over many parts of the borough.
The house’s heavy duty construction confined the blast radius mostly to the eastern and southern two thirds of Brooklyn, and very select parts of the western half. Anything within a mile of the structure, however, was leveled. Many buildings in direct line of sight of the weaker parts of the house were melted or set aflame by the intense heat. The roof of the building was blown off, and most of the borough was blanketed with radiation from the nuclear cloud. More than half of Brooklyn’s population died in the blast or in the days that immediately followed.
Ironically, it was League of Systems technology that prevented a more serious loss of life from the radiation following the cataclysm. Within minutes of the incident, teams from the Altinian Embassy sprang into action.
Being a people who were unaffected by most forms of radiation, they began low level sweeps in skimmer ships, scanning for survivors, while spraying the area with a radiation inhibitor that would eliminate or drastically reduce the half-life of the radioactive fallout. Areas of highest concentration would still be “hot” for four or five hundred years to come unless they were treated much more extensively, but the ambient radiation could be kept to a level at which the population could survive with regular shots of a serum that terrans dubbed “anti-rad” developed by the League from Altinian physiology.
The citizens back on Altin were immediately contacted by their ambassador, and were lining up to give what passed for Altinian blood, to make the serum that would be needed over the long term. Once these emergency measures were taken, other crews would be able to come in to clean up the radioactive debris and finish decontaminating the soil.
One group that surprised everyone was a delegation from Galor Prime. They provided extra skimmers to transport rescue squads and ferry the wounded. As Galor Prime’s gravity is one hundred and twenty percent of Earth’s, their skimmers could carry much more weight. Teams of the squat-looking Galorans in radiation suits scoured the debris rescuing survivors and recovering bodies.
This was surprising because Galor Prime was not yet a member of the League. They had just made their application to join, only, since the Galorans were actually an empire they were deemed ineligible for admission. Before they would be admitted, the League insisted that they convert their empire into a federated system of free planets while maintaining the services that Galor Prime now provided until each colony was once again self-sufficient.
This, they assured the League, was in process. At the time of the explosion, Galor Prime was still just a diplomatic delegation in New York. To be able to aid in the rescue efforts the Galoran delegation stretched its resources on Earth to the limit. That did not go unnoticed.
The actions of Humans Only devastated Brooklyn. Despite the best efforts of the League of Systems, a certain segment of the population suffered genetic damage, the following year there were many mutant births.
In the months that followed, in many areas of the borough, law and order broke down totally, to be replaced by gang rule, particularly so in the more heavily damaged areas. In response, Manhattan closed the bridges while Queens quickly erected a wall along its southern border. They said that it was to keep out marauders. It was really to keep out refugees.
Food was shipped into Brooklyn by skimmers, those vehicles introduced to Earth by the League. In the city they could operate as the terran travelpods did, but they were also capable of short and medium range flight so they could cross the river without using the bridges.
As well, Mobile Medical Clinics, or MMCs, set up by the City of New York, visited the zone regularly to augment medical services still available in what was left of their local hospitals, but overall Brooklyn was deemed to be an extremely unsafe area.
Within the borough there were pockets of undamaged homes. In most cases, they had been saved from the blast by high rise apartments that had surrounded them and protected them from the force and heat of the blast. Those who lived in these areas prior to the blast, afterward banded together in tight-knit community groups for mutual support and safety. They established community militias to protect themselves, and fortified their boundaries, forming enclaves.
Initially, State and local governments conceived a comprehensive plan to stabilize the blast zone or “the zone” as it came to be called. The plan was never enacted. The political will required to spend that much money, and commit such great resources, just wasn’t there. Order and civilization in the zone had degenerated too quickly.
In the beginning the National Guard took on the task of patrolling the borough, but that didn’t last long either. They were unwilling to get involved in potentially bloody battles with the gangs that had, or were trying, to take control. They were also forbidden to use the advanced weaponry they got from the League. Their new allies were unwilling to risk their advanced weaponry falling into “ganger” hands as it had back in 2070 in Central Park.
Very soon the law of the jungle was the rule of the day. The gangs battled among themselves for supremacy. Beyond the enclaves, the outer-zone became a very dangerous place to live.
The enclaves themselves, despite all the help from the State and the other boroughs, were limited in the populations that they could support. Many zone families attempted to join the enclaves, but it was believed that they would be too much of a drain on the enclaves’ limited resources. They were forced to live outside in the outer-zone. Their former homes destroyed in the blast, they sought shelter in what few public buildings had survived, or in the churches or schools still standing, or in the basements of bombed-out houses. They lived by scavenging in the destroyed areas and trading whatever they found for food and other necessities.
Despite the danger, a form of commerce did emerge in the outer-zone. The need for food and other commodities gave rise to a group of merchants who formed the “outer-market”. They were a mixture of ordinary merchants, criminal fences and black marketers.
The National Guard, on a limited basis, continued to send patrols into the zone from time to time, but they were not very effective at pacifying the borough. Soon they only entered the zone as protection for the Mobile Medical Clinics.
In time, however, the real heroes did emerge. Special individuals arose to protect the zone dwellers and enclaves. They were often ordinary people who lived in the outer-zone; hiding among the ruins. They lived off the gifts that were gladly offered by the people of the enclaves. These heroes challenged the gangs. They protected, as best they could, the residents of the outer-zone, and warned the enclaves of impending attacks on their borders, at times taking on the gangers themselves. They patrolled the wastelands, moving against the gangs whenever they attacked the innocent. The residents of the zone called them “the hunters”.
One other result of the explosion that devastated Brooklyn was that the Galoran application for League membership was fast-tracked, but the League still maintained one condition: that advanced League Technology would not be available to the Galorans until their empire was completely converted into a free federation.
Despite their apparent sincerity, the Galorans asked for an extended period of time to negotiate freedom for all their colonies. They assured the League that the emancipation process would be complete within a century. If they were hoping that their promises would be enough to convince the League to lift the final condition, they were disappointed.
For Earth, membership in the League, with its transfer of the promised technology, was a boon to research. New medical tech led to many breakthroughs in cancer research as well as diseases of the brain associated with aging, such as dementia.
What surprised the League of Systems was the creativity and ingenuity of humans. Less than ten years after humans joined with fellow League scientists, already established lines of League research, in a great many areas, took surprising new directions. When humans were given the chance to work with the League’s top scientists they brought many new approaches to the research projects that were in progress.
One of their first major developments was a breakthrough in starship propulsion. This next evolution in starship technology, the “Jump-ship” was literally leaps and bounds ahead of warp travel.
Instead of using the warp of space to travel faster than light, Jump-ship technology allowed a starship to jump from one point in space to another, using a hyper-space technology, bypassing warp travel entirely. Jump-ships could still travel at warp speeds when necessary for shorter trips, but for greater distances they would make calculated jumps that could cover the same distance in only an hour that for a ship at warp fourteen would take a day.
Family
Sarah Maloney was born on July 1, 2331, the second child of Earth Senator Francis Maloney and Dr. Mary Maloney, and younger sister of four-year-old Peter. Right from the start it was evident that she was a precocious child. There wasn’t a single milestone in a normal child’s development that Sarah didn’t surpass early. It was as though she refused to be limited; nothing held her back.
Immediately following the explosion in Brooklyn almost sixty years earlier, gangs from the zone were constantly finding ways to slip into Manhattan, even though the Brooklyn Bridge was sealed very early on to prevent such incursions. The gangs liked to kidnap the children of the wealthy Manhattanites for ransom. Most often the children were never returned. These days the incursions were a thing of the past, but many wealthy families still paid to have their children trained in self-defence.
The Maloneys lived in a penthouse on Central Park West. Despite the building’s best efforts at security they knew that no place was perfect. So, though their home was well protected, Mary Maloney insisted that the children be taught to defend themselves. When Peter was eight Francis hired Sensei Hikaro Nakamura to train his son in various forms of self-defence.
Sarah watched the first training session with great interest. Each time the master showed her brother a new movement she eagerly imitated it. While Peter was an excellent student it was young Sarah who showed the greater talent.
“Mommy, I wanna train with Sensei Hikaro too,” she told her mother later, most indignant that her mommy would suggest that the four-year-old was too young to begin her training yet. “I’m not too young!” she insisted. “I’m just as good as Peter!”
Sensei Nakamura waited silently until Sarah left the room before he spoke to Mary Maloney. “She may express herself in what one might say is a bold or sassy manner,” he began in his usual peaceful way, “but the child speaks the truth. She is as good as her brother when it comes to the katas. I would not put her into randori just yet, but she has a natural talent. There is no reason for holding her back, and every reason to let her begin.” He smiled encouragingly, “My fee is the same either way.”
Mary considered his words carefully. “She has always been precocious, and somewhat sassy,” she added with a smile. “It’s almost her nickname. Let me think about this and discuss it with her father. I’ll let you know tomorrow,” she told the sensei. He nodded his agreement and departed.
True to her promise, Mary discussed the prospect with Francis that evening. “The master seems to believe that it would be a benefit to start her now. He says that she is at least as good as Peter…”
Francis Maloney knew his wife well. “I sense that there is a ‘but’ coming,” he observed.
“But,” Mary answered, in response to his prediction, “It’s the way she reacted when I said no. She is always so bold. I hate to give in. It can only reinforce her bad behaviour.”
Francis smiled at his wife. “You’re worried that we’ll spoil our child,” he told her, “I wouldn’t worry. Remember last Christmas when there was that request by Fr. Alessandro for aid for the zone children? She volunteered to give them all her presents, even her new Baby Barbara doll, and you know how much she pestered us for that toy. Our daughter is a very special girl – a very good and loving girl. It’s just that she is also a very bright girl, well beyond her years. She expresses her mental superiority boldly.”
“I’m still concerned. I heard Nanny Rita calling her ‘Sassy Sarah’ the other day. She said it in an endearing manner, but it’s the idea that she sees her that way. You know how much Rita loves Sarah, if she sees this in her…” Mary let the thought trail off.
“Love, I still think that you are worrying for nothing. Our ‘Sassy Sarah’ is a very good little girl, of that I’m positive! I am also positive that this streak in her nature will not change that. Eventually it may even help her to stand up for herself out in the world. We are citizens of the galaxy now. Anyone who can stand up for themselves will do well.” The discussion went on for only a short time. The result saw “Sassy Sarah” officially join her brother in martial arts classes.
That fall she also started school at St. Anthony’s Academy. Her intake interview and assessment saw her jump past the usual pre-school and start first grade. Sarah excelled in her academics. She devoured the material and looked for more. By Christmas break the school was talking about having her skip second grade in the fall and go directly to the third. To that end, she was given extra material to ensure that she would be ready. Sarah gave many hours of her summer vacation to that endeavour.
Another area in which she continued to excel was her proclivity to be outspoken. Very soon her nickname of “Sassy Sarah” devolved simply to “Sassy”, only her mother still called her “Sarah”. Sassy didn’t mind her new name at all. She thought it was great.
Her new name notwithstanding, Sarah continued to thrive in all environments. To her mother’s relief and pleasure, her new name and reputation didn’t affect the girl that she really was.
As well as becoming the youngest martial arts champion in her weight and age class, she was given permission to compete with the older children, where she was also successful. By her tenth birthday Sensei Hikaro was calling her the youngest ninja in history.
Academically she dove into her schoolwork with an ever greater passion. If it wasn’t for her ability to make friends so readily, Francis and Mary would have been worried by the amount of time Sarah spent with her books. The school had no choice but to allow her to advance as quickly as she was able. By the age of ten she was already beginning grade ten – as far as Sarah was concerned, she thought that it was only natural. She was also an altar server at the friary church of Saint Francis of Assisi on 31st Avenue, and an active member of their youth outreach project, and in the drama club at St. Anthony’s High School. Contrary to Mary Maloney’s earlier concerns, Sassy was indeed a very good girl.
Then, when Sarah turned eleven, Mary felt that her children were both old enough that she was now able to do more in the community. She accepted an invitation to work with the group that brought front-line medical care to the enclaves and the scavengers in the zone. It was one of the few outreach initiatives provided by the populations of Manhattan and Queens to try and reduce the violence in the lives of the zoners, by beginning to re-establish some basic social services in areas where they were most needed. They hoped that this would be a first step in re-establishing a normal community in the borough of Brooklyn.
One day and one evening a week a medical unit would drive into Queens accompanied by a brigade from the National Guard group that oversaw the security along the Queens border wall. The MMC along with their escort would pass through one of the gates that went from Queens into Brooklyn, visiting the enclaves and picking up zoners in need of medical aid who waited at designated stops.
Apart from the entrances to the enclaves, these stops were usually in open fields or areas where the buildings had been leveled by the blast, so that there was no place for the gangs to hide in ambush. That didn’t totally prevent the more aggressive zoner gangs, like the Eaters, from attempting long range attacks.
It was more common, though, that one or the other of the gangs would get creative; dreaming up mobile barriers. These were devices that could be pushed into the path of the MMC as it wended its way through narrower routes in the zone, making their way from one enclave to another.
The MMCs always varied their route to avoid getting ambushed for their drugs and any equipment that could be sold on the underground market.
As one might expect MMCs were understandably large, articulated vehicles, and couldn’t go just anywhere. If the gangs got creative enough they were able to set up an effective roadblock. That was when the Guard went into action. Most often they could repel the assaults, but that usually aborted the MMCs mission for that day.
Sometimes the gangs won. In those cases the medical staff simply gave their assailants whatever they wanted, and they were usually released. If they were lucky, they might make it to the nearest enclave without further harm. The more aggressive gangs, like the Eaters, tended to be a great deal bloodier.
Dr. Mary Maloney was preparing for her regular evening tour on the MMC when the eleven-year-old Sarah came into her room. She was dressed in her black ninja gi and carrying her nunchaku. On her belt was a pouch in which she stored her shuriken, the ninja’s throwing stars. “Mom, I don’t want you going out by yourself tonight,” she announced. “So I’m going with you. I’ll protect you if the gangs try anything!” She had that look on her face that she got when saying “no” was not an acceptable response. Despite that, her mother said just that.
“Sorry, Sassy…” Even Mary had finally fallen into the habit of calling her daughter that. “…I appreciate that you’re worried, but I have a squad of Guardsmen, and all the other doctors, nurses and medics with me. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes you will, if I’m there to protect you.” Sarah insisted. She was not going to let it go. “They say that the gangs have been really bad in the past two weeks. Mom, I’m afraid, I don’t want you getting hurt. I gotta come with you, I gotta!”
“I’ll be fine, honest, sweetheart,” her mother insisted, as she strapped on her protective gear, but Sarah was not mollified. She left the room muttering to herself “I gotta go. I gotta protect you!” She was not at all happy. She returned to her own room and closed the door. She almost never did that.
Dr. Maloney didn’t like leaving things like that, but she had to hurry if she was going to make the connection with her team. The MMCs needed to keep strict schedules in their departures if they were going to have the flexibility that was needed once they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.
Once ready, Mary headed for the family’s private elevator to the garage, where their driver awaited her. As she passed, she knocked on Sarah’s door. Sarah didn’t answer. Mary knew how stubborn her daughter could be. She knocked again, and called through the door. “Sassy, honey, please come say good-bye…” Again, there was no response.
Mary could have just walked in, but she wanted to protect her daughter’s idea that the closed door imparted to her some sort of sanctuary. Also, another confrontation with Sarah would take more time than she really had. Her team was waiting. “Okay, Sassy, suit yourself,” she called through the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.” She rushed off to the elevator.
Sarah was uppermost in her thoughts as she pressed the call button. As the doors opened she turned back towards her daughter’s room. She didn’t have the time. She had to tear herself away. She promised herself that she would call Sarah before the MMC crossed the bridge. Walter, the family chauffer, was waiting with the travelpod door open when she arrived in the garage.
“All set to go, Doctor.” Mary entered the pod, almost without acknowledging him. As he was closing the door he added, “Oh and my apologies, ma’am, I think that I forgot to send the lift back up as you requested.”
Absentmindedly Mary responded, “No, you didn’t. It was waiting there.” Walter simply nodded and closed the door. He slipped into his seat behind the wheel and they were off. As the pod slipped out of its cradle Mary had the impression that something was amiss with what she was seeing in the garage. She just couldn’t focus on it enough to realize that she had missed seeing Sarah’s bicycle in its rack.
The MMC stood waiting as Mary Maloney’s pod slipped into her assigned cradle at New Belleview. Her team had just finished loading the last of the supplies as she approached. “Good thing that you’re on time,” Dr. Glazer commented. “The vehicle was held up at munitions. They were installing some new anti-barrier/anti-personnel devices; a projectile device of some sort, combined with a shock mechanism. It’s so new that they don’t even guarantee that it will work. I just hope that we don’t have to be the testers tonight. “
“You know Bill,” Mary said, “I wonder sometimes if the powers-that-be aren’t providing the vehicle and the Guardsmen like bait for the more violent gangs; to draw them out so that they can be captured or killed.”
Bill Glazer shrugged. “All I know is that we get to do some good work, and save a number of lives. We are needed in the zone, Mary. I certainly hope that you’re wrong, but just so long as I can do what I do, I’m in for the duration.”
“Bill, you are a modern-day hero. You know that, don’t you?” Mary told her colleague.
The team had just finished verifying their medical equipment as they reached the Brooklyn Bridge. Mary remembered that she promised herself that she would call Sarah. She reached for her phone as the MMC cleared the approach to the bridge. She rang the house and Peter answered.
“She won’t answer me when I call her,” he told his mother. “Should I go into her room and get her?”
Again, Mary rejected that option. If Sarah was going to be stubborn, having her brother violate her privacy would have only made the situation worse. Mary could wait until the morning to address the issue with her daughter. This promised to be just another routine night. She’d be home before 1:00 AM, and Mary was sure that Sarah would be waiting for her. She was certain that her daughter would want to know that she was alright.
Around 7:00 PM they arrived at their first appointment in the Owls Head Park enclave. Mrs. Gutiérrez was in her final trimester, and was expecting twins. There was every possibility that they could come early. The team’s obstetrician wanted to check on her. It was a good thing, too, as what started as a false labour suddenly turned real. By 9:00 PM there were two beautiful little boys in the Gutierez household. Fortunately, they were developed enough not to require incubators. The MMC was back on its route by 9:20.
They were heading north east on 4th Avenue passing through one of the wasteland areas, when the attack came. Near the old Basilica of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, local volunteer workers had begun a new reclamation project on the road to the Sunset Park enclave. In their enthusiasm, the reclamation crews had ignored the security protocols. Large piles of debris had been created by the clean-up crew along both sides of the street.
As the convoy reached the corner of 60th there was an explosion on either side of the street that caused an avalanche of bricks to rain down between the MMC and its forward personnel carrier. The cascade of debris in front was immediately followed by an assault from behind on the rear guard. From the noise outside, the medical team deduced that the forces in front were also being attacked. A brick was thrown at the front window of the MMC. It didn’t even crack the translux steel.
Three things then happened almost simultaneously. The first was the sound of someone trying to pry his or her way in through the main door using some sort of industrial grade device like the famous “Jaws of Life”. Concurrently a gang member attached a small explosive charge to the front window. As the blast cracked the translux steel pane, the door of the rearward storage cupboard burst open. A tiny figure clothed completely in black bounded out. As her feet hit the floor the tiny ninja drew the nunchaku from the back of her belt. At that moment Sarah Maloney was not an eleven-year-old child, but a trained ninja warrior ready to fight for her mother.
Mary Maloney was horrified, almost paralyzed with fear for her daughter. It was then that the hinges on the door gave way and the attackers were able to open a space wide enough to allow one person at a time to squeeze through. Bill Glazer had already started on countermeasures. He opened the drug locker and was loading the hypo-sprays with strong, fast acting sedatives, but he was not the first person to respond to the threat as a large Eater warrior pushed his way through the opening.
Everyone in the MMC recognized the gang colours. Eaters were one of the most feared gangs in the zone. Bill rushed forward with the hypo, hoping to dodge his attack long enough to hit him with a near-lethal dose of the drug. He didn’t reach him first.
From behind him a steak of black vaulted through the air, nunchaku flying. Sarah’s first blow struck the attacker on the side of the head with a deafening crack. This positioned his head for her second blow behind his left ear. The intruder crumpled, hanging in the door with half of his body still on the outside of the opening. The unconscious Eater effectively blocked entry for anyone else.
Sarah’s assault jarred everyone else out of their fear-induced paralysis. Everyone grabbed for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon until Mary could open the weapons locker.
Next, the front window was breached. As the first two Eaters forced their way in, Sarah’s hand dropped to the pouch on her belt. Shuriken flew from her fingers and hit their marks. With perfect accuracy, her throwing stars found their targets, catching both assailants in the carotid artery. Foolishly extracting the blades from their wounds, they caused the blood to fountain out from their necks. Their hearts already racing from the adrenalin rush, the blood loss was accelerated far beyond normal. The pair collapsed from hypovolemic shock just as they broke through to the treatment area.
A third Eater aimed a gun through the opening. She fell to Mary’s bullet before she got the shot off. All the medical staff were now armed with guns as the Eaters forced the door open farther. A second charge exploded, shattering the front window. That blast sent shards of the glass-like steel through the MMCs cab back into the treatment area. Most of the staff were injured to a greater or lesser degree. A piece grazed Sarah’s side, but it struck Mary, who was trying to cover her daughter, square in the chest. The force of the blow was enough to knock her off of her feet and pierce her body armour. Seeing her fall, Bill Glazer rushed to her side just as Eaters started pouring in from the cab.
Assured that her mother was being cared for, Sarah flew into action. Despite the flesh wound, the child-ninja launched into an all-out assault on the intruders. Fueled by adrenalin and rage, she attacked with a ferocity unmatched even by the Eaters themselves.
Her nunchaku moved with a speed and force that the would-be attackers could not defend against. When she threw a shuriken she always hit her mark. When the throwing stars ran out she threw scalpels from the surgical cabinet.
Behind her the doctors and nurses who were still able to function were also engaging the Easters. Whether it was their natural aversion to violence, the wounds they already suffered, or the minimal training they had received with their weapons, is not known. What was obvious was that the medical team was much less effective at defending the MMC. Although they inflicted many injuries, most were not adequate to stop the attackers.
Then, one of the Eaters threw a concussion grenade, taken from one of the Guardsmen, into the treatment area. As Sarah succumbed to the effect of the charge, she heard a strange war cry outside the MMC.
The entire medical team in the treatment room was knocked unconscious, so there was no one to help Sarah when one of the large Eaters grabbed the girl and hauled her through the cab and out the front window. He had just cleared the vehicle and bounded out of the conflict zone as two Guardsmen successfully scaled the barrier that was blocking the vehicle’s forward path and jumped into the front cab through the broken windscreen. One opened fire on the Eaters in the treatment room. His accuracy was much greater than the doctors’ had been. Eaters fell.
The second Guardsman located the activator for the new device just installed that evening. He flipped open the protective cover and slammed his hand down on the large red button. From the front of the vehicle two small rockets fired, greatly reducing the rubble blocking their forward path. At the same time as the projectiles launched, the other component of the new system sent a thousand-volt charge into the hull of the MMC; the Eaters fighting to gain entry were thrown back by the force of the shock.
The first Guardsman jumped into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine. He threw the shift into low gear and the MMC slowly crawled over what was left of the debris-barrier. Once clear, the driver shifted into high and turned left onto 60th Street and then left again heading back to the Belt Parkway and the Brooklyn Bridge back to Manhattan.
The lack of a windscreen was no impediment to the driver. The combat shield of his helmet allowed him to ignore the wind while traveling at top speed all the way to the hospital base at New Belleview. In the treatment room the medical team was beginning to revive. Those who could were tending to their wounded. No one had yet noticed that Sarah was not with them.
It was in a dark room that Sarah awoke early the next morning. Her head hurt, so did her side. She remembered the battle of the night before. She felt her side, there was a bandage where the shard of translux steel had sliced into her. From what she felt, she knew that surgical butterflies had been applied and her wound bandaged, but it didn’t feel quite perfect.
“Lights to full,” she commanded. Nothing happened. “Lights to FULL” she repeated. Still there was no response.
“We don’t have any fancy systems like that here,” came a voice from outside of the room. The room brightened a little as light flowed in from the opening door. The young woman flipped a switch on the wall and the ceiling light came on. The girl, she couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty, came over to Sarah’s bed.
“I’m Amanda Running Deer, but folks just call me ‘Mandy’. I saved you from that Eater last night. What’s your name?”
“My name is Sarah, but everyone calls me Sassy. Thanks for saving me,” Sarah answered. Amanda just smiled. “She has a nice smile,” Sarah thought. It made her feel safe. “How long was I asleep?”
“Just a few hours, I watched you carefully, in case there were complications from the concussion grenade, or the fall. Not that there was much that I could do. All MMCs have been cancelled, effective immediately, until the Guard can get the gangs under control. That could be a very long time, seeing as no one wants to commit troops to the zone. They don’t want to engage with the gangs.
“Eaters are the worst, but the Knockers, the Shivs and the Scalpers are close behind them for being just plain mean and ultra-violent. The fighting for control of the borough between the gangs is constant. The Eaters are so bad that other gangs have had to step up their level of violence just to keep their turf.
“But I tell you, Sassy, I have never seen an assault like the one the Eaters mounted last night. They sent most of their fighting force. After the losses they suffered last night, their ranks are a lot smaller today than they have been for quite a while.
“I’m guessing that they didn’t just want the supplies. It looked like they wanted both the entire vehicle and its staff. That suggests that they were planning a big offensive, and wanted their own MASH, staff included, to care for their wounded. Well, that’s not going to happen now. Between whatever happened on the MMC, and the actions of the Guardsmen once they regained the upper hand, the Eaters’ numbers have been greatly reduced. It may be a while before they are an effective force in the zone again.”
“Why are they called ‘Eaters’?” Sarah asked.
“For a long time it was considered to be a kind of urban myth, people said that they are actually cannibals. The gang has been around since just after the time of First Contact. They devolved from the ‘Humans Only’ group; the ones who set off the bomb. No one knows how or why, but as the protest group turned into a gang it was said that they began to kidnap children from the enclaves; for ransom, it was believed. But no ransom was ever demanded. When the children could never be found, despite the limited possibilities for places where the gang might be hiding them, it was suggested that they were eating them. The new name for them stuck.
“Then, about twenty years ago the Guard was able to act a lot quicker than usual following a kidnapping. They found the segment of the gang that had taken a child from the Flatbush enclave. They were too late to save the little girl. What they found was a confirmation of the urban legend. The girl was just about your age. I was sure that that is what they wanted with you.”
Sarah sat there silently, contemplating what Mandy had just told her. She didn’t want to be anyone’s dinner. After a long pause, she asked, quietly, “When can I go home?”
The answer was not what she was hoping to hear. “I don’t know. The Bridge has been closed since the bomb, only special permits can pass. I can get you to the Bridge, but whether they would let you pass is another thing.”
“But I live in Manhattan. I have my ID. I can prove who I am.” Sarah was getting upset. “They have to let me cross.” The ninja warrior of the night before was now a little girl a long way from home. She fought hard to keep from crying.
“Sorry, Sassy, but they don’t. Everyday people who want to get into Manhattan try to fake their way across. By now you will already be listed as missing; being taken by Eaters means that you will be most likely be presumed dead.
“They won’t believe that you are who you say you are. They won’t accept your ID because it will be flagged as ‘Presumed Dead’ in their system. After I rescued you from the Eaters I saw the MMC free itself. They made a beeline for the Bridge. Shortly afterward the Guard patrols pulled back to positions on all the approaches. They have sealed it off. The only other bridge from Brooklyn to the Island has been sealed since the blast.”
Sarah was crying openly now. “Then what do I do? How do I get home?”
“I don’t know,” Mandy answered honestly. “For now you can stay with me. This place is secure. From the outside it looks just like a pile of rubble. Unless you know where the entrances are, it’s just a pile of bricks and other crap.
“We have all the amenities; water, power, heat and even air conditioning in summer. Since 2201 it had been the main public library in the borough. The building suffered only minimal damage, when the high rises all around collapsed on top of it.
“The beds and other furniture I scavenged from wreckage all over. They are safe and radiation free. The shower and bath modules were gifts from the enclaves in thanks for what help and protection I can give them.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. “You’re a hunter?” There was great admiration in her voice. “We hear about hunters all the time. I don’t understand why the Guard are always trying to catch and arrest you guys, though.”
“Because there is no real law here,” Mandy explained, “…except the law of the jungle. If I catch a couple of gang members trying to break into an enclave, I stop them. Of course, they don’t want to be stopped. Stopping them means using force. Often, one or more of the gang members, or gangers as we call them, will end up dead.
“We hunters are not cops. We can’t call for backup or subdue them and haul them off to a non-existent jail. We either drive them off or neutralize the threat. Usually it is a combination of both. That’s why they want to arrest us.”
Again, Sarah sat silently, taking in what she had been told. Finally she said, “I never thought that I could kill anyone, but then the Eaters attacked my mom. I fought back to keep her safe. Then they hurt her and I went ballistic.” She dropped her voice, “I killed a lot of Eaters last night,” she said very quietly, adding, “After last night I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t just practice ninja moves. I am a ninja.” She looked at Mandy. “If I gotta stay here for now, I want to help you.”
She looked straight at Mandy as she spoke. The crying little girl was gone again. Mandy found herself looking into the eyes of the ninja warrior. The change surprised her and shook her a little, too.
“It’s dangerous work, Sassy,” she told her. “I didn’t see you fight. I can’t be sure that I can rely on you to have my back. I also don’t want to be the one who introduces you to killing as a way of life.”
“I’m not too sure about the killing part either. But I can fight. I can use a fighting staff, nunchaku and shuriken, only my nunchaku are probably still on the MMC and I shot all my shuriken.”
Mandy smiled. “Just a sec.” She disappeared, returning a moment later with Sarah’s weapons. “When the Guardsmen regrouped, and attacked, the Eaters ran for cover leaving, the bodies behind. I recovered the first throwing stars from the bodies left at the scene. Also, the Guard don’t bring the dead gangers back to Manhattan. They dump them on the road, essentially, let the gangers take care of their own. That’s where I recovered the rest of them. The nunchaku were taken by the same guy that took you. I actually thought that they might have been his. Either way, he won’t be using them on anybody!”
Sarah gratefully accepted the weapons from Mandy. The shuriken she replaced in her pouch. With the nunchaku in hand she stepped to a free space on the floor and executed a flawless demonstration of her prowess with the weapon.
“I also am proficient in Kung-Fu, Kendo and Karate,” she said, adding, “But I never had to use any of it to kill someone before.”
Mandy recognized that Sarah was expressing the altruism at times found in young people her age. While she was not rushing to push a little girl into the life of a hunter, already her mind was racing with scenarios in which Sarah could be very effective. “We’ll see how things develop,” she told Sarah, “First we’ll see if we can get you home.”
That thought pleased Sarah. She began to feel some sense of hope.
Hunter
Sarah worked hard. From her first days in the zone she wanted to be effective, to help Mandy in her efforts to tame the zone, and protect both the enclaves and those who had no choice but to try and survive outside of enclave protection.
It began with extensive training. Mandy took the skills that Sarah had learned under Sensei Nakamura and taught her zone strategies. “Hunters work alone or in teams of two or three,” she taught Sarah. “You will need to use stealth and surprise; to attack from behind and from hiding. You must be ready to kill, or you will be the one who dies. We hunt the predators, but we don’t attack unless they threaten the innocent; but the word ‘threaten’ has a wide definition.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you don’t wait until they physically attack someone. If you observe a group of Knockers following someone, you take them out. The gangs never just follow. If you wait for them to make their move their intended victim will, WILL, get hurt or killed. That goes for any of the gangs. If you see the Shivs skulking along the wall of an enclave, you act. They’re not there to look at property for sale, or check out the schools in the area. Eaters, I attack on principle. There is only one way to end their threat: Extinction.”
Training also meant extensive practice in the kind of moves that would be most effective in their guerilla-style attack. When it came to this training, Mandy was pleased to find that it went both ways. Sarah taught her many new moves, and together they developed a host of new strategies. Six months after her arrival in the zone, twelve-year-old Sarah accompanied Mandy on her first night-time patrol.
For the rest of the time, when she wasn’t training or patrolling, Sarah made good use of the fact that she was living in a library. Mandy once or twice commented that it was like she was still alone as Sarah spent so much time reading e-books, articles in archives and online material. She especially revelled in her new love, actual books made of paper.
She began by sampling books at random. Then as she found more and more books for which she lacked sufficient basics, she began to construct her own study plans in various disciplines and areas of study.
Her tastes and interests were highly eclectic, and her love for learning was, as always, passionate. If she didn’t miss her family so much, Sarah would have been in seventh heaven, living in the library.
Repeatedly she explored various options for getting back to Manhattan. Each time there was an insurmountable obstacle. In a single instant of time the world that had been so open and free was again a high security state, at least as far as the island of Manhattan was concerned.
The human rights and civil liberties of the residents of Brooklyn were considered null and void by Manhattan Security. If Sarah was caught trying to get home there would be no questions asked. She would be finger printed, injected with a tracer and returned to Brooklyn. As far as Manhattan Security was concerned there were no Manhattanites trapped in Brooklyn.
Even Queens residents needed special passes, issued by and from the Island, to be allowed across the bridges from Queens. More than fifty years had passed since the bomb, and there was still a fear that someone might try something like that again. Sarah’s return home was beginning to look hopeless.
At the same time as Sarah researched the options open to her, Mandy also made inquiries. She used her contacts in the enclaves, many of whom were more than willing to help the little heroine who had come to their aid so many times already. She had contacts in Queens as well, who looked into some way of getting her a bridge pass, without success. The conclusion was that Sarah was going to have to stay in Brooklyn until something, somehow, changed.
If she had to be there, Sarah was determined that she was going to make a difference. Initially the pair went out at dusk and hunted through the night, protecting the enclaves. At times they encountered other hunters, singly or in groups. The others welcomed Sarah, warmly. Despite their grim avocation, she found them to be warm and often sensitive individuals. It was often the case that it was their sensitive selves that had given rise to their determination to protect the people and clean up the zone.
One year became two and then three. Sarah and Mandy bonded to become the most effective fighting team in the zone. Then one evening something happened that expanded Sarah’s list of predators to be fought.
Even though the last remaining bridge from Brooklyn to the island was shut tight, Manhattanites could still get passes over the bridges that ran into Queens. They could then bribe certain members of the Queens border guards to be able to pass through normally sealed border crossings into Brooklyn.
Their prey was the children of families who often went scavenging at dusk. Many of these children were also orphan survivors, their parents having been victims of gang attacks. Life was brutal in the outer-zone.
To survive, the children would continue to scavenge for things that they might sell on the outer-market. The outer-marketers dealt with the scavenger families in the zone, the gangs, and the hunters alike.
Mandy hated dealing with them. “They are vultures, carrion-eaters, all of them,” she would usually say after coming back from making some deal with one or the other. But they were a necessity of life for those outside of the enclaves. Very often they could get things that weren’t available in the zone. No one knew how they managed it, but gangers and hunters alike took advantage of it.
To survive the children of the outer-zone would scavenge about in the streets, or in the rubble of destroyed homes, to find things that they could sell. They also kept an eye out for any booty that may have been dropped by gang members fleeing from the hunters. It was on these children that the Manhattan predators would prey.
As they always had, they would entice them into their pods with sweet promises. These days it wasn’t candy, but credits, currency to buy food or other necessities from the enclaves rather than the outer-marketers. Inevitably that was the last that anyone would see of the youngsters. So far no one had ever caught one of these predators in the act.
Then, one evening Sarah was returning from dealing with Horton, one of the most notorious of the outer-marketers. She had traded with him for some extra shuriken. She was carefully making her way along Atlantic near the Bedford–Stuyvesant enclave, where she had left her bike and her most of her weapons, (Horton wouldn’t have let her in if she had had her nunchaku with her), when a pod pulled up beside her. A well-dressed man in his late thirties or early forties called out to her. “Hey there, little girl…”
In the city Sarah had been taught to avoid such attempts to engage her in conversation. This time was different. She turned towards him. He continued his pitch. “You want to make some extra credits?” he asked, flashing his credit chip.
Sarah smiled sweetly, “Sure, what do I have to do?”
“Not much,” came the equally sweet reply, “get in and we’ll talk.” He opened the passenger-side door.
Sarah knew that her range of movement would be limited once she got into the vehicle, but she took the risk. Feigning shyness, she slid into the passenger’s seat. “Okay,” she said, “Now what do I have to do?”
“Anything that I tell you to do,” the man commanded roughly, drawing a stinger from inside his jacket. Sarah was ready for it. Even in the confined space of the travelpod she had a number of possible disarms available to her. She decided to use the most painful one. In an instant she had possession of his stinger and his credit chip, and he had a broken arm
The stinger was a civilian model. Its maximum setting was “heavy stun”. She shot the man and dumped him in the back of his vehicle. Sarah then drove to one of the crossings that these predators were using to get in and out of Queens. She stripped her unconscious passenger naked, and dumped him by the access point and sped off in his pod. She knew that Horton would pay handsomely for the pod and as much as fifty percent of what was on the man’s credit chip.
After she finished transacting business with the outer-marketer, she headed for Bedford-Stuyvesant enclave. She recovered her bike from the Security Guard at the enclave and returned home with a tidy sum in her pouch and something she never had before, a stinger.
At first Mandy was not happy with Sarah’s report. “We’re not thieves, Sassy! We can’t become like the gangs.”
Sarah stared down her mentor and partner. “No we’re not, but how else are these pervs going to learn that our kids, especially the outer-zone kids, are not toys for them to pick up, abuse and then discard. It’s obvious that when they go home, there’s no one who knows, or even cares, what they’ve done. They come here; do what they want; and get off scot-free.”
The anger in Sarah’s voice told Mandy of her great passion for the innocents that she was trying to protect. It also showed her that Sarah’s time as a hunter in the zone had hardened her to the mission she had taken upon herself.
“And another thing,” Sarah added, “For as long as it lasts we have credits that we can use in the enclave stores. We only have to deal with Horton when we need specialty items or we have a pod to sell.” When she mentioned the pod she gave Mandy a wicked grin. “Oh, we also have a new weapon,” she announced, holding up the stinger. “It’s not much good when hunting multiple targets, but when stopping an individual Shiv or Knocker, or whoever, it may be useful.”
Mandy considered her argument. “Everything you say is true, but that still means that we are behaving like judge, jury and executioner, but for the fact that you left him alive.”
“And that is different from when we take on a Shiv raiding party outside of an enclave how? We attack from stealth and kill if we have to, don’t we? And what about when we go after the Eaters; their raiding parties never survive if we can help it.”
“She is really not the same little girl that I rescued from the Eaters,” Mandy thought to herself. “You have a point. But as you said earlier, this won’t last forever. These pervs have their network. Soon enough they will stop coming, and go back to looking wherever it was they used to go for their victims. Unless pervert hunting is very lucrative, we’ll eventually have to return to Horton as our regular market.”
“In the meantime,” Sarah proclaimed, “I hunt first at twilight. We may not have rid the zone of the gangs, but we might be able to send the perverts packing!” Then as an afterthought she added, “If it gets lucrative enough we might just get a kind of ‘Robin Hood’ thing going with some of the outer-zone families and orphans.”
“Now that’s the Sassy that I remember,” Mandy thought, and she smiled at that thought, adding to herself, “I think that I should start making some new enquiries. Maybe things have eased a bit. Maybe I can get her home before it’s too late.”
The next day Sarah began her patrols early. She covered the scavenger areas around dusk, looking for the predators. She found nothing. The same thing the next night. As time went on Sarah found that the perverts only came once or twice a week, often less than that. Once she got the rhythm down, hunting was good.
Occasionally more than one would come looking for “action” in the same pod. One evening she was nearly caught as the “perv” brought a friend in a separate pod. As she took down the first one, his partner pulled up behind and attempted his rescue. That evening when she returned to the library she had deposited two more would-be predators at different access points to Queens, and had sold two more pods to two different outer-marketers.
When Sarah had good hunting, she made sure that she sold her goods to different outer-market merchants, so no one had any sure idea of what she was doing. Also, she didn’t go out every evening, and always hunted in a different part of the borough so that neither the predators nor the merchants caught on to the fact that this was a regular activity that might be exploited.
Later at night she still hunted with Mandy. They patrolled the enclave borders, the former public buildings, and the more sparsely populated areas where the zoners, who lived outside of the enclaves, made their homes.
They protected the communities from raiding parties, and individual zoner families from attack. In the cases of the latter Sarah very often used the occasion to distribute some of the wealth her early-evening hunts had earned. She was especially generous to orphans living on their own, and to families whose children had disappeared without a trace.
