Running Before the Storm 3

Let’s get moving, people, Lannetay sent to everyone. We have five minutes and I want everyone ready and waiting when soldiers come aboard.

Whoa! Iresha sent back. What was that?

Bill explained. Electronic telepathy. You gave me access, so now any of the crew can “talk” to you this way, and you can do the same.

That is so great!

Lannetay gently prodded Iresha. Four minutes. I’d like everyone at the airlock when we’re boarded. First the Wantis stopped the ship, then trying to avoid the battle cost them more time, and now the supposedly-friendly Terran forces slowed them down more. Lannetay wondered how she was going to recruit spies with everything conspiring to keep her from actually getting anywhere to do her job.

Iresha stood to leave and stopped to stare at the Cayn painting mounted on the aft wall. “What in the world is that travesty?”

Carnifor smirked. “We’ll tell you later. Right now we need everyone to get ready.”

With a half-minute to spare, Iresha hustled toward the airlock.

Bill sent to Lannetay, She’s worried she’ll be turned in as a Wanti spy, thinking we’ll get sent on our way faster that way.

Wouldn’t happen that way. That would only slow us down more.

Apparently she’s not as smart as she thinks she is. Bill said aloud, “Outer hatch opening. Atmo mix approved.” The inner hatch swung open to admit a dozen Marines in light combat armor.

“Who is in charge here?” A sergeant barked the question while soldiers took up positions along the periphery of the room.

Lannetay stepped forward. “That would be me. Captain Lanny Tae, at your service.”

“Search the ship, Corporal Chovin.” The E-5 walked to Lannetay and stared down at her from a height advantage of seven centimeters. She refused to step back from his obvious ploy to intimidate her.

As Chovin organized the search, Lannetay told Bill to permit them access to wherever they asked to go. Except if they asked for the hidden compartments.

Bill sent, Their Core gives the sergeant a name of Juchine Bach. And he doesn’t like jokes about his name, so don’t mention the composer.

Bach frowned. “Your Core just asked for my name. Not typical for a ship’s Core.”

“We’ve given it a few enhancements, Sergeant.” Lannetay pointed at Goofball and Iresha. “Either of them could provide you with details, if you wish.”

Bach moved away from Lannetay a half step and surveyed the common room. “That won’t be necessary.” He stayed and let his soldiers conduct the search, which took less than ten minutes.

How’d you know I can work with Cores that way? Iresha shot Lannetay a questioning look.

Lannetay merely smiled in return.

The scattered Marines returned, having peered into every conceivable nook and cranny of the ship. Corporal Chovin returned to his superior and reported. “They’re clean, Sergeant.”

“Quick work.” Bach looked around again, as if expecting to see something amiss. “Did you check the hold – all of it?”

Chovin held out a small display with a holo of scanning results. “Eight Marines with scanners make quick work, Sergeant.”

Bach glared at Lannetay. “Your course was from one Wanti-controlled system to another. What is your business with the Wantis?”

“I’m a trader, Sergeant.” Lannetay paused as the Marines converged in the common room. “We take goods from one system to another, and pay our taxes as we should. It’s good for Earth, good for me, and takes wealth out of Wanti space.”

“As long as it’s not weaponry.” Bach’s scowl deepened. “Give me your cargo manifest.” He snapped his fingers repeatedly.

Lannetay reached into her pocket and produced a display. Bill, give me our manifest.

A holo of the cargo documentation sprang into being and Lannetay handed the display to Bach. “This is everything, Sergeant.”

Bach’s eyes flickered over the holo and the corporal’s search results, comparing the two. “Apparently everything is in order here. What about your tax payments?”

Bill? Lannetay prompted.

A record of their income and expenses appeared with tax payments highlighted. “Excellent. I’d have hated to impound your ship for failure to pay.”

Bach’s tone of voice told Lannetay he’d not be bothered a whit to take the William Placard and all their cargo. Keeping detailed records was the best defense against any organization with power. Some people weren’t bothered by lackadaisical records, but keeping track never hurt.

“Thank you for being diligent, Sergeant.” Lannetay offered her hand. “You’re on the front line in our war with the Wantis. Please convey my thanks to your officers and enlisted for keeping the trading lanes safe.”

Bach’s expression tightened as if he didn’t believe Lannetay. “You don’t act like a normal trader.”

“Twenty years in the Corps, Sergeant.” Lannetay smiled.

