Return to Dakistee (32 page)

As Lt. Col. Diminjik turned to confer with Lt. Uronson, Madu said to Christa, "What's going on?"

"The Colonel has just informed me that I've been put in command of the planet."

"My planet?"

"Well, mine also." Pointing towards Fort Carver, Christa said, "I was born about a kilometer in that direction."

"Don't we get a say about who is in charge?"

"You will. In situations like this, the military usually assumes command until a planetary government is established. The Galactic Alliance is a civilian organization made up of elected representatives from all the member worlds. Space Command and the Space Marine Corps are the enforcement arm, but we take our orders from the Galactic Alliance Council. They assign us to act in a protectorate capacity until you set up a government and are ready to assume control of your own affairs."

"And who decides when that is achieved?"

"You do, once the established government represents a majority of the citizens. At that point you tell us you're ready to take over and we leave."

"Just like that."

"Yes, just like that. Of course there will be all kinds of official diplomatic signings with newsies hanging on every word and thousands of images being recorded for posterity." Christa smiled and added, "You can't turn over a planet without dozens of people getting their name in the news."

"And until then, you're in charge?"

"It looks that way." Christa sighed lightly. "I'd rather be back aboard my ship, but the Colonel said the order comes from the Admiralty Board so there's no getting around it."

"What is it you wish to avoid? It can't be the responsibility."

"I don't fear the responsibility. It's the political part I dislike. With a situation like we have here, the schemers and connivers are going to be lining up to take advantage of me any way they can. They'll use their political connections to try to bend me to their will and will scream to the heavens when they fail to sway me. I'm not a politician and have never had any aspirations in that direction. But in this job I'll be forced to deal with them on a daily basis. It will be a miserable, thankless job."

"Yet you'll do it, and do it better than anyone who
wants
the job."

"I'll do it because I've been ordered to do it. As far as doing it better— I don't know."

"I know. I fear people who want the power but try to evade responsibility. You take responsibility unhesitatingly and don't desire the power. Christa, I'm behind you one hundred percent. At first I was a little worried about having one person named as acting governor, but I'm not worried about it being you."

"I'm not the governor, Madu, just the military commander of the outpost."

"With the planet under martial law, isn't that the same thing?"

"Uh, I suppose it might be viewed that way."

The arrival of a shuttle drew their attention towards the landing pads. There were two more shuttles in the distance lining up for final approach to the shuttle port. Christa and Madu began walking towards the pads with Lt. Col Diminjik and Lt. Uronson following.

"Commander Carver," the Space Command officer said by way of introduction after the formal protocols had been satisfied, "I'm Captain Turcotte of the GSC Destroyer Brisbane and this is Captain Allisone of the GSC Destroyer Bremen." As a third officer joined the group, Turcotte said, "And this is Commander Survossa, Captain of the Diplomatic Yacht Wellington."

Good day, sirs and ma'am," Christa said. "Allow me to introduce you to Madu Ptellewqku. She is the director of the institute below our feet where a portion of the Dakistee population has been sleeping for the past two hundred centuries."

All three of the captains, plus Lt. Col. Diminjik, stood looking at Madu with mouths agape. Christa translated what she had said to the officers so Madu would understand why they were staring at her the way they were. She smiled when she realized none had known she was twenty thousand years old.

"And this is Lt. Col. Diminjik," Christa said. "The Colonel is the commander of North Pendleton Marine Base." Gesturing towards Grace, she said, "This is Lieutenant Carmoody of my staff, and the injured officer next to her is Marine Lieutenant Uronson who commands the Marine presence here at Loudescott."

"Were you injured in the fight here, Lieutenant?" Captain Turcotte asked.

"Yes, sir. I took a lattice shot to my rib cage. I was lucky it bounced off the bones and only tore up a chunk of flesh."

"I hope it heals quickly, son."

"Thank you, sir."

"Commander," Captain Turcotte said to Christa, "is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

"Fort Carver is available," Lt. Col. Diminjik said.

