Citizen X - BP01 Read online

  As Sydnee watched, the squad leaders had their people line up in preparation for entering the shuttles. And when they began to enter the ship, Sydnee could hear the commotion on the other side of the flight deck door. As the noise settled down, a Marine First Lieutenant entered the flight deck and plopped into the co-pilot seat.

  "You Marcola?" the LT asked.

  "That's me," Sydnee said.

  "I'm Kennedy. You will address me properly as Lieutenant," he said irately, "as I will address you. Although we're both O-2, I am your senior here and you will follow my commands to the letter. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Lieutenant. Captain Lidden has briefed me."

  "Then move out. We're all buttoned up in back."

  Sydnee glanced over at the instrument panel to confirm the ship was sealed, then fired up the shuttle's oh-gee engine and slowly moved the ship into launch position near the hatch using opposed gravity. As she canceled the oh-gee movement and let the ship settle to the deck again, she engaged the magnetic skids. Hinged bulkheads then folded down from the overhead and sealed an area just larger than the shuttle and hatchway. When vacuum pumps had sucked all the air from the area, the outer hatch opened to reveal space. Sydnee released the magnetic skids and used the deuterium thrusters to pilot the ship out and away from the Perry.

  The Xouadess, sitting twenty-five thousand kilometers from the Perry, had activated her exterior lights at her maintenance section roughly four kilometers behind the main ship. Sydnee heard Milton's voice in her left ear as she received the signal via her CT.

  "Head for the illuminated maintenance section on the starboard side of the ship, Lt. Marcola," Milton said. "The hatch is open and waiting to receive you. Lt. Weems, use the open hatch on the larboard side."

  "Message received and acknowledged," Sydnee said after touching the face of her Space Command ring to initiate a carrier for the signal. She didn't shut the carrier wave down by saying, "Marcola, out," because she wanted to stay in immediate contact.

  Shuttles don't have FTL drives because of the enormous power requirements such travel involves, but traversing the twenty-five thousand kilometers to the freighter took less than a minute once the Sub-Light engine was engaged. It took far longer to dock and then wait until the airlock section was pressurized.

  As soon as the gauge showing the pressure outside the shuttle entering the green range, the Marines piled out like the small ship was on fire. As the temporary airlock bulkheads began to fold up, the Marines spread out and took up positions behind any available cover while amused mechanics, sitting on or leaning against maintenance equipment, maintained non-threatening positions and watched the familiar show.

  Sydnee watched from the pilot's chair, perfectly content to remain inside the shuttle. For her, the thrill was over until it was time to return to the Perry. It was a shame the shuttle could carry so many at a time. It would have been wonderful if she had to make several trips each way.

  Chapter Four

  ~ Oct. 28th, 2284 ~

  It took several hours for the Marines to secure the freighter. All crewmembers were required to leave the cargo container section and report to the ship for identification processing. After the ID work was complete, the crew was allowed to go to their quarters where they could sleep or relax until the inspection was complete, but they were not allowed to wander around the ship. The Marines then searched the cargo section for any signs of life. It took time to search ten kilometers of cargo containers for stowaways or illegal passengers, even with state-of-the-art sensors. When at last the Marines were satisfied there was no one hiding out in the cargo section, Sydnee was ordered to join Lt. Weems outside the other shuttle.

  The work of checking the cargo was already underway when Sydnee arrived at Weems's position. The inspection team had downloaded the freighter's cargo files and was reading through cargo manifests looking for indications of possible illegal cargo or simply anything out of the ordinary. The Perry's computer had already computed container masses based on reported loads and verified its estimates with the freighter's estimates to ensure they were consistent.

  When the paperwork was done, the job of actually inspecting the cargo began. Obviously, the team couldn't perform a thorough inspection of ten kilometers of cargo containers on every ship, so the Perry's computer prepared a random sampling of cargo containers to examine. Twenty-five percent of the list was from the cargo containers most likely to be in violation and twenty-five percent was from the containers least likely to be in violation. The remaining fifty percent were a random drawing from the remainder. Even the containers on this small list would take hours to find and inspect, so they jumped to it. They wanted to be done just as much as the freighter's captain wanted them to be gone, but they wouldn't do a less than thorough job. If any illegal goods were found, every single container would have to be searched from top to bottom.

  When the containers reached their destination port, they would be irradiated to guarantee that no pestilence, vermin, or harmful non-indigenous life forms could reach a Galactic Alliance planet. For shipments within the GA, all containers were irradiated twice, once at the shipping point and once at the destination. No known carbon-based life form could survive the irradiation process. Containers used for shipping certain fresh foods, medicines, and biological products were granted exemption from the irradiation sweep but would be inspected dirt-side in special quarantine facilities before the cargo was released to the customer.