At the same time as all this was going on Mandy continually worked trying to find a way to get Sarah home. Despite her best efforts, every way was still blocked. She tried everything, even offering one of the Guard stations on the Queens border a large bribe from the funds that Sarah had raised from her predator hunting. Nothing worked.
In the beginning, Sarah used to talk quite a bit about her home in Manhattan. As time passed it became less and less. By her fifteenth birthday she rarely spoke of home and family. Mandy felt that she had failed to keep her promise. Worse yet, she was worried by how well Sarah had adjusted to the life of a hunter. She wondered if there was anything left of that special little girl she had saved from the Eaters almost four years ago.
Worries aside, life at the library continued. Sarah had been with Mandy for about a year when Mandy became infected with Sarah’s love of learning. Now it was a regular part of their routine. They both spent at least two to four hours a day reading books, doing on-line webinars from the archives.
Their internet connection went only as far as the other branches of the library, and even there they needed to be careful. If the other branches traced their use of the system back to them, they could be discovered, maybe even forced out of their home. No one knew that under that great pile of rubble their library was still, mostly, intact.
For Sarah it wasn’t her old Manhattan home, but life with Mandy was good. Her life as a hunter was brutal, it was hardening her, but Mandy did her best to keep her balanced.
Nights were always busy. The pair patrolled at different times and on different nights so the gangs never knew when they might be about. It reduced gang activities, because the gangers could never be sure when they might run into the hunter team that was credited with more kills than any other.
It was six months after Sarah’s seventeenth birthday, while they were out on patrol that they came upon a small band of Knockers circling a zoner family. Five young men had surrounded a mother, father and young daughter, about twelve years old. The Knockers seemed to range in age from around sixteen to about twenty-five. The eldest was obviously the leader.
The gang was circling the family threateningly. “You haven’t paid your ‘insurance premiums’ this week, Jefferson,” the leader said. “Now, how are we to keep you and your family safe if your ‘insurance’ isn’t paid for, eh? I mean, you never know when some low-lifes might take a fancy to your sexy wife. She is so hot, isn’t she?”
He looked the woman’s husband straight in the eye as he ran his hands over her body. The young woman shuddered under his touch and began to cry.
Then the leader turned to the young girl. She, too, was crying. “And, what about little Bethany here, eh? I know that Peter, there, thinks that she’s real cute. You know that he can be quite the animal when he gets all turned on.”
He pushed the child into the youngest Knocker’s arms. “Go on Pete, show them what could happen.” He gave the boy a shove, pushing him closer to the girl. Her face was the picture of terror.
Peter wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, “Don’t cry, I won’t let them hurt you.” She gave him a shocked look. “When I ‘lose my grip on you’, kick me hard you know where, then run as fast as you can for the Owls Head Park enclave. They’ll take you in.”
The little girl was shaken, but she did as she was told. She made a show of struggling, then seemed to slip out of Peter’s grasp. She unleashed a wild kick that seemed to catch him in the groin. Peter crumpled to the ground and the child ran in the direction he indicated.
Two of the remaining Knockers took off after her, only to be intercepted by Mandy. At the same time Sarah came flying out of the air. Her boot struck the leader in the back of his neck. Under her weight and the force of the blow he fell, face first, into the concrete. Whether from the force of his landing or the blow to his spine, no one ever bothered to find out, he simply was dead.
While Mandy was making short work of the two Knockers pursuing the girl. One of the remaining Knockers turned on Sarah. He drew a long dagger from his belt and rushed her. Her shuriken caught him in the neck. Like those Eaters so long ago, he tried to remove it, sealing his end.
As he hit the ground, Peter rose to his feet. He seemed fully recovered from the kick to his groin. Sarah prepared to attack, but he just stood there. “Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded. “I wasn’t goin’ to let them hurt the girl. I saw you coming out of the corner of my eye. I knew that if she ran it would give you the opening.”
Sarah didn’t initially react, so Peter dropped to his knees and placed his hands on his head just as Mandy approached from behind.
She drew a bead on Peter’s head, but Sarah stayed her hand. “I think that he’s telling the truth. You saw it, the girl missed his family jewels by a mile, but he fell as if it was a dead-on shot.” She turned to Peter, “Okay, explain.”
“I’m tired,” Peter began. “This shit is not my thing. I can’t do it anymore.” He dropped his hands in a way that almost said “Shoot me, I’m done!”
Mandy approached cautiously, but Sarah relaxed her posture. “Alright, Peter is it? Go, try at Owls Head Park. Maybe the enclave will take you in. That family will certainly vouch for you. Just don’t let me catch you in Knocker colours again, or I will drop you where you stand.”
Peter relaxed. “Yeah, I’m Peter, Peter Preston. I know who you are. You’re Sassy. You got a mean rep in the zone. You won’t see me in colours again; even if it means that I become a scavenger,” Peter promised. He turned and lit out in the direction of the enclave.
Mandy joined Sarah as she watched him go. “You’re getting soft, Sassy,” she told her.
“Maybe I’m tired of all this killing, too,” Sarah answered with a sigh, “I hope he makes it. He could turn out to be a good guy.”
Around about 3:00 AM they took a break from their patrol, and stopped off at the Bedford-Stuyvesant enclave. There was an all-night café there that all the hunters liked to drop in on; not just for the good coffee, or because the owner gave it to them free, but because by dropping in at irregular times the gangs left the place alone. It had also become the place where the hunters would keep each other up-to-date on news inside and outside of the zone.
This night Sarah and Mandy met the Nelson twins, Jonathan and Rick, and Boris Keppling, who everyone called “The Bear”. As Mandy went to the counter to request their coffees, Sarah joined their fellow hunters at a table in the back. It was a large round table that after 10:00 PM was, by unspoken agreement among the other patrons, reserved for the hunters.
“S’up guys?” Sarah asked as she approached the table, “Busy night?”
“Not much,” Boris responded. I found a few Eaters over by the old cemetery on the north-east border. They resisted my suggestion that they stop attacking a couple of young scavengers who got caught out late. Well, if you gotta die I guess a cemetery is as good a place as any. How about you two?” he asked as Mandy joined them.
“Not too busy,” Mandy said. “Earlier on we took down a small group of Knockers, over by Owls Head Park enclave. Sassy went all soft on a Knocker kid named Preston.”
“Well he did try to save that little scavenger girl, didn’t he?” Sarah responded to her partner’s jibe. “Besides, he promised to drop his colours.”
Jonathan Nelson snorted. “As if that’s going to happen; when have you ever seen a ganger drop his colours? Even if he wants to, if he does, he’s dead. You know that. No one quits a gang and survives, not even if he’s Masher Mike’s kid brother.”
“I dunno Jon,” Sarah countered, “I can’t help thinking that this kid is going to try. He would have been dead anyway, if the big guy had noticed his fake. At least I hope he’ll try.”
“Any other news?” Mandy asked.
“Yeah,” Boris answered. “Could be a big noise coming from across the river. You know that for a while now someone has been taking down the chicken hawks, and ripping them off for their credits and their pods? Well it seems that the pervs have gotten together to catch the one who’s doing it.
“I have a source in Queens that says they’ve hired a bunch of off-duty cops from the NYPD, and a couple of retired Guardsmen, to come over here and catch him or her. They rented skimmers from the Galoran embassy to avoid having to go through Bridge Security protocols. They are really serious.”
As he finished his report he looked directly at Sarah, adding “They’re out for revenge. If I were the hunter doing this, I would back off for a while. You never know when it might be a trap”
“Your source is good?” Mandy asked, concerned.
“Very good, he is an NYPD cop named Digby, who lives in Queens, where they tried to recruit first; you know, to avoid the river crossing altogether. Only they got almost no takers there when it became obvious that they were looking to have the hunter killed. In the beginning the pervs didn’t want a live defendant testifying in court about what they are doing with Brooklyn’s scavenger children.”
“So what’s their mission now?” Sarah asked.
“Take her alive,” Rick Nelson said flatly. Everyone at the table turned to look at him in surprise. Among the hunters everyone knew that Sarah was the “Pervert Hunter”, but no one admitted it. Even when talking to her they kept her identity generic, just in case anyone was listening. There was a large reward already being offered by a front group for the offenders. It was large enough to seduce even an enclave resident to turn her in if they knew.
Without missing a beat Rick continued, “They’ll kill him themselves,” he said to throw off any listeners. “It ain’t as if they’re shy ’bout killing. Though I can’t help but have pity for whoever it is. I am sure that his or her death will be long and painful.”
Everyone around the table nodded their agreement of his assessment. Everyone went quiet for a while, and a cloud hung over the group.
“Oh,” Mandy finally said, in an effort to lighten the mood, “In other news, Ellen Schmidt and Geo Evans are getting hitched. They are planning to hold it near Sunset Park. It will be in the ruins of the old basilica on 60th Street. Reverend Olsen and Rabbi Nichols will co-officiate. It’s set for next May. It’s just too bad they can’t get out of the borough for their honeymoon, though I suppose that we’ll all have to watch their usual patrol routes for a couple of weeks anyway.”
Mandy’s attempt to change the mood worked. For the next hour the conversation was on much more pleasant topics. Nonetheless, Sarah was going over Boris’ news in the back of her head for the rest of the night.
Next day, as the afternoon waned, Sarah began to prepare for her evening hunt. She donned a very fetching outfit normally worn by a girl of twelve or thirteen. “Being small has its advantages,” she often said. She had bought a few different sets of clothing from the scavengers. They were old enough and worn enough to make her look authentic. They were loose enough to give her fighting room, and they were brief enough to get her target “audience” to start salivating. As she stuffed her nunchaku into a concealed pocket in her specially constructed scavengers’ bag, Mandy came to her room.
“I don’t know, Sassy,” she began, “don’t you think that you should lay low for a while? I mean you said it yourself, the numbers are way down. You’ve obviously got them scared.”
“Scared is not enough, Mandy,” Sarah replied. “They’re still coming, and kids are still disappearing.”
“You realize that fewer pods means a greater chance that one of them might be a trap vehicle. You could make your move and find yourself waking up in binders in the back of a Manhattan bound skimmer.”
“It’s worth the risk,” Sarah argued, “I’ve saved more than fifty children and confiscated enough travelpods that I’ve driven down the price with the outer-marketers.”
“Sassy,” Mandy pleaded, “I don’t want to lose you.” Sarah could see the worry on her face. “You’re not just my partner and my friend; you’re the little sister I never had. I’d rather die that death myself than let you suffer it. Please don’t go.”
“Compromise, you come along as back up” Sarah offered. “They can’t have recruited that many cops; not without giving them a really good cover story. We can take them, together. And if it isn’t a trap, we have one more perv out of our territory. Besides,” she added, “at least I’d die in Manhattan. I’d be closer to my folks.”
“Actually you wouldn’t.” Mandy told her. “I forgot to tell you. I was visiting Señora Gutiérrez yesterday. She had a copy of The Times. Your father was just elected Earth’s Vice-Chancellor. Your family is in The Hague.”
Sarah had mixed emotions about the news. She was proud of her father and pleased about his election, but now the possibility of ever reuniting seemed very dim. She paused for a moment, then steeling herself she said, “Time to hunt pervs. You coming?”
Her momentary mood shift was not lost on Mandy, but seeing her determination she responded, “Compromise accepted, just let me change.”
The pair went out to an area by the north-east boundary line with Queens, not far from where Boris the Bear said he had taken down a couple of Eaters the night before. One of the exit points to and from Queens was close by. Sarah reasoned, as it turned out correctly, that the pervs wouldn’t be going far from an escape point to do their hunting. They would want a quick in-and-out.
Near the end of the Jackie Robison Parkway there were a lot of abandoned homes, still standing, but just barely. There was also a public storage that was teetering on its last legs. In the past the scavengers used to give that area a pass as too dangerous. Only, so many decades after the blast, the safest sites had been picked clean, so scavenger children were beginning to venture into this area.
Mandy positioned herself on the roof of the remains of the post office at the corner of Atlantic and Pennsylvania. Sarah hid just inside the door. If Mandy saw a pod approaching from the vicinity of the Parkway she would signal Sarah, who would pretend to be a scavenger girl who had just struck out inside.
The pair took their respective positions. They didn’t have long to wait. Within fifteen minutes a very high-end looking pod turned slowly onto Atlantic. Sarah went into her act. She hadn’t considered it, but her increased caution as she showed herself to the passing driver actually made her seem younger.
The pod stopped and the driver lowered the window. “Hey little girl, any luck? No? If you want, I can help you.” He waved his credit chip.
Sarah brightened up for the man. She gave him a nervous smile. “What do I have to do?” she asked in a small voice.
“Nothing difficult, just come for a drive with me. I’m looking for my lost puppy. The guard at the Queens gate says he ran this way. It’s hard to drive and look. Will you help? I’ll give you twenty credits.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide. For any scavenger girl twenty credits was a fortune. She ran to the opening passenger door. The driver proffered his hand as though to help her in. Sarah noticed the tube inside his sleeve. He was going to use a tranquilizer dart. She beat him to it. Her stinger was set to max stun. He slumped over the control panel. Only the open door prevented the pod from instantly going into auto-return mode. The pervs were learning.
Leaving the door open, Sarah disabled the auto return and opened the driver’s door. She pulled the perv from the car and proceeded to search him for his valuables. As she went she removed all his clothing. Just as she was stripping off the last stitch, Mandy joined her. “He’s a real perv, I guess. There are no observers in the area,” she reported.
Together they bound the victim and tossed him in the back of the pod along with Mandy’s bike. Driving to an area near Jamaican Bay, they dropped him off near the Belt Way gate into Queens, and then took the pod to Mortimer Snerd. Mortimer was a most disagreeable outer-market dealer, but he had the reputation for the zone’s version of honesty that many didn’t. Negotiations went quickly and Sarah and Mandy were out of his “place” early enough for one more perv hunt.
They jumped on Mandy’s bike. Its small electric engine was as silent as ever as they quickly headed for the Greenpoint enclave. Since they were in danger in the outer-zone the pervs had started to use the Greenpoint Avenue crossing and then turn along Russel to the nearby park. The enclave kids were always a little harder to entice, especially when they had friends around, but these predators knew ways to get them into their pods.
As they pulled up at Greenpoint, the guards at the enclave’s south gate were happy to admit the pair. They were confident that Sarah and Mandy were there for a good reason.
Inside the enclave they took Bedford to Nassau to reach Monsignor McGolrick Park. Turning right on Monitor street they pulled into the park. Though it was technically against the rules, they rode through the park and parked the bike among the trees, just out of view of Nassau. Mandy waited there while Sarah sat on the curb waiting for what they hoped would be the inevitable predator.
The wait wasn’t long. Less than thirty minutes later a flashy new pod came slowly along the road. The driver pulled up beside Sarah. He flashed her a friendly smile. “Hi there,” he began. “You look bored. Where are your friends?”
Sarah shrugged. “They had to go home, now I got nothing to do,” she answered, trying, as much as possible, to sound like an unhappy little girl.
“That’s too bad,” the man came back, “Maybe I can help?”
“How?” was all Sarah asked.
“Well, I know a great arcade, but you need a pod to get there, and a few credits as well. If you want to come, I can pay your way.”
“Why?” Sarah repeated. It seemed like the kind of question that an enclave girl would ask.
“Well,” he began, “you look like a good kid, and good kids deserve a break sometimes; and it’s no fun if I go alone. Wouldn’t you like to come with me? I promise that it will be fun.”
“I gotta be home by dark,” Sarah answered.
“That’s okay,” the man said. “We can call your folks from the arcade. I’m sure if I promise to drive you home they’ll let you stay out. It is summer vacation after all.” He flashed another smile.
Sarah stood up. She had an eager look on her face. “I guess that would be okay.”
The driver popped the passenger door and Sarah ran to that side of the pod. No sooner had she reached the door when she saw his stinger. It was military grade. He was a cop or one of the Guardsmen. It was a trap. She ducked back just as he fired.
Sarah whistled for Mandy who jumped from her concealment. The driver had not yet closed his window, so Mandy swung Sarah’s nunchaku as she reached the pod. She struck the driver with enough force to knock him cold.
Sarah was about to take advantage of the driver’s unconscious state to take the pod, when Mandy stopped her. “It has to be rigged,” she told Sarah. “It likely has a kill switch in the ignition and an auto-lock on the doors. You step in but you don’t get out until someone lets you out.”
As she was speaking the second phase of the trap was sprung. It seems that Sarah and Mandy were not the only ones hiding in the trees. From either end of the Park two skimmers arose. They landed in the street sealing off both ends of the block. Both hunters went into battle mode as the mercenaries poured out into the road. Each skimmer was carrying five mercenaries plus the pilot.
Mandy tossed the nunchaku to Sarah and drew the two halves of her fighting staff. As she attached the ends of the two parts she called to Sarah, “Remember Sassy, normally these are the good guys – no killing if at all possible!”
Sarah had already made a quick count. The odds weren’t too bad for the two of them. They had often taken on ten-to-two odds, though these were trained men and women, not gangers. With practiced precision they charged the line at the west end of the street. The troops were armed with the heavy grade military stingers. Sarah and Mandy ran a carefully orchestrated evasion pattern towards them.
They were both well practiced at reading body language as if it were speech. Each time that it was apparent that a mercenary was about to fire, they dodged. They dodged one volley, a second and a third. Each time the stinger bolts whizzed past them. A few shots hit the mercenaries advancing from behind.
“That’s three less,” Sarah thought just as she came within striking distance of the troops of the western line. She leapt into the air and performed a beautiful flip as she passed over the head of the nearest attacker, landing behind him, facing his back.
She swung her nunchaku. It took two blows to knock him out. By then two others turned towards her. Again she vaulted; forward this time. Twisting as she landed, catching her would-be attackers off guard. With two strokes of her nunchaku the nearest one fell in a heap.
For her part, Mandy had dispatched the two attackers at the far end of the line. Together they dodged the stinger bolts of the remaining man as they ran for the skimmer. They didn’t know if either of them could fly it, but it was a way of escape. They knew that the locals would take care of Mandy’s bike until she could retrieve it.
Sarah made the door first. As she entered she glanced to her left just in time to see Mandy hit in the leg by one of the stingers. Not hitting her square on, the stinger shot didn’t knock her out, but Mandy’s leg went dead, and she fell a few feet short of the craft. Sarah turned to help her, but Mandy waved her off. “It’s you they’re after,” she called. “I’ll be alright.”
Sarah knew that her friend was wrong, but after six years together she was conditioned to listen to Mandy’s instructions. Turning back into the skimmer she ran into the pilot who was moving to intercept her. He never knew what hit him as he went flying out the door. The last two attackers still standing had pounced on Mandy and were restraining her wrists and ankles. Sarah had no choice but to flee. She took the pilot’s seat and found that the controls were much like the standard travelpod, but with the addition of flight controls.
She hit the switch that closed the hatch and turned the vehicle about by ninety degrees. Knowing that the other craft would surely give pursuit she located the tactical controls. She found a button labelled PCW. She wasn’t sure, but that looked like a weapon, so she hit it. The back end of the other skimmer exploded. She turned again and headed for the southern boundary.
By the time she had gone half a kilometer Sarah had figured out how to take off. She climbed to a height of a hundred meters and turned toward the old JFK Airport, confident that any searchers would start looking for her in that direction.
She landed the craft in the woods at the edge of Highland Park, sure that the trees would conceal the skimmer as they had for the mercenaries in McGolrick Park. It would be a much longer trip back to the library, but that reduced the chance that they might look for her at home. She was sure that by now they had tracked the skimmer’s tracer signal, and more troops would be arriving soon.
Sarah ducked below the main console and, with difficulty, pulled one of the panels free. Having studied electrical engineering in the library, she knew exactly where to find the main power circuit. She searched through the mess of cables until she found the one she wanted. Using her teeth to strip the end of the wire she jammed the bare cable into the central communications unit. Then, jumping up onto the vinyl pilot’s seat and pulling her feet off the floor, she hit the power actuator.
The charge that normally activated the craft’s engine was directed through the ship’s transmitters. If they were tracking the craft’s transponder, GPS or emergency beacon before, they weren’t anymore. Sarah had fried the entire communications array, including the back-ups. She fried every circuit in the panel!
Before leaving she would have helped herself to a couple of extra military-grade weapons if she could have, but they were securely locked into the rack. So, having acquired a new military-grade stinger from the pod driver back at Greenpoint, she set her own stinger to overload and left it on the weapons rack. Sarah didn’t want any gangers figuring out how to break the locks open. Then she lit out of there at a run.
She was four blocks away when she heard the explosion. She stopped for a moment to make sure that the sound hadn’t brought out any undesirables before continuing on her way.
Being in top shape Sarah could run at near top speed for almost four kilometers without stopping. That brought her to the outer boundary of the Bedford–Stuyvesant enclave before she finally stopped for an extended breath. When she resumed her course, Sarah moved more cautiously, unsure of what tactics the mercenary force would use. It proved a wise move as she approached the gate inside which she had left her own bike and extra weapons.
Wisely, Sarah had chosen to make a stealth approach to the entrance. If there was anyone watching that gate she had a better chance of seeing them before they saw her. What she found was even more distressing.
She approached the enclave, carefully circumnavigating a large pile of debris that had been left by recent renovations made to the homes along the south east wall of the enclave. She and Mandy had warned the enclave administrators that it was dangerous to leave the mound there, but they didn’t listen. For once she was glad they didn’t.
Commando crawling along the ground behind the pile she peered towards the entrance. The usual guards weren’t at their posts. She crawled up the pile of rubble. It wasn’t very high, but it allowed her to see over the wall. There she saw the two guards lying prone on the ground while two mercenaries were examining her bike. That escape was taken from her for now. She backtracked a hundred meters or so, then turned south, crossing into the worst hit area of the original devastation.
Everywhere there were mounds of debris, toppled apartment buildings and office towers. Travelling through these urban badlands would conceal her from the scanners of any of the forces who might still be looking, but it was also one of the most dangerous areas to travel through after dark with almost no weapons.
All she had with her was her nunchaku, her new stinger and her ninja skills. For Sassy the Hunter that might be enough.
Moving quickly and cautiously Sarah made her way through the ruins. There were still a few really hot spots in this area, so Sarah kept an eye on her dosimeter. As she emerged from the badlands a kilometer or so from the library, it still reported that she was within the acceptable range. “Still,” she thought, “I should take a dose of Anti-Rad when I get back.”
It was well beyond her normal patrol time when Sarah returned to the library. As she promised herself, she took a dose of the anti-radiation drug that the League still distributed to the enclaves, who shared it with the hunters and any outer-zone families when they could.
Covered in dust and dirt from the badlands, she stripped down, threw her clothes in the sanitizer, and hit the showers. There, she spent a great deal of time longer than she normally would. It was not just to be sure that she had no further radioactive dust on her body, she wasted a lot of time because her mind kept flashing back to Mandy. She couldn’t get the image out of her head of her friend being dragged off by the mercenaries.
Sarah was sick inside. Her closest friend, her fellow hunter, and partner of six years was probably dead already. Straight from the shower and dripping wet she went to Mandy’s room and collapsed on her bed, her body wracked with deep sobs.
It was noon before Sarah woke to the touch of the cool air from the ventilator on her bare skin. For a single moment she had the urge to start crying all over again, but something stopped her. She wasn’t angry, she was so beyond anger, even beyond rage. Perhaps what Mandy had feared had finally happened, and Sarah had become hardened to the zone. She wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that certain people were going pay.
One thing Sarah was fairly certain of was that the number of predators would start to climb again. Even when they realized that Mandy wasn’t the one who was hunting them before, some would surely believe that she was an important part of the team and that now it was safe to return to the zone.
Sarah went downstairs to the research computers and began looking up the formulae and fabrication methods for explosives. No more taking their pods and leaving them stranded on the border. Now, if they dared to venture into her territory, there would be even more debris on the streets of Brooklyn,
In the Greenpoint enclave the last two mercenaries secured Mandy and then called for assistance. In all, the mercenaries had brought four skimmers to the borough. One came to collect them, the other immediately began to track the stolen skimmer. As they passed over the Bedford–Stuyvesant enclave their scanners all went black. There was no GPS telemetry, no tracking info, nothing. They hovered for a moment and then decided to land their craft just inside the gate nearest to the other skimmer’s last known coordinates.
As their craft had no official markings, indeed no markings of any sort, so the guards at the gate immediately moved to intercept them as they exited the craft. The first person out of the craft greeted the guards warmly. She was the diversion. The next pair to emerge stunned them with their stingers.
A quick survey of the area found a powered bike. In its saddle bags they found assorted weapons. Ensuring that the guards were secured, most of the mercenary team set out to search for the missing skimmer. They carefully went in the general direction along the stolen craft’s last known heading.
The mercenary team had only gone about two kilometers when the sun, which was already waning when the operation began, was all but gone. Out of the corners of their eyes the mercenaries began to notice movement in the shadows.
The Guardsman in the group knew exactly what that meant. Quietly, he shared the information with his teammates. The squad leader gave them instructions to open fire at the next sign of movement they saw. It probably wouldn’t scare them off, but it would force the hand of whoever thought to get the best of them. The Guardsman guessed that the unknowns hadn’t made their move yet because all the members of their raiding party hadn’t joined them, or they didn’t feel that they had the advantage yet. Either way it gave the mercenaries a tactical advantage for the moment.
It wasn’t long before one of the mercenaries opened fire on someone behind a pile of garbage. The charge from his stinger, set to kill, ignited the rubbish and badly singed three Shivs that were shadowing them from behind the garbage. That, in turn, sparked two more groups of Shivs to emerge from their concealment. They had no idea what they were in for. It was all over in a few short minutes. When it was finished all the Shivs lay dead amid the rubble and burning trash.
It also signalled an end to the search on the ground. The group leader ordered his people back to the skimmer and they rejoined their fellows. Abandoning, for now, the missing skimmer, the remaining skimmers took off for Manhattan.
Awaiting them on the Island were four of the predators who had fallen victim to Sarah’s interventions. Their purpose for meeting the mercenaries was to be sure that their “elite teams” had captured the right hunter. As soon as the skimmer set down at the agreed upon location the four men rushed inside. Their enthusiasm was immediately dashed.
“That’s not her.” Judge Morrat announced as soon as he saw Mandy. “You failed in your mission.” The four immediately turned and left.
“So what do we do with her?” the group leader demanded.
The judge briefly turned back, “She’s a hunter. That’s still a crime, process her.”
“Well, do you want the mission recordings? Her partner might be the one you’re looking for.”
Again the Judge paused. “Send them to my residence; we’ll review them, not that it will do much good. You will still have to catch her.”
“At least now we might know who we’re looking for.”
As they exited the hanger one of his companions turned to the judge, “Isn’t it dangerous leaving her with them? What if she talks?”
“She can’t prove a word, can she?” Moratt replied matter-of-factly. “Many of us are well known for our philanthropic work. If she tries to accuse us of any wrongdoing, we simply counter by saying that we were in Brooklyn to do research on its true status when we were attacked by this thieving hunter. She isn’t the one who actually attacked us, so she never actually witnessed anything that we may have done in the zone. If she tries to present hearsay evidence given to her by her confederate, we strongly point out that this one’s confederate is also a hunter and a thief.
“Besides, what would we do with her? Could you kill her? What would you do with the body? Stuff it into your protein recycler? Do really think that you are capable of hacking her up and turning her into dinner? Your wife Cecile would really love that one.”
“I was thinking we would use the usual method. Give her to our friends. It was they who set this whole mission up for us to start with,” his friend replied. It appeared to him to be the obvious solution.
The judge looked at him as if he were a moron. “When have we ever sent him anyone over fifteen? She is way too old for his tastes. He likes his meat young.” His companion nodded as if to say “that’s true” and they went to their separate pods without further discussion.
Over the next few days all was quiet. The increase in traffic from the Island that Sarah expected didn’t seem to materialize. It took a full week.
In the meantime, Sarah returned to Bedford-Stuyvesant to retrieve her bike and weapons. The guards, once they woke up, had kept her things safe for her. After the attack on them that night, the guards were even more motivated to help the hunters.
At the end of the week, reports started to filter back to Sarah about upscale pods appearing in Brooklyn again. She was set to go.
Until now Sarah had not had occasion to use her archery skills. Mandy was the archer. That day as she left the library she grabbed Mandy’s bow and a quiver full of very special arrows. Ever since Mandy was taken, Sarah had been honing her shooting skills with the unbalanced arrows she had created. She was ready to take on these “Island scumbags”.
She set out as dusk was just descending. Sarah had no worries about accuracy in the dark. Master Nakamura had taught her to shoot shuriken blindfolded with great accuracy. She found the bow a lot easier.
Calculating that the pervs wouldn’t venture too far into the zone at first, Sarah headed northward. In the area just north of the Sunset Park enclave she saw a high-end model pod making a bee line for a group of scavenger kids. Without a moment’s hesitation, she notched a shaft, drew and let fly. The arrow struck its target before it was near enough to be a danger to the children. The travelpod exploded in a ball of fire. Sarah beat it out of there as quickly as she could.
The next day the press reported that Harrison Lamen, the noted business tycoon and philanthropist, was savagely murdered while conducting a personal fact-finding tour in Brooklyn. The NYPD and National Guard promised to find the gang member or hunter responsible. Sarah noted, with some satisfaction, that neither law enforcement group had shown their faces in Brooklyn in spite of what the news said.
Life over the next few months was very hard for Sarah. The library was empty; more empty than just devoid of people. Sarah never realized before how much Amanda Running Deer had helped her as she struggled with the loss of her family. Now she was truly alone. When her eighteenth birthday dawned, Sarah never felt more alone. Birthdays were the time when she and Mandy were the family that neither one of them now had.
She considered recruiting and training a protégé, but she realized that Mandy’s finding her had been a lucky accident. Perhaps if lightning struck twice and she rescued a potential candidate, she might consider training someone. As it was, there was no one who could fill the void that the loss of her friend had left in her life.
Sometimes at night she would go into Mandy’s room and talk to her as if Mandy was there, discussing the night’s plan before going out to hunt. She continued to hunt at dusk when the predators from the Island still came to find their prey. These days she showed no mercy. Her explosive arrows had killed or maimed more than a dozen predators. The number of incursions into the zone had fallen again, even lower than before, but other numbers had increased.
Through their underground network the pervs had put an even greater price on Sarah’s head. It been one hundred thousand credits for anyone who captured her alive, and was growing steadily. The bounty had now reached one million credits along with a promise of relocation to the Bronx if the individual who captured her was a zoner.
After that fateful night Sarah was much more cautious when she took down a predator. She scouted out her hunting ground of the night to ensure there were no troops “hiding in the bushes”.
Dusk was just settling as Sarah was checking the area to the south of Bedford-Stuyvesant enclave. The area just west of there, previously thought to be too dangerous, was being checked out more and more by the scavenger children. The area Sarah was scouting out was an ideal location to hide a couple of skimmers. If she wanted to be sure the one she marked as prey wasn’t really bait, she had to check the whole area thoroughly.
Sometimes, as the extremely logical Ballarians would tell her, being too emotional is dangerous. So intent was Sarah on getting revenge for Mandy, that she didn’t realize that she was no longer paying as careful attention to covering her movements as she once did. That evening she paid for her mistake.
Sarah had just finished her reconnaissance of the overgrown Evergreen Cemetery, and was heading to one of her favourite vantage points on top of the old post office on Atlantic, when she noticed movement in the abandoned fast food restaurant between Jamaica and Pennsylvania. Two Knocker girls were fighting. Sarah’s “radar” went up, but it was too late. Seemingly out of nowhere a projectile struck her in the back of the head. She crumpled to the pavement.
When she came to, Sarah found herself being held by four very strong arms. To one side she could see a Knocker girl. The girl had Sarah’s jacket, containing all her weapons, draped over her shoulders. The rest of Sarah’s clothing had been cut away and was lying on the ground in pieces. She was naked, and being held in a most vulnerable position. Standing between her feet, leering at her naked body was Masher Mike Preston, the chief of the Knocker gang.
He smiled at her nudity with a leer of anticipation. “I’m sure I don’t have to introduce myself to the great Hunter Sassy,” he began. “We’ve heard so much about you, we have. Only, most of our people who have previously run into you didn’t actually survive, or if they did, all that they could tell me was that you moved too fast. No one could tell me what you looked like. I mean, if I’d known that you were this hot, I’d have tried a lot harder to find you long before this. So, now that we have finally caught you, we’re gonna have some fun…” he rubbed his crotch and licked his lips, “…before we collect that million credits from whoever it is that’s offering it.
“Just so you know, you decided which one of us goes first. Last year you took my kid brother and turned him into a scavenger.” As he spoke two more Knockers dragged a reluctant Peter Preston from behind the ruins of one of the houses in the area. “So I decided that it would be fitting if Peter redeemed himself by having the honour of getting this party started.”
Peter struggled against the gangers who were holding him. He was once again wearing Knocker colours. Masher Mike was not pleased by his younger brother’s attempts to free himself. “Well, well, it seems that my little brother isn’t in the mood at the moment, we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?” He turned to a small group of girls that were watching the proceedings. “Trixie, Barbie, why don’t you help get little brother into the mood.”
The two girls called upon came forward. Sarah noted that they were a couple of years older than Peter. As one girl started to slowly remove his trousers and shorts the second did a fairly expert striptease for him. Then as the second, now naked, girl unbuttoned his shirt, the first girl removed her clothing in the same manner. Then they began in earnest. They rubbed their bodies against his, touching and stroking him. It was obvious that it was working. Peter had relaxed his struggles and was responding to their attempts at arousal.
“You see,” Masher Mike explained, “Peter was kinda sweet on the two of them before he suddenly went AWOL last year, thanks to you, but back then they wouldn’t give him a tumble. As you can see, they are the perfect choice to get him ready for action. Actually, I really don’t care how well he does, I just want him to be the first to take you; the first to violate you; to take revenge upon the great Hunter Sassy.” There was an anger in his voice, and a triumph. This wasn’t about sex or rape. This was Masher Mike Preston’s revenge for her rescue of his brother, and for repeatedly defeating his soldiers. Sarah was going to pay in his currency, before he collected the bounty.
Despite their youth the Knocker girls were expert in their task. They very quickly had Peter aroused and ready to follow his brother’s orders. Tentatively the two Knocker soldiers holding him released his arms. Peter, grinning broadly, turned toward Sarah. He approached slowly, trying to look like a prize stud about to perform. Masher Mike stood aside to let him pass, moving to Sarah’s side to get a better view of “the show”.
Peter assumed his brother’s position between Sarah’s feet. Almost imperceptibly he glanced at the soldier holding her left foot and back at Sarah. He hoped that she had understood, as he rushed the surprised ganger. Dropping his head down, Peter ran straight into the soldier’s chest. Even though Peter suspected that he may have been wearing protection he brought his knee up into his crotch with all the force he could muster. He ended by head butting the soldier’s nose so hard he, himself, was reeling afterward.
It was enough. Sarah yanked her left foot free and proved her suppleness by kicking the Knocker who was holding her right arm in the head.
Pulling her hand free she aimed two fingers at the eyes of the ganger on her left arm, blinding him. He released her, screaming in pain. The ganger holding her right foot was surprised enough that she was able to pull her right foot free as she fell.
As she hit the ground Masher Mike reached into his belt for her stinger, but as Sarah landed, she rolled in such a way as to right herself. She came to her feet in a fighting crouch. Seeing what Mike was about to do with her stinger, she launched a well-aimed kick. Her right foot connected hard with Mike’s chin. She heard his neck snap, and, as his lifeless body fell, she snatched the stinger from his hand. She reset the weapon to its lethal setting, and began shooting. Half a dozen Knockers fell before the rest ran off. As the girl with Sarah’s jacket ran, it dropped from her shoulders. Sarah looked around at the body count as she retrieved it. That and her boots and socks, which she found off to one side, were all the clothes she had left.
She found Peter sitting on a pile of trash, still a bit dazed from his head-butt attack, and still without his pants. Sarah pulled on her coat, buttoned a couple of buttons and then went to him, carrying her boots. She sat down opposite him on a cinder block and began to pull on socks and boots. As she did Peter averted his gaze and Sarah realized that her coat only covered her adequately when she was standing upright. She smiled. Peter really was a good kid, just born into the wrong family.
“It’s okay, Peter,” she told him. “Don’t be embarrassed. You just saved more than my life.”
Peter looked back at her, keeping his eyes level with hers. “I don’t know what I can do now,” he told her. “Mike’s dead. I can see that from here. People’s necks don’t usually bend like that.”
“I’m sorry that I killed your brother, Peter, but I really didn’t have much choice. Tell me, what happened that you are back in gang colours?”
“That night, I went to the enclave, like you told me, but they refused to take me in because of my colours. It was only when the little girl and her parents interceded, the girl actually pleaded for me, that they let me in, temporarily.
“They held me in their jail for three days. I was treated well enough, but not allowed to go free. At the end of the third day they gave me some new clothes and provisions, and sent me back into the outer-zone, where I started scavenging for a living. I slept in that old church on Powell with a lot of the other scavengers. Without my colours, they accepted me well enough.
“Then yesterday, I was at Horton’s selling some stuff I dug up in a house on Sutter Avenue, when Switcher and Dixie just happened to walk in. They dragged me off to Mike. It was just by chance that it was tonight that they caught you, but it was because he blames you for my dropping my colours that the rest happened.” He dropped his head, “I’m sorry Sassy, I let you down.”
Sarah moved over to Peter and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “You didn’t let me down. You saved my bacon and my honour tonight,” she told him earnestly. “I owe you one!”
Glancing down at his state of undress she smiled at him and added, “At least they left your clothes intact, so I would seriously recommend that you put them back on.”
Peter blushed and went to get his pants. “The question still stands, though. What can I do now? It’s obvious that dealing with the outer-marketers will always put me at risk for being found by the Knockers. With Mike dead, there will be no one to keep them from killing me on the spot for dropping my colours – again!”
Sarah considered things for a moment. She thought, again, about her idea of training a protégé, but dismissed it as problematic. An idea came to her. “Pick up your colours, Peter.”
He looked at her with shock. “That won’t work,” he said, “They’ll still kill me if I try to return.”
“I’m not suggesting that you try. Head for the Bridge. If you make it without running into any rival gangs, then try to cross. Without your colours, they’d just chase you back, but if you’re sporting Knocker colours, they’ll arrest you. At least in jail you’ll stand a chance, and I hear that there is a program that you might qualify for.
“Instead of prison, they let you sign up for the Stellar Corps. You would do five years as a grunt in the Corps, and then you’re free to go where you will, with a clean record, and with the Corps’ educational package to get you started. It would be a new life.” She smiled at Peter as he buttoned his shirt. “Try it, for me? I’ll even accompany you to the Bridge for protection.”
Peter looked her straight in the eye, and then glanced down towards her waist. Her coat barely covered her nudity while she was standing still. Sarah got his meaning. She shrugged. “I’ll manage until we get you to the Bridge.” She told him. “I’m not shy,” then she smiled mischievously, “But if you try grabbing my ass you may end up with a fat lip,” she joked.
Peter smiled back, “Okay, I’m in, let’s go.”
From where they were it was a short sprint over to the Bedford-Stuyvesant enclave where Sarah retrieved her bike. The quicker she got this done the better it would be all around. As she started the bike she silently thanked Mandy’s wisdom. She was the one who insisted that they keep their bikes in tip-top shape. Its electric motor ran silently, and easily carried both her and Peter.
A half an hour later Sarah dropped Peter on Tillary Street next to the bridge entrance. She gave him a kiss and an earnest hug and sent him on his way. “Be safe, Peter,” she whispered in his ear before releasing him. “Remember, you have a friend rooting for you.”
For an instant, as she watched him jog up the Brooklyn Bridge access, she thought again about taking him on as a protégé, but instantly dismissed it as a selfish thought. “His chances are better this way,” she told herself.
It was as she turned to head back to the library that she saw the pod coming off the Bridge. Sarah saw that it had diplomatic plates. She wondered what a diplomat would want in the borough at this hour of the night, so she followed the pod discreetly, ignoring the fact that all she was wearing was her jacket and boots.
She followed the pod as it made its way to Grand Army Plaza. Many of the surviving public buildings there had long since been taken over by scavengers. There were a lot of children there. She wondered if the driver might be a perv.
When Sarah came to 8th Avenue she circled around and approached the Plaza by President Street. She locked her bike to an old parking meter and entered the plaza from the back just as the pod began to cruise slowly along Plaza Street West. If this diplomat was looking for a little action, Sarah was dressed perfectly to trap him.
She sat down by the old Memorial Arch. She did her best to look small. Not knowing how many might be in the pod, she stuffed her stinger up her sleeve for ready access. No matter how she sat, her lack of adequate clothing was obvious, so she did her best to look as if she was trying to hide. The pod stopped next to her and the window opened. The driver was a Galoran. He gave her the usual lines, and she answered appropriately. Seconds later she was sliding into the passenger side door. As she entered the pod she checked to see if they were alone, or if there was someone else in the back seat; there wasn’t.
