Remnants of Empire, page 14
part #4 of The Earth Saga Series
16
It was a cold outside when the shuttle carrying Major Michael Tattersall landed on the helipad behind the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas on the eighth of January. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground when Mike stepped from the Alliance shuttle onto the tarmac in his Number Two Service dress uniform, which was totally unsuited for the weather conditions.
Accompanying Mike on the trip, and the person making the trip possible was the Vice Chief of Staff of the United States Army, General Daniel Allen, who was a firm supporter of the Terran Strike Group, and US participation in the group. While the US was reluctant to let the TSG have a non-US commander, they had been promised command of two of the three initial platoons that were being stood-up. The reason for their visit to Leavenworth was to speak to the possible leader of the third platoon, who just happened to be a resident of the correctional facility.
Waiting for the two officers on the helipad was Colonel Nathan Jones, a career Military Police officer, and from what Mike had been able to discover, very conservative, and rather shocked when asked to allow Mike access to one of their prized prisoners.
After an exchange of salutes, Mike and General Allen followed Colonel Jones into the entrance of the barracks and out of the cold. While the visit might have been for Mike’s benefit, the Colonel almost exclusively addressed the General.
“Sir, we have 452 prisoners in our population at the moment, all serving a minimum of ten-year sentences for a variety of crimes ranging from rape to murder. We have five inmates on death row.”
The Colonel was abruptly cut off by General Allen. “I’m not sure if you know Colonel, but the United States is in the process of abolishing the death penalty.” The General said sternly. “Not my decision, but it’s part of the shifting political landscape. Everything to do with our visitors.”
“Very good, Sir.” The Colonel continued to lead Mike and the General through a series of gates, and doors as they moved deeper into the prison complex. “Sir, Major Pullinski is being held in our medical wing. It offers top of the line medical care, at the same time as keeping our prisoners where we want them.” He smiled at Mike and the General as they continued through a labyrinth of halls and check-points.
When the party finally reached a set of doors halfway down a long hallway with the words Med-Centre on them, the Colonel stopped and turned to face Mike and the General. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting, Sir.” He looked at Mike. “Major, you do understand that Major Pullinski suffered serious injuries, and has limited mobility.” He phrased it more as a statement than a question.
Mike nodded. “I do, Sir.” Mike wasn’t worried about the Russian’s body, just his mind. After his experience with Alliance medical technology, he knew that the physical healing process was the easy part. Looking at the General that was standing by his side, he asked the question he had been dreading since they landed. “Do you mind if I speak with him alone, Sir?”
General Allen smiled, “Not at all Major. Go right ahead.”
Mike nodded and pushed open the door to the medical centre to reveal an empty room that had a putrid light green paint job that was touched up with a dark green band that wrapped around the chamber at shoulder level. The floor was covered in white tiles that were polished to a high standard, and the only furniture in the room was a series of green medical beds that were neatly spaced from the front of the room to the rear, where the one patient was lying, in a raised position, and looking towards Mike.
Allowing the door to close behind him, Mike moved slowly towards the man lying on the last bed while taking in the rest of the room. There was a set of double doors in the far left corner of the room, and a series of cabinets along the back wall with glass fronts containing medical supplies. The bed with the single occupant was covered in clean white sheets, and Mike could see that the occupant's left ankle was handcuffed to the bed railing.
With the man’s gaze still firmly locked on Mike as he drew closer, Mike continued to examine the man as he made each deliberate step forward. There was a copy of a newspaper on the man’s lap, and a bandage on the side of his neck, covering a wound. A small metal tray table was located on the far end of the bed with a clear plastic cup filled with what looked like juice, while a single stool sat at the foot of the bed.
Reaching the seat, Mike slowly rolled it around to the side of the bed. The sound of the plastic wheels rolling on the floor the only noise in the room. The man in the bed remained silent, his eyes still locked on Mike, and when Mike sat down, a metre away, the man’s eyes drifted down from Mike’s and gazed over Mike’s uniform, spending time examining every detail, gathering as much information as possible.
