Ep.#8 - "Celestia: CV-02" (8 page)

“How can I forget,” Marlene told her daughter. “Yes, please. Thank you,” she said to the agent.

“Yes, ma’am,” the agent replied as he backed out of the doorway.

“Why don’t you go ahead,” Miri suggested to her mother. “I’ll see to the bags.”

“You have your own family to care for, dear.”

“They’re at a pool party at their friend’s, Mom, and Lee is at the hospital. I have plenty of time.”

“I’m going to miss you all so much,” Marlene said as she kissed her daughter on the cheek.

“We’re only an hour away, Mother,” Miri reminded her. “And you’ll have your own private shuttle on standby for you, remember? You’re the wife of the president.”

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Then I guess I’d better be going,” she said, pulling herself together. “Somebody has to turn that dreary place they call a residence into an acceptable home.”

Miri watched as her mother headed for the door.

“I’ll get changed,” her mother called as she left the room.

Miri sighed and took a seat in the large armchair in front of the window. She, too, had sat on her father’s knee as he sat in that very same chair, as had all of her brothers and sisters at one time or another. She, too, could remember Nathan squirming from his father’s grasp as he struggled to get down. He had always been so rambunctious, so independent. A tear welled up in her eye as she thought of her younger brother.
Oh, Nathan
, she thought.
Why did you have to join the fleet?

* * *

Captain Yahi sat in his command chair as he sipped his cup of tea. All about him, the bridge of the UES Reliant bustled with activity as more than a dozen officers and technicians went about the daily routine of running the massive sub-light warship. They had been on patrol for nearly two years now, and his crew was as practiced and efficient as any crew in the fleet, but they were also homesick. They needed to go back to Earth, to see the clear, blue skies of their homeworld, to see their loved ones, to sleep in their own beds, and to wear civilian clothes. They needed to be reminded of what it was they were protecting.

“Latest communiqué from Fleet,” Commander Denker, the Reliant’s executive officer, said as he handed the data pad to his captain.

Captain Yahi set down his tea on the arm of his command chair and placed his left thumb against the data pad’s fingerprint reader. The data pad’s screen lit up and displayed the message. “The Intrepid will be getting under way sometime tomorrow morning. We should be clear to return to Earth within twenty-four hours of her departure from the OAP.”

“It’s about time,” Commander Denker said. “If we don’t get back to port soon, you’re going to run out of tea.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” The captain smiled as he handed the data pad back to his XO and picked up his teacup once more.

“Flight reports delta patrol is away,” the tactical officer, Lieutenant Calloway, reported.

“What’s the latest from the FTL recon ships?” Captain Yahi asked the lieutenant as he took another sip.

“Last feed was three hours ago, sir. All recon points except for Three and Six show no contacts.”

“What’s with Three and Six?” the captain wondered.

“Last word from Fleet said Three was overdue,” Commander Denker added.

“How overdue?” Captain Yahi asked, the slightest concern showing on his face.

“This message was sent an hour ago, so Six still isn’t due for another hour,” Commander Denker said. “But Recon Three is nearly an hour and a half past her check-in window by now.”

“Let’s keep our long-range sensor array pointed at Three’s territory until Fleet hears from her, just in case,” Captain Yahi said.

“Hunch?” the commander asked, noticing his captain’s slight change of expression.

“Just caution,” the captain said as he sipped his tea again. “We’re two days from port. Not a good time for surprises.”

* * *

Synda Conklin plodded up the last few stairs of her apartment building, her bag slung over her shoulder, tired after a long shift at a job she detested. She could still smell the stench of alcohol and tobacco on her clothing as she made her way down the hallway to her door.

“I’m home!” Synda announced as she entered the apartment and closed the door behind her.

“You’re late!” her roommate, Nikki, called from the next room.

“I worked a double,” Synda responded as she tossed her bag on the couch, “and all my tips were in change. It took forever to cash them in.”

“Cheap bastards!” Nikki said as she entered the living room. “You’ve got emails,” she said, pointing to the computer terminal on the desk in the corner of the room.

“Where are you going?” Synda asked her roommate as she sat down and logged onto the terminal.

“I’ve got a date,” Nikki announced excitedly as she pulled on a colorful, loose-fitting sweater.

“At ten o’clock in the morning?”

“Actually, it’s a continuation of last night’s date,” Nikki said. “I just came home to change and freshen up. We’re going out to brunch.”