As Sarah slipped into the passenger seat the driver turned toward her and solicitously made to help her with the seat belt. Sarah had been in that position far too often to fall for that one. She checked his sleeve as he leaned toward her. There was nothing there; no needle; no gas gun or stinger. Then she glanced down at the seat belt, and saw that the buckle had no release on it. If she allowed him to fasten it she would be his prisoner.
As he leaned in she drew her stinger from her sleeve. She had reset it to maximum stun. She jammed it into his genitals and pressed the contact. Sarah knew the weapon well. If she had pressed it to his temple or his chest, he would be dead now, but where she shot him only stunned him. It also ensured that if he did not yet have any progeny he never would.
She released his seat belt and pulled him from the driver’s seat. She was about to drive to one of the Queens crossing points to dump him when it hit her. He had just come across the Brooklyn Bridge. He was only able to do that because of his diplomatic plates. If he could come to Brooklyn that way, then she could go to Manhattan the same way.
Maybe six months ago she might’ve stayed with Mandy, but Mandy was gone, probably dead. She would want Sarah to try and get home. Besides, Sarah was tired. She had been fighting gangs since she was twelve years old. This pod would get her into the city, once there she could go to her old home. Ever if her folks were in The Hague, she might still be able to access the apartment. There she could call her parents, and they could get her identity reactivated. She would be home!
Sarah jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the pod about. She took Flatbush to Tillary Avenue and turned onto the Bridge. As she approached the Manhattan end of the span she noted a light begin to flash on the dash. It was a request for confirmation of identity. For a moment Sarah jumped. She slowed her approach until she realized that a slot on the lower console was also blinking.
Sarah let the pod coast on automatic for a moment and jumped into the rear seat. She made a quick search of her unconscious passenger. In the left breast pocket of his suit she found what she needed; his embassy ident chip. She inserted the chip into the slot. The barriers at the end of the bridge opened for her. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Her relief was very short-lived as the whole console turned red. The chip was equipped with a biometric reader that told the car that it wasn’t an authorized driver in control. Sarah had heard of such systems, but had never seen one, ever. The pod was on full automatic navigation. She had no way of knowing for sure, but Sarah was guessing that she was on her way to the League of Systems complex and the Galoran Embassy. She wished that she was better dressed, or at least had more clothing on, for her first visit to another planet’s embassy. The fact that one of the embassy staff was unconscious in the back seat was not a great concern for her. The guy was hunting children in the zone. He was undoubtedly going to be in big trouble.
As the pod exited the bridge Sarah was surprised when it didn’t turn to the right as she expected, but headed into the city. Turning along Broadway the pod continued to 70th Avenue where it pulled up in front of a private dwelling. The console then sent out a signal and a tractor beam lifted the pod up to a cradle on the roof, where there were Galoran security staff waiting.
Sarah tried to open the pod door, but it wouldn’t respond to the command until one of the guards outside activated the exterior control. She started to exit the pod, still believing that the Galorans would want to know that one of their diplomats was kidnapping young girls or boys from the zone. She stepped out of the pod into the middle of the guards, and found that her assumptions were totally wrong.
Two guards grabbed each of her arms while the other two levelled stingers at her head and chest. As they dragged her off, she saw a stretcher emerge from an elevator to her left.
The guards forced Sarah into the same elevator. One of them pressed the button for the basement. As they exited the elevator at the bottom a tone sounded, signifying that she was carrying weapons. Immediately the two stingers were pressed into her skull.
The two guards holding her arms stripped off the jacket and dropped it by the elevator door. When they saw what she was wearing below, they took turns frisking her for “concealed weapons”, all the while making nasty comments in their own tongue.
Sarah accepted their behaviour as if it was normal. She gave no indication that they were doing anything untoward at all. From the looks on their faces she could tell that her attitude was ruining their fun. Instead of responding to their attempts at humiliation, she used their behaviour as an opportunity to take in the room without her guards noticing that she was doing so.
The large basement room was divided into three areas. One was obviously a commercial-grade kitchen. The division in the middle appeared to be some sort of abattoir. The third was, obviously, a holding cell. At the moment, there was one prisoner chained to the wall; a young girl about fifteen years old. She was dressed up, as if for a very adult party. The look in her eyes was pure terror.
Once the guards had finished trying to humiliate Sarah without success, they dragged her across the room and chained her beside the young girl. That’s when Sarah saw the pile of human bones next to the protein re-sequencer. From the size she could tell that they were the bones of children. There were at least three skulls in the pile.
One of the guards followed her eyes to the pile. In Galactic Standard he said, “Yes, we had a party for the diplomatic staff last night.” Giving Sarah a malicious grin he licked his lips, adding, “Delicious!” The young girl next to Sarah began to cry. The guards laughed heartily as they re-entered the elevator.
After the guards left them alone, nothing happened for a short time, until a chef and his assistant came down to the kitchen. They began to warm the stove. “Dinner for one, only,” the chef told his assistant in Standard. As if on cue the elevator opened and the driver of the pod entered in a floater chair.
The chef and his assistant bowed low on his approach. “Ambassador, we’re about to prepare a late dinner for you, which one do you want?” he asked, pointing to the two girls in the holding area.
“Just a light meal, Joln,” the Ambassador replied. The girl from Judge Morrat, I think. I understand that we would need reinforcements for the new girl. Besides we have our General Council coming for dinner tomorrow. I know he likes his meat lean and muscled.”
The assistant went into the holding area and detached the young girl. He led her by the hand over to what Sarah believed was the abattoir. He turned back to the ambassador.
“Sir, how much do you want?” he asked.
The ambassador considered it for a moment. “I think I’ll just have an arm tonight, Tilmon, the right one.
Tilmon, the sous-chef, took the girl’s left arm and secured it to a counter. He reached up to take the neural blocker and attach it to the girl’s right shoulder when the ambassador stopped him.
“When Judge Morrat delivered her he told me that she had been particularly uncooperative at his party last night,” he told Tilmon. “He said that she wouldn’t play nice at all. I don’t think that she deserves any pain blocking.”
Tilmon nodded and replaced the neural blocker on the shelf. As he picked up the cutting wand from the bench the girl cried out in pure terror. That was followed by a scream of pain so intense that she passed out. The laser cutting tool neatly removed her arm just below the shoulder, cauterizing the wound as it cut.
Tilmon then dragged her limp form back to her place in the cell, and reattached her to the wall by her remaining limb. Leaving her for a moment, he returned with a short sleeve that he applied to the cauterized stump.
Sarah looked intently at the ambassador. The look of pleasure on his face was unmistakeable. Now she wasn’t so sure that he was a pervert preying on young girls, but she was certain that he was a sadistic monster. Right then she was sorry that she didn’t kill him back in Brooklyn.
“Ambassador Hmlar, how do you want this meat prepared?” the Chef Joln asked.
Hmlar turned to him, “Medium, as usual, but maybe with the Selarac spices.” He turned back to the elevator and then stopped. Turning again to the chef he said, “I expect that I shall be back on my feet by tomorrow, Chef Joln. I will slaughter the new one myself, later in the afternoon.”
“As you wish, Ambassador,” the chef replied as he set to preparing the meal.
The girl next to Sarah stirred just as the chef was getting to work dressing her severed arm for the oven. She began to cry from the pain in her right stump. Sarah tried to comfort her as best she could. She was able to get close enough to let the girl rest her head on her shoulder. The chains on her wrists had enough play that she could soothingly stroke the girl’s hair. That was how she found it.
The paedophile judge had wanted her dressed for a party. She had been dressed-up in party clothes, with basic make-up designed to enhance her youth. He had also ordered her hair to be done. The hair dresser had left a few hairpins in the deep layers to maintain the style. Sarah slipped one of these out of her hair.
Sarah brought her lips close to the girl’s ear. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Jessica,” came the response.
“Where are you from?”
“Sunset Park”
“Okay, Jessica of Sunset Park,” Sarah whispered. “I’m a hunter, and I think that I can get us out of here, but I need you to do as I say as best you can.”
“I’ll try,” Jessica answered weakly.
“Good,” Sarah said.
Sarah took the pin and inserted it in the lock of her chains. She said a prayer of thanks that they were using old style mechanical key locks here. She had come across an article about them in a book, years ago, and decided to teach herself all about them. Within a few moments her hands were free. Next she freed Jessica.
“We’re never going to get out so long as those two are able to raise an alarm,” she told Jessica. “Stay here and gather your strength.” Jessica nodded, slumping back on the pile of straw in their cell.
Sarah ducked down. Crawling naked on that floor was none to pleasant for her. It was not as clean as she would have expected the floor of a food processing area to be.
She got as far as the abattoir, where she chanced straightening up long enough to grab the laser cutter from the bench. As she ducked down again she tried to activate it. It had the same biometric lock that the ambassador’s identity chip had. It must have been Tilmon’s personal “knife”. She knew that chefs were picky about such things.
Sarah continued to crawl along the floor to the end of the workbench. There was still another two meters between her and the two cooks. She gathered her strength and leaped forward, closing the distance in less than two seconds. She took Chef Joln completely by surprise. She broke his neck with a violent roundhouse kick to his jaw.
As he fell, Tilmon dove at her with another laser cutter. As he tried to strike at her with the cutter, Sarah stopped his forward motion with a heel to his solar plexus. As the wind was knocked out of his lungs, Tilmon dropped the cutter and before he could catch his breath Sarah retrieved it.
She jammed the laser cutter into his crotch and swept upward till she reached his chin. The shock was so great that Tilmon didn’t even try to scream until it was too late, and Sarah had bisected his larynx.
“That’s for all the kids like Jessica that you cut up,” she said as he fell.
She returned to Jessica. Helping her to stand, Sarah put Jessica’s remaining arm around her neck. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” Jessica replied. With her arm around the girl’s waist, Sarah half carried her over to the elevator. She stooped to pick up her jacket, slipping one arm into it. Sarah pressed the call button. Nothing happened. She leaned Jessica against the wall, hoping that the youngster could hold herself up. She ran over to the kitchen area, pulling on her jacket as she went. When she got there, she retrieved the laser cutter once more, and sliced off Joln’s hand. “I sure hope that the lock can’t tell the difference between a living hand and dead one,” she thought.
Returning to the elevator, she picked Jessica off the floor. Sarah realized that with her in that condition, getting out was going to be very difficult. She pressed the index finger of Joln’s hand on the call button. The light around it turned green. Inside the elevator she did the same thing with the button for the ground floor. Just to be safe, Sarah slipped the hand into her jacket pocket.
If luck is something that you make for yourself, then what happened next was a freebie. Just as the elevator doors closed Sarah looked up to see that there was a scanner unit monitoring the space. The luck came in the form of a sleepy guard, who had left his post at the monitoring station to grab a stim drink from the main floor kitchen. He was gone for no more than a few moments. He sat back down just as the elevator doors opened on the first floor.
He was just about to consult his monitors, which meant that he would have caught Sarah half carrying Jessica out of the elevator, when his supervisor came to the door.
His superior had seen him returning from his momentary outing and stopped to give him a dressing down for leaving his post. While he was doing that, the errant guard stood at attention, his body blocking the monitor displaying the elevator’s interior, so neither guard saw the girls making their escape.
The service elevator, for that’s what it was, opened into the first-floor kitchen. In the kitchen three more sous-chefs were preparing vegetables, sauces, and desserts, and anything else needed for the ambassador’s meal. They proved to be no problem. Sarah had her jacket back, and nobody on the security staff had actually bothered to search her jacket for its weapons. As she exited the elevator she drew her stinger, set on heavy stun. The kitchen help fell.
Not knowing the layout of the house, Sarah opted to try getting out through the back door. If all went well she could get into the back alley and out onto the street. This area was much like her old neighbourhood few blocks away. The back alley would open onto the street at some point. She checked her pocket. She still had her credit chip. If she made the street, then she could get a robo-cab to take her and Jessica to her old home.
First she had to get out the door. There was no door knob, only a release pad. She took Joln’s hand out of her pocket and pressed it to the plate, holding her breath all the while. When the door slid open she let out a sigh.
It was still not over yet. Jessica was slumped on her arm. Sarah could feel her shivering; the child was going into shock. She stooped down bringing her arm to Jessica’s thighs, allowing the girl’s body to drape over her shoulders in the classic fireman’s carry. She stood up and ran for the rear gate. One last time she pressed Joln’s hand to a security plate. It slid open and she ran into the alley. Sarah was very glad that it was night. She had not had the chance to close her jacket properly.
Despite the effort it took, she ran the length of the alley to the street. Close by where it exited onto Avenue of the Americas she located the call button for a robo-cab, and inserted her chip. Happily, it still worked in Manhattan, and a cab came immediately.
Sarah instructed the cab’s auto-nav to take her to the servants’ entrance of her family’s home. On arrival, she put her thumb on the square to accept the fare and release the door. So far everything still worked.
Getting out of the cab, she hauled Jessica’s limp body onto her shoulders. Turning to the building’s security door she placed her thumb on the access pad and presented her eye to the scanner. The door slid open. She breathed a long sigh of relief. Obviously, her parents still held out hope that she might return and hadn’t deleted her access.
Carrying Jessica, she called the elevator and punched her code for the family’s private entrance. The elevator accepted her access and rose to the penthouse.
Once inside she lay the girl on the sofa and ran to get a blanket to cover her. “I’ll get an ambulance for you right away,” she promised, “but I need to make a call to cover both our asses.”
Sarah went to the head of the sofa and pressed the “COMM” stud on the remote unit lying there. The entire wall opposite came alive. The voice that filled the silent room asked “Whom do you wish to contact?”
“Call Mommy,” Sarah commanded. The system didn’t respond immediately. Instead the word “VERIFYING” appeared on the screen. A second later a voice print appeared. The system’s voice directed her to read aloud the words on the screen. Sarah read “My name is Sarah Elizabeth Maloney”. A second voice print appeared and was overlaid on the first. They both disappeared to be replaced by the word “CONNECTING”.
A moment later her mother’s image appeared on the screen and an automated message played. “Hello, this is Dr. Mary Maloney. I am unable to take your call at present, please leave a message at the tone. If this is a medical emergency, please call New Belleview or 911.” It just sounded so good to hear her mother’s voice that Sarah jumped when the beep sounded.
“Mom, it’s me, Sarah, Sassy, I’m alive. I’m at home, and very, very soon I’m going to be in a lot of trouble. You need to contact the local authorities right away. More than that, there is something that Daddy needs to know right now. It’s beyond critical!” Sarah went on to tell her mother about the Galoran ambassador and the residence on 70th Avenue.
“End message” she finally commanded. “…and mark Red Priority!” she commanded. The system flashed an acknowledgment. It also verbally responded with “Message sent with highest priority.”
Next, Sarah called an ambulance. Using all the proper terminology, that she learned from her mother years ago, she described Jessica’s condition. She ended the call by pointing a remote camera at Jessica.
She knelt down beside the girl and said, “It will be very soon now. Help is coming.” She stroked Jessica’s hair and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. The girl was only three years her junior, but to Jessica, at that moment, Sarah was mother.
Sarah then turned back to the still shining wall and said, “Locate Dr. Mary Maloney.” She expected that the system would simply tell her exactly where her mother was. Instead an image appeared on the screen. Her father was giving a talk to an assembly at the League of Planets Headquarters; her mother was there, sitting on a chair beside him. They were both here in New York.
As she watched, her mother reached into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew her phone. She had forgotten to put it on silent, and her priority signal was audible in the transmission’s audio. Mary Maloney just happened to look at the screen as she pressed the “silence” button. The shock that registered on her face was visible on the screen, even in the camera’s long shot.
She jumped up and showed the phone to her husband. He was so shocked that he stuttered as he excused himself. Mary activated the message, without realizing that it was being carried all over the world through the podium’s microphone. It was just then that the ambulance and the police arrived at the Maloney apartment.
As Sarah reasoned, the police assumed that she had hacked the security system to get in. They knew where the family was supposed to be, and Sarah Maloney was still listed as “presumed dead”. Also, one of the officers just happened to be one of the mercenaries that she had faced at Greenpoint. He recognized her and drew his stinger.
At the same time, Sarah was explaining to his partner who she was, pointing out that the COMM system wouldn’t accept her commands if she wasn’t.
“She’s lying,” he yelled to his partner. Stepping back and bringing his weapon to bear on her, “She’s that Brooklyn hunter that broke my arm four months ago.”
“Maybe so, but she’s also the Vice-Chancellor’s daughter. Look at the screen.” The video was replaying the message a second time. “See, her parents recognize her voice. The system must have sent her ID, if they took the call in the middle of a speech.”
The officer flicked the safety toggle on his stinger. “They just raised the bounty on her. It’s one mill five now, and dead is okay; Frank, a million and a half credits, c’mon.”
“Digby, are you going to shoot the daughter of the Planetary Vice-Chancellor?”
“She has to be an imposter. The Chancellor’s daughter died seven years ago. A million and a half credits, Frank, she’s gotta be a fake.”
“She accessed the building and the apartment.” Frank indicated the screen. “Her voice activated the COMM system. She has to be the real thing. You don’t want to do this.”
“Look at her,” Digby countered. “Look at what she’s wearing; would the daughter of the Vice-Chancellor be running around half naked? Besides, she’s a hunter, she could have hacked her way in.” He slid the energy setting on his stinger to “kill” and aimed his weapon.
Frank drew his own stinger, but he pointed it at his partner’s head. “Officer Digby, if you do not drop your weapon immediately I will shoot you,” he commanded.
Digby waivered for a moment and then lowered his stinger. He dropped it on the couch. His partner retrieved it, and then turned to Sarah, as the paramedics were moving towards the elevator with Jessica on a stretcher. “I’m sorry Ms. Maloney, he may be wrong about a lot of things at the moment, but for now, you are going to have to come with us.”
Sarah nodded and then glancing down at her state of undress she added, “May I ask your indulgence for a brief minute?” she asked. The officer agreed. Sarah slipped into her mother’s room and emerged a few seconds later still wearing her jacket, but it was now over one of her mother’s exercise jumpsuits. “Okay, we can go.”
In the end, Sarah demonstrated her identity again by accessing the elevator for the paramedics. Frank had Digby lead the way. He followed with Sarah by his side. He did not put her in handcuffs. “From what Digby told me about your last encounter, they wouldn’t be much good anyway.” Sarah smiled at him. She still had a winning smile.
“What will happen to Jessica?” Sarah asked as they rode to the station.
“She’ll get a new arm,” Frank assured her. “That Brannock/Goren method of limb cloning really works. We certainly can’t return her to Brooklyn as she is. She’ll probably get a good dose of therapy while she’s here, too,” Frank told her. Sarah found some comfort in that.
Within moments they arrived at the station. Waiting outside was a crush of reporters. As Frank turned toward the precinct garage the crowd pressed in on the police pod to get a look at Sarah. He activated the privacy circuit, and the outer dome went black until they were inside.
Inside the station was a smaller crowd. World-Gov’s Secret Service was protecting her father, and at the centre of the agents, three people waited for Sarah; her parents and her brother Peter. To describe the scene as emotional would be an understatement. Tears flowed, long hugs, both individual and group, and then the catching-up began.
Her mother sobbed. “When I woke at New Belleview they said that you were taken by the Eaters… They didn’t want to tell me why they were called that, but I made them. Then I cried so hard they were going to sedate me. Everyone on board said that you were a hero; that after I fell, you exploded. Gangers were falling left and right; some unconscious, more were worse. They told me that the Guardsmen arrived only seconds too late.” Again, her tears flowed. “But here you are, my precious baby, you’re, alive, oh Sassy…”
Then it was Sarah’s turn. “I was rescued by Mandy, Amanda Running Deer,” Sarah explained. “Her great grandparents came to New York from Iowa in 2250. They had a small business making traditional native ware that they sold in a small souvenir shop in Manhattan. When Mandy turned eighteen she volunteered to work with the Brooklyn relief crews. She helped out on the skimmers that deliver food and supplies to the enclaves.
“One day as they were flying back from Bedford-Stuyvesant she saw a group of Shivs menacing a family of scavengers with small children. The skimmer was only a few feet above the ground. She literally jumped out and took them on. In an act of pure cowardice her co-workers left her there. That’s how Running Deer the Hunter began.
“The night she found me, the night they cancelled the MMCs, she saved me from the Eaters, and gave me a place to live. We trained each other, and did some great work together. Those mercenaries hired by the predator pervs took her, and most likely killed her. She was only there helping me stop the predators from taking our kids.”
She turned to her father, a look of rage on her face, “And now, what about the Galorans?” she demanded. “What will happen to them? They’re eating terran children; young girls and boys, and after those kids have already been through hell. I saw the bones of at least three children in the Galoran basement kitchen-prison-slaughterhouse. Jessica tells me that they buy them from the paedophiles; the pervs who come into the zone two or three times every month hunting for new ‘toys’.
“After the pervs tire of them they sell them to the Galorans. That’s why I fought Officer Digby there, I hunted those pervs who took our kids, and they hired Digby and his crew to stop me. That was the real reason he wanted to kill me back at our place. He needed to shut me up so I wouldn’t expose him and his merc buddies.” As she told the story Sarah’s voice got louder and louder. When she made that accusation, nearby officers who heard her immediately advanced on Digby.
Sarah was really getting worked up. “These guys come into the zone, do as they want, and then sell our children to the Galorans to be slaughtered – very possibly being cut to pieces in front of each other. Daddy, no one is doing anything! It’s like Brooklyn was just abandoned after that bomb went off. More than seventy years and still no one fights the gangs, and apart from the supply relief skimmers, there’s no other help for the enclaves; none at all for the scavengers. No one cares about Brooklynites except for the hunters, and if we get caught we go to jail or forced into the Stellar Corps. Who looks after the people of Brooklyn?”
“Sarah, you’re definitely not my little eleven-year-old ninja anymore,” her mother told her, hugging her close again. She looked at her daughter, bursting with pride. “The night they took you is forever burned into my memory. That night you saved us all. If you hadn’t been with us on the MMC, I wouldn’t be here; but at what price?
“Then the police put your name on the ‘Presumed Dead’ list and we knew that you wouldn’t be able to get back across the Bridge, even if you were still alive... I think that’s the real reason that your dad ran for Vice-Chancellor alongside Morgan Davies. Chancellor Davies promised that she would do something about Brooklyn and its gangs.
Her father picked up the narrative. “Only politics still got in the way. The opposition, and even some members of our own party blocked us. There are still many who think that it’s best to let the matter sort itself out rather than to risk bloodshed; like there was during the ‘Siege of New York’ in 2070. Truth is that they were just afraid of the bad press if the Guard failed again. That’s why they chose to seal it up rather than clean it up.”
“Well, there’s blood alright,” Sarah told them. “I’ve spilled a lot of it myself. The enclaves have ‘jails’ for minor offenses, but major offenders are simply expelled into the outer-zone. Out there’s no organized justice at all. It’s the law of the jungle.
“If a hunter or hunter team comes upon a bunch of gangers attacking one of the enclaves, or some scavengers, we take them down. If they run, they live. If they resist, then we have no choice but to use deadly force. I have killed or injured so many Knockers, Shivs, Bangers, and especially Eaters.
“For years I didn’t know if you survived your wounds. When I came across any Eaters they never got mercy, unless they were very very young.” She looked at her father again. “Daddy, something needs to be done. Something should have been done a long, long time ago!”
“You are right,” her father said resolutely. He picked up his phone. “Maybe now we can.” He pressed the speed dial for the Planetary Chancellor, as he momentarily stepped away from the family. He returned after a few minutes. “She didn’t take much convincing,” he told Sarah, “Morgan has issued an executive order to take definitive action in Brooklyn...”
For a long time everyone left the Maloneys alone, but eventually Officer Frank Delaney returned. “I’m sorry, folks, but we need to process her now. It’s procedure, by her own admission she is a hunter.”
“She is also my daughter,” Francis Maloney said, “And she’s right. If we had done something more to stabilize the borough immediately after the blast sixty-eight years ago there would have been no need for hunters. We would never have lost our daughter for the last seven years, and you wouldn’t have to arrest her now.”
“If it’s any comfort,” Frank told them, “that call you made a few moments ago worked light-speed fast. NYPD has just been mobilized for 0900 tomorrow. We are to back up the National Guard in a major push to clean up the zone. Also, a huge rebuilding project was just announced from London. The resources of the World Government are being mobilized.”
He looked at Sarah. “If it is any consolation, what you said over the phone earlier has galvanized the whole planet. The Chancellor has already expelled the entire Galoran delegation from Earth, and filed a motion with the League of Planets to have Galor Prime kicked out of the confederation. An emergency session of the League Council has been convoked for tomorrow at 9:00 AM. The motion is expected to pass. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“What about the rest of the hunters?” Sarah asked. “Will they all be arrested? What about the scavengers? They are in danger of getting caught in the crossfire.”
“Actually, we have learned a lot since the Park back in 2070. Thanks to the League, we have new specialized weapons and better tactics. Earlier we were restricted from using them. The powers-that-be were afraid that they might fall into ganger hands,” her father told her.
“Truth be told, why we couldn’t use them before was essentially political will,” her Francis explained. “You just gave us the will. The Chancellor is now on-board and, in her words, ‘Politics be damned!’ You lit a real fire, girl. I am so proud of you right now. I am just so glad that you are alive!” Sarah could see the tears welling up, again, in her father’s eyes.
“No one wanted to admit that the problem was as great as it is, Sassy,” he explained. “It was expedient for those in power to tell people that the borough was stabilized and would correct itself. You have no idea how long I have been fighting for that to change. That is what you changed tonight. No one can deny the truth anymore. The situation won’t go away by itself. There is no stability.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Vice-Chancellor,” Frank said, but I do need to process her right now.”
“Is there no other option?” Mary Maloney asked.
“Stellar Corps” Frank replied. “We’ve never tried it this way before, but I think that Judge Thanning might go for it. Heck, after learning about Judge Morrat’s activities and proclivities, any judge would agree. No one wants to be lumped in with him.”
“Go for what?” Sarah asked.
“Stellar Corps, now! Usually a defendant needs to be convicted before they are offered the chance to sign-up. However, I’m sure that I can get Judge Thanning to let her go now – no trial, no plea; so no scandal of sending a hero to jail.”
“But,” Sarah countered, “if my trial and conviction can push matters forward for the people of Brooklyn, then I’m willing to face it.”
“Spoken like a true hero,” said Judge Thanning from the doorway. Alongside the judge stood a man in the uniform of a Stellar Corps’ commander. “I am very impressed Ms. Maloney, but that kind of hero can sometimes cause more damage. A guilty plea usually demands allocution to the ‘crime’.
“You telling your story will certainly inspire many, but it will surely prejudice others. In short, you could do as much harm as good. A trial might be even more damaging. A rapid disposition of this case is the soundest way to go.”
The judge indicated the man to his left. “Let me introduce Commander Thomas Grissom of the Stellar Corps. If you agree, he will swear you in right now, and you will leave this station in the uniform of the Corps Academy.”
Commander Grissom spoke up, “Normally you would enter the program as a normal student, a grunt. The term we use is a ‘programmer’. But in about five percent of the programmer cases we find candidates with real leadership qualities. I believe that you are a ‘five-percenter’. I can make you no promises other than a chance to serve your world and the League of Systems, and to live up to those high ideals that you seem to hold. I hope that you’ll agree.”
Sarah considered the offer for a few moments. She glanced at her mother, father and brother. She considered what her allocution or trial would mean for them. She also thought about what she might achieve in the Corps. The judge was correct; Sarah was a hero. She agreed.
The Academy
As a hunter, Sarah was used to going to bed after 3:00 AM and waking in the mid-morning, so when the call to turn out for morning exercise came at 0530 she was not exactly ready. However, Sassy the Hunter was always fast on her feet, and she rose to the occasion, even if her performance was not her best.
Sarah was in great shape, but the workout was grueling. By the time it was over she was anxious to grab a shower before breakfast. The warm water, she told herself, would feel good on her sore muscles. That was her first surprise.
Hygiene at the Stellar Corps academy was a two-minute session in a sonic shower; effective at cleaning the dirt off, and even soothing her sore muscles, but nowhere as good as twenty minutes of hot water would have been emotionally.
Following a short, nutritionally sound breakfast, Sarah began a series of evaluation sessions. Even though Commander Grissom had accepted her as a five-percenter, the regulations required that she prove his evaluation was correct. The Corps also needed to see where she would place academically in their program, and what her true level of fitness was.
The first few days consisted of series of examinations in mathematics, physics, chemistry and tactics. There were also banks and banks of psychological evaluations. Sarah was not totally surprised when there was also a rather extensive questionnaire and discussion on her philosophy. By the end of her first week Sarah felt wrung out, physically and emotionally. Then, the following Monday, came “the meeting”.
At 0900 hours Monday morning Sarah was ordered to meet with her evaluation committee. The committee consisted of Commander Grissom; Lieutenant-Commander Halcyon, psychologist; Lieutenant Nelia Grifn, training officer and tactician; and Captain Louis Halpern, M.D. Grissom opened the meeting.
“Cadet Maloney, this meeting is to give you the results of your evaluations, and decide on where you will begin your military and academic education. As I am sure you realize, duty on a starship is a lot more complex than planet-bound life. What you need to know, and how you need to comport yourself, greatly differ from the life of a hunter in the zone. The reason for this gathering is to work with you to find the best placement within our program for you. We are also here to listen to your thoughts and ideas, but ultimately this is a military establishment. The final decision is ours. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, Sir” she answered. She had learned in her first week to use the proper responses when speaking to officers.
“Very well, we’ll begin with Lieutenant Grifn,” Grissom said, turning to the Drixian Tactical Officer.
The Lieutenant acknowledged Commander Grissom before beginning her report.
“Evaluating Cadet Maloney has been an interesting exercise,” she began. “In hand-to-hand combat the Cadet is a force to be reckoned with. Indeed, she can be most lethal, but she is not a blunt instrument. She informed me that her early training was in formal martial arts from the Asian tradition. Her proficiency is at the highest level.
“The Cadet also has a repertoire of street moves that would be most efficient under battlefield conditions. Any further training that she might undertake with the Corps should be on a cooperative basis. There are still many techniques that we need to teach her, particularly in the area of non-human species. Having said this, I hasten to point out that she also may have tactics that she can teach us.
“In closing, I also would like to comment on her ethics vis-à-vis lethal engagement. Cadet Maloney has no problem with the use of lethal force against an opponent, but this is coupled with a strong moral ethic. Her choice to kill is never lightly taken. She has a strong respect for life. Nonetheless, if the necessity arises the Cadet is lethal in the extreme. She will, of course, need the full course in starship battle tactics, though I expect a great deal of transfer of skills will occur.” She looked down at Sarah. “Thank you, Cadet, for a most interesting week.” Grifn retook her seat.
Grissom turned to Sarah. “Cadet, do you have any comment, or anything that you would like to add to the Lieutenant’s report?”
“No, Sir,” Sarah responded, “other than to say that it was a most invigorating week.” She turned toward Nelia Grifn, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Grifn nodded her acknowledgement.
“A very positive beginning,” Grissom commented, “next we’ll hear from Dr. Halpern.”
The doctor rose to his feet. Even at his age, Dr. Halpern was still an imposing officer. He looked down at the tiny Sarah, from his lofty six foot five frame, and smiled. He then turned to Commander Grissom.
“I am pleased to report that Cadet Maloney’s health and physical condition is far superior to most incoming recruits. Body scans did reveal some long-healed breaks in her arms and legs. One or two would do well with proper repair before beginning her formal training.”
When Sarah showed signs of distress at this evaluation, he added to her directly, “Nothing too serious – a week’s recovery time at most and you’ll be as good as new.”
Then to Grissom, “Either way, Cadet Maloney is more than fit for service.”
The final report came from the psychologist, Lieutenant-Commander Halcyon. Janet Halcyon was a young energetic officer who, despite a rather austere manner and appearance, had struck Sarah very favourably. Now she was about to find out if the feeling was mutual. Commander Grissom turned to her.
“Lieutenant-Commander, your report please”
The young officer rose, glancing briefly at Sarah, but then spoke directly to Grissom. “Cadet Maloney proved an interesting client, on her tests and in her interviews, Commander. Seven years as a hunter in the zone has undeniably altered her psychological makeup. This I expected. What I did not expect was an under-layer of optimism that she undoubtedly developed as a young child. She carries in her makeup an enormous amount of hope, and despite her harsh life in the zone, she is still willing to trust when her trust is earned.
“What the zone contributes to her makeup is a realistic approach to life. She looks for the best, but handles whatever life hands her with aplomb. She will not allow herself to be defeated by harsh or negative events or circumstances.
“She is fiercely loyal to her comrades; to the other hunters in the zone, and especially to a partner who saved her life, and fought beside her until just recently. Her anger toward a certain NYPD Officer, George Digby, when she recently re-encountered him is directly related to that incident.”
Halcyon glanced at Sarah again as she spoke. To everyone else Sarah was emotionless, but the Lieutenant-Commander’s professional training told her otherwise. That night was still an open wound for Sarah.
Halcyon continued, “Her philosophy of life still clings to the faith that she was taught as a child. It should be noted that she has already sought out the Roman Catholic Chaplain, and attended the Sunday Eucharist on base. I am sure that this feeds into her great respect for life. However, it also gives rise to a strong moral stance and sense of duty. She has chosen the Corps, and I am certain that she will have the same dedication and loyalty to the Corps and to her new comrades that she has shown for her former zone comrades.
“With regard to taking orders, Cadet Maloney is extremely strong willed. I learned that as a child she had earned the nickname ‘Sassy’ for her tendency to answer back when she perceived an injustice. She was also known to speak up for her older brother when she felt it necessary.” In spite of herself, Sarah smiled at that comment.
The Lieutenant-Commander continued, “That said, as I noted earlier, Maloney has a fierce sense of loyalty. It can already be seen in the manner in which she has embraced the protocols of the Corps. She has demonstrated a strong respect for her superiors, and for many of her fellow cadets.” She smiled at Sarah, “Though I expect that she will still speak her mind when she feels the necessity, she’ll just do it now with the appropriate respect.” At that the entire board smiled.
“Intellectually, she is in the top one percent. She has a Sigma-4 intelligence quotient on the old standard scales. On some of the newer scales Cadet Maloney tested off the charts. I anticipate that she will excel in her academics.
“If she had certain first year courses already under her belt she would be able to jump directly into second year by the winter term. Considering her self-education in ‘her library’ in Brooklyn, I believe that, if we allow her to, she could complete the material on her own during the first term and be ready for second year by January. In fact, I recommend that for any course that lends itself to independent study, that we give Cadet Maloney the syllabus and materials and turn her loose.” Again, she smiled at Sarah. The Corps will gain nothing by retarding her academic advancement.
“In conclusion, I cannot with greater conviction recommend Cadet Maloney, for service in the Stellar Corps. Further, I most strongly recommend that she be advanced in her studies and training as rapidly as is reasonably possible, without inviting burnout. The Corps will only be stronger the day that Sarah Maloney graduates from the Academy and joins her comrades in active service.” She nodded to the Commander and took her seat.
Commander Grissom stood up and faced Sarah. “Cadet Maloney,” he began.
Sarah stood and faced him.
“…you have heard everything that this board has to say. Is there anything that you wish to answer, or to add? As I said earlier, we welcome your comments, but we will decide what goes into the report that is sent upstairs. The Commandant’s Committee will have the final say as to where you will begin your training and academics.”
Grissom sat down, but Sarah remained standing. She took a deep breath. “Officers, thank you for the time and effort that you have put in to prepare your evaluations. As Lieutenant-Commander Halcyon stated a moment ago, I am very good at independent learning, and I too look forward to active service. It is my hope that I can not only begin as soon as possible, but have the freedom to advance academically as quickly as reasonably possible. I, of course, leave the decision to the Commandant’s Committee.” She nodded at Grissom. “Again, my thanks!”
Commander Grissom rose once again. “Thank you, Cadet. I am sure that the decision to be made by the CC will not be long in coming. In the meantime, the Corps appreciates that you have only seen your family for a very brief period since your escape from the zone. Therefore, you are granted a week’s liberty, and will be returned to your family home in Manhattan at 1200 hours today. We’ll see you back at Kennedy Base at 1200 hours, Tuesday, eight days hence – Dismissed!”
Sarah snapped to attention. She nodded formally to the board, turned on her heel and left the room. Only her attention to protocol kept her from leaping for joy as the door closed behind her. She immediately returned to her barracks and began to pack.
To be back in Manhattan from Kennedy Base in Vermont she would have to be at the transport station to catch the 1000 hours shuttle to New York. As she packed her spare uniform she realized that she had no civilian clothes at home. She gave it only a moment’s thought. She still had credits left over from her perv hunting in the zone. What she was dwelling on as she rushed to the shuttle station were the mementos that she had left in the library. Gifts from Mandy, and others she had received from the various enclaves. Suddenly these became very important.
At 1157 hours the shuttle began its descent into Manhattan. As it got closer to the landing pad Sarah could see her family waiting on the platform. She also saw Officer Frank Delaney, with Jessica at his side. The teen was dressed in clothing more appropriate to her age, and Sarah noted her new right arm was still swathed in bandages.
“We wanted you to see how far she has come since you left two weeks ago,” Frank told her. “Jessica is staying with my wife and I until her therapy is complete. When we send her home, she will be a new girl.” He smiled at the child. “And,” he added, “…the home she is going to will be totally different. I’m sure that your dad will fill you in on the details, but the operation in Brooklyn so far is a complete success.
“Many of the gang members have surrendered to the Guardsmen. They are mostly women, youths and young children, who have become tired of the violence. They have, for the most part, been classified as non-combatants. The older gangers, who resisted the forces, were also rounded up quickly, all except the Eaters. The adult Eaters attacked the Guardsmen like berserkers. They fell to Guard stingers as fast as they could run at the soldiers. They are all being held for psychiatric evaluation. The powers-that-be are saying that they may never be able to rejoin normal society. Fortunately, we have some closed facilities on one of our colony planets where they will be able to live their lives under strict supervision, hopefully regaining some of their human dignity.
“The rebuilding process is underway, with homes for the scavengers being a priority. The crews are using the new prefab units that we developed in concert with the League engineers. Buildings are going up in a matter of days, and new neighbourhoods will be completed in weeks.
“NYPD has taken over law enforcement in the enclaves and the outer-zone, with support, for now, from the Guard. The full rebuilding will take more than three years. The challenge now, once the scavenger families are housed and regular social and educational services are re-established, is to balance the rebuilding between the enclaves and the outer-zone in a way that re-integrates the two communities. The social rehabilitation may be a greater challenge than the physical.
“At the same time the borough of New Brooklyn, as they call it now, needs to be re-integrated into the City of New York. The bottom line, though, is that we are well begun. It’s all thanks to you, Cadet Maloney, a.k.a. Sassy the Hunter.” He gave her a wide grin.
To Sarah’s surprise Frank took a step back, came to attention, and snapped a salute. Sarah returned the salute with equal solemnity, and then gave him a big hug. “Thanks for taking care of Jessica,” she said, “for some reason she is very special to me.”
“Michele and I are only too happy to. The poor kid has been through a lot.”
Sarah then turned to Jessica. The young teen smiled. “That is so great to see,” Sarah told her, indicating her new limb. The pair hugged, though Jessica was still very careful how she used her new arm.
“It still hurts a little,” she told Sarah. “Other than that, it’s great. I can’t tell the difference. I didn’t get the chance that night: Thank you for saving my life.”
For Sarah, the next week was filled up with family time. Her mother took her shopping for new clothes. Her father took her to The Hague to see the “World-Gov” offices, with a stop off in London to visit the Senate building. Everywhere they went Francis Maloney was proud to introduce his daughter, the Brooklyn hunter turned Corps cadet.
As they toured each facility he kept up a running commentary. “With travel so rapid these days we are able to spread the various branches of the government about the globe. It gives the people a greater sense of their involvement in our united world, and now in the League as well…” he told her.
Sarah smiled, more than that, she actually beamed. “Dad, when your term ends as Vice-Chancellor, if you don’t run for the Chancellor’s job, I am sure there will be a position waiting for you as a guide at any government complex.”
Being able to be with her family again was Sarah’s idea of heaven on Earth.
The Saturday before she was to return to Vermont, Sarah called up Frank Delaney, and asked if it would be possible to return to Brooklyn, to the library that she called home for seven years. Frank was surprised at her request, not because of the request itself, but because of the location she specified.
“That building is just a pile of rubble that we haven’t gotten around to moving yet,” he said.