Bach’s eyes picked up the “dreamy” look people frequently had when accessing a Core. “Name?”

“Major Lanny Tae.”

The sergeant blanched when information flowed into his mind. He saluted. “Major. I apologize for the inconvenience. May I say what an honor it is to meet someone of your stature?”

Lannetay returned the salute. “Sergeant Bach, my gratitude is sincere. Carry on.”

“Listen up.” Bach’s voice brought his people to heel. “We’re done here.” He looked back at Lannetay and muttered, “Navy Cross? Twice?”

Moments later the Marines vacated the ship.

Iresha stared, shocked at more than just the sudden departure. “Just like that it’s over? And you didn’t turn me in?”

Lannetay nodded and walked toward the control room. “Yes, it’s over. And we don’t betray crew.” She tried to keep her shoulders from slumping, but they sagged as she moved.

Iresha stood gaping. “Wantis would stand on the corpses of grandmothers to get an iota of advancement. You protected me?”

Carnifor moved to her side. “This isn’t the Wanti navy. But there are still those who would do anything to get ahead. Nobody knows better than me.” He turned to follow Lannetay.

Lannetay’s pace slowed. “It’s best to give the military what they want and treat them with respect.” She looked over her shoulder. “They’ll finish sooner, be less belligerent, and you’ll be left with less hassle.”

The William Placard continued on their modified course for Swonorikus. Individual warships and small battle groups forced them to alter course multiple times every day. Their six-day trip took just short of a whole week. Their arrival wasn’t a simple one, either. Wanti patrols surrounded the planet.

Carnifor glowered. “Wonderful. Now what?”

“We sneak in.” Lannetay ordered Bill to cut power and coast. “We don’t need them taxing something they already taxed.”

Iresha spoke from the hatchway. “And the Terrans taxed it, too. It’s a miracle you guys can make any money at all.”

Bill chuckled. Lannetay, if you were paying off a ship you’d be operating in the red. Good thing they gave me to you free of charge.

Yeah. Good thing. She still resented having to give a year of service to replace a ship destroyed to benefit the Navy.

With just life support running, they managed to slip into orbit using only a short burst of main propulsion. No Wanti ships challenged them. Brief nudges from attitude thrusters brought them into a lower orbit around Swonorikus.

The colony world had more than fifty large domes, hundreds of smaller outposts, and millions claimed it as home. Shipping activity around the planet proceeded at a lively pace, and when the William Placard settled into low orbit they drew the attention of traffic control.

“William Placard, Swonorikus Orbital Control. Please respond.” The monotone of the words implied a Core system in overall control.

Again the control room drew the whole crew, who either sat or stood in the available space.

“Orbital, William Placard,” Lannetay replied. “Requesting descent to your main space port.”

Orbital Control came back with an unhurried question. “Seven are available. Which would you prefer?”

“We’re looking for an industrial base, Orbital. Which would you suggest?”

“Gorbandic Station,” Control answered. “Use pattern Kilo in three hundred nineteen seconds.”

Bill interjected, “I have the synchronization signal.”

Lannetay scowled. “Then use it.”

“I will. In three hundred ten seconds.”

Bill followed a nearly straight-in course. Maneuvering thrusters kept the ship on flight path Kilo, and the William Placard flared out at the center of the touchdown area.

A dozen landing circles surrounded the wide area for ships to descend. Gorbandic Station asked them to use Circle Fifteen – one hundred fifty degrees from true north. When the ship grounded, a squad of Wanti soldiers approached.

“William Placard, Gorbandic Station. Sorry, but they arrived just before you settled.” A woman’s voice, not Core-generated, sounded genuinely contrite.

Lannetay ground her teeth. “We’ll handle it, Gorbandic. Some things can’t be helped.”

“Thanks for the understanding, William Placard.”

A minute later Bill allowed the Wantis to override the outer airlock hatchways – both port and starboard. Four soldiers locked through on each side. Only two carried blaster rifles, but the other six wore standard issue Tewk P9 medium blaster pistols.

One of the soldiers stepped forward, wielding a display instead of his weapon. “Captain Lanny Tae? I’m Corporal Yundu, in charge of customs at Gorbandic Station.”

Lannetay moved a half-step away from the others. “Yes, Corporal? What can I do for you?”

Yundu worked the controls of his display. “I see you didn’t check in with our orbital patrols.”

“I was unaware of any requirement.”