“Slut.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Oh, crap,” Synda said, her expression becoming worried.

“What?”

“I’ve got a message from Fleet.”

“Well, read it,” Nikki urged.

“I’m afraid. I don’t think I can take another rejection.”

“How are you going to fight the evil Jung hoards if you can’t even open an email?” Nikki teased.

Synda tapped the screen to open the message and began reading. Her expression immediately became crestfallen. “I knew it.”

Nikki froze in the middle of putting on her shoes. “I’m sorry, Syndles. Maybe next time?”

“That’s three tries, Nikki,” Synda said. “Fleet doesn’t accept more than three applications. That’s it. I’m done for.”

“Oh, come on,” Nikki said, trying to be supportive. “Fleet isn’t your only option in life.”

“What am I supposed to do? Find a nice guy, get married, and start popping out kids like some kind of baby factory?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Nikki asked, her hands on her hips.

“Nothing,” Synda said, apologetically. “It’s not what I want out of life.”

“Well, there’s always the militias,” Nikki said as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

“Guess I have to face it,” Synda admitted as she picked up her own bag. “I’m going to be stuck as a ground pounder for the rest of my life.”

“Where are you going?” Nikki asked.

“I’m going to the gym to work off my frustrations before I go to bed.”

“Well, I’ll try not to wake you when I get back,” Nikki promised.

* * *

Sergeant Surbeck watched as the guards changed at the gates of the United Earth Republic headquarters compound. Behind the gates, the colors of the setting sun sparkled off the distant waters of Lake Geneva, casting a somber amber light across the city.

“Good evening, Sergeant,” the corporal greeted as he approached the guard post.

“Good evening, Corporal,” Sergeant Surbeck said. “What are you doing here?”

“The lieutenant wants to double-up on all guard posts tonight, what with the EDF budget vote and all.”

“What does the lieutenant think the Jung are going to do? Attack a budget meeting?”

“No, sir,” the corporal answered with a grin. “I think he’s more worried about civilian protesters and such. Haven’t you been watching the news feeds?”

“Yeah, I’ve been watching. I’m just not worried about a bunch of tree-licking crybabies who don’t have the guts to defend their world.”

“I take it you don’t care much for the anti-military types.”

“They have their place, I suppose,” the sergeant said, “as long as that place is as far away from me as possible.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more, sir.” The corporal smiled.

The sergeant watched the retiring squad leave its post at the front gate just as the second unit, the one the lieutenant had requested, also arrived at the main gate. He looked out at the gathering crowd in the distance, their signs resting lazily on their shoulders as they waited for the first dignitary to arrive. There were no news cameras pointed at the mingling crowd as of yet, which meant they had little interest in demonstrating at the moment. That was fine with the sergeant, who did not look forward to an entire day of snappy slogans aimed at the very people who were trying to protect the world and see to it that everyone, everywhere, was safe.

“Command reports the NAU shuttles are inbound,” the corporal informed him.

Sergeant Surbeck looked at the crowd as it began to move into position, their signs and banners raised in unison as they began their chants. Somehow, they always seemed to know when someone important was arriving. The news cameramen also began to move into position, aiming their cameras at the assembling crowd as it surged toward the main gate.

“Stand ready, gentlemen!” the sergeant barked.

* * *

“Control! Sensors! Multiple contacts! Four two mark two eight five. Range: twenty million kilometers. Transferring tracks to tactical!”

Captain Yahi handed his tea to the steward on his left. “Tactical, I want ID, course, and speed on those contacts.”

“Working on it, sir,” Lieutenant Calloway answered.

Commander Denker looked at the plotting table in front of him. “Four two mark two eight five is right in line with Three’s recon area, Captain.”

Captain Yahi looked at his XO without saying a word. “Still waiting on course and speed, Lieutenant,” he urged his tactical officer.

“Flight, stand by to launch a comm-runner!” the XO ordered.

“Standing by on a comm-runner, aye!” the flight operations officer answered.

“Captain, based on thermal signatures, I make all six contacts as Jung cruisers. They’re flying in a standard cruise formation, Captain.”

“Course?”

“They’re headed for Earth, sir. ETA at present speed: four hours.”

“Mister Erbe, time to intercept at maximum acceleration?” the captain asked.

“Eighty-seven minutes, sir,” the navigator answered.