“Actually,” Sarah countered, “the library is intact, for the most part, under the pile of rubble that used to be the two high rises next door. The library building was built solid, but the high rises that disintegrated over the top of it were a couple of loads of junk. The fall, apparently, took place slowly over the course of a few days; almost like a gentle rain, it seems. The library below was virtually undamaged, but it is perfectly hidden if you don’t know where the entrances are.”
Frank told her that he would arrange for an escort for her the next day, one that he would lead himself. He explained that the last remnants of the gangs, who were still prowling about, were exponentially more hostile. If they knew that Sarah was back they might mount an all-out assault on the building. There were also the well-meaning scavengers and the enclave residents who were looking to name her a living saint that she also needed protection from.
It was an emotional visit. After packing up a number of mementos, her spare katana and shuriken from her room, she went to Mandy’s room. She asked Frank Delaney to arrange for various items to be packed up and shipped to her at Kennedy Base. “Then they can turn these rooms back into offices. All that needs to be done afterward is to remove the debris and make a few repairs and the library is back in business,” she said.
“Or a shrine…” was Frank’s reply.
The weekend, of course, passed all too quickly. Following mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and brunch in the restored Rockefeller Centre across the way, the family opted for a day in Central Park.
After passing several pleasant hours, Sarah returned home to pack. Most of the stuff from her room in Brooklyn she put into the family’s storage unit, or left in her bedroom at home. She took her uniforms and a couple of her new civilian outfits, her katana and shuriken and little more. She had learned to travel light.
Sarah made up her mind to return on the Monday evening mag-lev out of Central Station to Vermont. Arriving a half-day early, she reported in with Commander Grissom. Despite the fact that it was 1900 hours, he was still in his campus office. “You are still on leave until 1200 hours tomorrow,” he reminded her, “but if you are that anxious to know how the Commandant’s Committee ruled on our proposals, you can drop by my office in the Command Centre at 0930 hours.” Sarah indicated her desire was to know what the committee’s decision was, and agreed to meet Grissom in the morning.
Sarah arrived at the Command Centre at 0929 hours. Commander Grissom was waiting. “I’m in between meetings, so I will make it quick.” He handed her a five-page document. “You can read the details here.”
Grissom smiled. “The Committee accepted all the panel’s recommendations. You must attend all the physical training sessions with your group, but the trainers will accelerate your program wherever possible, so that you will be ready to advance in January. As to the academics, you must check in with your instructors for each course, once a week, and submit a written précis of your work, to keep them in the loop, and to demonstrate your understanding of the material. You will also have to complete all the class assignments, and sit special exams at Christmas. The Committee’s directives are spelled out in detail there.” He indicated the document in her hand.
“The committee also wants you to attend classes at least once every two weeks, even though you will undoubtedly be far ahead of your classmates. They hope it will bring about some bonding with your fellow cadets. Also, they figure that if you are as far ahead as we figure you will be, then you may motivate your peers; at least until you move up in January.” He smiled. “Any questions?”
Sarah returned his smile. “Not at this time, Sir,” she responded. “I will need to read this.” She held up the report.
“Very good, Cadet; if you have any questions after you have read it, my regular office hours are posted on the door.”
Sarah came to attention as the Commander rose from his seat. “Thank you, Sir,” she said, nodding smartly.
Grissom returned the nod. “Dismissed,” he said. Sarah turned on her heel and left the office. The Commander smiled at her back, certain that she would be an incredible asset to the Stellar Corps.
The next week, following the medical procedures outlined by Dr. Halpern, Sarah’s career in the Corps began in earnest. After the morning workout and a quick breakfast, she reported to the Simulator Centre for combat training. If Sarah had any illusions about that training being easy, they were about to be dashed.
The period started out with a reunion of sorts. Sarah learned that officer candidates, like her, regular “grunts” and “programmers” were equally distributed among the various training groups. When she joined up with her group she was greeted by the smiling face of Peter Preston.
After a slightly formal hello – Peter was after all a programmer while Sarah was a five-percenter, he gave her a quick update. “You were right! All I had to do was try and get into Manhattan wearing colours and I was busted immediately. I pleaded guilty at the overnight court, made a little speech outlining what I had done, and expressing my remorse, and they gave me the option right away. So, here I am.” Peter looked Sarah in the eye. “Thanks, this is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Now all I need to do is not wash out.”
As the session began Sarah could see what he was talking about. As she watched Peter go head-to-head with the simulants in the training area it was obvious that he was getting beaten, badly. The instructor rode him harder than everyone else, except her. Sarah she rode the hardest of all.
“C’mon, hunter, I know you can take a number of humans at one time, but what can you do against four Drixians?”
Sarah showed her that many of her one-to-many strategies were still effective against non-humans. So next she sent her up against a group of Vernians. These were a little harder, but she still managed to find a technique from her early martial arts training that was effective against them. It was when she sent Sarah up against a three “man” team of Zarans that she found herself in trouble.
The Zaran simulants were seven feet tall or larger. They didn’t seem too muscled, until she got up close. That was when she saw that their muscles were tightly coiled, giving their bodies a lithe appearance that belied their true strength. It also made their bodies very hard, resistant to many direct blows. Because of their height she decided to go for the backs of their knees to bring them down. That was her next surprise.
Sarah made as if she was going to hit them high, but at the last minute she ducked under their grasp and attacked the most rearward Zaran, striking from behind. It seemed obvious to Sarah that their knees would be vulnerable, until she hit the being hard at what should have been the pivotal point. Nothing happened. It was as if she had kicked a tree. Before Sarah had the chance to switch to another strategy, the Zaran simulants were on her. If their simulated blows had been real Sarah would have been soundly beaten.
As it was, the simulants were allowed to get a few shots in, to demonstrate how badly the strategy had failed. Their programming stopped their attack before Sarah was injured. As the simulants withdrew, the instructor approached. Sarah snapped to attention.
“I’ll bet that the library where you were living didn’t have any e-books on comparative alien anatomy, or on inter-species combat, did it?” Lieutenant Glennan asked.
“No, ma’am,” Sarah replied crisply.
“Well,” Glennan responded, “ours does. I recommend that you check out a couple of them. You have talent, Cadet, you need knowledge. Not like Preston, over there,” she indicated Peter on the opposite side of the training module, “he hasn’t got a snowball’s hope of making the cut. That kid’s headed for a rehab colony unless he improves very soon.”
“Ma’am,” Sarah began.
“Yes?”
“Ma’am, permission to work with Mr. Preston, please, Ma’am. We can get in a few extra hours during the rec period, Ma’am.”
The request surprised Glennan. She thought about it for a moment. “If Preston agrees, permission granted. Keep me informed.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Sarah replied.
Her next class was small arms training. After giving the instructor a demonstration of her skills with knives, katana, shuriken and nunchaku she was advanced to hand-held energy weapons.
“I hear that you are already familiar with the military class stinger. So, I am going to introduce you to something that you have yet to try,” Gunnery Sergeant Atos began. He handed Sarah a hand weapon. “Cadet Maloney, say ‘hello’ to the PPW, the hand-held Phased Pulse Weapon. It’s the little brother of the PPC, the Phased Pulse Canons mounted on our starships. You’ll meet the larger, rifle version, later.”
“The first thing you’ll notice is the obvious difference in both weight, and the way that the weight is distributed over the length of the weapon,” he continued, as Sarah balanced the gun-like weapon in her hand.
“There is more weight in the muzzle, as opposed to the stinger where all the works and the power supply are in the grip. You’ll see how that affects your aim and shooting strategy. Of course, it is larger than the stinger. On maximum it has enough power to disrupt matter at the molecular level.”
“It’s a disintegrating weapon?” Sarah asked in surprise.
“Within range,” her instructor confirmed. “There are many hostile situations where that is advantageous. You’ll see, the first time you are trapped in an enclosed space and no way to get out. It really helps when you can make a new door for yourself.”
Sarah had to agree with that assessment. “Still,” she said, “it is a little daunting; all that power.”
“I’m glad to see that you appreciate that point,” Atos told her.
That evening Sarah waited for Peter in the Simulator Centre, as the evening recreation period began. Peter arrived five minutes late. “Crewman Preston reporting as ordered, ma’am,” he said formally, coming to attention.
“At ease,” Sarah commanded. The look on Peter’s face showed it all. He coveted his rec time and didn’t want to be there. “You were ordered here on my suggestion, Crewman. Glennan is ready to scrub you from the program. Unless you can stop getting your butt kicked by the simulants, she’s going to wash you out. You know what that means, don’t you, Crewman Preston.”
“Yes, ma’am, it means two years, minimum, in a rehab colony, ma’am.” Peter answered, formally.
“That’s right,” Sarah confirmed. “Peter, I didn’t send you across the Bridge in colours so that you could be condemned to a prison planet. I believe that the Corps will give you a good future. You work hard, do your hitch, and you can muster out a whole different person, with a positive future in front of you. You can even choose to make the Corps your career, and still have a great life. Only you have to keep from being washed out. Are you willing to work to prevent that?”
When Peter didn’t answer right away Sarah changed her tone a bit, “Peter, you are a courageous guy, you have a good heart, and you have a talent for tactics that I’ve seen you use more than once to save someone’s life, in the direst circumstances. You’re worth the effort, and I’m willing to work with you. Are you willing to work?”
Peter thought about it for a moment. “Yes ma’am,” he said. Sarah saw a new look of determination replace the look of near-defeat on Peter’s face. She gave him a broad smile. “Good, then let’s get to work.” In the Simulation Centre’s control room Lieutenant Glennan watched on the monitors, making notes in Sarah’s file. “She’ll make a good officer,” she thought.
As things go, the extra training with Peter went all too well. He was a quick study and, for a former ganger, he was in exceptionally good shape. Where things seemed to get out of hand was when, after a week, Peter came to the session with three more recruits who were also in danger of washing out over their combat training. Sarah graciously accepted them into her extra-curricular classes. Then, a week later, each of her new students brought a new student. Seven students soon became ten. Ten became fourteen, and then sixteen, before Sarah closed the class to any new students.
After six weeks of extra training all her students had improved enough that they could keep up with their regular classmates, but the classes didn’t stop.
The day that Sarah disbanded the group Peter approached her to take on additional students to replace the ones who had just “graduated”.
“Really, Peter,” she told him, “it is starting to cut into my study time as it is. I should be much farther ahead by now, but I have been putting in the time with the training group that I should have spent in study. Working one-on-one with you is one thing. It is easier and faster.”
“But you are so good at it,” Peter protested. “If I can, I’ll help.”
Sarah considered his request for a moment and came back with a counter offer. “I have another idea. What if I worked with you for another two weeks, just us? I’ll teach you how to teach them. You teach the class. I’ll come in to start you off each session, and I’ll test them at the end of each week, but you do the rest.”
In the first week of November Student Crewman Peter Preston began his first session with six new volunteers. On Monday of the second week of November Student Crewman Preston and Cadet Maloney were summoned to the Commandant’s office.
“It has come to my attention,” Vice-Admiral Valentin began, “that the two of you have been conducting after-hours training in single combat techniques for students in danger of washing out.” Peter and Sarah stood at attention before his desk.
“Yes, sir,” they responded in unison.
“It has been also noted that you have been very successful in raising the skill level for these, mostly programmers, to the point where they have been able to meet the standard, in some cases surpassing it.” His manner was stern, but Sarah was hearing something else in his voice. Just as she noticed it, his whole manner shifted.
“Well done!” he said, smiling. “This has been a fine example of leadership on both your parts.” Both Peter and Sarah inwardly let out a sigh of relief. “I am particularly pleased with your progress, Student Crewman Preston. That is why I am promoting you to Student Petty Officer, First Class. Keep up the good work, young man. Report to the quartermaster to collect your new insignia, dismissed.”
Working as hard as he could to supress a grin, Peter nodded his acknowledgement of the order, turned smartly on his heel and left.
The Commandant then turned to Sarah. “Lieutenant Glennan is most impressed with you, Cadet Maloney. First you volunteered to work with Mr. Preston, then you motivated him appropriately when necessary. You accepted additional students, but knew your limits, and produced a fine group of fighting men and women. Lastly, you taught Mr. Preston how to carry on in your stead, giving him just the right amount of supervision and correction as required. I am most impressed indeed. It is also noted that to do this you sacrificed needed study time.
“You have demonstrated character in the finest traditions of the Corps. Effective immediately you are promoted to the rank of Cadet Lieutenant, First Class. I should tell you that I had to think long and hard about this promotion. You certainly earned it, but jumping over Ensign and Second Lieutenant will ruffle some feathers. There are some students who already resent your special academic program, but everything that I have seen tells me that you can handle it.” He smiled again, as if at an inside joke. “Just promise me that if you do have to handle it you won’t break any bones, Lieutenant,” he joked.
Despite still being at attention, Sarah returned his smile. “I’ll do my best, Sir!” she promised.
“It’s appreciated. Oh, and one last thing: While your action with your students was commendable, even admirable, in future please endeavour to avoid cutting into your study time. The Corps needs officers like you. Keep up the good work and I’d be willing to bet you’ll have your own command before you turn thirty.”
“Again, thank you Sir,” Sarah said. “I promise to do my best. If the Commandant will permit, I find the academic challenges most enjoyable. No encouragement to study is required. If you make that an order, it would be one that I would be most happy to obey, Sir!”
The Vice-Admiral smiled a fatherly smile, “I thought that that was implied in my evaluation, Lieutenant, but so ordered. As with Petty Officer Preston, you are to pick up your new rank insignia from the quartermaster, dismissed!”
Sarah nodded her acknowledgement, turned on her heel and smartly left the office.
The Academy Commandant was not wrong about ruffling feathers. When Sarah turned up at the mess hall that evening wearing her new rank she was immediately accosted by Cadet Second Lieutenant Leonid Markov.
“Maloney!” he bellowed. Sarah kept walking. Markov had always been a pain where she was concerned. He resented almost all five-percenters, that Sarah was given such a favorable program was quite a sore spot for him. He took every opportunity to ride her as hard as he could. Now he cut in front of her as she headed for the chow line.
“I didn’t think that anyone was that stupid: Lieutenant’s pips? What the hell do you think you’re doing CADET? There is no way that you jumped three ranks after only three months.”
Sarah stopped. She addressed Markov evenly with a firm tone. “Second Lieutenant, just because you took the slow road is no reason for your outburst. I’m guessing that the fact that I actually need to remind you that rank insignias are issued through the quartermaster, only on orders from the brass, accounts, at least in part, for why after three years you are still only a second lieutenant. Taking your obvious deficiencies into account, I’ll let you off this time, but if you persist in this behaviour towards a superior officer I will put you on report for insubordination!”
Sarah’s response elicited titters from many of the cadets and students within earshot. Markov was not liked by many of the junior cadets, and by none of the non-officer track students. She neatly side stepped his attempt to block her path and continued towards the chow line.
Markov exploded in fury. He spun about and attempted to use the momentum to land a roundhouse kick in the small of Sarah’s back. At the last second she sidestepped his attack. Markov over rotated, and fell on his backside. The entire mess hall roared with laughter.
Their laughter only served to enrage Markov further. Scrambling to his feet he caught Sarah by the arm, attempting to spin her about while preparing to sucker punch her as soon as she was facing him. It never happened. Using his motion, she shot her foot out at the last moment, catching him in the back of the knee. Again, Markov landed on the floor with a resounding thud. All assembled broke into riotous laughter once more.
Markov was now a crazed juggernaut. Gaining his feet once again, he charged at Sarah. From the door came the sound of a PPW sidearm, and he collapsed to the floor. Two Security Patrol officers quickly secured Markov as he was still recovering from the light stun blast, and the crowd cheered as he was led away.
“ATTENTION ON DECK!” Commander Grissom bellowed from the door. Everyone snapped to attention. He approached Sarah. “Cadet Lieutenant, this is a most inauspicious way of celebrating your promotion,” he told her. “Would you care to explain?”
“Sir, Cadet Second Lieutenant Markov was unhappy with my advancement. He expressed his opinion. When I refused to dignify his insults, he attempted to get physical. I resisted his violent attacks. Each time he failed to engage me his anger increased. As the Commander is well aware, attacking in a state of high emotion never works out very well. Mr. Markov’s failed attacks landed him on his gluteus maximus twice, eliciting laughter both times. This only served to anger him further. Events were reaching the point where I might have had no choice but stop him when the SPs intervened, Sir.”
Grissom turned to the nearest cadets. “Can anyone confirm this report?” Everyone within earshot of Sarah’s report raised their hands. “I see.” He pointed generally to a handful of students in the front row. “Give your names to my aid tomorrow. You may have to be called as witnesses.” He turned to the crowd, “As you were.”
Grissom turned to Sarah. “You realize, Lieutenant, you will have to put Mr. Markov on report, which will lead to a hearing, unless he admits his guilt. Though with this many people willing to testify, I have a hunch that he will take a plea. It’s the only way he can avoid expulsion. Carry on, Lieutenant, and congratulations on the promotion.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sarah gave Grissom a slight smile.
The next day Cadet Lieutenant Maloney filed the formal charge against Markov. When the students from the cafeteria showed up in droves to give their names as witnesses, Cadet Second Lieutenant Markov copped a plea.
He avoided expulsion from the Academy, but he was stripped of his rank and ordered to repeat almost half of his courses, particularly those dealing with Corps discipline and comportment. From then on, no one dared to challenge Sarah’s rapid advancement.
One evening, a couple of days later, Markov sat in his quarters with three friends. He was still angry about his punishment. “Who does that jumped-up zoner think she is? I would really love to teach her a lesson!”
“So, why don’t we?” Sergei Petkovic asked. “She needs to learn that if she messes with one of us she’s messing with us all.” Gregor Romanov and Alexie Babinski nodded their agreement.
Markov brightened up momentarily, and then cooled again. “How?” he asked. “If we get caught we’ll all be expelled.”
They all considered his question for a moment. Then Romanov spoke up. “She likes to go for a late night run on the track at the old sports complex after studying. My girlfriend Tanya is in the room next to hers. She says she always goes out around 2200 hours and returns, showered, at 2330.”
“To do that she’d have to be showering in the old sports centre showers. There are no security sensors in that building.” Markov said. “Would your girlfriend give you a heads-up when she goes out tonight?”
“Guess so,” Romanov shrugged.
“Good, okay then, here it is. I know that building well. The hallway from the running track to the showers has several corridors running off it. The last corridor to the right, just before the entrance to the female shower room, has an alcove just on the right as you turn into the hallway. That alcove can’t be seen until you have passed it; we can wait for her there. Just remember, leave no marks where they’ll show. There’s no way she’ll admit to being taken by us; not the hunter-girl.”
Sarah was breathing heavily when she entered the old sports complex that night. The place was no longer used for training by the Cadets, but the student intramural sports teams still practiced there. She liked it because the old showers still used real hot water.
The corridor seemed to be as deserted, as usual, as she headed for the shower room, anticipating the sensual feeling of the warm water. As far as she knew, she was alone.
As she passed the hidden alcove Petkovic jumped her from behind, pinning her arms. Romanov butted her in the abdomen with the end of a baseball bat he had taken from the centre’s equipment locker, winding Sarah. Babinski kicked her feet out from under her. Still struggling for breath, Sarah fell to the floor. All three cadets began kicking her in the ribs. Standing to one side, Markov watched as his friends landed kick after kick. Sarah, unable to draw a breath, couldn’t escape.
Markov stepped up, taking the bat from Romanov. Sarah was now lying prone on the floor. He raised the bat over his head, summoning all his strength. “Here’s one zoner bitch whose gonna be washing out of the Academy permanently.” He announced.
Just before he struck, Romanov stepped in. “Whoa, man, we said that we give her a major beat down, no one said anything about permanent disability…”
“This bitch nearly got me tossed,” Markov yelled at him. “This is just payback! This is a lesson that Grissom’s golden girl won’t be able to forget.” He chuckled maliciously, “…and when she washes out, she’ll still get sent to a rehab colony.” Markov laughed insanely.
The exchange between Markov and Romanov brought a momentary halt to the beating that they were giving Sarah. Lying on the floor she struggled to catch her breath. Each time she tried to draw a breath the pain was agony. She counted on the adrenalin to kick in. It did, just at the last minute.
Despite the pain it caused, Sarah spun over onto her back and launched a double-foot kick to the groins of Petkovic and Babinski. She shifted her body and drove both feet into Romanov’s groin. She simultaneously winded him and drove him backward into the protruding corner of the alcove. His head struck the corner with a crack and he went down, dazed.
Markov stepped back as Sarah got to her feet. Every move hurt, but she tried to assume a fighting stance. Markov tightened his grip on the bat. He had only one shot, one chance before Sarah would be in a position to counter-attack. He drew back the bat, aiming for her head. He never completed the swing.
From the door, an SP shot him with a PPW on maximum stun. The bat fell from his hands as the force from the phased pulse weapon threw him backward. On orders from the Security Patrol agents, Babinski and Petkovic dropped to the floor and lay face down, with their hands on their heads. Romanov, already down, followed suit.
“Are you ok Cadet Lieutenant?” The lead SP asked Sarah.
“I’m a bit banged up, but nothing a hot shower shouldn’t be able to fix.” she responded, nodding toward the shower room at the end of the hall.
The AP nodded. “I’m going to place a guard on the room just in case these four have backup watching.” He nodded to a female agent who approached Sarah. “She’ll keep watch, and then take your statement as she escorts you to the Med Centre.”
Sarah was about to protest that she had endured worse in the zone, when the SP explained. “We need to get you scanned as evidence of the ferocity of the attack.” Sarah relented and accepted his offer of an escort to get checked out. As he turned away, the lead SP shook his head at the three cadets who were still conscious. “I don’t know how you guys could be so stupid as to think that you could get away with this.”
“Markov said that there were no sensors in this building, it was too old,” Petkovic said.
“That’s true, but the old security cameras are still connected.” The SP pointed to two strategically placed 22nd Century video cameras. “…and we do monitor them.”
It turned out that Sarah’s trip to the Med Centre was a very good idea. A doctor had to apply the bone-knitter to three of Sarah’s ribs and her clavicle, to repair the fractures. The scans also showed several internal bruises that required treatment.
After pleading guilty to all the charges laid by the Security Patrol agents, Markov’s friends were expelled from the Academy and sentenced to five years in a rehab colony for aggravated assault on an officer. Markov was expelled and convicted of attempted homicide.
Sarah returned to her assigned program, but was excused from physical training for two weeks while her injuries finished healing. No one else ever tried anything like that again.
At the beginning of her third year Sarah was promoted to the rank of Cadet Captain. While her independent study program had allowed her to advance with extreme rapidity, there were still courses where she was required to be a part of a class.
One of the courses that required Sarah to work with classmates was the starship simulator course. As it had been with other similar courses, she was in a class with students who were a year or more ahead of her.
In the simulator her field rank was lieutenant-commander. She was the “ship’s” third officer. The captain was a fifth-year Cadet.
In his final year, and preparing for graduation in a few months, Cadet Captain Leo Clark welcomed Sarah to his team with enthusiasm. He knew that his chances for success were greatly increased when Sarah joined his crew. He was less happy when, halfway through the term, Sarah was “promoted” to a command of her own.
Before that happened, Sarah, as his helm and tactical officer, was instrumental in getting the “LSS Academia”, as the simulator ship was called, out of many tight spots. It was her tactical ability along with her intuitive control of the helm that won her a commendation. The Academia’s executive officer, by contrast, demonstrated a tendency to freeze up in difficult situations.
Cadet Commander Hélène Lauzon was another cadet who was believed to be a “whiz kid”. In the tactical scenarios presented in class she could invariably come up with very creative, often novel, solutions. This had initially won her the executive officer, or “exo”, position on Clark’s crew. After their first few missions, however, she was ready to request reassignment.
The pressure that she felt on the bridge of the Academia, Lauzon took out on Sarah, setting her near impossible navigational problems whenever the captain gave her the con. Rather than responding negatively to the pressures Hélène put on her, Sarah came to the exo’s rescue.
After one particularly difficult situation involving a binary pulsar where Lauzon had found herself unable to issue commands, or present the captain with options without stuttering to the point of unintelligibility, Sarah took her aside.
“Hélène, I have noticed that you tend to choke under pressure. I have something that may help, if you’re interested.”
An unusually competitive student, with a reputation for climbing over others to get ahead, Hélène wondered where Sarah was coming from. “Why would you help me? If I drop this class you’re sure to be appointed the new exo.”
Sarah looked her in the eye. “I know that.” She answered matter-of-factly. “I also know that I’ll get there soon enough anyway. Stop and think about it, you’ll see that what I’m saying is true.”
Lauzon had to admit that what Sarah was saying was right. “Still, why would you want to help me? If the roles were reversed I wouldn’t be offering to help you.”
“That’s what I hear,” Sarah answered. “I have two reasons: The first is because you also have a reputation for excellence. The brass keep telling me how the Corps needs good officers out in the field. You have the potential to be one of the best. The second reason goes to two of the key attributes found in all great officers, loyalty and team work.
“You need to know how to work as part of a team. Sometimes you need to let others take the lead, even to shine, for the good of the ship or the mission. That takes loyalty to your crewmates, your ship and the Corps. It occurs to me that by accepting help from someone you see as a rival, you may see the value inherent in both. Being the top of the class in the Academy doesn’t translate to being a great, or even a good officer.”
The Cadet Commander as taken aback by Sarah’s answer, and at first was affronted by it. But she had the talent to be a good officer, so she was able to set her hurt feelings aside. “Okay, what is it that you believe will help me out?”
Sarah gave her one of her winning smiles. “In traditional martial arts, like I learned as child, I was taught that the sensei must calm her body and her mind; to bring them into harmony with her spirit, where the true strength of a warrior resides. There are exercises that Sensei Hikaro taught me that I can pass on to you.”
“Don’t these techniques take years of practice?” Hélène asked.
“For ultimate mastery, that’s true, but almost from the beginning the disciple begins to see the benefit. If we begin tonight, by our next mission you should be able to relax a great deal more. I do stress, though, that this is a discipline. For it to continue to work you must keep up the practice, at least twice a day.”
Hélène smiled. “When do we start?”
Sarah returned her smile. “I would recommend tonight, at 2100 hours. Shall we meet in my room or yours?”
True to Sarah’s prediction, the exo of the LSS Academia was already feeling more focused by their next mission. It was a few short weeks after that mission that Sarah was offered her own simulator command. However, her sessions with Hélène continued until Cadet Commander Lauzon graduated in June, and was assigned as an ensign aboard the League Star Ship Triumph.
For simulator Captain Sarah Maloney, her first few missions were fairly routine, but they were an opportunity to work with her crew, and bring their performance level up to a new standard. By mid-term she commanded a crack group of cadets that was pretty much ready for anything, or so she believed. Their next mission was an eye opener.
When Sarah and her bridge crew reported to the simulator at 0800 hours she was surprised to find waiting former Lieutenant, now Lieutenant-Commander Nelia Grifn, the Drixian Tactical Officer who sat on her evaluation committee, when Sarah was first accepted to the Academy.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Cadet Captain,” Grifn began, “though you may not feel the same after today’s mission.” Sarah looked at the Drixian officer quizzically. Grifn continued, “I know how much you hate to lose, but so far this mission has become known as the ‘no-win scenario’.
“It is drawn from an actual attack strategy used by the Galorans. As you know, there have been times when they have tried to acquire the League’s jump technology by force. Their most recent attempt used the strategy that we are setting for you today.
“As you know, only League worlds have jump technology. Galor Prime would have been on-track to acquire Jump-ship technology if they were still a League world and they want it, badly!
“Last month they used this tactic trying to get their hands on a Jump-one class ship. Ever since they first used it we have assigned this simulation to our best and brightest students. As far as we know there is no positive solution. We’ve been hoping that someone will prove us wrong. Equally important, however, is evaluating how a ship’s captain and crew would handle the failure and immanent capture, if a solution can’t be found.”
Sarah and her crew listened closely, taking it all in before they assumed their posts on the bridge. “Ready,” Sarah announced, to signal the control room to begin the simulation.
A moment later the Academia was in deep space. As the crew set to work at their assigned tasks the communications officer spoke up: “Captain, we’re receiving a distress call from the League Commercial Ship Dresden, carrying medical supplies to the Palor colony in the next sector. She reports that she is surrounded by unmarked warp-class vessels. She is under attack and her shields are failing. Dresden reports four hostiles, class four warp ships. She anticipates that her shields will fail in fifteen minutes or less.”
“Transfer her coordinates to the helm, Lieutenant,” Sarah ordered. When the helm officer confirmed that he had received the Dresden’s location Sarah asked “Time to intercept? Can we do it in time?”
“Just barely, Captain.” Ensign Britton replied, “We’re about twelve minutes out at warp fourteen.”
“Very good, Ensign. Lay in a course and engage at maximum warp when ready.”
“Warp fourteen, aye, Ma’am.” Britton confirmed.
Sarah activated a toggle switch on her console for the intercom. “Engineering, prepare the jump engines for an emergency jump tow, and set the grappling tractors to maximum.”
“Aye, Captain,” the simulation replied.
She closed that switch and activated another. “Weapons Control report,” she commanded.
“Tactical Officer Briggs, here, Captain,” the simulation responded.
“Load all tubes with Mark 5 torpedoes. Charge all Phased Pulse Compression weapons at one hundred and twenty percent.”
“Ma’am, one hundred and twenty is pushing the upper limit,” the simulation responded.
“Make it so, Briggs; on my authority.”
“One twenty percent, aye, Captain.”
“Ensign Britton, conical approach; Sanders, we’re going in weapons hot, but don’t begin firing until we are we within fifty thousand kilometers of the targets.”
The bridge tactical officer reacted to that last order. “Ma’am, at a hundred thousand klicks we’ll be in range of their PCW’s and their torpedoes.”
“Not to worry, lieutenant, our shields can hold, and at warp fourteen we’ll be a very poor target, also at fifty thousand klicks, and charged to one hundred and twenty percent, our PPCs will be able to penetrate their shields, and our torpedo accuracy will be ninety-eight percent. Use a floating target lock, to give us maximum tactical flexibility. We won’t be sure of their attack configuration until we are within scanner range. We need to be able to change our strategy on the fly if necessary.”
“Understood, Captain,” Lieutenant Sanders responded.
“Besides,” Sarah continued, “we’re going all the way at maximum warp. We won’t drop to sub-light until we hit the fifty thousand kilometer point. When we drop out of warp, Sanders, I want you to fire our first volley from the forward tubes and fire our forward PPCs simultaneously; another reason for using the floating target lock. You’ll have just enough time before we drop out of warp to get your first fix. Obviously our first target will be the nearest marauder.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Dropping to sub-light so late will cause us to overshoot. Our second volley will be as we pass the marauders along the dorsal side of the Dresden. If we fire PPCs at the ship on the dorsal side while firing Mark 5s at the marauders on the port and starboard sides we can inflict maximum damage to all three ships.”
“Aye, ma’am” Sanders replied.
“Britton, make the swing to correct the overshoot slow and wide. Sanders, when he does, divide the starboard tubes between the dorsal and ventral hostiles. That should eliminate the dorsal ship and, hopefully, disable the ventral.” The captain turned to the communications officer. “Baxter, contact LCS Dresden, use pulse code number six and invert the algorithm. Inform them of our ETA and tell them to be ready for link up. We’ll drag them out of there if we have to.”
“Aye, Captain,” Baxter responded.
Turning back to the tactical station Sarah added, “Sanders, have five assault teams at each of our ventral air locks. As soon as we clear the area we’ll want to start off-loading the Dresden’s casualties. I want adequate insurance in case the Dresden has already been boarded. We don’t want hostiles pouring into our ship without a proper reception committee to greet them.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Sanders replied, turning to her own intercom to pass on the orders.
Ten minutes later the Dresden was on the Academia’s main screen. It turned out that there were more than four ships attacking Dresden. She had ships encircling her at six o’clock, twelve, three and nine. There were also hostiles fore and aft.
Sarah immediately revised her plan. “Britton, alter course; direct approach. Sanders, use forward tubes and canons on the ship off Dresden’s bow.”
Turning back to the helmsman she added, “The moment Sanders fires, alter course to do our fly-past over the ship at twelve o’clock.” Then again to Sanders, “Half of the port and starboard canons will fire on the ships at three and nine, but I also want you to drop two torpedoes set to proximity burst just as we approach the ship at twelve. Let our wake carry them to their target. As we clear the aft ship give them our aft tubes and canons.
“Britton, as soon as we hit sub-light make an end over end turn to come back for the Dresden. Unlike before, we need to move smartly. We’ll link-up with the Dresden and immediately jump to Corps Base 9 at Emmar.”
“Aye, Captain,” Britton and Sanders answered, almost in unison.
In the time it took Sarah to issue her orders the Academia arrived at the fifty thousand kilometer mark. The first volley from the lead marauder hit her shields, draining ten percent of their power. The Academia’s first volley disabled her as Sarah predicted.
She had just enough time to note that the ships were Galor Prime’s destroyer-class warship. The Galoran’s were serious about taking the Dresden and whichever ship came to her aid.
Passing the ship at twelve o’clock, the Academia dragged the two Mark 5 torpedoes into the Galoran ship atop the Dresden. The Galorans were caught off-guard and took damage, especially to their main bridge. The aft ship suffered the same fate as the ship at the Dresden’s bow. The ships at six and twelve also sustained heavy damage, but were still manoeuvrable at sub-light speed. They had little chance of catching the Academia as Britton, at the helm, executed a tight end over end turn.
As their bow came around to the one hundred degree position of the turn, Sanders, acting on her own initiative, fired another volley from the front canons and tubes at the vessel holding position at six o’clock, taking out her engines, leaving her dead in space.
Before the port and starboard Galoran ships could reorient themselves into firing positions, the Academia was grappling the Dresden and preparing to make her jump. That’s when it all went wrong.
From out of nowhere four ships, half the size of the Galoran destroyer-class ships, came speeding in. They had obviously been outside the range of Academia’s scanners as they approached, and their presence had been masked on Academia’s arrival by the massive ionization from her blitz attack.
Although smaller than the destroyer-class vessels, these new ships had the same size power plant. It allowed them to move much faster at sub-light, and gave them superior compressed pulse weapons.
Attacking from either side, they hit Academia simultaneously. The force was enough to knock out her jump drive. This was immediately followed by reports of Galoran shock troops forcing their way into the ship through the ventral airlocks. They were, for the moment being repelled by the assault teams.
The two Galoran fighters were coming around for another pass. Scanners indicated that they were targeting the bridge. The remaining destroyers had come about and were targeting Academia’s weapons centre. The lower decks reported that the Galoran boarding parties had driven them back to the adjacent sections of the ship. They might soon overwhelm their defenses.
Sarah turned to her Execitive Officer. “Exo, report to command station.” Commander Braedon joined Sarah at her chair.
“Two more of the smaller ships coming in fast, Captain,” Sanders reported. Two more volleys from Compressed Pulse Weapons hit the Academia. The whole ship trembled. “We just lost weapons, ma’am,” Sanders reported.
Sarah looked at her second-in-command. “You know what we need to do,” she said with finality. Braedon nodded.
Sarah tapped a few keys on her computer. The screen read “Engineering Control.” She hit another button and said, “Disengage magnetic curtain in the anti-matter control unit – Captain’s Authorization: Delta three nine seven Omega.”
On the screen another message was displayed. “Does the executive officer concur?” Braedon responded, “The exo concurs; authorization: Beta six Delta one Omega.” Everything went dark.
Two of the stations on the port side of the bridge slid away to reveal the simulator control room. The large “Mission Status” screen was filled with one line: “Self-destruct successful, both ships destroyed.”
Lieutenant-Commander Grifn was not exactly jumping for joy. “Maybe it really is a no-win situation, if even you can’t win it,” she said to Sarah. “Of our best and brightest, you are top of the class. Maybe we’re just going to have to start running convoys through the more dangerous sectors bordering on Galoran space.”
“Maybe,” Sarah answered, “but maybe not! The Academia is a simulated Jump-one ship. More and more in the real fleet they are being replaced by Jump-two and the new Jump-three ships. Those are much more powerful – bigger power plants and stronger shields. Perhaps all we need to do is assign the bigger ships to patrol the border sectors?”
“Brute force instead of tactical finesse?” Grifn asked.
“Not totally,” Sarah told her. “We still need to come up with a tactical response, and maybe some new weaponry to even the odds; possibly something resembling a smart cluster bomb or torpedo. A weapon that would disperse a large number of photon-type charges programed to bounce off our shields without reacting, but detonate when one of their ships runs into them.”
The Drixian officer considered the idea for a moment, and then smiled at Sarah. “I like it. The charges would be small, but numerous. The cumulative effect could be damaging when the Galorans bring in their new ships with the large power plants.”
“They would be running into clouds of photon charges; each one too small to show up on their scanners, but all together they would be capable of causing useful damage,” Sarah finished her thought. “It’s a kind of cross between brute force and tactical finesse.”
“Yes, I like it,” Grifn repeated. “It’s not perfect, but it is a good start.” She smiled at Sarah, and received one of Sarah’s best smiles in return.”
“Also, Lieutenant-Commander, I’m not sure why it doesn’t exist already, but it occurs to me that there should be a code or phrase that could be left off the end of a distress call when the ship in distress has already been taken by the hostiles,” Sara added.
“Sound thinking, Captain; you’re correct. We should have thought of such a thing a long time ago.
“By the way, Cadet Captain, the only winning move for this scenario, so far, has been self-destruct, but many Cadet Captains are unwilling to act. Your decision today was correct. Well done!”
Grifn was right, Sarah hated to lose, but the Drixian’s last comment did make her loss in the simulator a little easier to take.
Space
Three months later Sarah graduated from the Stellar Corps Academy with highest honours, and at the ripe old age of twenty-two, she was assigned as Third Engineer aboard the LSS Kennedy, a Jump-one class vessel under the command of Captain Louis Hanley. It turned out not to be the easiest first assignment.
For the first five months Sarah performed to her usual high standard. Normally, she’d been told, she would have some feedback from the captain or the executive officer, but so far, she had heard nothing. The chief engineer, however, had told her many times that he was making a favourable entry about her in the log. She believed that all was going well despite the lack of feedback.
During one duty shift, Sarah was making an inspection of the conduits on one of the lower levels of the engineering section, when she overheard a female crewman and her male co-worker being dressed down by the chief tactical and security officer because the female grunt had torn the back of her coveralls crawling in between the conduits. The rend clearly showed that she was not wearing any underwear. To spare the two crewmen greater embarrassment Sarah held her position out of sight until the chief security officer had left. As she approached, however, she heard something else that distressed her.
As the officer disappeared from view, the male crewman turned to his female counterpart and griped, “He thinks he’s so high and mighty. ‘The great Commander Buttocks’ never did a maintenance tour in his life. He has no idea what it is to crawl through a service way to check conduit integrity or clean the check valves…”
He was just finishing his diatribe when Sarah approached. He could see that she was not pleased.
“Crewman Helson,” she began, “while I can appreciate your loyalty to your crewmate, as well as a you sense of indignation at what you perceive to be an injustice, Commander Maddox is an officer. You will show proper respect, or I will put you on report myself. Do I make myself clear, crewman?”
Crewman Helson snapped to attention. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!” he replied formally.
“At ease crewman,” Sarah responded, continuing more informally. “Helson, you need to remember that Commander Maddox took his OC training twenty-five years ago. He has no idea what conduit duty entails, and he doesn’t need to know. It’s not a part of his job, but you need keep in mind that he is a senior officer. He has earned your respect, and mine. It’s okay to be pissed at the seeming injustice of it, but it’s not okay to disrespect an officer because he is a stickler for the regs.”
“Understood, ma’am,” Helson answered sincerely.
Sarah turned to the female crewman. “Crewman Reid, Mr. Helson, here, was too busy admiring the view, it seems, to notice that more than your coveralls were torn. That gash on your butt appears to be bleeding quite freely. Report to Med Bay. When your finished there, report to the duty officer, I’ll ask him to reassign you for the next day or two to be sure that that gash has completely healed.”
Turning to Helson she said, “Mr. Helson, you will report to the duty officer immediately to request a new partner so that you will not fall behind in your tasks.”
To both she said, “Dismissed”
The pair nodded and proceeded as ordered. As Reid turned to leave, she turned back and said, “Thank you, Ensign,” and nodded in salute before heading for the Med Bay.
Sarah returned the salute and continued her rounds. As she turned the next corner she found Commander Maddox waiting there. He did not look pleased.
“Ensign, you have been on-board the Kennedy for all of five months, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt, this time. In future, however, you will remember that I neither need nor want anyone standing up for me with the grunts or anyone else, understood?
“Sir, yes sir!” Sarah responded. “Permission to speak, sir?” she continued.
Maddox was surprised. Though he was aware that Sarah had a reputation for speaking her mind, he didn’t believe that there was any response to be made in this case. His curiosity was peeked.
“Granted.”