“Ignorance is no excuse.” Yundu sounded bored, as if he’d performed the same lines countless times. “The penalty is confiscation of all cargo.”

Iresha couldn’t keep silent. “What?”

Yundu didn’t bother looking up. “Resistance will result in the forfeiture of your vessel.”

The seven soldiers eased their hands to their sidearms. They were so matter-of-fact about the move they also appeared to follow a script. Obviously they didn’t act like they expected anything more than verbal objection.

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.

The Brotherhood #36

By Mark W. Meier

Part 36

Act IV

Windowed The Soul

Chapter Nine

ALOC

Acronym for Acute Loss of Consciousness.

You woke two days later. I’d used that time to assess what I’d observed of you. Like most of your disgusting species you were simple – almost incapable of complex thought or planning.

Nobody expected much from the management at Grambic Tiles over the weekend. Victor Howe took care of the few things which needed attention, but mostly he sat at your bedside, two hours away from Grambic Tower. I’d liken him to a German shepherd, but he was more like a beagle.

Cute, if one likes that kind of devotion.

You blinked and tried to make sense of your surroundings. The room refused to clarify. HVAC whispered. Sharp smell of antiseptic. Indistinct PA announcements. Quiet beeping over your head. Only one possibility – hospital room.

Then the pain in your skull slammed into you like a log hitting your head.

I chuckled at that comparison.

You blinked away the filmy coating on your eyeballs and confirmed your guess. The low lighting told you it must be nighttime. A glance toward a window verified that conjecture and drove fresh lances of fire into your brain.

“Thirsty.” Your voice rasped. There might be nobody there, but you spoke just in case someone could give you a sip of something. A single malt would be most satisfying, but hospital staff would not allow that.

A blurry shape moved in your peripheral vision. Someone spooned a bit of ice into your mouth.

You let it melt, swallowing the moisture, then cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” The beagle retreated to his chair.

“Victor?”

Unlike the other times he’d given you ice, you remained conscious. The beagle perked up. If he had a tail it would have wagged.

“Yes, sir. What do you remember?” He pressed a call button. The duty nurse would arrive shortly.

“I was sailing.” You smiled at the thought. After more than a decade of isolation, your only joy had been while sailing that day.

Of course, it also brought injury – nearly death. I’d been so close, yet so far.

“What happened?” Your voice sounded gravely, so you cleared your throat again.

“There was an accident.”

The door to your room opened and a young man walked in. “Awake, Mr. Grambic?” The nurse looked at the machines and sensors. “You appear to be doing nicely. Are you hungry?”

You considered. “A bit.”

The nurse nodded. You couldn’t read his name badge. “That’s a good sign. How about a cup of jello?” Nurse Jello vanished into the hall without waiting for a response.

The beagle stood again and moved into your field of view. “Do you remember the log?”

You concentrated for a moment, then your head pulsed with a new level of pain. “No, Victor. What happened?”

“Sell Short hit a log and flipped stem-for-stern. You came down on the log in a glancing blow. The doctors say another inch or two the wrong way would have broken your neck or killed you.”

You’d twisted away at the last moment. Fortunate for both of us, because I’d received word my project’s culmination needed to be delayed. Your death would have been a setback – I wasn’t told why.

“What day is it?”

“Sunday.” The beagle gave you another ice chip. “It’s nearly midnight.”

You shook your head and immediately regretted it. Light flashed behind your eyes as agony hammered your skull. Obviously they weren’t giving you narcotics.

“Headache.”

The door opened to admit Nurse Jello, who gave you a plastic cup with the top torn aside.

Your grip was unsteady, but you took the plastic spoon and jello cup. “Thanks.”

After twenty minutes you’d finished most of your treat and fallen asleep. The beagle stayed by your side through the night, only leaving to attend to bodily processes. Sleeping in the hospital chair gave him a sore neck and left him churlish.

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Running Before the Storm 2

A flurry of blaster fire shredded a pair of Terran light cruisers. They lost power and coasted toward the edge of the fight, slowing toward light speed.

L-T audibly gulped. “My next posting might have been on one of them.”

Lannetay’s heart leaped when the Terran heavy cruiser fired a full salvo. The first Wanti fleet carrier fragmented under the assault. At the same time, the destroyers sent a volley of missiles toward the second carrier. Then the Earth ships hit the Wanti carrier’s point-defense batteries with waves of disrupter fire. With almost no anti-missile guns to stop them, the missiles slammed into the massive ship, vaporizing large swaths of armor. Another series of disrupter blasts gutted the interior of the massive vessel.