Captain Yahi turned to his executive officer. “Sound general quarters, Commander. Launch the comm-runner.”

“Tactical!” Commander Denker bellowed as a chill went down his spine. “Set general quarters! All hands to battle stations!”

“Battle stations, aye!” Lieutenant Calloway answered.

“Flight! Launch the comm-runner,” the commander continued. “Report all contacts to Fleet: type, course, and speed. Advise Fleet we have gone to battle stations and are changing course to intercept.” The commander looked at the time display above the forward view screens. “Time of intercept will be one one three seven Earth standard.”

“Comm-runner away, sir!” Lieutenant Fudala reported from the flight operations station.

“Mister Stewart,” the commander said, turning forward. “Bring us onto an intercept course with the contacts, best possible acceleration to a maximum of one percent light.”

“Changing course toward contacts,” the ensign at the helm answered. “Best acceleration to one percent light, aye.”

Commander Denker paused by his captain on his way to the exit. “Let’s hope they’re a peace envoy,” he mumbled.

CHAPTER THREE

The massive assembly room of the United Earth Republic was filled with the sounds of dozens of conversations in dozens of languages, as the sixteen members of the EDF budget committee and their various advisors and administrative assistants discussed the topic of the day’s vote.

President Scott sat quietly in the second row, his son Eli on his right and his military liaison on his left. He had not partaken in any of the morning’s debate on the EDF’s new budget proposal, choosing instead to listen intently as others expressed their concerns, many of which were similar to his own. His son had urged him several times to stand and speak his mind, if only to put on a show for those voters who expected him to fervently oppose the EDF’s budget proposal and call for a decrease in overall military expenditures around the world. The President of the North American Union, however, had chosen to remain silent, soaking in the opinions of the world leaders around him as if his own decisions rested on the opinions of his fellow representatives.

The repeated pounding of the UER president’s gavel as he hammered it against its base finally brought the din under control and, eventually, a hush fell across the great room. “We have heard the opinions of many this day,” President Wilkey began, “and their views have been varied. But the time has come to put the newly proposed budget of the Earth Defense Force to a vote.” President Wilkey raised his hand and gestured to the committee member at the far end of the first row. “President Nwosu, if you would begin the vote.”

The light at the front of the table before President Nwosu, of the Republic of Africa, turned green, indicating approval of the proposed EDF budget. The African president’s eyes remained fixed straight ahead as the man next to him activated his green light as well. One by one, the lights in the room turned mostly green, with a few naysayers casting red lights to indicate their disapproval.

Admiral Galiardi watched from his table as the votes were cast. When the vote reached President Scott, of the North American Union, there were only four committee members left who had not yet voted. With a two-thirds majority required in order for the budget to be approved, one more nay vote would send the admiral back to his financial planners for yet another overhaul of the budget. Of the four members left, only President Scott had been publicly opposed to the military buildup aimed at defending the Earth from the Jung.

The president glanced at the admiral for only the briefest of moments, after which, the president’s voting lamp turned green.

Admiral Galiardi could not believe his eyes. He was so shocked by President Scott’s support of the new budget that he did not even notice the three green lights that followed.

“Voting has been concluded,” President Wilkey announced from his podium. “The new budget for the Earth Defense Force has passed. I thank you all for your attendance.” The president struck his gavel one last time. “This meeting is adjourned.”

The buzz of conversation once again filled the great room as those in attendance prepared for departure, each anxious to return to their own country and the daily routines of running it.

“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” Eli told his father. “How the hell do you think your constituents are going to react?”

“I suspect many of them will be displeased,” President Scott admitted.

“That’s an understatement,” Eli said as they rose from their seats to depart. Eli followed his father and their party through the attendees, heading for the exit.

“Mister President,” the admiral said as he approached.

“Admiral Galiardi.”

“I have to admit I am surprised at your support of our new budget.”

“Why is that, Admiral?” President Scott asked as he continued pressing forward toward the exit.

“Well, sir, during your campaign, you were quite vocal about your opposition to military expansion.”

“The plan called for two FTL ships,” the president said. “One was lost, and now, you need to replace it. I see no reason not to approve such funds. After all, you are not asking for an expansion, Admiral, just maintaining the originally agreed upon resources.”

“That’s a very fine line, Mister President,” the admiral said as he walked alongside President Scott into the main corridor, “one that I’m not sure your supporters will be able to recognize.”