When the man brought his eyes back up to meet Mike’s, Mike slowly pulled a small black notebook from his jacket pocket and opened it to his last entry, looked down, scanned the notes, and then looked back at the man in the bed.
“Major Nikita Pullinski.” He said slowly. Mike had tossed around how he was going to offer this man who had attempted to kill Ship Master Ranix in New York City three months earlier a job, who was public enemy number one, but somehow on the top of Lord Soturi’s list of people that Mike should interview for a platoon commanders position within the Terran Strike Group.
Mike put the notebook back in his pocket. “As of right now you’re never going to be a free man on Earth.” He said calmly. “Once you’ve healed from your wounds, you’ll be given a cell, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in it until you die, and then you’ll be buried outside in the cemetery. Russia won’t take you back, even after you’re dead. You’ve got no family, so no one is ever coming to visit you.” Mike could not see any emotion on the man’s face, but he continued his pitch. “But I might be able to offer you a job, and a way out of here.”
The man in the bed darted his eyes to Mike’s shoulder, then back to Mike’s face. “So, Major.” The man paused. “You said there is no chance of me being a free man on Earth.” He tilted his head to one side but kept his gaze fixed on Mike’s eyes.
“I never said the job was on Earth.” Mike replied, a smile creeping across his face.
Nikita nodded, and then looked down at his body, then back to Mike. “I do not think I am fit for duty.” He said dryly.
Mike’s smile got bigger. “Leave that to me.” Mike inched the stool closer to the bed. “The question is do you want a second chance, and can I trust you?”
Nikita leant towards the British officer, “I do not believe I have a choice.”
Mike nodded, then tilted back on the stool. “I’m forming a team. Fifty-nine men broke down into three line platoons plus a support platoon. I’m offering you command of Red Team.”
Mike watched Nikita’s face as a sudden sparkle flashed in the man’s eyes. “Details?” he asked.
“To follow. If you say yes, you’ll be out of here in 24 hours, and under my command.” Mike replied swiftly.
Nikita nodded, then slowly extended his right hand towards Mike. “Sir.”
Mike smiled, and leant forward and took the Russian’s hand, and gave it a firm shake. “Rest comfortably, and welcome to the Terran Strike Group.” Mike smiled, and gave Nikita’s hand a squeeze before excusing himself, and rapidly walking out of the room.
When Mike walked out onto the hallway, the General and Colonel Jones were discussing the upcoming American Football playoffs, something completely foreign to Mike, but both men quickly looked at him with a curious expression on their faces.
“Major?” the General asked.
“He’s in, Sir,” Mike said and started walked away from the medical facility with his superiors in tow, and a smile on his face. “Off to Walter Reed, General.” Mike said out loud. He needed two more platoon commanders, then he needed to find operators. Soturi had guaranteed him training as soon as he had all his personnel, and Mike was itching to lead the most lethal human force ever assembled.
17
It had been a day and a half since the audience with Princess Via and the members of Royal Council and the Elders, and in the time since, the Visitor Liaison Team had been found themselves once again isolated in their quarters overlooking the gardens several floors below, and Joe was getting restless, and he could only have so much sex with Rhea before she started to get frustrated with his behaviour.
“We’ve been here too long and so far; it’s been a waste.” Joe said, looking off the large balcony towards the woods that surrounded the palace. “We need to get back to Earth or see more than we have.”
He was in a strop, and Rhea wasn’t amused. “Jesus Joe, you act like the people here are supposed to drop everything they are doing and attend to us twenty-four seven.” She said, reaching out she placed her hand on top of his forearm.
Joe looked back at Rhea and offered her a faint smile. “I know.” His smile broadened. “But we haven’t met a single person from their diplomacy department yet. We keep getting handled by politicians, and I’m starting to wonder what we’re doing here.”