  Five hours later, the task was complete. The inspection team hadn't found any cargo violations, but they issued one warning about the condition of a container. The container had to be reinforced before it could be used again, or it had to be replaced. If that container was encountered again, it would be inspected to verify the ordered work had been completed. If it hadn't, the company would be fined ten times the value of a new container. The stiffness of the fine meant that few companies ignored the warnings.

  Sydnee was unhappy that she hadn't had a chance to interact with any Nordakians, but there'd been no excuse for her to visit the main ship. At one time, Nordakians had attended the Academies on Earth, but that ended when Space Command built an Academy on Nordakia. It had worked out so well that they added a WCI a few years later in time to take the first graduating class of RNSA. Usually referred to as 'RoNSA,' the initials stood for Royal Nordakian Space Academy. The curriculum was the same as that of the two Earth Academies, NHSA and SHSA, and the testing just as rigorous.

  Although it was said that as much as one-tenth of one percent of Space Command was now Nordakian, there had been no Nordakians on the Tafton during Sydnee's time aboard, and there were none on the Perry. All Sydnee really knew about them was that they were very tall, with the males usually over seven feet and the females almost never less than six feet. Everyone knew they could control their skin color in a way similar to that of the Terran chameleon, but during times of stress or exuberance, they lost control of their chromaticity and color could ripple across their skin like a rainbow gone amuck. Sydnee also knew that Admiral Carver, although a Terran born on Earth, held dual citizenship on Nordakia and was a Lady of the Nordakian Royal House, in addition to being an Azula. An Azula was roughly the equivalent of a Duchess in Earth nobility terms.

  Sydnee enjoyed the brief trip back to the Perry as much as the trip out. As she maneuvered the ship to its parking location in the shuttle bay and engaged the skid's magnetic locks, she was sad the inspection was over, even if her watch had technically ended four hours earlier. She didn't even feel like eating as she exited the shuttle's flight deck. All she wanted to do was strip off the battle armor and slip into her rack for seven or eight hours of restful slumber.

  * * *

  Finding vidMails from home and friends in their computer was often the best part of the day for military people. Sydnee was ecstatic when she awoke and discovered messages from her mother, her sister Sheree, and her best friend Katarina in her queue. She decided to save the one from Katarina for last, fo
r several reasons, and played the one from her mom.

  "Hello, dear. I don't know why you're so depressed. You got your wish. You're aboard a warship— like you've wanted ever since your father was killed. And I'm personally delighted that you're somewhere where you won't be killed. Our family has paid a high enough price for peace and freedom. I'd be just as delighted if they kept you there until you're so sick of the military life that you come back home to live. Your stepfather says that with your education he could get you a top executive job in a minute. And if you have to be involved with the military, you could maybe get a position with a manufacturer that supplies Space Command and the Space Marine Corps. I've heard they're begging people to apply. The situation in Region Two means that the military will be needing enormous supplies for years to come while they try to tame the lawlessness there.

  "So you see, you don't have to actually be in the military to help out— you can do it as a civilian. Won't you please think about it at least?

  "I love you.

  "Kathee Deleone, Park Central Towers, New York City, USNA, Earth. Message complete."

  Sydnee sighed. Her mother couldn't seem to understand that although she might be depressed over having been posted to the Perry, it was still a million times better than selling dolls for little girls and boys— or even selling military supplies to the service. "I'd probably find myself selling emergency food packs or lubricating oil," she said before playing the message from her sister.

  "Hi, sis. Mom says you're depressed. So what, there aren't any cute guys out there? I thought that guys were like, three to one in the military. Hey, here's an idea; throw a party in your quarters. That's the best cure for depression. It's what I always do. Speaking of which, you know that guy I met in South Africa last year? The one I told you about who has the little mole on his— well you know. Anyway, he's coming to New York on business this week and he sent me a vid. He wants to get together while he's here. I just got back from shopping and you should see the great dress I got for our first date in the City. Wait a minute."

  Sydnee's sister disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared holding a dress against herself. It was a blaze of colors that reminded one of a fireworks exhibition gone wild.

  "What do you think? Isn't this fantastic. It was marked down to eight hundred fifty credits from two thousand. It's gorgeous. I wish you were here to feel the material. It's so soft. I can't wait to wear it Friday night.

  "Opps, there's the timer. Gotta go.

  "Love ya.