The crew of the William Placard cheered. Lannetay felt sick. So many deaths for nothing more than a greedy man’s quest for power.

Bill sent, Watching from a “safe” distance is a lot different from being in the thick of things.

We have the luxury of seeing the whole, Lannetay replied. They only get to see portions of the battle.

Moments later the heavy cruiser altered course by a few degrees to intercept the third Wanti fleet carrier. The surviving destroyers converged as well. The carrier boosted to escape, pushing engines far beyond their design parameters.

Lannetay breathed a quick prayer for the survivors. While a person lived, hope existed for God to make Himself known.

Wanti escort carriers also retreated, with cruisers, destroyers, and frigates screening the withdrawal. The Terrans pursued for a few minutes, then the larger ships let fighters harry the enemy while they mopped up dwindling resistance in the battle zone. Rescue ships would do what they could to minimize casualties. Even Wanti survivors would be rescued – eventually.

The whole encounter with the battle took four hours. Flying back and forth trying to evade the combatants had cost the William Placard almost a half-day in progress. With hostilities winding down, Lannetay expected they could pass without further incident. She slumped in her chair, drained and exhausted.

“So.” Iresha clapped and rubbed her hands together. “What’s this mission you’re on?”

Lannetay blinked. Iresha had evidently blocked out the carnage. Doing so wasn’t as easy for Lannetay.

Carnifor recovered and turned to answer. “We’re taking O2 machines to Swonorikus. We’re traders.”

Iresha sneered. “Don’t lie to me, Carny. I’ve been in the Wanti military for more than a year. I had to deceive people every day I was there, so I recognize someone else doing that to me. Try again.”

Lannetay hated lying, but a certain amount was necessary in order to recruit spies. With a Wanti on board, the requirement was greater than ever. Bill, do you have enough data on her for a baseline?

If she’s not very good at it I could tell a lie from the truth. Of course, if I had access to her implants it would be a cake walk.

Then what are we waiting for? Lannetay knew the answer, but frustration got the better of her.

You know I can’t do that without her permission.

Lannetay ground her teeth. Have you asked?

Bill spoke. “Iresha, would you give me access? I think Lannetay wants to ask you some questions before she tells you anything.”

Iresha thought for a moment and crossed her arms. “That you asked instead of just doing it tells me you have some ethical programming, Bill. I thought AIs were too flaky to trust.”

“The same could be said about humans,” Bill responded.

Iresha uncrossed her arms. “Proceed.”

“Lannetay, you’re good to go,” Bill said.

Lannetay pondered. Let’s get some known answers as a test, Bill. “Iresha, what is your full name?”

“I gave you my full name and rank already.” Iresha scowled.

“Give them again, please.”

“My name is Iresha Donter, corporal in the Wrantibani Marine Corps.”

Lannetay nodded. “Now lie when you tell me what ship you’re aboard.”

“I’m currently aboard the Lannetay Carnifor.” Iresha smirked.

“Very funny.” Carnifor’s deadpan delivery showed his sarcasm.

Bill said, “Okay, Lannetay. We have as good of a baseline as we’re going to get.”

Over the next hour Iresha’s story came out, with prodding from Lannetay and Carnifor. Because very little food was available on Wrantiban, people starved. Food synthesizers stretched available organic material, but after passing through the system so many times the nutritional value became nearly worthless. Wrantiban’s soil had so many heavy metals, nothing useful would grow.

Iresha, upon turning sixteen, joined the Marines to get enough food to survive. The family of enlistees also received a slight boost in rations. She hated Wrantiban and all it stood for, remembering quite well the collapse of the starship market and the associated recession on her home planet.

L-T said, “You enlisted at sixteen? That seems unlikely even for Wantis.”

“You’re forgetting to translate Standard to Traditional,” Bill said. “Sixteen is more like twenty where you grew up, L-T.”

Marc fought to keep his voice from cracking. “L-T, shouldn’t you be used to Standard time by now?”

Lannetay shook her head. “He’s only been in the service for a little more than a year. He still thinks in Traditional time. Iresha, what would you like to have happen on Wrantiban?”

“Good question. I don’t know enough to make suggestions. Kio Otmitter is too entrenched to listen to anyone, much less me. He’s not so much able to manipulate the system as he is the system.”