“Then I’ll just have to explain it to them,” President Scott said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Admiral, I have an ocean to cross before dinner.”

“Of course, Mister President,” the admiral said as his stride slowed, allowing President Scott to continue on his way without further distraction.

“Was that his way of saying thanks?” Eli wondered aloud.

“In a roundabout way, I suppose it was,” the president said.

“We’ll be ready in a moment, sir,” the lead protective agent told the president as they approached the outer doors to the courtyard.

“I’ll be riding in the backup shuttle on the way home,” Eli told his father.

“Why?”

“I have some business to take care of once we get back to North America. I figured it would be faster to do it on the way instead of making a separate trip later,” Eli explained.

The doors opened, and the president’s protective detail led them outside and into the waiting transport.

“Just make sure you’re back by dinner,” the president told him. “Your mother is arriving from Vancouver today. She’d like it if you were there.”

“Of course,” Eli promised. “I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

* * *

“Delaveaga!” a voice cried out.

Luis looked across the crowded terminal at the North American Fleet Academy’s main spaceport on the southern tip of Florida. The terminal was packed with cadets arriving to begin their next semester at the Academy, as well as those departing for their new assignments.

“Delaveaga! Over here!” the voice called again.

In the distance, Luis could see a hand waving above the crowd. He pushed his way toward the calling voice, finally reaching the far side of the terminal despite the crowd that seemed to work against him. “Devyn!” he called out when he finally found the person calling him. He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around his friend, giving her a friendly hug.

“How have you been?” Devyn asked as Luis released her from his embrace. “I haven’t seen you since the memorial service.”

“I’ve been well,” Luis told her. “I’ve been hiding out down at my mother’s.”

“Kind of hot down there this time of year, isn’t it?” Devyn said.

“I’m used to it. I grew up down there, remember?”

“Kyle is around here somewhere,” Devyn said. “Tilly as well. They came in around noon. I think they’re looking for something to eat. I guess we’ll all be riding up together, huh?”

“I can’t wait to get up there,” Luis stated enthusiastically. “Two months is too long.”

“Tell me about it,” Devyn said. “I’ve probably forgotten half my algorithms by now.”

“I know what you mean,” Luis said. “I was studying the tactical manual on the way over. Hopefully no one will ask me anything difficult for a few weeks.”

“Luis!” Kyle called as he returned.

“Kyle!” Luis reached out, grabbing his friend’s hand and pulling him in closer for a pat on the back. “What have you been up to, man?”

“Just riding the waves while waiting for our ship to be ready. Sorry I couldn’t make it in for the memorial, man. I know Nathan was your best bud and all.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kyle. It was depressing as all hell anyway.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured as much. Really sucks, what happened to him, you know?”

“Hey, we all know the risks, right?” Luis said. It was a common expression used in the fleet to dismiss the inherent danger of a life in space. “Where’s Tilly? He’s assigned to the Intrepid as well, right?”

“Sure is. He’s around here somewhere. Last I saw him, he was talking up some hot-looking cadet over by the lounge. She’ll shoot him down soon enough, I figure.”

“Same old Tilly, huh?” Luis commented. “Damn, it’s good to see you guys again.”

“Our shuttle should be here in about twenty minutes, so if you want to take a dump in a normal toilet one last time before we go, you’d better get busy, Ensign.”

“Jeez, Kyle,” Devyn complained. “Is that all you ever think about? Pooping?”

“Nope. Surfing, too. And eating. Don’t forget eating.”

Luis couldn’t stop grinning. The last two months had been difficult. Nathan Scott had indeed been his best friend and roommate for his entire four years at the Fleet Academy. Nathan had even spent time in South America with Luis, visiting his family. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of his friend. At least now, he was back in the company of his fellow graduates, about to embark on their first patrol together. At least for a while, he wouldn’t have time to think about his lost friend.

* * *

“What’s taking so long?” Miri asked her mother as she watched the house staff load the van.

“Seems I forgot to pack a few things,” her mother said.

“Like what? We emptied your closet and your dressers.”

“Just a few odds and ends, honey. Pictures and mementos and the like,” her mother explained. “I’ll just be a bit longer.”

Miri knew what she meant by pictures and mementos. Her mother was bringing along some of Nathan’s belongings to keep with her. She had hoped that her mother would use the change of residence as an opportunity to leave the past behind and start anew, to forget and put the tragedy behind her. Unfortunately, her mother seemed determined to do everything she could to remember her lost son.