Sarah chose he words carefully. “Sir, I wasn’t defending you. I was enforcing proper discipline, which I know you recognize as essential to efficient ship’s function.”
Maddox nodded, and Sarah continued.
“Having said that, Sir, I am sure that you recognize why Helson reacted as he did when he thought you were out of earshot.
“Commander, it has been more than twenty-five years since you were at the Academy. Back then officer candidates weren’t required to do a grunt rotation to experience what their duty is like. It really is an eye-opener, sir.
“Tearing one’s coveralls is a frequent occurrence. It is the unavoidable nature of the duty. The reason that crewman Reid was wearing no skivvies is because very often they are torn right along with the coveralls.
“Coveralls are issued when required by the duty, and damage is expected accordingly. There is no cost incurred by the grunt if they are torn or otherwise damaged.
“As you are also aware, undergarments are issued with our uniforms. If replacements are required, we simply requisition them. However, the frequency of replacement is believed to be excessive it is, as you know, docked from our pay.
“You may have noticed the gash on Reid’s bottom, sir. Apart from a trip to the Med Bay, had she been wearing skivvies, she would also be visiting the quartermaster as well; most likely at her expense. This is why most, if not all, grunts eschew underwear under their coveralls.” She gave the Commander a wry smile, “I’m guessing that it is also why the male grunts are issued the extra-heavy-duty jock straps, sir.”
Maddox did his best not to return the smile, preferring to remain stone-faced as he responded.
“I should put you on report, Ensign, for assuming to lecture your superior officer. But, you have given me something to consider. Carry on with your duties, dismissed.” Without waiting for Sarah’s acknowledgement, he turned and left.
The next day, as she was going on duty, Sarah ran into Commander Maddox. He paused only for a moment. Never one for mincing words, he came straight to the point.
“Maloney, what you said yesterday was true. I really am unaware of the details of what some of the non-coms do.
“I checked with Med Bay, after we spoke yesterday. Ensign Reid’s injury did require repair with a tissue knitter. What you said about costs to the crew are also true. I had assumed that she was just trying to be provocative for her workmate. Rather than putting you on report I have entered a commendation in your jacket. Thank you for setting me straight.” Not used to being so gracious with the junior officers, Maddox just sputtered out there, and left without further conversation.
As her shift ended that evening Sarah was making the required report in the log. “Maintenance log, November 12, 2352, 0000 hours, Third Engineer, Ensign Sarah Maloney recording…”
“I’ll bet you like that, don’t you?” The voice behind her was the Kennedy’s executive officer. His tone was condescending and derisive. “Eh, what about it, Maloney? Your first deep space assignment and they start you off as Third Engineer. I’ll bet you feel special. If it was up to me, you zoners wouldn’t even be in the Corps. Don’t expect any advancement so long as I’m exo. If I could find a good reason, I’d bust you down to grunt and have you cleaning the plasma manifolds.”
Sarah took a step away from the console before she responded. “Is there a problem with my performance, Commander Dekert? Lieutenant-Commander Schwartz seems to think that I am performing at an above average level. I believe that he has actually entered a number of commendations on my performance into the official log…”
“Yeah,” Dekert sneered, “I saw those, but I guarantee you that no one else will. No programmer is going to get ahead of a regular recruit on my watch. Oh, you can also forget about the recommendation that you sent to the captain about that Preston guy. He came on board with the rank of Petty Officer, but that’s as far as he gets. If you think I’m going to let him get sent to Officer Candidate training, think again.”
Sarah was taken aback. In her three years in the Stellar Corps she had never encountered this level of bias against zoners. It was all she could do not to say something that the exo could call insubordinate. Quietly she asked, “Will that be all, sir?”
“For now, carry on with your log entry.”
Sarah turned back to the console. “…We completed the refit on the secondary plasma systems during the second leg of our run from Calisto Colony to Dina…”
Dekert stood and watched until the log entry was complete, and she had entered her code to seal the record in the engineering log, before he continued on his way. Sarah let out a sigh of relief when she believed that he was out of earshot. She was glad she had made her recommendation about Peter without telling him. It would be terrible if she had gotten his hopes up only to have them dashed by the exo.
Four weeks later the official six-month crew evaluations for the new crew came out. Sarah was on the bottom of the list. The captain called her to his ready room.
“Ensign, it seems that Commander Dekert doesn’t believe that you are cut out to be an engineer,” he began. “His performance review seems to bear that out.” Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin, but she stoically held her ground and her tongue. “He actually recommends that you be reduced in rank to non-commissioned status, and assigned to a regular work detail. Further, when I look into Lieutenant-Commander Schwartz’s log I see nothing there to redeem that evaluation. Although there are no direct negatives, he lists your performance as adequate, but barely so.”
Sarah glanced at Dekert, standing behind the captain, officially, observing the proceedings. He had a smirk on his face as if to say “Gotcha!”
Sarah steeled herself for the worst, but was surprised with the captain’s answer to this negative report.
“I am a bit stymied by all of this, Ensign, especially after reading the initial reports from the Academy. Perhaps the Engineering deck was not the place to start you off. You scored top marks in astrogation and tactics at the Academy, so I am going to transfer you to the helm position on the bridge. Let’s see if things improve, shall we?”
Being removed from her position as Third Engineer didn’t sit well with Sarah, but serving on the bridge, in front of the captain, might show him the truth.
She looked at the captain earnestly. “Thank you, sir! When do I start?”
“Tonight, at 0000 hours, you relieve Lieutenant Watson. I hope that this works out for you, Maloney.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she responded.
Sarah’s initial excitement at the new assignment was dampened considerably by the news that she was going to be serving on the night shift; but at least she wouldn’t be serving directly under Dekert.
Usually, if he took the bridge watch it was on the 1800 to midnight shift, and even that was rare. He preferred to be on the bridge when the captain was. She glanced at the exo again. She had noticed that at the news of her new assignment to the bridge his smirk disappeared. It had now returned, though somewhat diminished.
When Sarah reported for bridge duty that night she was, as she expected, greeted by the third officer, Lieutenant Art Proust. He began the watch by quizzing her on the basic functions of her console, and assuring himself that he could give her orders that she would be able to follow. As he was about to leave her position and return to the command chair he leaned in close and, for her ears only, “Dekert told me all about you. He said that I’m to watch you carefully. I care about this ship, and I don’t want any incompetent screw-up putting the Kennedy and her crew in danger. Understood?”
“Understood, sir!” Sarah replied, speaking just loud enough to let the others around know that she had received instructions that the third officer didn’t want them to hear.
As it happened, the night was routine. In the morning, the first person to arrive on the bridge was the exo. “Report, Mr. Proust,” he commanded. As regulations required, Proust had entered everything in the log already, but it was customary that he give a verbal report of anything noteworthy.
“All quiet, Commander, apart from a point five deviation in the warp coils at 0317 hours. It appears that the new Third Engineer hasn’t adapted to his new post as well as our new helm officer has to hers.”
While the verbal report was usually audible by all on the bridge, Schwartz raised his voice slightly on that last point, continuing at the elevated level. “Although nothing of note occurred on the watch, Ensign Maloney performed her duties above expectations. She does seem to have a talent. It was an excellent first watch for her.”
Sarah realized that he was making up for the start of the shift, and saving face with the other bridge crew. Again, she held her features neutral as Proust completed his verbal report. He finished just as the captain arrived.
The officer of the watch called out, “Captain on Deck” As protocol demanded, everyone but Sarah and Second Lieutenant Dicha, at the “Ops” station snapped to attention until the captain ordered them to resume their duties. Dekert then repeated Schwartz’s report, leaving out his praise of Sarah. The exo believed that damning her with no praise would be as good as a condemnation, but Captain Hanley turned to the third officer just as the exo was about to officially relieve him.
“So Lieutenant-Commander, how did our new helm officer do on her first bridge watch?” he asked.
Schwartz repeated the report he gave to the exo, adding a few examples of how well Sarah did during the “quiet” watch. Hanley was impressed.
“Good work, Maloney,” he said as Sarah’s relief was replacing her at the helm. “Keep it up,” he added. Beside the captain, Dekert had to work hard to supress his scowl.
“Aye, sir” Sarah responded as she headed for the lift. “That’s one hurdle vaulted,” she thought as she rode the lift to her quarters on deck five.
Succeeding watches followed the pattern of the first, though not all watches were routine. Over the next few months there were many opportunities for Sarah to demonstrate her superior talents. Spatial anomalies that appeared out of nowhere, and other course difficulties, gave Sarah the chance to shine in the presence of her fellow bridge officers. There was no way that Dekert could alter the log files to remove the recommendations for commendation that Proust had made.
After three months Sarah was transferred to the day watch, where Captain Hanley would be present on the bridge. Sarah continued to bide her time, but she didn’t have to wait long to show her mettle.
About a week after her re-assignment to the day-shift the Kennedy was patrolling the frontier between League space and the Galoran Empire when Sarah noticed something on the main view screen. She ran a few scans from her board before speaking up.
“Captain, there appears to be an aberration moving across the screen going from port to starboard,” she reported. “I plot it as coming from the Galoran frontier on a heading towards Earth.”
The captain rose from his chair and stood by Sarah’s station. “I don’t see anything, Ensign,” he confessed.
“That’s because there is nothing to see – just zoner dreams,” the exo suggested.
Undaunted by Dekert’s comment, Sarah pointed toward an area just below the mid-line of the screen. “There, sir, that distortion. It is definitely moving.”
Hanley still couldn’t see it. “Magnify,” he ordered.
Sarah enlarged that portion of the screen. Now the aberration was visible to all. The captain turned to the main science station. “Lieutenant Cross, what do the scanners show?”
“Nothing definite, Captain; there might be something there, I am getting irregular fluctuations on certain energy frequencies. One instant they are there, just at the barely visible level, then they aren’t, sir.”
“Could it be some natural phenomenon?” Hanley asked.
“I am not positive,” Cross answered. “If it is, then it is something entirely new. We have nothing like it in our database.”
“Could it be a cloaked ship, sir?” Sarah ventured.
Dekert snorted a non-verbal response.
Hanley was quick to respond. “Don’t be so derisive, Commander. I remind you of those reports a few months ago, that Galor Prime was toying with cloaking tech. Maybe they succeeded.” Turing to Sarah he asked, “Do you have any recommendations, Ensign?”
Sarah smiled slightly, “Well, sir, Engineering did finish installing the new forward phased pulse canons. They haven’t tested them yet.”
Dekert exploded. “Sure, fire on an unknown just because it might be Galoran. Let’s just declare war, why don’t we?”
“Calm down, Commander,” the captain ordered. To Sarah he said, “Explain your logic, Ensign.”
“Sir, if it is a natural phenomenon that almost doesn’t show up on our scanners, then it is a danger to navigation and should be eliminated. Once we stop it we can examine what remains and adjust our scanners to be able to detect whatever it is. But, if it’s Galoran, it’s entering League space illegally. I am sure that if we challenge them they’ll keep silent and probably come to a halt until we pass by.”
“Logical, so do we shoot first and ask questions later?” Hanley asked.
“No sir, I believe that challenging them is necessary. If they maintain radio silence, then they are making their intent clear. They are hostile.”
“And if their communications equipment is down?” the captain countered.
“Doesn’t change a thing, sir; they still shouldn’t be here. I don’t suggest that we blow them out of space – just disable them.” Sarah answered.
“Very good,” the captain clapped her on the back. “Ensign Stokes, challenge that vessel. Maloney, we’ll give them five minutes to respond. If they don’t answer, or if they try to run, fire the PPCs.”
“Aye, Captain!” Sarah responded. “Targeting solution plotted, target locked.”
From his station, Hanley could just hear Derkert muttering under his breath, “Fool zoner is going to start a war.”
Just then Sarah announced, “She’s running, Captain, firing PPCs”
A popping sound was all that was heard on the bridge as the powerful weapons discharged. A second later Sarah reported. “Direct hit, sir.”
“Confirmed,” Cross added from the main science station. “It was definitely a cloaking device of some kind, Captain, because it just failed. I don’t think that they were able to raise their shields while cloaked, because scanners are picking up massive damage; more than we’d normally see from PPCs, even our new ones. Their power appears to be failing all over the ship. Readings indicate that she just lost life support.”
As the science officer spoke, an unknown-class Galoran ship appeared on the screen. Sarah recognized from the no-win scenario in the simulator; the ship was half the size of the destroyer-class, but with the same size power plant.
“Stokes, hail them and tell them that we are ready to receive their surrender. We’ll transport them to the nearest neutral port.”
As Hanley spoke a number of escape pods detached from the vessel. A moment later the ship exploded. The explosion of the Galoran craft destroyed many of the escaping pods. Captain Hanley ordered his crew to begin rescue operations for the remaining escape pods. He then turned to Commander Dekert. “Exo, I want to see you in my ready room, NOW! Ensign Maloney, you too.”
Sarah signalled for the back-up helm officer that was always available on the bridge, and followed the captain and his first officer into the ready room.
The moment the door closed behind them the captain rounded on Commander Dekert. “‘Fool zoner’ Commander? ‘zoner dreams?’ I think that you had better explain yourself.” Captain Hanley’s anger was unmistakable.
“Sorry, Captain,” Dekert responded “They were spur of the moment comments. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s all you have to say? ‘It won’t happen again’? Does that mean you won’t say it where I might hear it again? Captain Hanley turned to Sarah, “Ensign, have you had any encounters with the commander that would give him reason to resent your presence?”
“No direct encounters recently, Captain. However, on a previous occasion the commander did make a point of telling me that he would do whatever it takes to get me busted out of the service.”
The captain was shocked by Sarah’s reply. “You realize Ensign that that is quite a serious accusation. What do you have to back that up?”
“If I may sir?” Sarah indicated the Captains computer console. He nodded his assent. She sat down at his desk and called up the Engineering Log from the previous November.
“Maintenance log, November 12, 2352, 0000 hours, Third Engineer, Ensign Maloney recording. We completed the refit on the secondary plasma systems on the second leg of our run from Calisto Colony to Dina…” the conversation she had with Commander Dekert had been deleted.
She glanced over at the exo and he was grinning. Sarah was unfazed. “Actually, Captain, I expected this,” she said. Purposefully Sarah pressed a key activating the computer’s voice command mode. “Computer, run program Grifn-Maloney on all log entries since Winston Dekert joined the crew of the Kennedy, beginning with this log entry,” she commanded.
She looked straight at Dekert and smiled, then turning to the captain she explained. “Back at the Academy it was suspected that a student was breaking into various logs and erasing positive reports on programmers and fire-percenters, and if possible, inserting negative evaluations. Then Lieutenant Grifn and I developed this software. It tracks file fragments and reconnects them with their original files. It also traces the individual or individuals who made the alterations.”
As she finished speaking the log entry disappeared from the display wall. The computer said “Log entry corrected.”
“Play corrected entry,” the captain ordered. Sarah watched the exo’s face as the complete entry played. The smug grin was replaced by a look of horror as their entire conversation was played back.
She turned back to the captain. “I believe that it may take an hour or two for the computer to rebuild the entire set of log files, but I think, sir, that you will find them most compelling.”
The captain pressed a stud on his console. Two security officers entered the room. “Mr. Dekert, it appears that you are guilty of tampering with the official logs of this ship. Quite a feat I am sure. You are hereby relieved of duty and, pending the outcome of your trial, you are also stripped of your rank aboard the Kennedy.” He turned to the Security officers. “Throw him in the brig and no visitors or messages!” he ordered.
Captain Hanley sat down at his desk and started to look through the list of restored files. As she was the one who brought the problem to his attention, he began with a search on entries concerning Sarah. What he found astounded him. She waited silently by his desk to be dismissed.
“This is unbelievable, Ensign!” Hanley said. The shock in his voice was unmistakable. “When you came to us he told me that there were no recommendations from the Academy at all. There are multiple positive recommendations, from every instructor with whom you studied, as well as the Commandant and your Academic Advisor.
“I am finding glowing entries here from our Chief Engineer, as well as positive notations in the log entries by the Second Engineer, too. I see here positive comments from the Security Chief, your current supervisor, and many incidental remarks in various logs scattered throughout the ship. It appears that Dekert had tendrils into every log file on board. I have never seen anyone capable of doing this before.”
“Captain, if I may, after we located the culprit at the Academy someone said something about a bureau and everyone just went silent. I am not sure which bureau he was referring to though.”
Captain Hanley drew a long breath and exhaled. “I’m surprised that in all your time in the Corps you haven’t heard of it before. It was not ‘a bureau’, but ‘THE Bureau’.
“When the Terran Command was established seventy years ago there were some who felt that extra protection was needed in this new alliance that we had made with the League. It was proposed that a section be created within the Terran Command that would operate independently, and without oversight, to allow for plausible deniability. Officially they were supposed to protect the people of Earth, and the humans in the Corps. To that end they managed to get certain clauses inserted into our constitution that allowed for the creation of ‘The Bureau’.
“‘The Bureau’ had a free hand; it was absolute power, and they were soon corrupted by it. Their activities included blackmail of other League members, often arising out of situations created by The Bureau itself. There were a few suspicious deaths that led to an investigation. But, how do you investigate a secret organization? In the end a few weak links were found, and enough was learned that the World Congress and the League Council jointly declared The Bureau illegal. All official funding was discontinued, and the constitution of the Terran Command was rewritten without the clauses that gave rise to The Bureau’s creation in the first place. Even after that, many believe that The Bureau simply went underground, finding new sources of revenue to fund their activities.
“It’s possible that Dekert is Bureau. That would explain how he was able to hack the logs, and why. That’s also why I ordered him kept incommunicado. Unfortunately, it won’t work if The Bureau has one or more agents buried deep in my Security team. Watch your six, Maloney,” the captain added.
“Now,” he continued, “the next question is ‘What do we do with you?’ It is now obvious that Dekert set you up to be relieved of your engineering duties. I am told that your new replacement isn’t anywhere near as good as you. Do you want to go back to your old post?”
“Actually, Captain, I really like where I am now, but if you need me back on the Engineering deck I will be happy to resume my duties there.”
The captain pressed a stud on his console. “Chief Astrogator report to the Ready Room,” he commanded. A moment later she arrived. “Chief Wilson, I think I’ve found your replacement for Waverley.” He indicated Sarah. The Chief smiled her agreement. “Good, that’s settled.” To Sarah he said, “Maloney, I’m assigning you to the helm station on day watch until further notice, where you will assume your duties as Assistant Chief of Astrogation. Now, before you resume your post report to Quartermaster and pick up your new rank insignia, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, Captain,” Sarah answered, “thank you.”
“Dismissed,” Hanley said while continuing to read the log entries, concentrating on the ones where programmers had received commendations from their superiors. As she headed for the lift she heard the captain call over the ship-wide hail, “Petty Officer Peter Preston report to the Captain’s Ready Room!”
There was yet another surprise waiting for Sarah when she reported to the quartermaster. The rank insignia he issued her were for a First Lieutenant. When she questioned the quartermaster he simply shrugged and said, “That’s what the captain ordered. When I called to confirm he just said ‘She earned it.’” So, for the second time, Sarah skipped over at least one rank on her journey to the top.
As she was returning to the bridge, Sarah ran into Peter Preston. He was practically floating on air. When he saw Sarah he couldn’t help himself, the words exploded forth. “I’m being sent back to the Academy for Officer Candidate Training. Sassy, I’m going to be an officer.”
Immediately he realized that he had seriously violated protocol and pulled himself up short. “Apologies for the outburst, Ensi…” He noticed the Lieutenant’s bars on Sarah’s collar. “Lieutenant? Congratulations, ma’am.” He beamed at Sarah.
“You, too, Mr. Preston, best of luck at OCT; I look forward to having you back as an officer,” she told him, adding quietly, “Way to go, Peter!” She didn’t tell him that she had recommended it.
Sarah was pleased to learn that the Kennedy’s new executive officer was more carefully screened concerning his attitudes to the program and especially to zoners who were in the program. It meant that she could concentrate on doing her job in the same superior manner as always. The new exo recognized her talents, and her work ethic, and commended her accordingly. The year following Sarah was promoted again and reassigned. After a short leave to visit her family, she reported to the LSS Victory.
On July 18, 2354, Sarah reported to her new ship. Her welcome by the executive officer was a lot warmer than it was on the Kennedy. “Pleased to finally meet you,” Commander Loral Grifn said as he welcomed her aboard. “My sister, Nelia has told me a lot about you, Lieutenant-Commander. I look forward to working with you.”
“I look forward to it as well, Sir,” Sarah said.
“Excellent, for now, report to quartermaster for your Victory uniform insignia, she’ll assign you quarters in ‘officers’ country’, as well. You will report to the bridge at 0700 hours tomorrow for your first shift. I recommend that you familiarize yourself with the ship in the meantime”
“Thank you, Commander; I believe that I will take that suggestion,” Sarah answered, “If, for the moment, you would be kind enough to direct me to the quartermaster?”
The exo smiled, he realized that she was putting him on. He should have known that Sarah would have memorized the ship’s layout long before she came on board. “This way, Lieutenant-Commander,” he said indicating the way to the lifts.
If Loral Grifn was hoping to see Sarah in action he was going to have to wait a bit. The first year of her new assignment was for the most part routine; at least as routine as duty aboard a Jump-two class ship might be. There were runs between the various colonies; interdicting would-be marauders hoping to cash in on their vulnerability, giving emergency aid to disabled craft, and sometimes finding lost “explorers”.
Then two weeks after the first anniversary of the day she joined the crew, the Victory was on a routine run from the rehab colony on Brin to Corps Base 16 when a distress call came in from the LSS Pasteur, a medical transport from the Orion system.
They were under attack by unidentified marauders. The location of the transport immediately raised red flags. They were just three light years from the frontier of the Galoran Empire, just outside the Chora Nebula. Images of the simulator and the no-win scenario flashed through Sarah’s mind.
Captain Hines looked at his first officer. “Mr. Grifn, your evaluation?” he asked.
The Drixian officer must have had the same experience as Sarah because his answer was the same as she would have given. “It looks like the Galoran set-up again, sir,” he replied. “It appears that they’re making another play for a Jump-class vessel and we’re it.”
“Any ideas how we should handle this, Commander?”
“I think that we might ask Lieutenant-Commander Maloney,” Grifn suggested. “My sister tells me that she hates to lose, and believes that the lieutenant-commander has been working on a solution to this scenario ever since she faced it in the Academy simulator.”
Hines turned to Sarah, “Is that so, Maloney?”
Sarah turned to face the captain’s chair. “Yes, sir, like the commander says, I hate to lose. More than that, Captain, the Corps’ research has advanced in several areas in the past two and a half years. Based on our advances in weaponry and shields I have created a tactical scenario that should work.”
She turned to her console and called up a battle plan which she then relayed to the captain’s station. “As you know, Victory is equipped with the smart torpedoes that I proposed to Commander Nelia Grifn two and a half years ago. Our shields are stronger, and our PPCs are able to handle a much greater load. Lastly, we’re carrying a full complement of Annihilator torpedoes. We’re a Jump-two ship that’s fully loaded.”
“As well,” she added, “the Exeter is a short jump away. We could have her jump in behind the gas giant of the Brin system. She would be less than five minutes out, if we need to call her. Though I recommend that their involvement be a strategic hit-and-run strike… Exeter is only a Jump-one craft, and her shields are not as strong as ours.”
While Sarah was speaking Captain Hanes was reviewing her battle plan. “This is very well thought out,” he commented. “You’re sure that it will work?”
“Yes, sir!” Sarah answered smartly. “I believe it works, even without the Exeter as back-up, sir.”
“Very well, Lieutenant-Commander, make it so.” Hanes turned to his console. He pressed a stud on the “Comm” panel. “All hands, this is the captain. Battle stations, all decks, all stations. This is not a drill. Lieutenant-Commander Maloney is Battle Commander!”
He stepped out of his chair. “Lieutenant-Commander, take the Con,” he ordered. Then quietly to Sarah he added, “It’s your plan, Maloney.”
“Aye, Captain,” she said, climbing into the captain’s chair. As she did so Ensign Cox took up her position at the helm.
Sarah lost no time. “Ensign Latimer, contact the Exeter on a secure channel, apprise them of our needs. Ask Captain Brooks to take up station behind the gas giant in Brin’s system and await our call.”
“Aye, Commander,” the communications officer responded.
Next Sarah called up the armory. “Mr. Paxton, load all tubes except two and six, both port and starboard, with Annihilators. Load smart torpedoes into the remaining tubes. Over charge all of the PPCs to one hundred and forty percent.”
“One-forty percent, aye, Battle Commander!” There was a small twinge of nerves in Paxton’s voice. Just as she did in the simulator, Sarah was pushing the weapons to their absolute limits.
“Tactical,” Sarah continued, “charge all battle shields to maximum, and overcharge our running screens to one hundred and twenty percent.”
“Cox, lay in a course to bring us to within one light year of the Pasteur. If this is the same scenario, as soon as we drop out of hyperspace, you will set course directly toward the ship just off the Pasteur’s bow and engage at maximum warp.
“Tactical at minimum range fire the forward tubes and PPCs simultaneously. At that point Cox, you will alter course to pass over the Galoran ship on the dorsal side of the Pasteur. Tactical will fire the forward PPCs again to knock the raider on her dorsal side off balance.
“As we pass over the dorsal ship target the ships to Pasteur’s port and starboard. We’ll fire both port and starboard tubes. The smart torpedoes should keep the dorsal ship from an effective response while we engage the ship on the Pasteur’s stern…”
As Sarah finished giving her orders and instructing the crew on the strategy, Ensign Latimer informed her that the Exeter reported that she was in position behind the gas giant. Sarah turned to the helm and said, “Mr. Cox, Engage…” Ensign Cox pressed a key combination on his board and the ship jumped into hyperspace.
When the Victory dropped back into normal space things weren’t as Sarah had expected. The Pasteur was there, with only two destroyers flanking her, and that was all. The expected formation for which they had planned was not present. On seeing the arrangement Sarah cancelled her order to make the final approach at warp.
“This doesn’t make sense. Look at the damage to the Pasteur, those two vessels couldn’t possibly have inflicted that much damage by themselves.”
“I agree, Battle Commander,” Hines said.
“My gut tells me that there is a lot more going on here, but I can’t see the trap. Returning command to you, Sir.”
“Not so fast Battle Commander,” the captain ordered. “If your gut tells you that this isn’t right, then the battle isn’t over yet. Orders?”
The entire bridge turned to look at Sarah. She thought for a brief moment, and then the light bulb went on. “I can’t see it!” she said emphasising each word. “That’s it!”
When the captain looked at her quizzically she motioned that he and Commander Grifn should come close. “Captain, we, I need to take control of the Pasteur. Only you have the codes, she whispered.”
The captain and commander both looked at Sarah as if she was a stranger. “How do you know about the command codes? That is restricted information,” Captain Hines whispered.
“If we survive I’ll explain it all to you, sir. For now, I need to control the Pasteur’s systems.” Captain Hines gave Sarah a last scrutinizing look and then approached her command console. He entered his authorization code. From his station Grifn did the same. Instantly a list of codes appeared on Sarah’s command monitor. She chose the code for the Pasteur and activated it. She now had full control of the medical ship.
Sarah first engaged the Pasteur’s intruder suppression gas. She flooded the entire ship except the Medical Bay. At the same time, she sealed the Med Bay doors so no one could get in or out. She also isolated Med Bay’s computer terminals from the main and backup servers. If there were any Galorans in Med Bay they were completely cut off.
Next she released the exterior plasma emitters. Rapidly the gases expanded outward. At the last second Battle Commander Maloney ionized the plasma. The whole area for half a light year became luminescent. Within the field of charged particles there were eight blank spaces.”
Sarah reacted instantly. “Paxton, replace the Annihilators in the forward tubes with smart torpedoes and fire when ready. Blanket that area. Tactical, target as many of those dark areas with our forward PPCs and fire. Cox, plot a course straight down the centre of those shapes and engage at warp fourteen.
“Torpedoes away, Battle Commander,” Paxton reported. Almost immediately explosions could be seen in the plasma field. Four or five destroyers appeared as if by magic. They had sustained significant damage.
As the Victory entered the cloud perimeter Sarah ordered the port and starboard tubes to begin firing with warheads set to proximity detonation. Three more ships appeared, super ships, what the Galorans called “Axia-class.” They, too, had sustained heavy damage. Victory’s tubes, already loaded with smart torpedoes, launched again. More explosions were seen as, still-cloaked, Axia-class vessels ran into the dispersed charges.
“Tactical, bring PPCs to bear on those explosions and fire. Four more Axia-class ships de-cloaked with moderate to heavy damage. All the Galoran ships were visible, or at least those that the charged plasma cloud had revealed. Most, too heavily damaged, were retreating. For a moment it looked like the battle was over until the Tactical station reported that a handful of smart charges were set off at the outer perimeter of the battle zone.
“More Axia-class ships,” Sarah concluded as Hines turned towards her. “Latimer, signal the Exeter. Tell them to blanket the area with smart torpedoes as soon as they drop out of hyperspace.”
The ensign had just completed the order when the first shots from the attacking ships hit the Victory. Sarah ordered Paxton to fire another volley of Annihilators set for proximity detonation. Two damaged Axia ships appeared, they were in retreat as the Exeter dropped into normal space.
As ordered, Exeter blanketed the area with smart torpedoes and jumped out again. As Sarah expected, smaller concentrations of the smart charges was not strong enough to penetrate the limited shields of the cloaked Axia ships, but a saturation level of smart charges was enough to force the Galorans to de-cloak in order to bring their shields to full power and, at the same time, maintain the charge on their energy weapons.
Victory took significant damage from the first attack of the Axia warships. She still had half of her torpedo tubes port, starboard, fore and aft, and enough of the heavy Annihilators for one last run at the Galoran raiders. Sarah ordered Cox to reduce speed to feign damage.
As Victory broke off from the battle zone the Galorans pursued her, Sarah had Cox slow down, as if the engines were failing. At the last second, she ordered Victory to come about and charge down the centre of the attacking ships. For the most part the tactic worked.
Only one Galoran ship was able to pull back at the last second and escape Victory’s last offensive. As she fired her last Annihilator the enemy vessel began an attack run. With her battle shields down to forty percent, Sarah wasn’t sure they could stand another assault from the Galoran super ship.
“Cox, turn us toward her. Tactical fire all forward PPCs.” Cox did as he was ordered, but the tactical station only got one shot off from the PPCs. As they tried to maintain fire the emitters failed under the load.
The Galoran ship must have sensed their problem as the Axia ship held her fire until she was at minimum range. Just as the Galoran was about to open fire, the Exeter dropped out of hyperspace once more. This time she was firing Annihilators from all tubes. The Galoran ship was utterly destroyed. The Victory’s bridge crew allowed themselves the luxury of one rousing cheer before getting down to business once more.
Sarah issued her last commands. “All stations report status to the exo. All damage control teams report repair estimates to exo by 1800 hours. Latimer, send to Captain of the Exeter – ‘Thanks for saving the day.’” She then stepped out of the captain’s chair.”
“Battle Commander standing down, Captain. I return command to you, sir,” she said.
“Thank you Battle Commander, you are relieved.” The formalities out of the way Captain Hines added, “Well done Lieutenant-Commander!”
Sarah was surprised, “Sir? The Victory is badly damaged, and if not for the Exeter’s timely arrival…”
Hines held up his hand to end Sarah’s self-recriminations. “First off, Lieutenant-Commander, battle damage is what it is. You know as well as I do that when you go up against superior numbers you will take many hits. You may have noticed that we are still in one piece – more or less. The more critical damage will be repaired as we continue to Corps Base 16. Once we get there, Command will assess the damage and decide if the Victory will undergo refit.” Again, Sarah was taken aback.
The captain continued his very public assessment. “We assumed a particular scenario going in. Had that been the case, then your initial plan would have kept that damage to a minimum. As it was, your quick thinking prevented us from flying into a very deadly trap. I shudder to think what would have happened if you hadn’t pulled that play with ionized plasma out of your bag of tricks.”
“Sir,” Sarah countered, “If it wasn’t for Exeter we would be in Galoran hands…”
“Yes,” the captain interrupted her, “and whose idea was it to keep the Exeter in reserve for just such an eventuality?”
At that point Ensign Latimer broke in. “Reply from Captain of the Exeter, “‘Glad to be of assistance. It was an honour to fight alongside you, Battle Commander!’”
The captain turned to Latimer, “Thank the Captain of the Exeter again, for me. Inform him of the possibility of, hopefully still sleeping, Galorans aboard the Pasteur, and ask him to take over with her transport to Corps Base 16.”
“Captain,” Sarah interjected, “may I suggest that we lend Exeter some of our marines as backup to her troops? It is hard to say what they might find when they board the Pasteur.”
“Good thinking, Maloney. Latimer, make it so.” The captain ordered. Then turning again to Sarah he continued, “See, that’s what I’m talking about. That was an excellent recommendation.
“Your performance was outstanding. I could almost say that I owe you my ship. After the fact, everything you did was so logical, but if I am honest with myself, I am not sure that I would have seen what you saw, or did what you did. I am going to hate to lose you, but after I do what I am about to do I can just see Command transferring you off the Victory, especially if they decide not to refit her.”
“About that, Captain,” Sarah cut in, “Victory is a great ship, why would they not refit her?”
“She is a fine ship, Lieutenant-Commander,” Hines agreed, “but she’s almost thirty years old and only a Jump-two vessel. Command may choose to decommission her and name a new Jump-three ship after her.
“And now, before you interrupt me again, Lieutenant-Commander – and that’s the last time I will call you that – for superior service to this ship, her captain and her crew, I hereby promote you to the rank of full Commander, with all the duties and privileges of that rank. All assembled, hip hip…”
The bridge crew responded with a rousing “Hurrah!” The captain repeated the cheer twice more to the resounding response from the bridge crew.
“Now, Commander, report to quartermaster before she gets too busy with the repairs, and then take over from Commander Grifn coordinating damage control.”
Sarah snapped to attention smartly, “Aye, Sir!” She then relaxed, smiled at the captain adding, “Thank you, Captain.”
Captain Hines leaned in close once more and quietly said, “The gratitude is mine,” and glancing around the bridge, “…and ours. Dismissed, Commander.”
Captain Hines’ prediction was correct. After three days at Corps Base 16 Terran Command decided that the damage that the Victory sustained was sufficient to warrant decommissioning her in favour of a newer vessel. Accordingly, the crew was reassigned.
Captain Hines was promoted to Vice-Admiral and reassigned to the Stellar Corps’ Terran. Commander Grifn was given command of the LSS Intrepid, a new smaller, leaner and more powerful Jump-two class ship. Most of the crew went with him. Many were anxious to serve on a brand new ship, even if it was only Jump-two. Sarah was transferred to the LSS Pegasus, another Jump-three ship, though significantly newer than the old Victory.
Before she assumed her new post, however, Sarah had to return to Earth Command for a lengthy de-briefing on the Pasteur mission. For reasons that no one could understand, apart from the standard report and interview, she was essentially put through the wringer about each part of her strategy.
The sessions lasted for three days, following which Sarah was informed that she was being awarded a further commendation, over and above the one given by the captain for the execution of her strategy. She was also given a week’s liberty so, of course, she went home.
Sarah had been home for about three days when the summons came; orders to report to Terran Command’s New York headquarters. As ordered, she presented herself at the office of Admiral Henderson Porter at 0900 hours the next morning. The admiral wasted no time on pleasantries.
“Sorry to intrude on your liberty Commander Maloney,” he began. “Undoubtedly you have been informed of your new assignment?” When Sarah confirmed this, he continued. “Then you know that you are to report to the LSS Pegasus as her new executive officer. Your new captain will be Captain George Willoughby. Willoughby is a good man; no nonsense and straight up. At least that is how he appears to anyone reading his record of service. We in the Admiralty, however, have questions.”
“Sir?” was all Sarah said in response.
“Don’t get me wrong, Commander, Captain Willoughby has done exceptional service for the Stellar Corps. He has been decorated and commended many times.” Admiral paused for a moment. “It’s just that he never did that well at the Academy. No one ever expected him to make captain. That alone might be ascribed to natural talent, but it is equally possible that he has had help to excel.” He paused again.
“How can I put this? His rise to command was very smooth. It is almost as if the assignments he was given were designed to allow him to succeed. I am sure that you remember Commander Dekert?”
“He is not easy to forget,” Sarah said.
“His path to success was very similar, and as far as we can be sure, Dekert was an agent of The Bureau. Even though The Bureau was outlawed, and officially closed, more than fifty years ago, we are quite certain that it’s still active, still recruiting in the shadows. We fear that The Bureau has its tentacles reaching into all parts of the Corps perhaps even as far up as the Admiralty.”
“Admiral, with respect, is this just a heads-up or do you have orders for me?” Sarah asked directly.
“Not orders, exactly,” he answered. “We simply need you to be aware of your surroundings. You need to be alert to what’s going on around you. If Willoughby is Bureau, then he will have you in his cross hairs. The Bureau won’t have forgotten Dekert so soon. It’s known for its long memory, and for having a passion for revenge.
“But there is more… We suspect that Willoughby may be a part of The Bureau’s financing arm. Since they were outlawed The Bureau needs to find other ways to finance their activities. For example, the League has established certain laws with respect to refugees escaping from the Galoran Empire’s colony systems.
“The League of Systems has determined that we cannot assist ships fleeing the Empire so long as they are on the Galoran side of the frontier. If, however, a ship should make it into League space, Corps vessels are ordered to offer them assistance and protection from pursuing Galoran warships.
“As you can guess, the Empire is not so pleased with the League’s position. The Galorans will pay significant bounties for any ships that are either turned back, or disabled before they can cross. They pay a lesser bounty if the fleeing ship is destroyed, as an example to others who would try to run.
“Needless to say there are a number of private ships that are willing to risk patrolling the frontier in order to intercept these refugees and turn them back and collect the bounty. If caught these captains will lose their ship, and the command crew can be sent to a rehab colony, but those who do it usually believe the “reward” makes the risk worth it.
“Since the law went into effect we have heard rumours that a few Corps ships have been collecting the bounties. As we can’t find any evidence of this in the personal finances of any of the captains suspected of doing it. We can only assume that the money is being used to finance The Bureau’s activities.
“We suspect that Willoughby may be one of those helping to keep The Bureau in business. If that is so, it means that his bridge crew may be also be Bureau agents, or are in some way being coerced into cooperating; the latter being the more likely. Either way, if you witness such behaviour you will have no choice but to arrest Captain Willoughby and take command of the Pegasus.”
Sarah was taken aback by Admiral Porter’s statement. “Is that an order, Sir? Forgive me for saying so Admiral, but it sounds like a lot more than just a heads-up.”
“It’s a necessity,” Porter answered. “If he is breaking the law and consorting with our enemy, then he is unfit for command. He must be removed. I am counting on you, Maloney, to do the right thing; should it be necessary.”
“I always do the right thing, Admiral,” Sarah responded. She was somewhat miffed that Porter should suggest anything otherwise.
“That’s all I ask, Commander; dismissed.”
Sarah left the Admiral’s office feeling very uneasy. There was something gnawing in the pit of her stomach. It just didn’t feel right. Then, to her great delight she ran into Thomas Grissom. She was about to address him as “Commander” when she noticed the new insignia on his collar.
“Congratulations, Captain,” Sarah said enthusiastically.
“You, too, Commander,” he replied warmly. “What brings you to Terran Command in the middle of your liberty?”
“I just had the strangest meeting with Admiral Porter. He said that it was just to give me a heads-up about Captain Willoughby, but it just doesn’t feel right.”
“Have you time for a coffee, Commander?” Grissom asked. “Maybe you’d like to share it with me?”
Sarah agreed, and the pair headed for a café not far from the base. During the short walk Sarah and Grissom exchanged pleasantries and various bits of information of a more personal nature.
“By the way,” Grissom told Sarah, “you will have an old friend joining you on board the Pegasus. Your former student, Peter Preston, now Ensign Peter Preston, completed his Officer Candidate training with flying colours and has been assigned to the Pegasus as a Tactical/Security officer.”
When Sarah gave the captain a quizzical look he continued. “Ever since you took the initiative with Mr. Preston back at the Academy I have kept an eye on him. Your faith in him, and his talents, is well founded. I agree with your belief that he’ll make a fine officer, and I was sure that you would appreciate having an old friend along as you begin your first stint as exo on the Pegasus.”
After they were seated in the café with their coffees steaming before them, Grissom turned serious. “So, Maloney, tell me about this meeting with Admiral Porter.”
Sarah looked about to see if anyone was showing any interest in their conversation. When she was certain that there were no prying eyes, she told Grissom everything that Admiral Porter had said to her. When she finished Thom Grissom sat silently, mulling over what he had just heard.