Carnifor cleared his throat and exchanged an amused glance with Lannetay. “We might soon be in a position to make him listen.”

“You?” Iresha scoffed. “A cargo ship with six people aboard, one of them almost a baby?”

Marc growled. “I’m nine, nearly nine and a half!” His voice snapped from one octave to another without warning.

Iresha smiled with just a hint of condescension. “Your voice has just started changing, though you’re sure to turn into a fine young man.”

“Enough.” Lannetay waved her hand to dismiss that subject. Navigating an adolescent’s development wasn’t a subject for the crew, much less someone of questionable allegiance. She’d take care of Marc’s issues in private. “Carnifor was talking about Earth and her other colonies forcing Otmitter to listen.”

Iresha still scoffed. “There’s another whole theater to your war, what with the Nats blasting everyone who has nanites in their brains. What kind of fool is Director Sotinar to get embroiled with two interstellar empires at the same time?”

Carnifor drove a fist into the palm of his other hand. “The Terran Space Navy has already conquered two of Wrantiban’s original ten signatories, as well as a lot of the colonies they conquered. It won’t be long before Otmitter sues for peace.”

Lannetay added, “And the spy we placed will help out.”

“You just sent a spy to Wrantiban and you think he’ll be in a position important enough to turn the tide of war?” Iresha shook her head. “Optimists are so annoying.”

“Not by himself, of course.” Lannetay shifted mental gears and changed the direction of conversation. “Tell me your estimation of Wrantiban, especially its strengths and weaknesses.”

“The biggest strength is easy. They’ve established total government control. There are people who ask their local officials which bathroom to use and how often.”

“I don’t believe that.” Marc’s soprano was back. His next sentence, though, had his voice dropping an octave. “Nobody would put up with that kind of thing.”

Iresha continued as if Marc hadn’t spoken. “Of course I exaggerate, but not by much. Get the populace used to asking permission for everything, and pretty soon whatever isn’t mandatory is forbidden. That’s where the Wantis have an iron grip on the people – they do what they’re told.”

“What about their weaknesses?” Carnifor asked.

“Food.” Iresha saddened. “There have been riots at the mere mention of food. The authorities mowed down everyone who participated and expunged their names from the planetary Core.”

Lannetay gasped. “Would they really do that?”

“She’s not lying,” Bill said.

Carnifor raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “When you think about it, you end up with fewer mouths to feed. The ones who rioted are either the hungriest or most willing to resist. Killing them makes the average population less likely to be defiant.”

“They try to erase the dead.” Iresha’s voice cracked with emotion. “When I enlisted, they asked for the names of my family members – you know, to increase their rations – and nearly executed me when I listed cousins who had died and were no longer in the Core. They accused me of trying to pad my family’s food allotment.”

Bill cut off the questioning. “We have a pair of Terran frigates coming alongside. A Commander Xich is demanding we allow them aboard for inspection.”

Lannetay gritted her teeth. She’d thought they were far enough away to not be bothered. “Slow to a stop, Bill. Don’t be too quick about it. We have to hide Iresha’s space suit.”

“What about my blasters?” Iresha stood, and her chair dissolved back into the decking. “Won’t they wonder about my rifle and pistol?”

“That’s already hidden.” Carnifor gave the Wanti an ingenuous smile. “Bill, is L-T’s shoulder healed enough to withstand having his arm free for a while?”

Bill harrumphed for effect. “As long as he doesn’t go swinging it around, it should hold up for an hour.”

L-T appeared worried. “Why chance it?I’d rather not have to regrow the whole arm.”

Lannetay scowled. “If they see something out of the ordinary they’re likely to look closer at everything. If they see an injured crewman, they might just take it upon themselves to scan that injury. No doubt there are still traces indicating a Wanti blaster bolt hit him, and they’ll want to know why.”

“So what?” Marc asked. “Just tell them Admiral Choergatan is your . . . .” He struggled for the right word.

Bill provided the answer. “Controller.”

“Yeah. Controller.”

Lannetay scowled. Marc and Bill had just give Iresha information that could compromise their mission. If she decided to defect back to Wrantiban, she’d have more of a bargaining chip.

Carnifor shook his head. “It’ll be quicker to not let the issue come up. Once they become suspicious, we’ll be here for days while they sort things out and pass requests up and down the chain of command.”

“Five minutes,” Bill said. “One ship is setting up to dock, the other is standing off with weapons charged.”

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.