"Fort Carver?" Captain Turcotte said questioningly.

"The outpost facility here at Loudescott was long ago nicknamed after Admiral Jenetta Carver. Everyone seems to use that as its designation rather than the official designation of Loudescott Outpost."

"I see. Then by all means let's convene our meeting in Fort Carver."

"What did you mean by privately, sir?" Christa asked.

"Senior Space Command and Marine personnel only."

"I see." Turning to Madu, she said, "The captain wants to brief me and probably debrief me as well. Lt. Carmoody will get you a translation device so you'll be able to communicate with everyone now that order has been restored. I'll see you back in the facility after we're through." To Grace, she said, "You can begin the evacuation of the civilians now that the area has been secured. I'm sure most are anxious to get out and contact their families, and they'll want to hold services for the people they lost. The Dakistians will most likely remain in the facility until accommodations above ground can be arranged. And please get Madu a translation unit so she can communicate without an interpreter."

Grace said, "Yes, ma'am," while Madu nodded first to Christa, then to each of the officers. The two women headed back to the facility together although they couldn't yet communicate with each other effectively.

It took a few minutes to arrange for transportation to Fort Carver. Two oh-gee general purpose vehicles showed up after Lt. Col. Diminjik made a call to his headquarters shuttle.

The dormitory rooms were inappropriate for a meeting so they had their choice between the mess hall and the one-time cloning lab, since turned into a rec room of sorts. Captain Turcotte, the senior-most officer, decided on the mess hall. The few enlisted people who were grabbing a quick meal were instructed to take their food to the rec room and the mess cooks were told to turn off all equipment and take a break until called back in.

Before sitting down at a table, the five officers prepared a beverage. Christa naturally selected a huge mug of Colombian.

"First," Captain Turcotte said to open the meeting, "Admiral Holt sends his regards, Commander. He was concerned for your safety, as well as that of the military and civilians with you. He was confident you had been the one to seal the facility and ordered our three ships to remain here until you opened it up again in case you needed our support for whatever it was you found in the facility. He believed this would happen not long after our arrival."

Captain Turcotte took an object about the size of a wedding band and stuck it to the table after touching part of the outer ring area with the tip of his moistened fingertip. Everyone immediately recognized it as a vid camera. He then took a small device like a viewpad from his pocket and adjusted it until an image of Christa was sharp and clear.

"This is a debriefing of Lt. Commander Christa Carver on Dakistee following her emergence from the sealed facility at Loudescott. In attendance is myself, Captain Jerome Turcotte of the GSC Destroyer Brisbane, Captain Corrine Allisone of the GSC Destroyer Bremen, Commander Pieter Survossa, Captain of the Diplomatic Yacht Wellington, and Lt. Colonel Andre Diminjik, the commanding officer of North Pendleton Marine Base."

Over the next hour and a quarter, Captain Turcotte questioned Christa about the attack and her actions during the past several weeks.

"Thank you, Commander. I think that should satisfy most of the questions Intelligence has. They believe they know who was responsible for the attack perpetrated here. The Portland discovered a cargo section not far away. The freighter had been destroyed and evidence now suggests it was self-detonated. The fate of the crew is still a mystery, but the cargo section contained thousands of Nordakians in stasis beds. They're believed to be religious dissidents who were reportedly on their way to Slabeca to build a new colony.

"Admiral Holt has instructed me to officially inform you that the Admiralty Board has named you as Commander of the Dakistee Outpost. Upon learning of the sleeping Dakistians, all previously established contracts with the Archeological Expedition Corporation on Anthius have been suspended pending confirmation of the reported facts. The contents of the antiquity warehouses have all been impounded and no more relics may be sent off world without the consent of the GAC.

"It may sound to some like you've been given a wining hand, Commander, but, in my opinion, you've just been dealt a handful of jokers. I'm glad I didn't draw one like this."