When he finally spoke up, he was guarded in his response. “On the surface it sounds like a friendly heads-up, just as he said, but the nature of it, and why he’d make a special effort to call you in doesn’t make sense. Have you ever had any dealings with him before?”
Sarah shook her head.
“Then why call you? What could he be driving at?”
“What I am curious about is the fact that he kept insisting that he isn’t giving me any orders, yet he insists that if I observe the kind of behaviour that he outlined I was to act immediately. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“Your gut?” Grissom asked.
“My gut,” Sarah agreed.
“Then trust your gut, and watch your six,” Grissom told her. “Sarah, you’re too valuable to the Corps to get caught up in a Bureau revenge scheme. Be careful, please!”
“I promise, Captain,” Sarah said solemnly, then changed the subject, “So, tell me, does a new assignment go with the captain’s bars?”
“Yep! I’m being assigned to the Lunar Design and Assembly Station. I’ll miss the Academy, but it hasn’t been the same since you left anyway, and now that your protégé has graduated too, a new challenge is looking good.”
Sarah and Grissom chatted over their coffees for another half hour before Sarah left to meet her mother for a little shopping. As they parted she still felt uneasy about her meeting with Admiral Porter, but her chat with Grissom had helped her put it all into perspective. A few days later she boarded the transport to Corps Base 6 to rendezvous with the Pegasus.
If Porter had made her uneasy about Captain Willoughby, the captain did his best to make her feel welcome on her arrival aboard the Pegasus. He personally showed her to her quarters.
“Feel free to personalize it as you will, within reason of course. I want you to feel at home during your tour with us. Your record preceded you, of course, and I am looking forward to working with you, Commander. A strong executive officer makes any captain look so much better,” he told her through a broad smile. “Get settled. There is a meet and greet for the new officers at 1600 hours in the Officers Lounge, followed by dinner for the senior staff in the Captain’s Mess.”
Willoughby shook her hand warmly once more, and left. Left alone for the moment, Sarah took stock of her new situation; as she took stock of her surroundings. “Pretty posh digs,” she thought. “If I’d known they lived this well, I’d have pushed to make exo the day after I enlisted,” she joked to herself.
At 1555 she left her quarters heading for the meet and greet, still wearing her travel uniform. In the corridor she ran into Peter Preston. “Well look at you, Ensign,” she said, then checking to see that the corridor was empty, she grabbed him and gave him a great hug. “Good for you, Peter. I knew you had it in you – have it in you,” she told him. It was only as she let go of him that Sarah noticed that he was in his dress uniform.
“Didn’t the captain tell you that it was formal?” Peter asked, when she expressed her surprise. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled Peter back into her quarters.
“My dress blues are in there.” She indicated her travel bag. “Get them out and run them through the auto-press, please,” she instructed him as she began peeling of her current uniform. When Peter stood transfixed for a moment, his mouth slightly agape at what he was seeing. “C’mon, Peter, you’ve seen it all before, and from a less flattering angle, too,” she reminded him.
Peter shook off his shocked stupor as her last piece of clothing hit the floor, and Sarah dashed into the sonic shower. He found the dress uniform in her travel bag, and fed it into the auto-press to be freshened up and pressed. He also dug out some fresh undergarments to go with the, now immaculate, dress uniform. When, two minutes later, Sarah emerged from the shower she appreciated his anticipation of her needs.
“Now that’s initiative!” she quipped with emphasis, as she jumped into her uniform. Even though, as she reminded him, Peter had seen it all before, he still averted his gaze as Sarah dressed. Before they left her quarters, she gave him a thank you peck on the cheek. By now quite used to relating to Sarah as his superior, Peter was taken aback.
Realizing the reason for his surprise Sarah said, “That wasn’t a kiss from your exo, but a sign of gratitude from your friend,” adding, “both for your assistance and your gallantry. She smiled warmly, and, in spite of himself, Peter smiled back.
Then, as they emerged from her quarters, they were all business. If anyone had passed by at that moment they would have never given a moment’s thought to the fact that the new exo and the newly assigned ensign were in her quarters together.
As they arrived at the Officers Lounge they were, once again, met by Captain Willoughby. “Commander, Ensign, I see that you have already met on the way here.” He smiled at them both. “And Commander, I see that you guessed that dress blues were expected, I only realized a moment ago I forgot to tell you that this was a formal gathering.” Sarah sensed a slight tension in his remark.
“You can thank Ensign Preston for alerting me to that fact. You see Preston and I were at the Academy together, and I recommended his candidacy at Officer Candidate training. I was anxious to congratulate him on his success. When I saw him in dress blues I realized my error of dress and dashed back to my quarters to change.” She smiled broadly at Peter.
Willoughby also smiled at Peter, “Thank you, Ensign, for helping to correct my oversight. Come along, both of you, grab a glass of bubbly. It’s time for the traditional welcome toast.” He indicated the bar along the back wall and faded off into the crowd until it was time for him to make the toast.
As they picked up their drinks at the bar, Sarah purposely reached beyond Peter so that her mouth was close to his ear. “I can’t explain just now, but I may have put you into the captain’s crosshairs. I’ll explain later. For now, you need to watch your six.” In response Peter gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
It wasn’t until a day or two later that Sarah was able to “run into” Peter in a more or less isolated area of the ship. She didn’t go into all the details of her meeting with Admiral Porter, but she did tell Peter that their chance meeting and his help in her quarters the other day had probably put Peter in the captain’s bad books for foiling his plan to embarrass her at the reception, as she was sure that was what it was. He could have told her from the start that it was a formal reception.
“I’m sorry, Peter. I may have put you in harm’s way just for being my friend.” She said.
“That’s ok, Commander. That’s what friends are for. Besides, I wouldn’t have been there to help if you hadn’t sent me off to OC training.” He grinned. “Look at the dumb Knocker kid now. I’m an officer on a Corps Jump-three ship. That’s because of you, Commander.”
“No, Peter, it’s because you earned it – dumb Knocker my ass!” she said emphatically. “You were officer material from the start. I just pointed you in the right direction.”
“I still owe you anyway,” Peter told her earnestly. “You started everything that night when you didn’t kill me.”
“We do have quite a history, don’t we, Ensign?” Sarah smiled.
“Yes ma’am,” Peter smiled back. Then a bit more hesitantly he asked, “Permission to ask a very personal question, ma’am?”
“Go ahead, Peter. And if it is that personal you can call me by name.”
Sarah looked at Peter. His face was almost crimson with embarrassment. He began “When I joined the Corps they gave me a full physical, that included fixing any bones that had been previously broken, and repairing any scars that I had.” Peter faltered before continuing hesitantly, “I hope that you won’t be mad at me for noticing, but the other day as you were jumping into the shower I noticed that you didn’t have most of the scars I saw that night…”
“How can I be angry, when your sense of modesty is so strong?” Sarah commented. “Nudity was never a hang-up for me.”
“Well, it’s just that I noticed that they left the scar on your butt.”
“Yeah, I wanted to keep that one.” Sarah seemed to get a faraway look on her face. “Mandy accidentally gave me that one. I was practicing with my shuriken, throwing stars. I was working on my accuracy when banking them off other surfaces. Only, I forgot to lock the door of the practice room. Mandy opened the door just as I was banking a shot off it. The shuriken bounced just as I had planned, but the new angle sent it right into my butt. It’s the last thing that she ever ‘gave’ me. It’s special.”
When he saw the look on her face, Peter apologized. “Sorry, Sassy, I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”
“Don’t worry, Peter. Where Mandy is concerned, there is only one unhappy memory, but I do miss her, a lot!”
For the next few months Captain Willoughby kept up the façade of cooperating with his executive officer, while constantly putting Sarah into positions that could have made her look bad; even affect her record. Most of the time Sarah saw through the attempt and was able to avoid it, minimalize the importance of the situation, or turn it back on the captain himself.
Peter, too, proved that having been a “dumb Knocker kid” had its advantages. In the zone you had to be constantly watching your back. It seemed that in some ways it was the same in Stellar Corps. He was never sure if the orders came from the captain, or from elsewhere in the chain of command, but they invariably were made to look as if they came from the exo. For Peter that was often the red flag that allowed him to avoid embarrassment, or worse.
As with Sarah, there was usually a way to sidestep the trouble or turn it back on its source. If anything, whether because he was much lower down the chain of command, or simply because of his zone instincts, Peter was actually better at dodging the hit than Sarah.
It all came to a head at once when the Pegasus received her assignment to patrol the League’s frontier with the Galoran Empire. From the moment the assignment came through the hairs on the back of Sarah’s neck stood up. While the header on the message said that the orders were cut at Corps Station 15, Sarah dug deeper and found that their actual origin was Earth Command. The orders were issued to Base 15 by Admiral Porter.
Knowing this, Sarah did two things. First she quietly contacted Captain Grissom and apprised him of the situation.
“You’re right, Commander, it is strange. Again, Porter is seemingly getting into areas that are outside his jurisdiction. Are you sure about this?”
“Very sure, Captain,” Sarah assured Grissom. “I have learned a lot in space that they didn’t teach at the Academy; like how to do research without it being logged, or contact people without the call being monitored, or appearing in the official COMM log.” She smiled at Grissom’s mild look of surprise.
“I shouldn’t be so surprised,” he told her. “Commander Sarah Maloney is still ‘Sassy the Hunter’. Your instincts are still great.
“I’m going to ask some discrete questions at this end, and lay some ground work in case this is the trap we suspect it to be.”
“Thank you, Sir. I’ll keep my eyes open here, and take some measures as well. Be careful, if this is a trap they’ll be none too gentle with anyone who is on my side. As you told me, Thom, watch your six.”
Grissom smiled. That was the first time she had ever called him by his first name; even if it was not exactly Corps protocol. “Well I guess that is what co-conspirators do,” he thought, as he closed the connection.
When the suspected plan was initiated Sarah recognized it immediately. The scenario outlined by Admiral Porter that day in his office began to unfold. In her morning briefs from Corps she noticed that there was an entry mentioning the possibility that they may have to deal with a Breten refugee ship that was trying to evade capture or destruction by Galoran forces. The Bretens were on a heading that was expected to intersect with the Pegasus’ new patrol route.
Sarah relayed this information to Captain Willoughby at their morning briefing. His immediate response was to put the ship on high alert. He ordered the tactical officer to scan particularly for Breten ships.
Just after 1300 hours Ensign Parker reported scanner contact with a small Breten ship running at high warp. Long range scans confirmed that a Galoran destroyer was closing, but was still far enough behind that the Bretens would make League space before the Galorans intercepted them.
Willoughby immediately emerged from his ready room and took the con from Sarah. “Sound General Quarters” he ordered. “All weapons to bear on that ship.”
Sarah surveyed the bridge. Most of the crew on duty were not new, and didn’t seem too surprised at the captain’s order. It was Peter who questioned it.
“Sir?” was all he said.
“You disagree, Ensign, then, you’re relieved. Lieutenant Rogers take over.”
Sarah could see the set-up unfolding. Rogers moved to replace Peter at the tactical station. As Peter vacated the chair, Sarah gave him a nod and he hesitated near the door to the lift.
The captain turned to the communications officer. “Sissons, open a channel to the Breten ship.”
“Channel open” Lieutenant Sissons responded”
“Breten vessel, you are approaching the sovereign space of the League of Systems, do not attempt to enter our territory or you will be fired upon.”
Sarah noted that the captain was careful not to identify himself or the ship over an open com channel.
The Breten ship slowed a bit, but didn’t stop or deviate from her course. At current speed, she would still make League space before she was intercepted by the Galoran destroyer. When Willoughby saw that she was still on course he ordered Rogers to fire a warning shot across her bow. That’s when Sarah stepped in.
“Lieutenant Rogers, belay that order,” she commanded. Then turning to the captain, she said, “Captain Willoughby, under Section 601.1 of Stellar Corps regulations I am relieving you of your command for actions contrary to the laws of the League of Systems…”
“How dare you,” Willoughby exploded, as he advanced on Sarah menacingly.
“Don’t even think it, Captain,” she responded, her voice calm and even. Again, she nodded at Peter, who drew his sidearm, a handheld PPC. “Relieve the captain of his sidearm, if you will, Mr. Preston.”
“Aye, Captain,” Peter responded emphasizing Sarah’s assumed rank.
Sarah turned again to Willoughby. “Captain, you are relieved of command, and it is my duty to place you under arrest,” she continued.
“Escort him to the brig,” she told Peter.
Again he answered, “Aye, Captain.”
“Sissons, alert security, have them assist Ensign Preston in escorting Captain Willoughby to the brig. Then, open a channel to the Bretens.
Sissons did as she was told. A moment later she reported, “Channel open, Captain.” The relief in her voice was audible.
Sarah raised her voice slightly. “Breten vessel, this is Acting Captain Sarah Maloney of the LSS Pegasus. Ignore our previous transmission. Continue on your chosen course, if that is your intention. You will not be molested.”
Lieutenant Rogers reported that the refugee ship had resumed its original speed, as a squad of SPs entered the bridge and fell in alongside Peter as he directed Willoughby to the lift.
No sooner had Rogers confirmed the increase in the Breten’s speed when he reported that the Galorans had also increased their speed. “All scans indicate that both are pushing their engines beyond tolerance. It will be a race to see who gets here first.”
“Charge battle shields to one hundred and twenty percent. Helm, bring us to within a hundred thousand kilometers of the frontier. If the Breten ship makes it into League space, I want you to put us between them and the Galorans.
“Rogers, stand ready. It’s not unknown for the Galorans to fire upon a fleeing ship even if it is in League space. If they do, we are not only going to protect that ship; we will return fire.”
“Ma’am?” Rogers responded, surprised.
“Our orders are not to interfere so long as a refugee ship is still in Galoran space. If, however, they get across the frontier, then our orders are to render all necessary aid,” she explained, adding, “If they do open fire, and we are in between them and the Bretens, then they would be firing on us; that deserves a very strong response.”
“Aye, Captain,” was all Rogers said turning back to his console. “Shields at one-twenty percent of maximum,” he reported a moment later. “All tubes loaded and ready, all PPCs charged.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
The next few minutes were tense as the Breten refugees inched closer to the frontier, with the Galoran destroyer still in pursuit. Scanners showed them arming weapons as the Bretens passed into League space. As ordered, the helm officer manoeuvred the Pegasus into position between the Bretens and the frontier. The Galorans continued on-course.
“Sissons, give them the standard warning,” Sarah ordered.
“Warning sent, Captain,” Sissons reported.
The Galorans continued on, until they reached the frontier. Just as it appeared as though they were actually going to cross into League space, the ship cut its engines and turned aside; returning the way it came at greatly reduced speed. A cheer went up on the Pegasus’ bridge.
“Mr. Rogers, maintain General Quarters for now.” Sarah commanded. “They may have had an Axia-class vessel along for the ride. We’re not sure if they can fire when cloaked, and I’d rather not find out the hard way. We’ll maintain alert status until we deliver the Bretens to Corps Base 15.”
“Lieutenant Sissons, institute a ship-wide hail. Inform the crew of Captain Willoughby’s arrest. Tell the Officer of the Day that he is to have no visitors without my prior authorization.”
“Aye, Captain.” It seemed to Sarah that the crew sounded almost happy to address her as captain. She hoped that it was genuine.
A few minutes later Lieutenant Sissons reported that she had made the announcement concerning Captain Willoughby. Her board showed a marked increase in intra-ship chatter and “The Officer of the Day confirms your order. Captain Willoughby will be kept incommunicado until you say otherwise.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Ensure that all the chatter, to and from, is logged for future analysis, and hail the Breten ship.”
Melanie Sissons knew that Sarah’s reminder about logging the com chatter was important. It was not unknown that when a captain was relieved, members of the crew who were inordinately loyal might make moves to restore him to command. Usually such conspiracies were evident in the pattern of chatter following a captain’s arrest.
“Hail established, Captain,” Sissons reported.
Sarah stood on the deck between the forward stations that faced the view screen, which made up the front wall of the bridge. Presently the image of a very tired Breten officer appeared on the screen.
“Greetings,” Sarah opened, “I am Acting Captain Sarah Maloney of the League Jump-ship Pegasus. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?”
“I am First Officer Balor Prim of the Breten warp-ship Terrador. My captain was gravely injured in our escape and is unconscious in our Medical Bay.”
The condition of the bridge behind Prim gave evidence to his words. The extent of the damage to the Terrador’s bridge was visible on the Pegasus main view screen, and reflected the pummeling that was evident on her outer hull.
“We have over one thousand souls aboard as well as what is left of our crew,” Prim continued. “Our engines are overtaxed and life support is minimal. We gambled that there might be a Stellar Corps ship awaiting us if we succeeded in crossing the frontier, and pushed all of our systems beyond their limits. Will you help us?”
“Captain Prim, are your tractor emitters still functioning?” Sarah noted surprise on Prim’s face when she addressed him as captain. “They are.”
“Good, it makes it easier. We will initiate a tractor lock between our ships in preparation for jump-towing. Pegasus will bring the Terrador back to Corps Base 15, where more extensive medical assistance can be given to your own medical staff. While in transit we’ll send a team aboard to shore up your life support,” Sarah told him.
The relief on Prim’s face in the view screen was obvious as he thanked Sarah profusely. Then, after asking him a few more critical questions, to allow Pegasus to meet as many of their emergency needs as possible, Sarah signed off and closed the connection. It was now time to learn what was going on, and that was going to require risk.
Turning the conn over to Lieutenant Harris, the second officer, Sarah took the lift to deck six. En route she contacted Peter Preston and had him rendezvous with her outside the detention area.
They met in Section B of deck six. “Ensign, I am going to talk with Captain Willoughby. If he agrees to my terms I will grant him parole, however, I need to you to enact the Parole Protocol. This is to be kept between us, though you will need to enlist a few trusted crewmates. When I say trusted, I mean ‘trust with your life’ trusted. Also, when you activate the protocol use my subroutine WY6.3. Give me hourly reports.”
“Aye, Captain,” Peter answered, “and I know just the team!”
“Good! Make it so, Ensign,” Sarah said, adding “…and watch your six.”
Peter assured her that he would, and then turned and headed in the opposite direction. Sarah continued onto the brig.
The only prisoner in the cells, the captain was breathing fire. He spent the first five minutes of the interview spouting unending bile at Sarah. She waited silently until he seemed to run out of gas. Then she began speaking to him in quiet, even tones.
“Captain, I acted according to some rather cryptically given instructions that I received from Admiral Porter just before I joined this ship. Now, as back then, something doesn’t seem right. I need to get to the bottom of things. That said, you did violate League of Systems laws concerning ships escaping Galoran jurisdiction. You must remain under arrest; however, I see no reason why you need to remain in lock-up. If you are willing to give me your word that you will do nothing to undermine my authority as Acting Captain, or impede my investigations into the matter, I am willing to simply confine you to quarters.”
Willoughby mulled over her offer for a moment before agreeing. “You have my word, Captain,” he promised, but his voice was emotionless. There was an ominous tone to it, but Sarah recognized that it might be just dejection and defeat.
“Thank you, Captain,” she said. She then turned to the crewman monitoring the brig’s security console. “Mr. Bennett, summon a detail to escort Captain Willoughby to his quarters. Inform them that standard protocols are to be observed.
“Standard Protocols” meant that the Captain’s sidearm was seized, and his quarters were searched for any other weapons, even ceremonial ones, and they, too, were seized. Also, all communications equipment was disabled or removed. Willoughby had all the comforts of the captain’s cabin, but was still incommunicado as far as the ship or the Corps was concerned.
When the ban on visitors was lifted, Willoughby only received three: Lieutenant Rogers, Security Chief Duggan and the Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Franklin.
“The nice thing about being back in my quarters is that we can have this meeting, and no one can listen in. Not even that so-called genius sitting in my chair right now.” Willoughby started to get very angry very quickly. “That little bitch! How dare she relieve me? How dare she?!”
“Now George,” Chief Duggan replied, “you know that was the plan all along. Porter set things in motion when he called her in for that ‘little talk’ as he called it. Now we know. She can’t be recruited. So, we go to plan ‘B’ and discredit her, bring her down, and drive her out of the Corps.”
“I’d like to blow her out an air lock,” Willoughby said, continuing his rant. “That would send a message to anyone who thinks they can defy The Bureau.”
“I know what you mean,” Duggan agreed. “When I think about what she did to the Kennedy’s exo. I trained young Winston when you first recruited him. He had his rough spots, but he was on his way to being a fine addition to The Bureau.”
“It’s not just my nephew,” Willoughby told him. “She started getting under The Bureau’s skin long before that. There was that Markov business, at the Academy. He wasn’t worth our attention, but two of his friends, Romanov and Petkovic; they would have been first class operatives. Porter was just about to approach them when they backed up Markov on his bone-head move of the year.
“That’s how far back this all goes. We’d have eighty-sixed her back then, but too many eyes were on the fair-haired daughter of Earth’s Vice-Chancellor. Well, daddy’s not going to protect her now.”
“So, just to be sure that everyone’s on the same page,” Dr. Franklin began, trying to get their planning back on track. “Duggan, once you’ve removed her from the bridge you have to hit her with this mini-dart. It is loaded with Asmilot. It’s a drug that will make her paranoid, with psychotic overtones. It will keep her off balance for weeks, and make it seem like her seizing command was the result of mental imbalance. Once you’re back in the ‘driver’s seat’, Captain, the rest of the bridge crew will fall into line. They know what could happen if they don’t. No one will support her.”
“That will be beautiful revenge,” Willoughby said, then turning back to the business at hand, “As you leave, Doctor, you will use your famous mini-darts to anaesthetize the guards on the door. Wait for me in Corridor C, next to the weapons locker. Rogers, you will return to the bridge, act a if nothing was out of place. Doctor, Chief, as soon as the guards fall, I’ll join you at the weapons locker.”
Chief Duggan and Dr. Franklin nodded their agreement and left the captain’s quarters. As he passed the guards on the door the doctor fired his micro-darts, and continued walking as if nothing had happened. The guards were none the wiser, but within minutes the fast-acting drug had taken effect, leaving the guards slumped on the floor. Without a moment’s hesitation Captain Willoughby was on his way to meet his co-conspirators in Corridor C.
As soon as he arrived they went straight to the weapons locker. Knowing that his access would have been removed from the system, Willoughby indicated that Duggan should use his code, as Chief of Security, to open the locker.
Duggan did as the captain ordered; keying in his access code. Only, nothing happened. The door didn’t open as it should have.
“She may suspect,” Willoughby suggested, “but all is not yet lost. There is a Bureau code that should override our acting captain’s lock out.”
“Too bad you won’t have the chance to use it,” Peter Preston told him, as he emerged from the shadows, his sidearm at the ready. From five different points along the corridor Peter’s team of trusted men and women emerged, weapons in hand. “I’m sorry, Captain but it is back to the orange jump suits for you and your friends, and I’m afraid that the stricter intake policy must now apply.” The “stricter policy” included a strip search and cavity check. It served no useful purpose as scanners could detect contraband far more reliably. Peter was just taking advantage of an ancient regulation to humiliate the captain in retaliation for the attempt.
Captain Willoughby turned to Peter’s team. “C’mon people this is outrageous. You have no authority to do this. You’re just making things worse for that upstart would-be captain and for yourselves.”
“Save your breath.” It was Crewman Justain, one of Peter’s team, who spoke. “Every member of this detail made it through the Academy because of Captain Maloney,” she said. “We’ll stand with her, and if we must, we’ll fall with her. The brig is that way.” She indicated the direction with her PPC.
On the bridge Sarah was preparing to make the jump to Corps Base 15 when she was informed of the attempted mutiny. Peter reported to her personally. She listened to his brief report of the events carefully, but was preparing to make a jump tow with a ship that didn’t match any standard League vessel. Rather than going into detail he simply said that he would complete his report after the jump.
“Thank you Ensign, I look forward to hearing it,” was all Sarah said. Peter nodded and stepped back from the captain’s chair; a move that may have saved his life.
“Tractor lock established,” the con officer reported, “Ready to jump, Captain.”
“On my mark, helm…” Sarah said.
“Standing by, ma’am”
Sarah was about to give the command when Lieutenant Rogers stood up at the tactical station and drew his PPC, pointing it at Sarah. “You are not in command, zoner!” he said, and fired his weapon.
The Pegasus’ new acting exo, who was standing next to the captain’s chair, dove into the weapon’s path, taking the full charge in the chest. Peter drew his own weapon and fired, stunning Rogers. The tactical officer fell at his station.
Sarah dropped to Lieutenant Harris. He was dead. She looked up long enough to give the command to the helm officer, “Jump.”
After a medical team came and removed Harris’ body to the morgue, and Peter called up a team of trusted SP’s to protect her, Sarah checked the status of the jump with the helm.
“All systems stable, Captain,” came the report, “ETA at base 15 in thirty-two minutes.
“Very good, helm,” she responded. “Lieutenant Linn, take the con, I’ll be in the brig if you need me.”
Lieutenant Linn nodded her acceptance of the command and signalled the float officer to take her station.
In the brig Captain Willoughby was again breathing fire. This time Sarah didn’t let him rant. “Lieutenant Harris is dead,” she told him. “You may have ignored the flashing red lights as you hastened to violate your parole, but this ship is still at General Quarters. Even so, you chose to attempt to make a mutiny. Now one of your operatives has killed the acting exo. Think about that as we approach Corps Base 15.” She turned and left.
As he watched her leave the brig, a deflated Willoughby sat down hard, with an air of defeat. Dr. Franklin was the first to speak. “So what is she on about now?” he asked to no one in particular.
“Really, Doctor,” Duggan replied, “you really should be better informed about the Corps regulations that don’t necessarily pertain to the practice of medicine.
“We attempted a mutiny, while the ship was at General Quarters, and a crew member died as a result. When we get to Corps Base 15 we will be on trial for our lives, and there will be no one, I repeat, no one who will be able to help us.”
With that statement, all the prisoners fell silent.
The Pegasus arrived at Corps Base 15 on schedule, without further incident. Due to the nature of the charges against them, Captain Willoughby and his co-conspirators would normally have a had a delay before their trials began. As it turned out the delay wasn’t necessary. The trial was brief, because after some negotiation, all the co-conspirators pled guilty in exchange for the death penalty being taken off the table.
Within three days the Pegasus was ready to leave Corps Base 15. With her departure imminent, Sarah contacted Corps Headquarters.
“When will a new captain be assigned to us,” Sarah asked Admiral Conrad.
“Right now,” he replied. “Commander Maloney, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Captain, with all the duties and privileges of that rank. The Pegasus is your ship now, Captain. Take good care of her and her crew,” adding “…and in light of current events, watch your six.”
Maybe she should have been expecting it, but the promotion took Sarah by surprise. “Yes, Sir, and thank you, Admiral.” She said.
“The next order of business is for you to choose a new executive officer.” Conrad told her. On the screen she could see him pressing a few keys on his computer. “I am sending you the list of candidates. Their records are attached to their names.”
The list appeared on Sarah’s screen, and she had to restrain herself from jumping up and down and screaming. She looked seriously at the screen. “The last name on the list…”
“Yes, I’m sure you have probably heard the stories about the lieutenant-commander,” the Admiral cut her off, assuming she would reject the candidate.
“Just the opposite, Sir, I want this officer,” Sarah responded, “record notwithstanding.”
Admiral Conrad seemed a little taken aback by Sarah’s response. Before he could respond she added, “There won’t be any problems aboard my ship, Admiral. I can promise you that.”
Two days later the Pegasus’ new executive officer arrived on board, and as per protocol reported directly to Sarah in her ready room. Until now Sarah’s command of the Pegasus had not been widely announced. As soon as the lieutenant-commander was admitted she began with the standard greeting, “Lieutenant-Commander Amanda Running…” Seeing Sarah Mandy faltered, but relying on training picked up immediately, “…Deer reporting as ordered, Captain.” Only the immense grin on her face betrayed her emotions at that moment.
“At ease, Lieutenant-Commander,” Sarah ordered calmly, while inside she was aching to jump over her desk and run to her friend. “It is good to see you again, Running Deer,” she continued, evenly. “Your record shows that you have had some problems aboard other ships. I trust that there will be none of that aboard Pegasus?”
Mandy stood at ease and solemnly responded, “No ma’am, you can be assured of that.”
Sarah rose from her desk and walked around it to face Mandy. Without warning she swept her up in a fierce hug. Mandy responded in kind, and for a long moment they just held each other tight. Then as if by common consent each released the other at the same time.
“I thought you were dead,” she told Mandy. “When they hauled you away that night, and I heard nothing further… Every day I checked with our friends in the enclaves who received some form of news report from the Island, there was nothing. You don’t know how much I kicked myself for not fighting for you. I was sure that the pervs had gotten their revenge on you for what I had done.
“It never occurred to me that you might have been processed as a hunter and given the same choice I was given. Now I feel so dumb that I never checked Stellar Corps once I had access to our database.”
“Knowing you,” Mandy said shaking her head, “I’m sure that you were just short of self-flagellation. Only you had nothing to feel guilty about. If you had tried to fight you would have been taken too; and now you would be dead.
“Two seconds after you blew the tail off the mercenaries’ skimmer, two more arrived. We would have both been overrun before you could have gotten me into the skimmer that you commandeered.” She looked Sarah square in the eye. “You did the right thing, Sassy. And as you can see, I came out all right!”
“But what happened with your record?” Sarah asked. It’s full of negatives. That is definitely not you!”
“That began with my first space assignment. There was this lieutenant who had a thing against zoners, and even more against hunters. He would put me on report every chance he could, and I suspected – though I couldn’t prove it – that he was somehow erasing the positive comments and recommendations made by my immediate supervisors. He nearly got me broken to grunt, but luckily for me he was transferred before he could do his worst.
“Well, you know how an initial bad record can follow you. That one has dogged me ever since. It was only because of a few lucky breaks that I was eventually promoted as far as Lieutenant-Commander. I have been passed over so many times for senior positions aboard several ships.”
“This louie, his name wasn’t Dekert, was it? Winston Dekert?”
Mandy nodded and added, “I caught wind of him a few more times after he left the Ottawa. The last time I heard anything was when he made exo on the Kennedy.”
“That’s where I met him,” Sarah told her. “He tried to do the same thing to me as he tried with you. I am happy to say that he was promoted for his efforts…” Mandy looked horrified at the news.
Smiling broadly at her reaction Sarah completed her sentence, “…to civilian, and then to rehab colony resident. I was the one who really got promoted that time.” Sarah smiled even wider. “Let me call a friend at Corps Command. There is a utility I helped to write that should set straight your record from the Ottawa. If I am right, that might cause the powers-that-be to re-evaluate everything that followed. Who knows, there might even be a promotion in it for you.
“But in all seriousness, Mandy, will we be able to work together, considering our past relationship. I really want you as my exo. Can you take orders from me?”
All of a sudden Mandy snapped to attention. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?” she asked formally
“Granted,” Sarah replied equally formal.
“Sassy, you are my dearest friend, my loyal partner, and I owe you my life a dozen times over. I can guarantee you that question doesn’t need to be asked. You’re my captain now, if you will accept me, and I’ll follow you to the gates of hell and back if you so order it.”
“I am so glad to hear that, Lieutenant-Commander,” Sarah answered. Then, again, she threw her arms around Mandy’s neck and pulled her close. “I am so glad to have you back again,” she said. Then, as she released her, with a wry smile, she added, deadpan, “Oh, by the way, you got the job.”
Mandy smiled back, “Thank you ma’am, permission to get settled?”
“Granted,” Sarah replied. She pressed a key on her computer. The door opened and Peter Preston walked in. “I’ve asked Lieutenant Preston to give you a hand and show you around,” she said with that same devilish smile she always put on when springing a surprise on Mandy.”
Mandy returned her smile, nodded and followed Peter out of the captain’s ready room. As they exited, Sarah heard Mandy say, “Good to see you again, Mr. Preston. I’m pleased to see that Captain Maloney’s faith in you eight years ago has been rewarded…” the door slid closed on whatever response Peter might have made.
Even though they were back together again, neither Sarah nor Mandy expected that things would be the same as they were back in the zone. They were as close as ever, but their working relationship was no longer as fighting partners, but as Captain and executive officer. Still, they made it work. That had a major effect on the bridge crew, and its efficiency.
Mandy was an exo who knew her captain’s mind. She was able to carry out her orders, and convey them to the crew with clarity and precision. When questions arose that required answers, their level of cooperation was unparalleled; their problem solving as a team was astonishing. The rest of the crew saw them as models to emulate.
As time went on Peter became a part of their renewed friendship. As a friend Mandy respected and appreciated his loyalty. As an officer, she began to recognize his abilities and potential. It wasn’t long before she, in her role as executive officer, was recommending him for promotion. When the post became vacant Mandy put Peter forward as the new Chief Tactical Officer and Security Chief.
“Actually, Mandy, I am glad that the recommendation came from you.” Sarah told her friend during a rare moment of relaxation in Sarah’s quarters. “It gets harder and harder to recognize Peter for his contributions to the ship without it looking like I’m playing favourites. I think that he’ll make a fine Security Chief.”
“Yeah, I asked a number of the crew, both in the Tactical and Security section, and in general as well. I didn’t tell them who I had in mind, I just asked them who they thought would be the best person for the job. An overwhelming majority suggested Peter as a first choice”
“Oh really, Lieutenant-Commander, do you always make your command decisions by popular opinion?” Sarah asked, smiling.
Mandy smiled back. She knew how Sarah loved to needle her for fun. “No, Captain,” she responded, “but we are close enough that people might still call favouritism on his promotion if they thought that I made it all by myself. I had already made up my mind, but I wanted the crew to have their input. If they feel that they have a say in his advancement, then they will see his appointment as fair.”
“Just so long as they don’t start thinking that the chain of command is a democratic process,” Sarah cautioned. “This is a starship. There still has to be a captain.”
“Understood!”
It seemed that Peter fit right into Sarah’s “Chain of Command”. All her training during their time at the Academy and since, combined with what he learned in officer training, bore fruit in his execution of his new duties. So it was a great shock to Sarah when his request for transfer came across her desk.
That day, after the day watch, she summoned him to her quarters.
“What’s wrong, Peter?” she began, as soon as the door had closed behind him.
Peter took the chair that she offered. He sat silent for a moment before looking Sarah straight in the eye. The look on her face told him that this was not supposed to be a formal discussion between the captain and her security chief. He began by reiterating part of his request.
“Captain Grifn of the Intrepid has an opening for a Tactical Officer and Security Chief. It seems to me to be a good move for my career.” Then he stopped. There was another long pause. His voice took on a plaintive tone, mixed with something else that Sarah had never heard from him before. Without diverting his gaze he continued.
“The truth is, Sassy, I’m in love…” again a pause, “… with you.”
Sarah realized that she already knew this instinctively, as well as something else.
“It is too difficult for me to stay on the Pegasus, to stay here with you. So long as you’re my captain we can never be together, you know that. The regs, not to mention plain common sense, just won’t permit it. And …especially if you don’t feel the same, it gets ever more painful. Either way I have to leave before it begins to affect my efficiency. You have no idea how much it hurts to see you as often as I do and not be able to say anything. At least aboard the Intrepid I will keep my position, and be able to continue to move upward in the ranks.” Peter fell silent again.
Sarah rose from her chair and knelt before Peter. She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. “I think I have been aware of your feelings for a while now,” she answered quietly. “I have been hiding it from myself because to admit it is to also admit something else; that I feel the same for you.” She kissed him again, with passion, her arms enfolding him in tight embrace.
When they finally broke, she continued in the same quiet tones. “Letting you go will be so very hard, but you are wise to make the move. I will, of course, give Loral Grifn a call; he is a good friend. Unless there is someone else waiting in the wings, the transfer should go through. I am so going to miss you.” She kissed Peter again. It was a long while before Peter left Sarah’s quarters.
As promised, Sarah called Captain Grifn. The captain of the Intrepid was pleased to accept her recommendation. Three days later Pegasus and Intrepid rendezvoused outside of the system that was home to the Vergal colony, and Peter transferred to his new post.
If not for Mandy, those first few days following Peter’s departure would have been a disaster, but she always had a way of keeping Sarah grounded. A replacement for Peter was promoted from within, which sat well with the crew, even though there was no consultation this time. There was no appearance of favouritism in the promotion.
Life for Sarah did however improve greatly a couple of days following Peter’s transfer, when she opened her personal messages. Waiting for her was a message from him. Her surprise was not limited to the appearance of the message, but to the beauty of it. Who knew that this former ganger-kid from the zone could write such a passionate letter? He had grown so much since first joining the Corps. The message really made her day, and began a long series of almost daily correspondence between them. It was almost six months before they saw each other in person again.
After twenty-five years of service Corps Base 18 was being decommissioned. The ceremony was scheduled to follow immediately upon the happier ceremony commissioning the new Corps Base 18. Both the Intrepid and the Pegasus were scheduled to attend the two events.
Upon her arrival at the new facility, Sarah immediately looked for Peter, with great hopes of having some quality time together. It was just not to be. Moments after she found the Intrepid’s delegation, Captain Grifn and his senior staff were called away.
Sarah and Peter had just enough time to say hello, and for Sarah to receive Loral Grifn’s pledge of undying gratitude for her “giving” him his “new” Chief Security and Tactical Officer before Grifn received a priority message.
According to the message, a Mavorian ship had strayed into League space. The Mavorians were a militantly misogynistic race, who objected to females – of any race – being allowed in space in any capacity other than passenger.
More than one hundred years earlier, a short while before Earth joined the League, the Marvorians had locked horns with the Corps when one of their warships started attacking any League vessels with female crew that they came across.
The League issued orders to all their ships to engage any Mavorian vessel they found in League space. Very quickly the intruders learned that they were outclassed and out-gunned. The Mavorians were soundly driven back to their territory, and sternly warned against ever entering League space again, on threat of a war that the Mavorians would surely lose.
On that day, a single Mavorian ship had, seemingly, strayed into League space. It ran across a Drixian ship; a pleasure craft. The pilot, and her “crew” of three, were all female. When Captain Grifn was informed that the pilot was his younger sister Lilya, he lost no time in calling his ship and cancelling all leaves. Everyone was to report back to the Intrepid on the double!
“Sorry, Sassy,” was all that Peter had time to whisper to Sarah, while giving her a quick peck on the cheek, before following his captain back to their ship. The next day the Intrepid was reported missing.
Sarah was torn. Her first impulse was to abandon her assigned mission and go to the Intrepid’s last known coordinates and begin a search. It was only her sense of duty that held her back. She did, however contact Admiral Ipzr Flyn to ask that she be allowed to pass the assignment over to another ship, and assist in the search for Intrepid.
At first her request was refused. Then, two days later, Sarah received orders to rendezvous with the Talinize flagship Grat, carrying the admiral, in orbit of the planet Irit-Baff.
Flyn greeted Sarah warmly as she came aboard Pegasus. “I am sorry that we have to meet for the first time under such circumstances, Captain,” she began. “The rumor mill in the Corps works as well as any other, and I am aware that Lieutenant-Commander Preston is very important to you.
“I have studied, with great interest, the full gamut of human emotions, ever since I first met Mayor Cetilla on that day when we first made contact in Central Park. John and I seemed to, as you say, ‘hit it off’, and we remained very dear friends until his death. I am always amazed by the depth of this emotion that you call ‘love’. We Talinize never thought that we would ever find another race that developed such deep feelings for one another as our people do. So I can appreciate your need to search for your beloved.”
That was the first time that anyone had ever referred to Peter as her “beloved”. It hit Sarah harder that she expected, and she struggled to keep her composure. “Thank you, Admiral, I appreciate your kindness. Is there any news of Intrepid?”
“Sadly, no, Captain,” Flyn answered. “…only rumours and conjecture. Lilya Grifn was located by her sister, Captain Nelia Grifn, safe and sound a few hours after the report came in. The report was obviously a trap.”
“Galorans?” Sarah responded…
“We think so. Several battle groups have been put on alert, for now most are from the Terran sector. The other sections of the Admiralty are responding as well, but it seems that since the creation of Terran Command many of the other sections of the Corps have become, shall we say, complacent. Your people have twice as many recruits and are more battle ready than most other worlds. Humans serve on Terran ships and non-Terran vessels. Since joining the League, Terran forces have taken the lead in both exploration and the defense of our confederation.
“My purpose here is to assess the situation and oversee our mobilization should it become necessary.”
As Admiral Flyn paused for a breath Sarah spoke up, “How can I help? Pegasus is at your disposal, Ma’am”
For some reason Flyn hesitated before answering. When she did her question seemed to be a non-sequitur. “Do you know a human by the name of Theodore Querryl?”
“No, should I?”
“For the last couple of years Mr. Querryl has been sending op-ed pieces to the ‘Galactic Sentinel’ praising your accomplishments. He has gained quite a following. So much so, that the Sentinel made him their in-house reporter on all things ‘Maloney’. It seems that you sell “papers”, Captain. For a time, some at Corps Command worried that you had secretly hired him to promote your achievements and advance your career; an investigation was actually launched.