Before Rhea could respond, a holographic image popped up in the middle of the table of one of the High Council members that Joe and Rhea had met in the gardens since their arrival.
“Apologies for disturbing your day.” The man said. “Elder Bak requested I seek an audience with you and your colleagues at mid-day meal on the next cycle.”
Joe looked at Rhea, then back down to the hologram. “Of course.” He said dryly, not sure what else he was supposed to say.
“Joyous.” The man said. “Elder Bak, myself and other esteemed councillors will greet you then.”
The hologram disappeared, leaving Joe and Rhea sat in an odd silence. After a few seconds of consideration, Joe looked at Rhea with a blank expression, “This could be something.” He said.
18
Sector Commander Varus had insisted his private shuttle receive a full maintenance inspection before his departure for Marxis Minor. While he could utilise any number of ships under his command, and knew his shuttle could not carry enough water to make the jump to his destination in a single hop, Varus has confirmed that tankers were scheduled to be at the appropriate coordinates to provide the purified water he needed to get to Marxis Minor. Varus also felt that the use of his personal ship would send a powerful statement to Imperator Casix.
Casix had requested that Varus and Sajoba arrive three hours ahead of their scheduled meeting to acclimate to the conditions on Marxis Minor and to allow enough time for a team of scientists from the Coalition capital Qera to examine the mineral that Sajoba’s forces had recovered from Terra.
After having his formal uniform attended to and packed, Varus gave a final briefing to his second-in-command and his staff for actions in his absence, but since his sector was quiet except the news of Terra, he wasn’t worried about what would happen in his absence.
When Varus returned to the hangar bay, he found Sajoba waiting for him, a concerned look on his face. “What troubles you, Sajoba?” Varus asked his subordinate.
“What if Imperator Casix does not share our enthusiasm for the mineral?”
Varus knew that Sajoba knew the answer to that question, but perhaps it was a case of not wanting to think about the worst-case scenario. “He’ll most likely have you executed for gross misconduct and negligence in the loss of ships and personnel.”
Varus watched as Sajoba nodded, then turned to look at the sleek blue shuttle that had streaks of red running along the body. The shuttle had been assigned to the Sector Commander for many years, and like many things in the Pohjois, it was a throwback to a more civilised and developed age before the war. Looking around the hanger, Varus’s eyes met some of the other shuttles that we parked nearby. The more modern ones were simpler in design and less capable in ability.
The sight of so many new, yet less capable ships made Varus remember what Sajoba had said about the mineral, that it could end the war. Shaking his head lightly, Varus knew that Sajoba was right about one thing, that the war could be drawn to a close quickly under the right circumstances, Varus was just starting to wonder if force was the answer.
Shaking his head again, Varus banished the thought to the back of his mind. He knew Casix was psychic, and the last thing he needed was doubt in his mind when he met with the commander of the 3rd Star Legion.
The shuttle pilot walked down the rear ramp of the ship and signalled to Varus that they were ready for departure. Varus acknowledged him and moved to the bottom of the ramp before giving the hanger bay one more glance. Satisfied, he strode confidently up into the ship, Sajoba on his heels.
19
When Elder Jrr Bak arrived at the doors of the VLT quarters just before mid-day meal on the 9th of January, Earth date, he was accompanied by a team of fully clad Royal Guards with the reflective tear-drop masks. Rhea escorted the Elder out onto the balcony where the guards set watch, the team leader placing a small silver dish in the middle of the outdoor table without explanation.
Joe and the team watched as the senior guard checked the length of the balcony, peering over the sides, and up towards the higher floors of the palace. After a few moments of standing in silence, the guard spoke with Bak, who in turn tapped a jewel on the top a bracelet on his left arm. Seconds later the gong signalling the arrival of more guests, sending Rhea back to the door of the quarters, returning with five more individuals.