Christa took a deep breath and then released it slowly before saying, "I have to agree with you, Captain. Being placed in command of a military outpost that has responsibility for the entire civilian population of a planet seems almost as bad as the deal my sister has with Regions Two and Three, albeit on a much smaller scale. But someone has to do it, and I suppose fluency with all three of the major languages spoken here makes me seem like the ideal candidate."

"Where will you establish your headquarters, ma'am?" Lt. Col. Diminjik asked.

"Here, I suppose. It's close to where we've awakened the first of the Dakistian population and these facilities are practically indestructible. That could be useful if any more dissidents get it into their heads to attack us again.

"Captain Turcotte, I have a favor to ask. We had no water in the other facility when I was forced to seal the main door. In trying to resolve the problem, the Dakistians opened a valve that then couldn't be closed again. I'd like some of your engineers, or possibly some from Captain Allisone's ship to see what they can do. The filtration room had to be sealed off and is presently filled with water, so it'll be necessary to open that area and work underwater to fix the equipment."

"I'm sure either my engineers aboard the Brisbane or those aboard the Bremen will be able to repair or replace the valve."

"I'll make some engineers available as well," Captain Allisone said. "With both groups working on the problem, it should be resolved quickly."

"Thank you both," Christa said. "Captain Turcotte, how long will you be sticking around now that things have settled down?"

"When I received word that you had opened the facility and that you were apparently well, I sent a message to Admiral Holt. I should have a reply in the next couple of days and perhaps we'll know the answer to that question then."

"What will happen to the dissidents found asleep in the freighter?"

"I imagine that if they had no knowledge of what their leaders were doing regarding the attack and really believed they were headed to Slabeca, they'll be allowed to continue their journey to the new colony. If they have a change of heart now that their high priest is gone, it'll be up to the Nordakian Royal Family to decide whether or not they're allowed back on Nordakia or Obotymot. Do you think they'd be welcome here?

"No. The ancients that will be awakened are the people most damaged by the original priests who wanted to follow a new Almuth. I doubt they’ll have any pity for this new group of dissidents and probably won't invite them to share this world."

As Christa walked towards the tunnel entrance of the new facility later, a trickle of dig site civilians were trudging back to their shelters on the far side of the dig area. There were no Marines on guard duty because that post had been cancelled when the attack came and there was no real need for them at present.

Bots were scrubbing the empty rotunda as Christa entered and they scampered back to their storage locations as soon as she stepped from the tunnel. Crossing to the elevator, she descended to the Housing level. There was no one anywhere in sight near the dormitories as Christa walked to her room to pack the few personal items she had in preparation for moving back into her shuttle until it was time to move into a private room at Fort Carver.

Her back was to the door when she heard it open and she turned to see who would enter without knocking. She was surprised to see the young woman who had been among the crowd the day of the aerial attack. The woman was wearing the expensive suit she had worn that first day, but Christa assumed that, like everyone, she had been wearing the grey jumpsuits that had been distributed the first day. Of more immediate interest was the lattice pistol she was aiming at Christa's midsection.

Chapter Twenty-Three

~ November 14
^th
, 2285 ~

"Who are you?" Christa asked. "And what do you want?"

The woman took several steps into the room on her thirteen-centimeter stiletto heels before responding. They were hardly appropriate footwear for an archeological dig site, and, since she was taller than average to begin with, she didn't need the height, so she must be wearing them out of vanity. For that matter, the expensive outfit with its skirt more suited for a business office in a large city was dramatically out of place here as well.

"I'm not surprised you don't recognize me," the woman said. "I've changed quite a bit since the last time we met."

Christa took a few seconds to look the woman over carefully. That she was beautiful was beyond debate. She probably would have won any beauty contest she cared to enter. She had gorgeous legs and a shapely body that was highlighted by the tight skirt and fitted jacket. The extra-high heels and form-flattering outfit made it seem like her legs ran all the way to her armpits. The cut of her jacket and blouse allowed admirers to see her creamy white skin and the gentle curve of large breasts.