“What we turned up was much more troubling. There is no Theodore Querryl listed in any census on any League world prior to three years ago. He appeared on the scene out of nowhere. Whoever created his identity was an expert, with some inside help. It was a perfectly created persona from birth to present. We would never have discovered the truth if the creator hadn’t missed one small detail.
“These days it is impossible to insert a new record into the middle the interstellar databases. In order to make a false entry that perfect you need to overwrite an existing entry. Usually attempts are made by overwriting the records of persons who died very young, if possible, along with their entire family: for example, those involved in transportation accidents or natural disasters and the like.
“They always get caught because when a death is reported a single bit is added to the end of the identity record that can’t be over written by any means. When someone uses such a record to create a new identity, they can’t help but create a file larger than the original. That file always runs beyond the ‘period bit’, as it is called. Querryl’s file has no period bit. So, Querryl’s persona has to have been created from a living person’s record.
“We suspect that he, or an accomplice, knows about the period bit, so, on a hunch, the Archives Department was asked to verify the records of anyone associated with you since your ‘return from the dead’. All records were still there, but two. One was one Officer George Digby, who three years ago disappeared from the Brin Rehab Colony. The other was Winston Dekert who also disappeared from Brin. Neither person was found to exist in any of the official records. The only official record of their existence is in your file. It was the one file that they couldn’t risk altering. So we believe that Querryl may be one of those two men.”
“…and, of course, fingerprints, retinal scans, DNA or other biometrics are virtually useless, because they now all point to the new identity, Querryl.” Sarah finished the puzzle. “Only, what has this to do with the Intrepid?”
“Yesterday Querryl contacted Terran Command saying that he has critical information regarding its disappearance, but he will only give it to you, in exchange for an interview,” Flyn said flatly.
Then, continuing, “From the writing talent in the articles he submitted, we believe that Querryl is Winston Dekert. Digby was never any good at writing. According to his superiors at the NYPD, the written and oral reports he turned in were worse than atrocious. We believe that Digby is just a pawn who allowed his identity to be replaced just to get out of a twenty-year rehab sentence. However, since both of them have a reason to want revenge against you, then no matter how you look at it, it’s a trap.”
“Do you believe that that is all it is?” Sarah asked. “Is there any possibility that he may really know something? If it is Dekert, he may be looking for a way back into the Corps.”
“Highly doubtful,” was all Admiral Flyn said.
“Where does he want to meet?” Sarah asked, “…and when?”
“We’re not sure that meeting him would be such a good idea. The risk is too great.”
“Peter risked his life to save mine in the zone. He also put himself in the line of fire with Willoughby, when I first came on board Pegasus, and again when Willoughby attempted his mutiny. I owe him on so many levels,” she paused, “and I love him.”
Flyn held up a memory chip. “I have the tactical info on his location here. At Command we are certain that it’s a trap. Is love a good enough reason to risk one of the Corps greatest serving captains?”
“I believe it is, Ma’am, and if we know it’s a trap maybe we can spring it on our terms!” Sarah answered.
While they were talking Sarah was escorting the admiral to the situation room, just off the main bridge. Upon arrival, the admiral inserted her memory chip into a reader slot on the wall near the door, and the laser projectors came to life.
Beginning with a long range stellar map showing the system in which Querryl was located, the image refined itself many times until it finally revealed the compound where he could be found; a fortified and heavily protected structure.
In spite of herself, Sarah was impressed. “That is a fortress. Did no one ever wonder why a journalist should need such a place?”
“This is Irit-Baff,” Flyn said matter-of-factly. “If you don’t live in a fortress here, you’re vulnerable to the criminal element, which makes up more that forty percent of the planetary population. He chose his location well.”
“We can’t extract him, he’s too well protected, not just by his fortifications, they can be easily breached with sufficient force. However, if we go in in force we’ll be contending with the locals who would see an assault by the Stellar Corps as an assault on them as well. It is likely that his criminal neighbours will move to back up Querryl’s security team and repel our troops.”
“Every criminal in the district would assume that our forces are a League raid on them, and respond accordingly.” Sarah summed up the tactical situation succinctly. “So what were his instructions? How do I meet him?”
“He wants you to shuttle down in an unmarked craft. You will land in the shuttle bay of his compound. You must go unarmed. Not even your ancient weapons.” The concern on Flyn’s face was unmistakable.
“You can see why we don’t like it. It’s not just the danger to you, but as a captain you have very particular knowledge. Under any other conditions we would order you not to go, but with your personal reasons for going, and the fact that we might learn something about the Intrepid, we’re leaving the decision to you. Command prefers that you don’t go, and I, personally, am asking you not to go.”
“I have to go, Admiral,” Sarah said respectfully, but emphatically, “If Querryl is Dekert then, yes, I am walking into the lion’s den. He knows what I can do, even without weapons. He’ll be ready. My only hope is that he won’t be ready enough. He is arrogant, and has a real hatred for zoners. He believes that we are all beneath him, which may give me an advantage. Let’s see if we can improve that advantage.”
Sarah pressed the comm button on the wall. “Bridge Science Station” she said. A moment later the communications unit responded.
“Science One, Minelli here, Captain; how may I assist you?”
“Minelli, take the coordinates from the current display in the situation room. Run a deep scan on the structure. Get me as much detail as you can, please,” Sarah ordered.
“Right away, Ma’am,” Minelli responded, and within a few moments new details started to emerge in the holographic layout. The new image showed a sub-basement that did not appear on the plans registered with the local authorities. Worse yet, the western half of that level was somehow blocked from the ship’s scanners.
“Ms. Minelli, is there any way to penetrate that western area of the sub-basement?” Sarah asked.
“Sorry, Captain, readings are showing a layer of charged Bital. Our scanners can’t penetrate it.”
“I’m liking this less and less,” the admiral said.
Sarah considered the situation for a long moment. “I confess that I am not thrilled either. It smacks of detailed preparation, but then it may be there to conceal a great many things that have no bearing on this situation. It is a dwelling on Irit-Baff.”
She pointed to the information overlaid down one side of the image. “Scans indicate that the dwelling is far from new. The Bital plating could have been installed by a previous tenant, as you know, once the charge is applied the Bital will hold it for decades.”
“Even so,” Flyn observed, “it’s troubling. I really wish you’d reconsider.”
“I must go,” Sarah said resolutely. “…and there are still ways to cover some of the bases.
“I don’t believe that he would try to kill me right there. If he gets caught with my dead body there is no way for him to escape the death penalty. No judge would accept a plea from him, whether he is Deckert or Digby; not on a premeditated revenge killing.
“My clothing will be interlaced with a biosensor net. If my vitals cease, hit the courtyard with a Mark V. Then drop a platoon. One torpedo directly aimed at his backyard should convince his neighbours that it is a single target operation.
“What I am assuming is that he will try to relocate before finishing me off, if that is his plan. So, as well as the biosensor, the fabric of my clothing will be impregnated with Rethor. You’ll be able to track me from three light years away, maybe even behind the charged Bital.”
“Is that all we have?” the admiral asked.
“Hopefully it will be enough. I can’t help Peter if I’m dead, and Dekert, if that is who he is, may really know something about the disappearance of Intrepid.”
“Okay then, Captain, if your people can be ready, we’ll go in one hour.”
Sarah smiled at Admiral Flyn. “I assure you, Admiral, my people will be ready,” she said with confidence.
True to her word, Sarah entered the shuttle bay exactly one hour later. Admiral Flyn was waiting for her next to a small shuttle craft from which all the markings had been hastily removed.
“Are you sure that I can’t convince you to reconsider. There may be some other way to get Querryl/Dekert to talk.”
“There may be, Admiral, but that would take much more time; time that Intrepid and Peter do not have,” Sarah answered. “…I promise, I will be careful.” She gave Flyn an earnest smile. When the Admiral returned her smile, Sarah was reminded of how expressive the Talinian face could be.
Exiting the shuttle bay, Sarah piloted the shuttle away from Pegasus, setting her course for the compound on the world directly below. Her craft still had its League transponder so she had no problem with the Irit-Baff patrols. She didn’t want to have to waste time negotiating the usual bribes. Within twenty minutes she was landing in Querryl’s private shuttle bay.
As soon as the bay doors closed Sarah was welcomed by one of Querryl’s female servants, who was accompanied by a contingent of armed guards. The servant passed a portable scanner over her and nodded to the guards to indicate that she was “clean”. She then led Sarah down a short corridor into the main house.
Once in the house the servant showed Sarah to a large drawing room. Querryl was waiting for her at the far end of the room. He had his back to her as she entered and was looking out into a lush garden through tall windows that spanned the entire wall. Sarah spoke first.
“Don’t you think that is a little dangerous?” she asked.
“Not really,” Querryl responded, “…it isn’t really glass, but a substance the locals call polysteel. It’s a lot like our crysteel, but it’s also impervious to single-person energy weapons like personal PPCs.”
“I meant standing with your back to the door.”
“I’m not worried; Misla already informed me that you are totally unarmed. You pose no threat. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Theodore Querryl, one of your biggest fans. I am also your self-appointed publicist. By the time I am done, you will make Admiral...” His condescending attitude and super-sized ego was the last piece of the puzzle. Sarah cut him off mid-sentence.
“Please, you’re not fooling me at all,” she told him. “You’re Winston Dekert! You may be able to change everything about your appearance, even your eye colour, but you can’t change the condescending tone or the haughty gaze that I remember so well.”
Sarah saw the light go out of Dekert’s eyes, just as it had that day on the Kennedy when she exposed his activities to Captain Hanley. This time it only lasted a second.
“So very perceptive, Maloney.” If possible Dekert was even more supercilious than he was back then. “So, we can dispense with the formalities then. You are here to learn about the fate of the Intrepid. Well, I sold her to the Galoran Emperor. He paid me five hundred million Galoran units. In case you haven’t checked lately, at present exchange rates, that’s one and a half billion League credits.”
“How is that possible?” Sarah demanded.
“Actually, it was quite easy.” Dekert was crowing now. “I am still an agent of The Bureau – though I think that I just crossed a line that even they won’t be able to let go. It took a little finagling, but I was able to convince one of Uncle George’s contacts at Command to give me the Intrepid’s access code. I told him that we were going to screw up your zoner buddy Preston, and embarrass the Drixian captain at the same time. He promoted Preston after all.”
“What I promised the Galorans was that I could disable the ship without firing a shot. They would get it intact. That was why I was on the bridge of the Axia-class warship Honsa, the lead vessel in their attack force, when they made their move. As we were closing upon Intrepid, I sent the access code from a portable transmitter and ordered her systems to power down completely. I then took a page from your book – yes I really have been following your exploits. I flooded the ship with its own suppressor gas. By the time the crew woke up the Galorans were in control.
“I used the portable station so that the Galorans had no chance to actually see or record the access code itself. I didn’t even tell them how I was doing what I was doing. So now, if they can’t find a way to crack the ship’s systems they’ll have to hire me again to unlock the ship. Of course, they may start by attempting to reverse engineer her first. We both know what a big mistake that would be. But then, if the Galorans were a bit more creative they might have developed their own jump ships by now.”
To Sarah he was still the same pompous Winston Dekert that she foiled aboard the Kennedy. “So, if you have sold the Intrepid and betrayed the League of Systems to the Galorans, why am I here?”
“You’re the ‘cherry-on-top’,” Dekert positively crowed. “That million and a half credit bounty the Galorans offered for your capture on Earth still exists; only now it’s two million. Now, I admit that after what I made on the sale of the Intrepid, a quick two million, even after the exchange, is very small potatoes, but the idea that you will end up as a meal on War Master Hmlar’s table; that is the sweetest revenge of all! ”
“You are still assuming that you can get me there,” Sarah answered defiantly. While Dekert was crowing about his success Sarah had been working her way over to him at the window.
“Oh I don’t think that I’ll have any problems there. While my servant Misla was passing the scanner wand over you when you arrived here, the wand was also spraying a fine mist of Draxaline bonded to a trans dermal agent. You should be starting to feel its effects just about now.”
Sarah knew that Draxaline was one of the most powerful anaesthetics available. She had only a few minutes before she would be out cold. “If my biosensors show that I’m unconscious my people will be down here in force. They have their orders, and my exo is the best in the Corps,” she told Dekert.
“Yes, I have met Commander Running Deer,” he snorted derisively, “…another zoner bitch. Don’t expect any help from her, because she’ll never get that information. That weapons scan was also a bio scan. We expected a sensor net.”
Misla coughed.
“Okay, Misla anticipated that one. So she took a sampling of your vitals. That device in her hand is an experimental unit, that she developed herself. It has been mimicking your bio signs. Essentially, it creates a field that will appear on your ship’s scanners as if it is you. Meanwhile, your biosensor net is being blocked. Misla’s little toy is telling Pegasus that you are in as good shape now as when you disembarked your shuttle. We will be far away from here before they realize that anything has occurred.”
Dekert gave her a malicious grin. “I’ve got you, zoner bitch, and no one can help you.”
Sarah collapsed.
WAR
As soon as Sarah hit the floor Misla went into action. She stripped off all of Sarah’s clothes. She was sure that there would be some sort of tracking device somewhere in her garments. She also scanned her naked body looking for implanted transponders. When she was satisfied that Sarah was clean, she ordered two servants to load her onto a gurney and convey her to the sub-basement.
Hidden under the charged Bital plating was the reason for Dekert’s confidence that Misla’s plan would succeed. That portion of the sub-basement was actually a concealed garage containing a custom built travelpod. The Bital actually extended for two and a half kilometers, covering the roof of a tunnel that covertly ran under the gardens of several neighbouring compounds. Even Dekert’s neighbours didn’t know that the tunnel was there.
At its terminus was another private hanger where an unmarked ship was waiting. It was only warp-class, but just as long as Misla’s devices back at the compound were working properly it would be enough. As far as the Pegasus would know, Dekert and Sarah were still in his drawing room.
Sarah was loaded on board the ship and secured in a special cell. Her hands and feet were shackled tightly to the wall. Her martial prowess wouldn’t help her here. Just prior to shackling her, the servants attempted to cover her with a poncho-like garment that they could slip on over her head. Dekert ordered them not to. “She ruined my life. I want this to be as degrading and humiliating as possible,” he told them.
After ensuring that Sarah was secured, Derkert returned to Misla. “I must say that your strategy worked like a charm. I’m not sure that I could have done it without you.”
Gone was the illusion of master-servant; Misla was all business. “Then we should settle up before you rush off to meet your Galoran friends,” she told him. “You promised me a half million Galoran units.” She produced her credit chip so that Dekert could complete the transaction.
Derkert smiled, “Of course” he said. He drew his credit chip and connected to hers. With his left thumb he punched in the information necessary, as Misla watched, intently. While Dekert tapped in his information with his left hand, he reached his right hand under his tunic. Misla was so focused on the transaction that she never saw the stiletto until it pierced her back and punctured her heart.
Without looking back at her body as it fell, Dekert boarded his small ship. Before he closed the airlock he pointed toward Misla’s body and told the servants who were staying behind to…“Pass that refuse through a protein re-sequencer after I’m gone. Convert it to dorna fodder” He then sealed the hatch and ordered his crew to prepare for take-off. Ten minutes later he was in space en-route to Galor Prime.
On board the Pegasus Mandy and Admiral Flyn were monitoring Sarah’s bio signs on the main viewer. “I wish we had wired her for sound, too,” Flyn said. “These readings never change.”
The admiral’s comment stirred something in Ensign Minelli causing her to review the readings as they appeared on her board. A moment later the main viewer went blank, Sarah’s readings disappeared. When they returned a moment later, the screen showed repeating sequences one above the other. In horror Minelli cried out, “They’re FAKE. Somehow they’ve been sending back a signal that looks like Captain Maloney is still in that room.”
Minelli turned to her console again. She manipulated her scanner controls, and on the screen Sarah’s signal split in two. “The bio sign is Captain Maloney,” she reported, “the pattern beneath is a sort of sensor mirror. It seems to be overriding the bio sensor net in her clothes.” The obvious conclusion hit Mandy and the Admiral like an old-time canon ball.
“That means that they removed her clothes. The Rethor will be useless, too,” Mandy said dejectedly.
“Not quite true, Captain Running Deer, ma’am,” Minelli interjected. We impregnated everything, and I mean EVERYTHING! That much Rethor must have left some trace on her skin. I’ve already started scanning the surrounding systems.”
“Well done, Lieutenant!” Mandy replied, emphasizing the instant promotion. “You can pick up your new insignia later. Right now, what do our scanners show?”
“I am detecting faint traces, just what I would expect to see if all of the Captain’s clothing was removed. The ship is moving at warp ten,” she paused for half a beat. “…Crossing the Galoran frontier. I estimate that they’ll arrive on Galor Prime in eleven hours.”
Admiral Flyn reacted immediately. “Communications, open a channel to the LSS Dublin,” she commanded.
A moment later Captain Séamus O’Gill’s image appeared on the main viewer.
“Captain O’Gill, what’s the status of all battle groups?” she asked.
O’Gill was succinct. “Second and fourth battle groups are standing ready at Corps Base 14. The third is gathering, as we speak, at Brin. Captain Lebeau reports that they should be ready to jump in two hours. The fifth battle group is standing ready at Corps Base 16, awaiting your orders.”
“And the first battle group?”
“We just made our first jump. We should be with you in just under two hours, Admiral. Will you be Battle Commander, ma’am?”
“No, Captain, Captain Running Deer is much more familiar with this sector, and it is her Captain who has been taken by a renegade Bureau agent. She is Battle Commander,” Flyn responded. Then turning to Mandy she asked, “Where do we rendezvous, Battle Commander?”
Anyone else might have been taken aback by being thrust into command of what might prove to be the first major battle of what was sure to be a war against the Galoran Empire, but Mandy was a hunter before she was a captain. Her reaction was instinctive. “Captain O’Gill, have two battle groups meet near the planet Patia on the Mavorian Frontier. It should appear that we are still operating on the theory that they are the ones responsible.
“Have groups four and five scatter and re-assemble in the Chora nebula three light years from the Galoran frontier. Once there, they should begin to ionize as much of the cloud as possible. Use cation particles, Galoran scanners are less sensitive to negative ions. If I am right their cloaking systems make them even less so.”
“Aye, Captain, and what about the first battle group?” O’Gill asked.
“Séamus, I want you with us. I am sending you the coordinates. Meet us at this location with weapons hot and battle shields charged to maximum,” Mandy ordered.
“Coordinates received, Battle Commander,” O’Gill reported. “Ma’am?” he asked, “If I read these coordinates correctly, we’re going to be bait to draw the Galorans out?”
“You understand things perfectly, Captain. That is the course the ship with Captain Maloney aboard took to Galor Prime. I want them to believe that we are the sum total of the expeditionary force sent to retrieve her, and that we are recklessly charging in after her.”
“Understood, Battle Commander, and the other battle groups will be only a short jump away,” he surmised. “We’ll rendezvous with you at those coordinates in one hour and forty-eight minutes; O’Gill out!”
When the Dublin signed out, Admiral Flyn turned to Mandy and speaking softly asked her, “Won’t the Galorans be scanning for ionization in the nebula’s clouds, Captain?”
“I’m sure they will, Admiral, I’m almost hoping they will. If you read Captain, excuse me, Vice-Admiral Hines’ report of his last battle before his promotion, you will recall that when the Victory used ionized gases the last time, it was a positive charge that then Lieutenant-Commander Maloney used to charge the plasma released from the Pasteur. The Galorans have no reason to think that we would change the charge.
“They am positive that they will try to have a portion of their fleet pull an end-run on us, using the nebula, to sneak up on, and attack, our battle group from behind. Only the fourth and fifth groups will be ready and waiting for them in the nebula. They will be able to open fire before the dulled Galoran scanners are even aware of their presence,” Mandy stopped to allow the Admiral to ask any questions she still might have.
“How can you be sure that they won’t be sense the negatively charged ions?” she asked.
“Ships on the frontier patrol routinely release ion clouds around areas where we think cloaked Axia ships might try to slip into League space. So far it has been a case of going with what works. Anions still work. Though my main reason for switching to cations is because Galoran scanners have already shown that they have a weakness for sensing negatively charged particles.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Mandy nodded, “Quite sure! We have seen it many times. There have been a number of incidents where Galoran destroyers have actually lost fleeing refugee ships. In all of these cases damage had been sustained by the refugee ship during its escape. Each of the fleeing vessels managed to evade capture even though they were leaking high levels of cations from their primary drive systems. The amounts were large enough that any League ship would easily have found them – and usually did once they escaped the frontier. Only if the damage actually caused their primary drive to fail were they ever caught or destroyed. We can only conclude a weakness in the Galoran scanners with regard to negatively charged particles.
“Then, factor in the reports we have received that the Galoran cloaking device appears to work both ways. It hides them from our scanners, but it also diminishes the ability of their scanners, when the cloak is active, to see other ships. If they sense the cations at all it might only be once they are inside the field; and by then it will be too late.”
Sarah awoke in a cell in the Imperial Palace on Galor Prime. She couldn’t be sure whether the initial dose of Draxaline had lasted for the whole trip, or if she had been given a second dose en-route. What she was sure of when she awoke was that she was on Galor Prime, because the guards who were surrounding her all wore the uniform of the Imperial House.
She awoke to the sensation of the ventilator in her holding cell blowing cold air on her skin. Obviously Dekert, or his minion, had guessed that there was a tracking agent in or on her clothing. It was surely Dekert’s handiwork that she was still without clothes.
Just as it was in the Galoran consulate nine years ago, Sarah was determined that no one was going to have the satisfaction of believing that she was in any way bothered by her nudity. Even when the guards came into her cell and began pawing her, squeezing and pinching various parts of her body, and at times licking her skin, she showed no emotion.
It was only after the fourth group of guards came to check her out that she finally asked them, “Is every single Galoran a pervert? How many more are going to come in here to get your jollies?”
When she asked that, one of the guards, a younger female, stopped licking her stomach and looked at her. She then translated Sarah’s questions for the others. Mysteriously, in an instant, they all dispersed. It left Sarah wondering what it was all about. Had what she said elicited that response?
At least for a time she was left alone. The occasional guard would come by and stare for a few moments before continuing his rounds, otherwise Sarah was alone with her thoughts. She used the time to assess her situation.
Her hands were fastened to the wall with magnetic restraints. Her feet were free, though she could tell by the bruising on her ankles that they weren’t during the trip to Galor Prime. The cell was empty, apart from a chair, which she supposed was for an interrogator to sit on, though it looked surprisingly comfortable. Beyond that was the door with its potentially lethal force field.
One of the first of the Imperial Guards she had seen when she first woke up had explained it to her. “If you try to break through not only does it match your force with equal force, but the harder you push the greater the charge on the field. Usually a prisoner is just stunned, but there have been deaths.” The guard turned and left, chuckling as he went; at least Sarah thought that was a chuckle.
Her situation was looking bleak. Even if there was enough trace Rethor left on her skin for her people to track. She wasn’t sure what sort of rescue was possible; in fact Sarah was fairly certain that she was on her own. If that was the case, she was going to have to find a way to get herself out of this mess. “…and save Peter!” she added to herself as more than an afterthought.
In the Imperial throne room Emperor Ettac IV of the House of Hmlar and his younger brother Melgr, former Consul to the League of Systems, now War Master, were assessing the tactical situation.
“Well Melgr,” the emperor began, “…you are correct again. Bringing the female to Galor Prime has elicited a response. A contingent of eleven Jump-class ships are heading toward our border as we speak, but I can’t help thinking that we are not ready, not with our fleet tied up in the Lirian system fighting the rebels.
“I don’t understand it. The Silibars and Mirattoes have always been so loyal till now, and we have always treated them fairly. I don’t understand how could we have missed the fact that they were secretly building ships for themselves inside the Lirian Nebula?”
“That is a question that we shall have to ask the survivors after we defeat them, brother. For right now, you were asking if we should draw back some of our Axia ships from that conflict to defeat the approaching League force. My considered opinion is that we need not.
“Our Home Guard fleet out-guns their pitiful force six to one. We can send half the fleet to attack straight on while the bulk of the Axia ships will come at them from the Chora nebula, de-cloaking at the last possible second before firing. The Corps ships will fall.
“And, there is something else to consider, brother,” Melgr added, “There are eleven ships in their attack force. If we are smart, we may have enough parts from their wreckage to fabricate one or two more Jump-ships in a very short space of time. All that would be missing would be our cloaking unit and we would have an effective hit-and-run force. We could take care of the rebels in the Lirian system and liberate our entire fleet to face the League on our terms.
“The empire of Ettac IV will be larger than any Galoran Empire in history.” Melgr finished his prediction of victory with a triumphal flourish, bowing to his older brother.
“So, my Imperial brother, by your leave, I wish to visit my prize before they move her to Gethal prison.”
Ettac IV smiled at his War Master. “You have our leave,” he said. “But, brother, look but don’t taste. She needs to be physically perfect for her sentencing tomorrow. We are going to broadcast it to all the League worlds. We want them to see her condemned in a court of law. We want them to see their hero justly executed for her crime. I want them all to watch as their hero falls!” Ettac IV’s smile was as wicked as his younger brother’s. “Let them see her fall. There will be nothing that the League can say.”
Melgr mirrored his brother’s smile as he bowed and left.
In her cell, Sarah was cold. The floors and the wall to which she was fastened were of some sort of ceramic that absorbed the heat of her body, but reflected none of it back. It made her wonder if all detainees were held naked to facilitate interrogation. As she was deep in her musings, the faint hum of the force field ceased.
“Finally, the interrogator,” she thought, “I have a few questions of my own for him.”
Only it wasn’t. Sarah looked up to find the face of Melgr Hmlar grinning at her. Last time they met he was wearing the upscale garb of the diplomat. Now he wore the uniform of the War Master of the Galoran Empire.
“Well, I see that you still like to run around naked,” he snorted. “Though, I note that the Corps has fixed up all those nasty scars that you had last time. I will have to make sure that I get a holograph to stick on the stasis jar that I’m going to display your head in. I think that I’ll keep it right on my desk.”
“I can’t help it if your perverted agents keep stealing my clothes,” Sarah responded, not rising to his bait. “And as to my head, I plan on keeping it for a very long time to come. Just because you have some fancy new clothes doesn’t mean that you have won anything, War Master.” She emphasised his new title derisively.
“We’ll see about that, Captain. Tomorrow you will face the judge for sentencing. Four years ago, not three light years from here, the Stellar Corps engaged a number of our finest ships. Two of your ships disabled many of them but did not destroy them, denying their crews the honourable deaths they rightly deserved. Under the Warriors’ Code of Honour this is a crime punishable by death.
“It took some time, but we have finally learned that you were the Battle Commander, so you shall pay the price.” He smiled wickedly. “My Imperial brother has promised me the honour of gutting you myself, before the crowds in the Imperial Arena.”
Sarah smiled. “Don’t go tuning up your photon blade just yet, War Master. Just remember what happened to Tilmon when I got a hold of his blade. You do remember, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I remember that night. How can I forget? You took away my ability to conceive progeny. Do you have any idea what you really took from me? I love my brother, and I am his loyal subject, but his sexual interests are not in the gender that will produce an heir. In fact he is actually repulsed by females. He gets physically ill when he tries to mate.
“Until that night he had given himself five years to find a female with whom he could create an heir. If he failed to do so, he was going to abdicate in my favour. I would have been Melgr XII, Emperor of the Galoran Empire. Now what am I?
“If it was just up to me I would have tried you for what you did to me that night, and for Joln and Tilmon; crimes you committed on sovereign Galoran soil. But the Empire denies that you were ever there, so I can’t. Still, this will do, and I will have my revenge. And once we have your Jump technology and combine it with our cloaking capabilities we’ll conquer your precious Earth. Then I’ll have access to that Brannock-whatever cloning technology, and I will be Emperor!” With each assertion Melgr Hmlar’s voice went up a notch in volume; each time more triumphal.
Sarah was wondering if the War Master was mad or power-drunk, but held her tongue. He had given her a glimmer of hope. As she was considering how she might make use of the information, Melgr came down from his manic high.
“For now, you will be transferred to the cell for the condemned at Gethal Prison. Incidentally,” he added with a menacing grin, “Gethal is a male prison. I’m sure that the large population of human males that we are currently holding will appreciate your present attire.”
Melgr clapped his hands and a troop of guards entered the cell. Two guards placed their hand weapons to her head while four others aimed their rifle-like weapons at her from farther away. Melgr pressed a stud on his wrist and the restraints on Sarah’s arms released.
Aboard the Pegasus, Mandy and Admiral Flyn were in a virtual conference, by secure link, with the captains, and their executive officers, who made up the various battle groups. Mandy was laying out the battle strategy, answering questions and listening to suggestions from her peers aboard the other ships.
The question and answer session was going well. As Mandy answered questions, her answers stimulated the thoughts of the other commanders. This led them to offer suggestions. Most of them had, at one time or another patrolled the Galoran frontier, and knew the region. Some of the suggestions they made sparked ideas that Mandy hadn’t considered earlier. By the end of the session the battle plan was greatly improved.
There was only one question that gave Admiral Flyn pause. As Mandy was expanding on her plan for the deployment of the ships in the Chora nebula, where the Pasteur had been attacked four years earlier, Captain Carstairs of the Andromeda directed a question at Admiral Flyn.
“Admiral, I have a question that I am sure is on many minds here: Why is Acting Captain Running Deer the Battle Commander when there are obviously so many other captains with greater qualifications?” The shocked looks on the faces of the other officers in the virtual conference room told the story of how they truly felt. Carstairs question was not an issue that anyone else had considered.
Ipzr Flyn never batted an eyelash and in a calm even tone replied: “Because I chose her.” The captain asked no further questions. His exo did, however, offer very positive input several times, contributing greatly to the strategy session.
During the discussions the Admiral was called away to take an “eyes-only” communication. She was only gone a few minutes. She returned looking very uplifted.
“I have just received some news that will possibly make a difference. For the past five years we have had a Drixian agent planted deep in the Emperor’s household staff. At great risk she was able to smuggle out a report of immense value to this conference.
“As this agent is employed by Ettac IV as a physician, she doesn’t have as much access as we would have liked to long range communication equipment. To have sent her in with her own transmitter was impossible. However, the Galorans just sent out a transmission to the entire League of Planets announcing that the sentencing for ‘crimes’ allegedly committed by Captain Maloney, of which she was convicted in absentia, will be broadcast to all League systems to demonstrate that her demise was legally ordained and totally proper according to Galoran law.”
Throughout the virtual conference room there was a look of horror. Mandy struggled for an instant to keep a grip on her emotions. Before anyone could respond the admiral continued.
“The agent somehow managed to attach a coded report onto the tail end of that message. In it she informed Command that there is a massive rebellion going on right now in the Lirian nebula. As some of you know, the Lirian sector is high in many raw materials which is why it has been the hub for Galoran ship production.
“The Silibars and the Mirattoes, both being technically highly proficient races, were their main, and until recently, greatly trusted, work force. It seems, however, that for the last six years these trusted servants have been secretly building a fleet of Axia ships for themselves, hidden in the nebula. Now they have risen up against the Empire. All available Galoran ships are engaged in supressing the rebels.
“With most of their regular ship deployment are now keeping close watch on the remaining systems, to keep them from joining the rebellion. The only ships available to send against the first battle group will be the Home Guard. They do have a number of Axia ships, but overall they are limited in strength.
“Our agent is certain that they have fallen for our diversionary tactics, and believe that only Pegasus and Captain O’Gill’s battle group will be attacking Galor Prime. It suggests several possible counter-attack plans on their part, but if we quickly review their possible options I am confident that Captain Running Deer’s strategies will have answers to any threat they pose.”
The virtual conference wrapped up shortly thereafter. As the various commanders and their exos briefed their crews, and Mandy did the same with the crew of the Pegasus, Admiral Flyn made another secure call to the Andromeda.
“Captain Carstairs, is your exo, Commander Lauzon, there with you?” she asked. By way of answer the captain signalled to someone off screen and Hélène Lauzon joined him. “Good!” Flyn continued. Then, addressing the executive officer she said, “Commander Lauzon, I am ordering you to place Captain Carstairs under arrest. He is to be thoroughly searched, scanned and confined to the brig, incommunicado – complete isolation. He is not allowed even to talk to the guards on duty.”
Carstairs’ jawed dropped for an instant, before he exploded. “On what charge?” he demanded.
“On suspicion of being a Bureau Agent; you gave yourself away when you were the only captain in the briefing to refer to Captain Running Deer as ‘Acting’. That, and your impertinent question, demonstrated the contempt that most Bureau agents have for former zoners in general, and hunters in particular.” Flyn turned back to Lauzon. “Captain Lauzon, carry out my orders, and then bring whomever you choose as your exo up to speed on our strategies. And Captain,” Flyn added, be aware, you are not the ‘Acting Captain’. Captain Carstairs has been officially relieved. You are the captain of the Andromeda! I have already informed Terran Command. Your orders should arrive before the battle starts.”
The new captain of the Andromeda nodded to the admiral. “Aye, Admiral!” she responded formally, signalling to the bridge Security crew to take Carstairs in hand. The admiral acknowledged Lauzon’s response and then signed off. In her hearts she was hoping that Carstairs was the only Bureau agent who was in a position to endanger the mission.
Sarah arrived at Gethal prison shackled hand and foot on a very tight chain. This time the chains had no locks to pick. Without the electronic controller opening them was impossible. Also, she still had no clothing. As the guards brought Sarah into the facility their counterparts on the main gate were staring at her with hungry eyes. The same happened at each check point until they entered the cell block. Sarah was really beginning to believe that Galor Prime was a planet populated by oversexed perverts; both males and females. She was relieved when at the final checkpoint Melgr’s people handed her over to a Zaran guard, though the War Master’s guards continued to escort her until she reached her cell.
Inside the cell block the cells were arranged much like old-style Earth prisons. Five levels of cells arranged in a quadrangle facing into a common area at ground level. The common area was deserted at the time she arrived. The Zaran guard indicated that her cell was on the opposite side of the common area.
The moment she stepped into the quadrangle she was bombarded by cat calls and wolf whistles. Sarah took it in stride – literally. She continued to walk proudly across the floor towards her cell, seemingly impervious to their whistles and calls. But the raucous activity didn’t last long.
From a cell on the second level a voice bellowed: “CAPTAIN ON DECK!” Instantly the cat calls and whistles were replaced with the sound of three hundred and twenty-two pairs of Corps-issue boots snapping to attention. Sarah recognized the voice.
“At ease,” Sarah commanded. “Mr. Preston, report!”.
“All of the male crew of the LSS Intrepid present and accounted for, all but three, ma’am.” Peter responded smartly. “Exo Miranda Carr and the female crew were separated from our group. I have reason to believe that they are being held in a different facility.”
“Understood,” Sarah replied. “…and Captain Grifn?”
“Deceased, ma’am,” Peter replied. Sarah heard both sorrow and anger in his voice. He continued, “They lined up the senior officers on the bridge and beheaded him in front of us…” He let his report fall off there.
Again Sarah responded, “Understood” Then addressing all of the prisoners she said, “Listen up, all of you, if I have anything to say about it, there will be no more deaths.” Sarah stopped in the middle of the quadrangle. “Officer of the Watch, make a mental note that as of this time I am assuming command of the crew of the Intrepid Mr. with Preston as my exec. I will get you out of this; all of you! Do not give in, resist our captors, and resist even more any sense of defeat. WE ARE THE STELLAR CORPS!” she shouted, emphasizing each word. To which, in unison, the crew of the Intrepid shouted back: “MA’AM, YES MA’AM!”
“Ooh Rah!” Sarah responded quietly to herself as she continued on to her cell.
In the cell the War Master’s guards went through the same procedure as they did in the holding room back at the palace. Multiple weapons were pointed at her as they removed her shackles. This time she was not secured to the wall, but one guard did take the blanket and sheets from the bed. It was apparent that she was to be kept exposed for all to see.
As the last guard was leaving the cell he reached over and grabbed her buttocks on his way out. Were it not for the many weapons trained on her, the guard would have woken up in the hospital.
As they all marched away Sarah turned to the guard on her cell and asked, “Are you going to ogle me, too? I swear this is a planet populated by perverts!”
“No ma’am,” the guard replied deferentially. “Just to clarify, ma’am, they aren’t being sexual. For them human females are a delicacy. They have been buying them from pirates throughout the non-aligned space ever since the Earth joined the League. It is not Eros that drives their bad behaviour, but a lust for food.”
Sarah was surprised by the guard’s deferential tone. “You don’t have the same attitude as the other guards,” She observed. “I appreciate your tone, but I am unsure why you would choose to be so respectful.”
“We Zarans regard females with respect, ma’am, and I must confess that I am in real awe of the respect that you command from your people. Your crew responded instantly when your ‘Mr. Preston’ identified you,” he told her, “…also, we have met before.
“I was aboard the Axia-class warship Trilor in the Chora Nebula three light years from here. The Trilor was one of the ships that you disabled but didn’t destroy. For the Galoran warriors that is a crime against their honour. It is why I am now a lowly prison guard. Along with the Galoran crew I was dishonoured. This is the best work that I can get.”
“Why do you serve the Galorans at all? Your world is a member of the League of Systems.”
“My family was banished from Zara one hundred and eighteen years ago.” Sarah could hear the pain in his voice. “My grandfather was accused of treason. I was just a young child then, so I don’t know whether the charge was true or not. All I know is that my entire family was banished. We can never go home again.
“We were, at the time, a wealthy household. The Zaran government seized all our assets and bank accounts. By order of the High Council we were deported to Hasath, a world of thieves and assassins on the edge of Mavorian space.
“At the last minute before we left, my mother’s family managed to get some cash to her without the Zaran government knowing. My father used that money to send mother and I to Galor Prime, where he had some friends. We never heard from him or grandfather again. When I turned twenty-one standard years of age I was drafted into the Imperial Fleet. Though, not being Galoran, I could never hope to rise to command, I managed to rise in the ranks as high as is possible for an off-worlder, and found that the fleet had become a home. Then I was dishonoured.”
Sarah listened to the guard’s story. “I am surprised that you don’t hate me? I have unknowingly taken a great deal from you.”
“I know, we all know now, that you were the Battle Commander on that mission. Your strategy was well executed, and you defeated a far superior number of ships. I am Zaran. I know that it is not the way of the Stellar Corps to destroy defeated foes. I don’t hold it against you. I respect you. One day I will regain my honour. For now I am sorry that I must be your jailor.”
Sarah and her guard, whose name she learned was Hawthan, talked for a while. During that conversation she was able to learn that the charges of which she had been convicted fell under the Code of Gan, the warrior’s code, which was enshrined in Imperial law. It was why Hawthan and his surviving officer-level shipmates were now unable to continue to serve in the Galoran fleet.
Fortunately for Sarah, she had covered Galoran law at the Academy, and knew the Code of Gan well. She began to form her strategy for the following day, when she was to go before the judge to be condemned.
In his cell Peter didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved. He knew Sarah, but could she really get them all out of there alive? Or was the woman he loved about to end up on the War Master’s dinner table?
While most people never heard the full story, Peter knew why Melgr Hmlar hated Sarah so much, and that worried him. It didn’t help when the prisoners in the surrounding cells kept demanding to know how he had recognized Captain Maloney from behind and in the nude. There was no way that he was going to tell them about the scar. “She’s my best friend!” was all he told them.
War Master Melgr was feeling uneasy, too, when he called upon Ettac IV that evening. “I have been analyzing our battle strategy, my brother, and I am concerned. Not about defeating the Corps’ puny armada tomorrow. By the time they arrive on our borders their ships in the Mavorian system will already be deeply engaged in battle with the Mavorian fleet. It will be impossible for them to disengage to assist their colleagues attacking us.
“What I am concerned about is the damage that the Corps ships might sustain. It has been my hope that we will salvage enough wreckage to reconstruct at least three more Jump-ships from the salvage. I now feel that this may not be possible with our present contingent. While we outmatch them in numbers, they will fight to the last; unless we cause them to lose heart.
“Stellar Corps is notoriously concerned with the survival of its troops in defeat. The surviving captains might be persuaded to surrender if, at the last minute, we bring up another fleet of Axia ships. It needn’t be a large fleet, so long as they have no battle damage.
“I could recall six additional warships from the Lirian system, without seriously compromising our contingent there. We would hold them in abeyance, behind the second moon, until the Corps ships are certain of defeat. Then we will move then into position. If I am right the Corps armada will surrender. We might even be able to salvage more parts than I estimate.” Melgr smiled at his brother.