Miri couldn’t blame her mother, as she, too, would have had difficulty dealing with the loss of any of her own children. She tried on several occasions to imagine what it must be like to lose a child, but she could not. It was bad enough for her to have lost a brother, especially Nathan. Unlike most of her sisters, and especially her brother Eli, who was the oldest sibling in the family, she and Nathan had only been born a year apart. They had grown up together, played with the same friends, and gone to the same schools. She had even married one of Nathan’s older classmates, despite his many protestations. Yet she had managed to move on.

Her mother, on the other hand, had no more children about the house to occupy her time. They were all grown with families of their own. Of course, as the wife of the President of the North American Union, Marlene Scott would eventually become quite busy. In the meantime, Miri would have to bring her kids to Winnipeg on the weekends to keep her mother busy and her mind off Nathan.

Miri checked her watch, noting the time had passed more rapidly than expected. “Mom, I need to go. I have to pick up the kids in an hour.”

“Of course, dear,” her mother said. “Go ahead. I’ll finish up and be on my way to the airport in no time.”

“Are you sure?” Miri asked, worried that her mother would continue to pick through her dead brother’s belongings.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure, Miri,” her mother promised her. “Now go, and kiss your angels for me.” Her mother kissed Miri on the cheek, then set off to return to the main house.

Miri sighed. “You’ll make sure she leaves soon?” she asked the protective agent watching over the van. “I promised my father that I would get her to Winnipeg in time for dinner, and they’re two hours ahead.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the agent replied politely. “I’m well aware of the time difference. I’ll make sure we leave on time.”

“Thanks,” Miri told him as she turned and headed for her car.

* * *

Synda’s anger continued to grow as she punched and kicked at her padded opponent. As she danced about the ring, dodging her opponent’s blows, all of the possible reasons for her denial into the Fleet Academy raced through her head. She knew it wasn’t her intelligence, as she had scored highly in all categories during her evaluation testing. It wasn’t her health, as she was as fit as anyone. It also wasn’t her background, as she had never been in trouble of any kind. In fact, her parents had been killed when she was seventeen, so she had no family ties planet-side. As best she could tell, she was the perfect candidate, except for one thing… She was small.

While most people rejected due to body size were either too tall or too heavy, she was both ten centimeters and ten kilograms below Fleet minimums. She had tried to gain weight, working out religiously with every resistance machine there was. She had put on some muscle, but it was not enough. She had even tried spinal expansion, but her back muscles were in such good shape that she had gained barely a single centimeter in height after repeated sessions.

It seemed so unfair to her. She hoped her intellectual scores and physical prowess might make up for her lack of size, but the Fleet recruitment review boards stuck to their rules every time. And now, she was out of applications and out of options. Even if she got into one of the local militias, there was no way she was going to get a field assignment. She would end up in an office somewhere with some officer talking at her chest at every opportunity.

Her anger got the better of her, and a quick combination of left, right, and a roundhouse sweep brought her opponent down onto his back. Synda instinctively landed next to him, her elbow driving into his padded collar.

“Damn, Synda!” her opponent complained. “You trying to kill me or what?”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Tony,” she said in embarrassment as she scrambled to her feet. She held out her hand to help him up, which he refused. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Of course not,” he said, his pride showing. He looked around the gym, making sure none of his friends had witnessed his failure to defend himself against a girl half his weight. “I’m wearing pads, remember?” he said, pointing his gloved hands at his head and shoulder pads. “Why are you so aggressive today, anyway?”

Synda pulled off her sparring gloves and tossed them into the corner. “I got rejected again.”

“Why do you keep applying?” Tony asked. “You know they’re going to turn you down.”

“I really want to be in the fleet. You know that.” Synda removed her head gear and tossed it aside as well. “It’s all I ever think about.”

“Why? People die in the fleet, Synda. And we ain’t even at war yet. Remember the Aurora?”

“Yeah, I remember the Aurora. That was an accident though.”

“An accident that killed a hundred people.” Tony removed his own pads and dropped them on the mat beside him. “Besides, you’ve got a good job.”

“Serving drinks and getting groped by drunk factory workers? Yeah, it’s every girl’s dream job.”

“You make great tips, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do make great tips,” she admitted. “Of course, I have to stick my boobs out to here to make those tips.”