Joe quickly scanned the faces of the people that walked out onto the balcony, the first he didn’t recognise, the second was the woman in black from the gardens with her distinctive face tattoo, and the last was Ranix.
“Ranix!” Joe moved forward and embraced his friend. “Where have you been?”
“In orbit.” Came the reply.
Joe shook his head. “Good to see you again.”
The rest of the VLT were equally happy to see a familiar face and moved forward to greet the Floxian. Once the reunion was complete, Elder Bak introduced the rest of his party. The woman in black was Junior Councillor Toup Ra from Darjk. Next was Ship Master Tango Lutana who commanded a supply ship in the 5th Fleets sector. Next was a member of the Guilds, Lichter Pelle who oversaw weapons procurement, and finally was the man from the hologram that Joe and Rhea had received the prior day, High Councillor San Term from Floxis.
After all the introductions, the VLT and Elder Bak’s guests sat at the large outside table once it had been set for the mid-day meal. With the sumptuous meal laid out before the group, everyone took their respective places, with seating arranged to alternate human, and a member of the Alliance. Bak sat at the head of the table in-between Joe and Rhea and assured them that the serious conversation would come once their meal had been concluded.
All of the food that was presented had been caught or grew wild on Mechcharga, and was accompanied by juices from fruit that grew on the grounds of the palace. While everything might not have suited Joe’s palate, he was able to finish everything on his plate without too much of a struggle, and once the dishes had been cleared, Bak summoned the head of his security detail, whispering in a low tone, Bak gave a series of instructions that were heard only by the guard, who moved to the edge of the balcony, and tossed a small object in the air, which hovered ten metres above the balcony, stationary.
Once satisfied, the guard turned and gave a shallow bow to Bak, who in turn looked down the table. With everyone’s attention fixed on him, he began.
“Thankfulness for being here today. We have come together to discuss concerns I have had about the Alliance. Fears that you share.” He looked at Joe. “The Terrans, not being of the Alliance, I believe it is safe to trust you.” Bak looked back down the table. “This war has lasted too long. Too much suffering, too much loss. We must discover a path to peace, and uncover any threats that have remained in the shadows.”
Charles Ji-woon leaned forward. “What about the attempts to have peace talks?” he asked.
Bak shook his head. “Sabotaged.”
Joe raised an eyebrow at that comment but noted that Toup Ra and Ranix both nodded in agreement.
“Communication jammed at the border by Intelligence and Comms-Link for over fifty years. No transmissions allowed into the Pohjois and none allowed out of the Pohjois.” Bak said.
Sarah Chan had heard enough, enough today, and enough from Joe and other members of the VLT about conspiracies since they had landed, in her mind the time for idle chatter had ended. Standing up, she looked up and down the table before setting her eyes firmly on Bak.
“What do you,” she paused and looked at the individuals that had accompanied Bak. “Think is going on? In one,” she brought her right arm up, index finger extended. “sentence, please.” She lowered her arm but remained standing.
Joe smiled. He had wanted to ask the same question but thought it best to be a little less direct. He was glad someone had done his dirty work for him. Looking down from Sarah, he looked back to Bak, who sat motionless in his chair. Perhaps the lack of protocol was too much for him to handle, and without a cue, Junior Councillor Toup Ra chimed in.
“Someone or some group of individuals is deliberately dragging out the war.” She said in a firm voice.
Joe pursed his lips and looked at Rhea, then back to Ra. “Why?”
“Profit.” She said coolly. “Or some notion that victory is still possible.”
Joe nodded. So, we begin to arrive, he thought to himself.
“Travel off Mechcharga,” Bak said calmly. “see for yourself how things are in the Etelainen.”
Joe looked at Rhea, then down the table at the rest of his team, then back to the Elder. “How?”
Bak looked at Ranix. “Authorization will be obtained for you to travel on the Epsilon where your suspicions take you.” He looked back to Joe. “Discover what you can, then return to Mechcharga and make a report.”