Ettac IV smiled back. “Yes, do it!” He grinned his malicious grin. Then, “On other matters, will you join us in our box tomorrow for the sentencing? We plan to have a direct feed from Earth playing when the sentence is announced.” When Melgr began to protest he raised his hand. “Not to worry, brother. You will still have ample time to get down to the ring in time to gut the female, if you use our private passage; and we have given strict orders that she is to remain unmolested until you arrive.”
Melgr relaxed. He smiled at his brother again. “Yes, it would be a great show for the League, wouldn’t it, especially the Terrans, to see the Imperial brothers sitting side by side. It will teach them that we are a power to be reckoned with.” Ettac IV smiled again, too.
When Pegasus and the first battle group arrived at the frontier Mandy ordered all ships to hold position until she received confirmation from the battle groups in the nebula that they were in positon. The fourth and fifth battle groups signalled ready from within the Chora nebula just as the broadcast from Galor Prime began.
As the fleet prepared, the still nude Sarah was marched out to face the judge. Mandy signalled her attack groups to stand ready and ordered the first battle group to follow her into Galoran space.
For the sentencing Emperor Ettac IV had ordered that the bowl of the Imperial Sports Arena be transformed into a court room. At centre field a dais was erected for the judge, directly in front of which stood the prisoner’s box. To the left and right were the tables set for the advocates, the Galoran version of lawyers; only on the defense side the table was abandoned.
Sarah noted that backing onto the judge’s bench was another area that could only be the execution stage. It, too, was raised, even higher than the judge’s dais. Two metal posts on either side had shackles attached. This was obviously meant for her. In direct line with the execution platform, on the right, three rows up, was the Emperor’s box. Sarah noted that Ettac IV and Melgr were sitting side by side.
“They think that they have this all set,” she thought, as they marched her into the makeshift court room. From the prisoner’s box she could see and be seen by the assembled crowd. Sarah saw the look of lust, food lust, in their faces. The lower tiers were filled with the Galoran elite. They were the ones who had been feasting on kidnapped humans – their delicacy. Even at that distance it was obvious that they were almost salivating.
“Then Sarah looked defiantly at Ettac IV. She could see the desire in his face. He was grinning broadly. He expected to be dining with his brother Melgr that evening. She gave him a winning smile. Ettac IV’s smile faded away. A smiling prisoner was not what he was expecting or wanted.
Then the call went up over the loudspeaker: “This special session of the Imperial Court is now in session, Lord Justice Lentc Vennlir presiding. All rise!”
Lord Lentc made his entrance with great pomp to very regal sounding music. All but the Hemlr brothers stood as he entered. Already standing in the prisoner’s box Sarah had little choice.
The great fanfare ended as the judge took his seat. For the first time he bothered to look at the prisoner. A look of surprise, almost fear, appeared in his face as he bellowed, “This female is naked! How dare the War Master show such contempt for the Emperor’s Courts? We shall not continue until she is appropriately attired. Sarah looked him in the eye and gave him an impish grin. Lord Lentc fumed. Everyone sat and waited until the guards returned.
As it happened, the War Master’s guards interpreted “appropriately” as “a Steller Corps uniform with a captain’s insignia”. The only one available had come in with the prisoners from the Intrepid. It was Captain Grifn’s. All they brought was the tunic. As she put it on she ran her fingers over the nameplate, remembering her friend.
The tunic portion of the captain’s uniform was designed to fall to the wearer’s thighs. Loral Grifn was a full foot taller than Sarah, so it covered her adequately, even if she had been allowed to sit.
The judge was still not pleased and insisted that it was insufficient to the prisoner’s dignity, but Sarah contradicted him. “My Lord,” she said firmly, “…the captain who wore this tunic before me died serving the League. Although his death was a criminal act, dishonouring his executioner, I am honoured by it, and proud to wear it. This tunic gives me more dignity than even my own might.”
The judge was still unpleased, but Sarah’s statement left him no choice. In all quarters of the League of Systems to which the proceedings were being broadcast people stood and cheered for Sarah. On board the Pegasus and the ships of the five battle groups their resolve was hardened. There was no way that they would let Captain Maloney down.
Mandy opened a channel to all ships. “All ships in battle group one, jump on my mark. We’ll drop out of hyperspace one light year from Galor Prime. Groups two and three, wait until the Galoran ships are within striking distance then jump in. Groups four and five, maintain position until we are sure of the number of Galoran ships. Intelligence reports forty to fifty. If there are less than that, then expect some ships to be attacking from the Nebula. If you see them, you know what to do.”
In the courtroom Sarah stood defiantly before the judge. She was ready as he began to read his prepared text. “Captain Sarah Maloney, having been found guilty of…”
“Objection!” she interjected, “I have not been found guilty of anything, unless the Emperor’s court no longer follows Imperial Law.”
Lord Lentc looked at Sarah in disbelief. Apart from the affront of interrupting him as he delivered his sentence, she had the gall to tell him that she had not been duly convicted. He gave her his sternest look.
“Ordinarily a prisoner who had the impertinence to interrupt me would be severely punished on the spot, but as I am about to impose the harshest sentence possible, there is little else that this court can do. How dare you say that this court does not adhere to his Imperial Majesty’s laws?”
Sarah stood defiantly before him. “I say so because it is the truth. You were about to say that I have been found guilty, under the Code of Gan, of crimes against honour. Under the Code of Gan a warrior cannot be tried in absentia!”
“But if I say that you are not a warrior as defined in the Code?” Lentc countered.
“Then I cannot be charged at all. Only a warrior can be charged with crimes against the Code of Gan. If I am not a warrior as defined by the Code, then the crews of those Galoran ships dishonoured themselves by attacking a ship under my command. So either allow me my right to trial under the Code, or find me exempt from the Code and release me.”
Lord Lentc was taken aback. Sarah was correct. The Emperor had gambled that she didn’t know their laws and would accept her fate. Actually, he had hoped that after hearing the sentence Sarah would collapse in the prisoner’s box, then, like a coward, be dragged kicking and screaming to the execution platform. That was not going to happen.
On the console before him he pressed a button and a privacy field was rose around him. He pressed a second button and the Emperor’s face appeared on his screen. He didn’t waste time. “My Liege, what shall I do? This is not what we expected.”
Ettac IV’s response was terse. “Give her a trial. There is no way she can win. We have enough witnesses to convict her many times over.” He cut the link. “This is not exactly as we expected, brother,” the Emperor told Meglr, “But fear not, you will have your dinner party tonight.”
Below in the “courtroom” the judge addressed Sarah. “As you wish, Captain, you shall have your trial. You may have an advocate to represent you before the court, as allowed by the Code, but the court is not required by law to provide one. Honour should be able to speak for itself under the Code of Gan.”
“Advocates will not be required,” Sarah told him, with a smile that was almost menacing, “…unless the advocate for the Prosecution is also the court’s champion.” She raised her voice as she announced, “Under the Code of Gan, I choose Trial by Combat!” Throughout the arena a loud buzz erupted. No one expected this.
This time it was the Emperor who called the judge. Again, he was as brief as he could be. “Use the Zaran as our champion. He has never failed us yet. Also, she is known to have great skill as a fighter, invoke special circumstances.”
Lord Lentc looked up from his console. “Captain Maloney,” he began formally, “…you have chosen Trial by Combat. Understand, combat is to the death. If you are victorious and you survive, you will be judged as innocent and be released. If you are killed your guilt will be obvious. Also, because of your extraordinary fighting skills the court invokes Special Circumstances. The Emperor’s champion shall be the Zaran, Hawthan. May the gods have mercy on you.”
In the stars above Mandy gave the order. Pegasus and the first battle group jumped to the point one light year away from the Imperial home world. Scanners showed that the Galoran defenses were approaching, at warp, from planetary orbit. They would be there in moments.
Opening a channel to her ships Mandy said “Status”. One by one each ship reported: “All systems nominal, weapons hot and standing ready.” When it came to Captain O’Gill and the Dublin, he responded as the others had, adding, “…and shillelaghs at the ready if it should come to that.” Mandy noticed that not only was O’Gill brandishing the traditional Irish cudgel, but there was one by each of the bridge stations. She remembered that the entire crew of the Dublin came from Ireland. “Let’s hope that it doesn’t come to that, Séamus, but it’s nice to know that you are ready.”
In the Imperial Sports Arena, there was a short delay before the Trial by Combat was to begin. The court’s champion had to be prepared, whatever that meant. Sarah was not happy that she would be facing her guard of the night before. She felt that on this seemingly totally corrupt planet he was the only person of honour she had found.
While she was waiting, a representative of the Imperial Prosecutor brought Sarah into a room where several swords were laid out on a table. Some were broader than others. All were unbalanced and heavier than necessary. When she examined them closely she found all had multiple flaws in the metal. One or two of the broadest blades were so badly flawed that they would shatter if she struck them with enough force against a hard object or surface.
“You may choose three,” the advocate told her. “You may use a maximum of two in combat, but the court allows you a spare in case one blade should break.”
Sarah chose the two thinnest swords with the strongest blades, one longer than the other. Then she chose the most severely flawed broadsword. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Prosecutor smile as she chose a seemingly useless weapon. She looked him in the eye and smiled back.
Not far from the planet, the mix of destroyers and Axia ships converged on the small Corps battle group. Mandy ordered her ships to spread out. Once the battle was joined neither warp drive nor jump technology would be of great use, except in retreat. Fleet battles at close quarters resembled the old dog fights in the skies over Earth, more than three centuries years ago.
As they approached, the Galoran fleet moved to hem the Corps ships in. The difference between a space battle and a dog fight is that when ships moving at high speed are shooting at one another from multiple gun ports and torpedo tubes it’s difficult to avoid friendly fire if the fleet is too close together. It also would give the Galorans the chance to bombard them from the periphery while taking a minimum level of fire themselves.
As the Galoran strategy became apparent, the Dublin broke formation. Although the distance was dangerously close Captain O’Gill initiated a hyperspace jump, dropping out of hyperspace in the middle of the enemy fleet.
As soon as the Dublin dropped into normal space, O’Gill fired all weapons. The effect was initially devastating for the Galoran fleet. They immediately lost two Axia ships to Dublin’s Annihilators, and three destroyers were disabled by her smart torpedoes. Then the Galorans began to fire back with disastrous results for the Dublin; but Captain O’Gill’s strategy succeeded.
While all the Galorans were focused on the Dublin, the remaining Corps ships jumped into positions surrounding the Galoran fleet, forcing them to turn their attentions away from the Dublin in an effort to protect themselves from the Corps assault.
In the arena far below the battle was about to begin. The prisoner’s box had been removed, but Sarah was still made to stand where it had been. Moments later, the eight foot Zaran was led into the arena with the same fanfare that was given to the judge earlier.
He was dressed in full battle armour. Like Sarah, he was equipped with two swords, while an aid carried his spare. She noted that Hawthan’s weapons resembled her katana in size and shape. Their edges looked to be as sharp as well. He was also carrying a shield. Hawthan was brought to stand next to Sarah.
The last to arrive was the judge. He entered as he had before with great ceremony and fanfare. Lord Lentc made a great show of mounting the stairs to his seat. During the time Hawthan had a brief moment to speak with Sarah.
“I am sorry ma’am. I am dishonoured once again. They are forcing me to wear this armour. It is bad enough that I am forced to kill you, but to do so this way…” his voice trailed off to a whisper. “…but the armourer is my friend.”
“I, too, am sorry my honourable friend,” Sarah answered. “You are the last person that I wish to kill, but only by victory can I save my people.”
The judge was just mounting the dais leaving Hawthan only another second. “To that end, I wish you success even at the expense of my life. Know that as we speak your Mr. Preston is being removed to the kitchen. He walks as you do, my lady, with dignity and courage. No matter what they do, he has great honour!”
As Lord Lentc took his seat on the bench, Hawthan straightened up to stand at attention. Sarah purposefully remained standing at ease. Lentc looked down at them both. His face suggested that he had no respect for either combatant.
“When I strike the kephal (the Galoran gavel) battle will commence until one of you is dead.” He looked at Sarah he added, “…and before you object, our champion’s armour is allowed because you do not know the rules for this combat and so cannot be expected to restrict yourself to legal forms of attack. Of course, this means that you are free to use any form of combat that you wish.” He sat back smiling. Then he struck a plate on the floor with his kephal. The hollow tube made a surprisingly melodious, resounding tone.
Sarah and Hawthan stepped back from each other. Both assumed a fighting stance. Then to Sarah’s surprise, for the briefest second while altering his stance the Zaran turned his back on her. It was then that Sarah understood what Hawthan had meant when he said that the armourer was his friend. She saw that the clasp on the armour’s neck protector was broken. One good strike at that clasp and a crucial piece of Hawthan’s armour would fall to the ground. Sarah altered her plan of attack.
For her opening move, she advanced with a thin blade in her right hand and the greatly flawed broad blade in her left. Hawthan’s first attack was genuine. As much as he didn’t want to kill Sarah for his masters, his honour forced him to attack in earnest.
With one sword still slung over his shoulder Hawthan led with his shield, attacking with his sword at the last minute. Sarah countered with her thin sword following the path of his blow to minimize its striking force. She knew how much each of her swords could take before they broke. That knowledge was a part of her strategy.
Sarah countered Hawthan’s move by attempting to slip the tip of her sword between the hilt of Hawthan’s sword and his glove. She was almost successful in prying the weapon from his hand when the tip of her sword broke off. The move did surprise Hawthan for a moment, allowing Sarah to dodge beneath his sword arm, coming up behind his back.
That move caught the Zaran off-guard. He swung his sword to catch where she wasn’t, while Sarah took a deep breath to summon all her Qi, as her sensei had taught her. She cast aside the broken sword and as Hawthan swung, she leapt as high as she could against the heavy gravity of Galor Prime. Summoning all her strength, Sarah struck the faulty catch on his neck protector.
Two things happened – both Sarah expected. The neck armour fell away exposing Hawtan’s throat, and the broad blade shattered into ten or more pieces. Also, as calculated, Sarah’s vault took her over her opponent’s head to land on his right side. What she didn’t expect was that he would counter her move with his shield. As Sarah passed over his right shoulder Hawthan brought his shield up to meet her as she landed.
The move caught Sarah in the abdomen, winding her momentarily. She was slow to dodge as the Zaran warrior swung his blade again. Hawthan managed to catch her with a glancing blow to her side, as she jumped away from his sword. He opened a wound like the one she suffered as a child-ninja in Brooklyn. Sarah knew that she could still fight with such a wound, but it would tear open further the longer the battle continued.
Sarah dropped into ball and rolled between Hawthan’s legs. She came out of her ball face down in the arena. Raising herself up on her hands Sarah kicked back with her feet against the back of the Zaran’s knees. As she expected, they reacted by locking up, creating a kind of spring-like action that impelled Sarah forward, landing her in the midst of the pieces of her shattered sword. Quickly scanning the shards, she chose one and felt its weight in her hand. As Hawthan turned round to attack again she launched the shard like a throwing star. Her make-shift shuriken caught him in the jugular. Under the exertion of the battle, and the Zaran equivalent of adrenalin, the blood began to gush from around the protruding blade. Hawthan instinctively reacting to the pain, pulled it out. Sarah rushed over, retrieving the sword that he dropped.
As Hawthan lay gasping for breath, she stood over him prepared to strike a final blow, if necessary. Sarah saw him mouth the words “Thank you, I die with honour,” as he died.
In the stars above it looked like the Galorans were about to overrun the small contingent of Corps ships. The Kennedy, the Colford and the London had taken heavy damage. They were attempting to outrun the destroyers on impulse power. The destroyers meanwhile were trying to manoeuvre into position to launch boarding craft. Just when it looked as if they might actually capture the three jump ships almost intact, the League’s second wave arrived. The second and third battle groups dropped out of hyperspace.
In an instant the tide of battle changed. The Galoran fleet still outnumbered the Corps ships, but the arriving battle groups were undamaged and dropped in weapons-hot. The newly arrived ships immediately spread out and began their assault.
In the nebula it was yet a another story. As Mandy had expected, a second wave of Galor Prime’s Home Guard had tried to use the cover of the stellar cloud to attack from the rear. They were not ready to deal with the path back to Galoran space being saturated with negative ionic particles. The whole fleet of cloaked ships lit up like a string of Christmas lights.
The Corps ships opened fire with Annihilators and smart torpedoes. Just as the second wave of Corps ships was arriving to back up the first battle group, the Galorans’ back-up was being decimated in the nebula. It had not, however, been a total route of the Galoran fleet.
When the fourth and fifth battle groups opened fire the Axia ships responded for as long as they could. Many of the Corps ships took damage, some of their jump drives were rendered inoperable. Once they had subdued the Galorns, half of the fleet was unable to join the other battle groups. Also, the damage to the battle groups had allowed a few Axia ships to escape to join the battle at Galor Prime.
As the surviving Axia ships made it to Galor Prime the War Master received an urgent call. He was most annoyed. The battle in the arena was just starting. He was even more distressed to learn how many ships had been destroyed or disabled in the nebula. Was it possible that they could lose this battle? He called his reserve fleet hiding behind Galor Prime’s second moon and ordered them to attack immediately.
Aboard the Pegasus, Mandy was holding her own, directing the battle from her ship’s emergency bridge. The ship had taken too many hits and was badly damaged. It was being protected by the LSS Ottawa. Though the Corps ships had regained the upper hand with the arrival of the reinforcements from the nebula battle, they were fewer than Mandy had counted on, and the Home Guard had been larger than reported. Still the Corps was winning so long as no more Galoran ships showed up.
Then as if thinking it made it so, another half a dozen Axia ships appeared from behind the second moon. Mandy wasn’t sure who to call for help. Her ships were fully engaged. Pegasus’ jump engines were off-line and her battle shields were down to fifty percent. Then, from out of nowhere, came a dozen Annihilators. At the same moment her helm officer reported that another ship had just dropped out of hyperspace.
“Ma’am, its transponder identifies it as the LSS Victory.”
“Can’t be,” Admiral Flyn said, “She’s not supposed to be ready for another six weeks. Half of her weapons systems haven’t been installed yet.”
“I assure you ma’am, it’s the Victory,” the helm officer confirmed. She put the new arrival up on the screen. The new Victory was twice the size of any ship in the Corps fleet. “She’s a Jump-five,” Flyn said to no one in particular. “Her battle shields are the strongest we ever developed. She has four times the fire power, and something new; we call them ‘Star Hawks’.”
As the Admiral spoke, a phalanx of two-person fighter craft burst forth from Victory’s rear hangar. The small ships began to swarm over the remaining Galoran destroyers, making short work of them. As each destroyer went dark the swarm moved onto the next one. “The beauty is that they can get so close and move so fast that the destroyers can’t bring their weapons to bear, and the other Galoran ships don’t dare try targeting them for fear of hitting their own.”
“In-coming transmission from the Victory, Battle Commander,” the communications officer said, and immediately Captain Grissom’s face appeared on the view screen.
“LSS Victory reporting for duty, Battle Commander;” Grissom began, “…though it seems that you have done most of the hard work. I have several reinforcements from other League worlds just moments behind me. Battle Commander, your ship appears to be severely damaged; I suggest that you transfer your flag to the Victory.”
“That is an excellent idea, Captain, but I am transferring battle command to Admiral Flyn. Most of our fleet is damaged, but all our landing boats are in order. If we move now we can take the Imperial Palace, and the Emperor – …and save Sassy…” Mandy added to herself.
Turning to the Admiral she said, “I have specially trained and equipped landing forces spread throughout our fleet ready to go, ma’am. I taught them at the Academy. They are all skilled in the ancient weapons of our peoples. The Galorans will be expecting us to attack with energy weapons. Their personal defense screens are first-rate against our PPCs, but they will have no defense against our weapons. Mandy looked at the admiral earnestly, “We may never get a better chance. The Emperor is still in his box in the arena. He may still believe that we are outmatched. We can win this war right now.”
“Very well, Captain, accepting transfer of command. Good hunting.”
Mandy keyed her “all ships” communication button. “All landing groups to your ships; we will drop together.”
A second later the image of Séamus O’Gill appeared on the screen, “I hope that includes me and mine,” he said.
Mandy grinned at him, “As long as you’re planning to bring your shillelaghs,” she answered.
O’Gill brandished his cudgel, as did all those behind him in the background. “Of that you can be sure!”
“Then we drop immediately.” Mandy closed the channel. She left the auxiliary bridge, running. Stopping briefly at her quarters she emerged with her bow and a full quiver. Stuffed into her belt was a tomahawk. On the other side, a traditional dagger hung behind her standard sidearm. When she arrived at the hanger deck Lieutenant Hawk informed that all crews were ready. “We’re the last to board, ma’am.”
“Then let’s go.”
On boarding the landing craft, Mandy signalled their departure and several vessels began dropping from all ships.
Aboard the Victory, Admiral Flyn ordered the Star Hawks to follow the landing craft down, and take out any ground-based guns in their path. Once they were down, the Star Hawk squadrons were to fly cover over the region to take out any Galoran reinforcements that may be called in.
Sarah watched the light go out in Hawthan’s eyes. She placed his hands on his chest, clasping his sword. She closed his eyes, and then standing over him she cried out at the top of her voice, “THIS WARRIOR HAS DIED AN HONOURABLE DEATH.” It was the Zaran ritual when one of their warriors died in single combat.
Moments earlier Melgr watched in horror as Sarah’s makeshift shurikan pierced the Zaran’s neck. As the blood gushed out of the wound, he grabbed the energy blade that he had intended to use in Sarah’s execution, and dashed out of the Imperial box charging down the Emperor’s private corridor. Just as Sarah proclaimed the death of Hawthan, Meglr, his energy blade in hand and active, burst into the arena.
“You-will-not-escape-me!” he cried. Spitting out each word as he ran, he ran forward, closing the space between them in a few steps. Sarah didn’t stand still for his attack. Seeing his energy blade she rushed the champion’s aid and relieved him of the Zaran’s spare sword. Meglr adjusted his course to intercept Sarah just as she wrested the blade from the hands of the aid.
In his fury Meglr swung wide. Sarah was precise in her counter. The War Master’s hand lay on the ground. Meglr screamed in agony and retreated, running back to the private passage, clutching his bleeding wrist. Sarah turned to follow only to find her path blocked by the loyal Galoran aid. He had recovered Meglr’s weapon and attempted to stop her pursuit. Sarah blocked his swing with the side of her blade, and then flattened him with an open hand blow to the jaw.
Pausing only to pick up Meglr’s severed hand; Sarah chased the War Master to the door of the passage. She had learned one thing about Garolan biometrics back on Earth. Even a dead hand will open a lock. As the doors slid open she heard Meglr as he ran whimpering along the passage.
At the other end of the tunnel she pressed the hand to the plate, but as the doors slid open she ducked to one side. As she had anticipated, the Imperial Guard was firing madly through the open door. Sarah was ready. As she was pursuing Melgr she had paused to pick up the remaining shards of her shattered sword. Though they were uneven and unbalanced, her skill with the throwing star was unmatched.
As soon as the guards’ first volley subsided she pressed forward, throwing her makeshift shuriken as she went. Galoran blood was spurting all around the Imperial Box from severed arteries. Only two guards now stood between her and Ettac IV. Sarah could see the fear in their eyes. It took little persuasion to elicit their surrender. Melgr was evidence enough of the danger of her blade.
Sarah relieved them of their weapons and forced them to lie down on the floor. The War Master was cowering in the seat beside his brother. The Imperial Physician was, of course, present, and was seeing to Melgr.
Ettac IV put on a brave face as Sarah approached him. She brought her blade to his throat. She was about to demand the release of the Intrepid’s crew when Ettac IV spoke first.
“You can’t escape,” he told her. “Your puny fleet was in trouble before we sent in our reserve. They will surrender very soon…” At that moment the communication console by his seat bleeped. “That is probably our commander informing us of our great victory.” His voice was triumphant, but Sarah saw the fear in his eyes.
“Then answer it,” Sarah commanded. “We’ll see whether you survive the day.”
Ettac IV pressed the button, but before the person on the other end could speak he cried out, “We are in danger. The War Master is injured. Send the Palace Guard.”
The person responding sounded desperate. “They are already on their way, Emperor. The League is attacking the Palace and the Arena.”
Right on cue the sound of Corps landing craft was heard above. The Star Hawks were already firing on the Palace Guard’s fixed gun emplacements. Moments later large numbers of Palace Guards burst into the bowl of the Arena. Others were rappelling down from skimmers above.
“You are dead, human!” Melgr said. Your troops will never save you. You’re my dinner.”
Sarah didn’t respond, she just looked up, directing the Emperor’s gaze skyward, as the landing craft began shooting the skimmers out of the sky before the troops rappelling down had reached the ground. Many jumped, even though they were still too high to escape injury. They probably reasoned that it was better that than have the skimmer crash land on top of them.
Then she directed Ettac IV’s gaze to the bowl where the first landing craft were touching down. They were barely on the ground when the troops were bursting out of the doors.
Despite the loss of the would-be rescuers from the skimmers Ettac IV still relied on his bravado. “They’ll never get past my guards,” he announced defiantly. “We have the strongest body-screens anywhere in the Galaxy.”
“Oh?” was all Sarah said.
Ettac IV gasped. The advancing forces were not firing energy weapons. Some League troops were attacking with ancient bows and arrows. Others were throwing bolos. Another group attacked using firearms manufactured from 20th Century plans for M-16s, M-20s and M40A5s. As that last group deployed they yelled: “Ooh Rah!” Sarah smiled broadly at Ettac IV. He still snarled his defiance.
Below, the Galoran forces were falling left and right. The Palace Guard was taken totally by surprise and were thrown into disarray by the ancient weapons. They had been prepared to face energy weapons. As the Emperor had said, their shielding against modern weapons was the best. Against ancient projectile weapons they had no defense. Then the landing boat from the Dublin dropped behind the attacking guards. O’Gill and his crew burst forth, pummelling the rear guard with their shillelaghs. From his box Ettac IV watched in horror.
Sarah saw the look on his face change. She pressed her blade into his throat just hard enough to draw a little blood. “If you surrender now, maybe we’ll let you keep Galor Prime, while we welcome its colonies into the League as protectorates until they can function independently again; if you don’t the House of Hmlar ends with your death.”
A look of horror again passed over the Emperor’s face. “You wouldn’t! You’re an officer in the Stellar Corps –”
“And you declared war on the League of Systems when you captured the Intrepid in League Space,” Sarah countered. “The easiest way to defeat an Emperor is to end his life; so surrender or die, either way the League wins this war now!”
Ettac IV collapsed into his seat. He pressed a red button on his communications console. Instantly his image was displayed on all the screens in the Arena. It was also displayed throughout the Empire on every receiver that was active.
“This is the Emperor Ettac IV. We order all our troops to stand down. All ships in all regions of the Empire are to stand down and return to your bases. We hereby surrender to the Stellar Corps of the League of Systems.” His voice weakened on the last sentence. He looked at Sarah, “Is that sufficient, Captain?” he asked.
Sarah nodded. “Now order the immediate release of all the Stellar Corps prisoners currently being held,” she ordered.
“Even the ones in the kitchens?” he asked.
“Especially the ones in the kitchens!” Sarah told him.
“I can free the ones held in Gethor, and the females at the Holding Centre in the Palace, but I have no override button for the kitchens. I can only give them the order if they are present to answer the communicator.”
“Then you had better try fast!” Sarah ordered.
In the Arena the Galoran soldiers were laying down their weapons and raising their hands. The Corps troops moved quickly to pick up the weapons and corral the fighters. In the Emperor’s box he gave the order to release the prisoners in the prison and the Holding Centre, but as he said might be the case, no one answered in the kitchen. Sarah thought of Peter; afraid of where he might be, wondering if he was alive. She needed to get to the palace, but didn’t know how to get there without leaving the Emperor unguarded. She glanced at the troops in the Arena and an idea struck her. She turned to Ettac IV.
“Press that red button again,” she ordered. He complied. She indicated that he should move back. When Ettac IV did, she replaced him in the field of view, took a deep breath and gave her beast approximation of Mandy’s hunter battle cry.
In the middle in the fray below, Mandy heard Sarah’s call. She barked an order and her second-in-command stepped in to direct the mop up. She called to Séamus O’Gill, “O’Gill, you and your people with me,” and lit out in the general direction of the Imperial Box. As they drew close Sarah ordered Ettac IV to open the passage for them. Within minutes Mandy, O’Gill, and his troops were in the Emperor’s box.
Sarah’s report was short. “They’ve taken Peter to the kitchens. We have to get there fast, but I can’t leave him here,” she pointed to Ettac IV.
“So we take him along.” Mandy said. “Our landing vehicles are all down there,” indicating the bowl, “but we can probably get there faster in that.” She pointed to the private landing bay behind the Imperial box that currently housed the Imperial skimmer.
“…or get shot down trying,” Mandy continued, “but then the stakes are worth the risk.” Then, leaving some of O’Gill’s crew with Melgr and the others, Mandy, Sarah and Ettac IV, with O’Gill and the rest of his landing team, boarded the skimmer. Sarah took the controls. She barely cleared the top of the Arena, travelling at top speed. Séamus leaned closer to Mandy and whispered, “I love the way she flies.”
As Sarah passed over the walls, the main palace courtyard spread out below the skimmer. At various locations Mandy’s landing forces could be seen rounding up the staff and Palace Guards. For a moment Sarah paused in flight and turned to Ettac. Placing her blade to his throat, again, she commanded, “Point out the kitchens!”
The defeated emperor pointed, then in a last burst of defiance he said, “You’re wasting your time. My chefs are very efficient, if your crewmate was brought in this morning, he is already on the luncheon menu.”
Sarah pressed the blade against his neck once again. “You had better hope not, or I’ll feed your body to the protein re-sequencer, and hang your head from the main gate.” As Sarah took the controls again, he glanced around the cabin. Not one of the assembled troops had batted an eyelash at Sarah’s threat. The former ruler of the Empire had troubled controlling his bladders.
Sarah landed without question, but was immediately met by a circling landing boat and two Star Hawks. When they saw the League uniforms, the ships departed as quickly as they arrived. Sarah forced Ettac IV to open each of the doors and activate the elevator to the kitchen level.
As the doors parted Sarah heard a muted scream. It was Peter. She charged forth with Ettac in tow, to find that the chef had just started in on Peter. He was suspended on meat hooks through his shoulders. His right arm was missing and his right leg had just been severed. She raised her sword intending to take the chef’s hand before he could go after Peter’s left leg, but Mandy’s tomahawk split the chef’s skull first.
“Medic” Sarah cried. A young lieutenant from the Dublin stepped up. She placed a nerve blocker just below Peter’s ninth vertebra and his whole body went numb. Sarah picked up the cutting tool and cut the meat hooks on which Peter was suspended, while the medic and Séamus O’Gill held him steady until they could lower him to the table. Mandy had already called for an Evac Shuttle.
The Medivac team from the Victory arrived within minutes. They found Peter, now unconscious, lying on the preparation table with Sarah cradling his head. The rest of the rescue team was standing guard against fleeing palace troops.
The Medivac crew quickly loaded Peter onto their stretcher. As they were hustling him out to the evac ship he briefly came around, and looking over at Sarah, he managed a weak smile and asked, “Sassy do you really have something against wearing pants?”
Up until then no one had noticed that all she was wearing was the tunic of Captain’s Grifn’s uniform. Peter’s joke momentarily caused the Dublin’s medic to look at Sarah. That was when she noticed the long gash in her left side. The tunic had long since stopped absorbing the blood flow, and it was running down the outside of her left leg. As the adrenalin rush began to wear off, she sagged into the medic’s arms.
Sarah turned to Mandy, “Captain Running Deer, take charge of the prisoner, and if he does anything at all, treat him like an Eater!”
Mandy clamped a very firm hand on Ettac IV’s shoulder. “Aye, Captain, with pleasure!” she responded. In response to the ex-emperor’s worried look Mandy explained, “Eaters get no mercy – EVER!”
Sarah and Peter rode the Evac Shuttle back to Victory together. Even though she was weak from blood loss, Sarah sat beside Peter holding his remaining hand. At one point on the trip, when she thought no one was paying attention, she leaned close and said to him, “In answer to your previous question,” she said, “I just wanted to see if you would notice.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. Across the room a very observant medic smiled.
The Evac Shuttle was met in the landing bay by Captain Grissom. The Victory’s medical team insisted that Sarah be transported to Med Bay by stretcher. They argued their point by telling her that they needed to begin working on Peter as fast as they could to prepare him for limb replacement or the procedure might not be a success. Her walking with him would slow things down considerably. Sarah consented. They only paused on their way to Med Bay long enough for Sarah to ask a favour of Victory’s captain.
“Thom, there is the body of a dead Zaran in the Palace Arena. Could you make sure it is recovered, please? I’ll explain as soon as they’re finished with me in Med Bay.” Then as an afterthought, “…and please, get rid of that damn armour he’s wearing.”
Forty-eight hours later Sarah and Peter were transferred from the Victory to an Earthside hospital. Sarah’s injury had been treated relatively quickly, and the task of cloning Peter’s new arm and leg was well underway, though it would be another week before they would attach them.
As soon as Sarah was released from the Base Hospital her debriefings began. Admiral Flyn and now Vice-Admiral Grissom met with her at her parents Manhattan home.
“You’re looking much better than the last time we met,” Grissom began. “We’re sorry to press you on this, but you can appreciate that the information is important. The moment we officially took Ettac IV into custody he screamed bloody murder, and claimed that you came to Galor Prime as an assassin. He is claiming that you set up the whole thing, even to the hiring of Theodore Querryl as your accomplice, to trap them. He’s demanded a hearing with our Interstellar Court of Justice. If he wins he is hoping to keep the Intrepid as compensation, and extradite you to Galor Prime to face new charges that don’t allow you to have a trial by combat.”
Flyn picked up the narrative, “We have been trying to find Querryl, but he seems to have taken their money and run.”
Sarah interrupted her there. “Dekert, first off, Querryl was Winston Dekert, as we expected. Second, the only thing you might find of him is his head. It was on the floor of the abattoir of the Palace kitchen on Galor Prime. It seems as if Mr. Dekert became the victim of his own brand of treachery. They probably killed him rather than pay him half a billion Galoran credits.”
“To pick up where someone just interrupted me,” Flyn continued, “the newly elected Chancellor of Earth pulled rank on the ex-emperor. It seems that Ettac tried to kill his daughter, a captain in the Terran branch of the Stellar Corps. ‘That,’ he told him, ‘gives Earth jurisdiction in the matter.’
“The Supreme Court of Earth has already denied Ettac’s claim, and it is going to try him and his brother on charges of Murder in the case of Captain Grifn, and the kidnaping and attempted murder of the captain of the LSS Pegasus; and that was only for starters.
Between official debriefings and the preparation for the Hmlar brothers’ trial, Sarah barely had any time to spend with Peter, but she made sure that she was at his bedside when he awoke from the surgery to attach his new limbs. As Peter opened his eyes, Sarah was the first person he saw.
“Nice to see that you didn’t forget your uniform pants this time,” he quipped sleepily.
Sarah smiled at his joke. “I decided that you don’t get to peek any more, until after our wedding,” she told him.
“Our wedding, huh? When was this decided?”
“I think when I saw you in that cell on Galor Prime. I knew then that I never want to lose you, Peter.” Sarah leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you too much!”
“Funny, when I saw the guards lead you away the next day I felt the same thing, I guess we’re meant to be together. How long before the refit of Pegasus? Will we have some time before you have to deploy again?”
“Pegasus has been decommissioned,” Sarah answered. “Mandy is being given a new ship; the new Jump-four version of the LSS Kennedy. It’s apparently only one of five ships in its class.
“Testing the Jump-fours gave rise to the discovery that led to the development of the Jump-fives. The jump-fours never went into full production. As for me, the brass have given me the new Victory.” She chuckled. “Thom Grissom said that he was just keeping the captain’s chair warm for me. The thing is that she wasn’t finished when Vice-Admiral Grissom took her to Galor Prime, and she did sustain a some damage during the battle. The Galorans didn’t give up easily. Victory will be at Mars Base another three months before she’s ready to go, which means that I’ll be staying here to oversee her completion. We have the time…”
Sarah paused for effect. “…for a proper wedding,” she said. “I nearly lost you this time, and I never want to lose you, Peter! I love you.”
“I love you, too, Sassy!” Peter said emphatically. Sarah leaned over and kissed him, passionately. “Hey,” he cautioned, “you’re not supposed to overexcite me. Do you want to kill your husband before we’re even married?”
Sarah smiled. “Live dangerously; besides if that overexcites you, you may never survive the wedding night.” She kissed him again.
Epilogue
After leaving Peter in the hospital Sarah went to see Vice-Admiral Thom Grissom. Hawthan’s body was still in a stasis chamber aboard Victory. With Grissom’s blessing, Sarah exercised her authority as Victory’s new captain and took the ship out for a short run to the planet Zara. The Victory did not, however, enter orbit around the planet. Instead she made a conical approach to the Zaran primary.
Once she reached minimal safe distance, Sarah ordered Hawthan’s body loaded into a forward launch tube in preparation for a burial in space. The ceremony was short, but Sarah expressed the respect that she felt for an honourable warrior.
Three weeks later Sarah and Peter were married in the rebuilt Basilica of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in New Brooklyn. Francis Maloney had felt that the daughter of the World Chancellor should be married in a more auspicious location, like Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, in New York, or maybe even St. Peter’s in Vatican City, but Sarah insisted. The Basilica was large enough to hold all the invited guests, and many of the New Brooklynites as well.
“They are our people, dad, Peter’s and mine,” Sarah explained. “For seven years many of them were my extended family. I really want them there…and Peter was born in that church,” she added. So, her father relented and the wedding was scheduled.
Sarah and Peter did give in on one not so minor detail; the presiding minister for the wedding was the Cardinal Archbishop of New York, with the Bishop of New Brooklyn and the Rector of the Basilica as co-presiders.
The number of dignitaries from World Gov, the League of Systems and the Stellar Corps, including the Commander-in-Chief of the Terran Command, filled half of the church. New Brooklynites filled the rest of the Basilica, and there were screens in the streets outside for those who didn’t manage to get in.
The first reception began in the newly refurbished Sunset Park. It was part formal reception, part pot-luck bash. It rocked all night, even though the happy couple and the many dignitaries left around 8:00 PM to attend a more traditional reception in uptown Manhattan.
After a sumptuous dinner, the second that evening for most of the guests, Sarah and Peter had a quiet moment together while orchestra reset for the dancing.
“Well, husband,” Sarah said, “we finally got it all together – with a month’s liberty for our honeymoon for good measure!”
Peter seemed a little reserved at her remark. “Then we will have to go our separate ways again. I haven’t even received my new orders. Vice-Admiral Grissom simply told me that I would hear after the wedding. That could be quite an anti-climax, don’t you think.”
Sarah looked at him with devilish smile on her face. “That was my idea. I figured that it might make a nice wedding present; at least I hope it will.” She nodded at Mandy, who was hovering close. Mandy signalled to Thom Grissom, who leaned over and said something to the Commander-in-Chief of Terran Command.
She stood up and cleared her throat. She was handed a microphone into which she said, “Lieutenant-Commander Preston, front and centre!” The room fell silent.
Surprised, Peter reported as ordered, with Sarah close behind. The C-in-C cleared her throat again. “Lieutenant-Commander Preston, several reports were received by my office concerning your behaviour following the death of Captain Grifn; beginning with the removal of the female crewmembers that included the executive officer, Commander Miranda Carr, and ending with your incarceration in Gethal prison.
“All of these reports detail your actions, which they credit with sustaining your crew and inspiring behaviour that was nothing short of the highest ideals of the Stellar Corps. Further, as you were being marched off to the kitchens your deportment showed courage, even defiance in the face of what was to be certain death. Your courage strengthened the resolve of every member of your crew.
“As you may know, the Intrepid was severely damaged by the Galoran’s attempt to reverse engineer her. She will be in refit for several months to a year. The Corps cannot afford to have an officer of your calibre out of the field for that long…”
Peter suddenly saw his liberty being withdrawn. It looked like he and Sarah might not even have a honeymoon.
“…Accordingly, Lieutenant-Commander, for your meritorious conduct in the best traditions of the Corps, you are hereby promoted to the rank of full Commander, with all the duties and privileges of that rank. In consequence of which you are hereby reassigned to the LSS Victory as her executive officer. You will report to Captain Maloney as soon as your current liberty is over;” she extended her hand to him, “congratulations, Commander!”
Peter was flabbergasted. He shook the C-in-C’s hand, and then turned to Sarah who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Instead of the usual three cheers the whole room began to clink their water glasses in the time-honoured wedding tradition. In response, Peter swooped Sarah up in his arms and kissed her passionately. A cheer erupted throughout the hall.
In the midst of the revelry Mandy Running Deer and Séamus O’Gill slipped out of the ballroom together…But that is another story.