  "Sheree Marcola, Park Central Towers, New York City, USNA, Earth. Message complete."

  Sydnee chuckled and shook her head a little. Her sister was every bit as intelligent as she was, but all she ever thought about was clothes, partying, and men— and not in that order. She chuckled again when she thought about Sheree's suggestion that she throw a party in her quarters. If one person stayed on the bed, she might be able to fit two others in the room.

  Lastly, Sydnee played the message from Katarina.

  "Hi, hon, how's it going? I hope your life is better than mine. I thought life at the Academy and the WCI was rough. All we ever do out here is train, train, and train some more. After I get done with my watch, I hit the sack, but I have to be back up at 1600 for an hour of training. Then we get a half hour for dinner before we start training again. At 2000 we get an hour for ourselves, then more training. As soon as that training is over, it's time to go on watch. I'm exhausted by then and happy just to sit, stare at, and dream about Quesann on one of my monitors. It's incredibly beautiful. It has thousands of kilometers of pristine beaches, mountains, lakes, and everything. They tell us we'll get a day off next week, but I don't know if I want to sleep in more than I want to go to the beach.

  "Keep this under your hat, but it seems like something big is going on. They haven't told us anything, but I expected to see action by now. We know that the Tsgardi, Gondusans, and Hudeerac have surrendered unconditionally, but the Uthlaro are still holding out.

  Admiral Carver returned months ago and additional ships keep arriving all the time. The Space Command fleet here is massive. It has to be assembling for a reason. I guess that when all the ships arrive, we'll go to meet the Uthlaro forces. I've also heard the Ruwalchu are involved, but I don't know if there's any truth to that.

  There's the timer. Gotta go. Message me."

  "Katarina Somulowski, Lieutenant(jg), aboard the GSC Pholus. Message complete."

  Sydnee wanted to jump up and down, stamp her feet, scream at the top of her lungs, and throw something against a bulkhead— all at the same time. Something big was going on in Region Two and she was stuck aboard the Perry studying shipping manifests and checking the contents of containers. How could life be so unfair? She had worked hard and earned a place aboard a battleship, but she was stuck here dealing with bored and belligerent freight haulers.

  * * *

  "Yesterday, the rebels transmitted a declaration of secession from the Clidepp Empire," Admiral Bradlee said to the other admirals sitting at the large table during a regularly convened meeting of the Admiralty Board. "They claim to represent all planets outside the central core where the Empire's power is concentrated, but we have no idea how many local governments on planets and moons are actually involved, if any. The rebels may not have any real support, even though they say they speak for everyone other than the powerful families of Yolongus."

  "What's your best estimate, Roger?" Admiral Hillaire said. "How many people do they really represent?"

  "I wouldn't even hazard a guess at this point. It could be a thousand or it could be ten trillion. Since this is an autonomous nation outside GA space, SCI has a very small footprint there. We know there's widespread dissatisfaction with the central government, but we have no idea how many citizens are actually willing to support the succession and fight to end rule by Yolongus, or what resources the rebels control. We know that the Empire's military is fanatically loyal to Yolongus because of the generous pay and benefits they've received since the triumvirate came to power, but we won't begin to know how this thing will shake out until their military takes some action. If the rebels have any sort of power base, they'll have to fight back when the military starts placing systems under martial law."

  "We should notify our warships on patrol along the Clidepp Empire border to be alert for the possibly of hostilities spilling over into our territory," Admiral Plimley said.

  "The GA Council has prepared a resolution regarding the situation," Admiral Moore said. "It will come up for a vote very soon. Essentially, it restates the GA policy regarding travel through our space with the intention of visiting or settling on a planet by persons without a passport, visa, or approved immigration papers. It also redefines Space Command's required response when encountering such ships and individuals."

  "So we continue to detain them and then return them to their origin?" Admiral Platt asked.

  "No, now we'll turn the entire ship back. That'll make the captains and their shipping companies take responsibility for screening the passengers in advance. It should dramatically reduce the number of illegal aliens we'll have to deal with."

  "And if the ship won't turn back?" Admiral Bradlee asked.

  "Then we destroy its FTL generator, push it back across the border, and contact the Clidepp military. It's their problem."

  "The first time we do that, the media will go absolutely crazy," Admiral Ahmed said. "They'll accuse us of being insensitive to the needs of people displaced by war."

  "I know. They'll do anything to sensationalize the news and sell more advertising space, but it's what the GAC is ordering. Remember the uproar with the Dakistee clones? We were only talking about increasing the population density by seventy-nine people. How crazy will people act if we talk about letting billions in? It's a 'damned if we do, damned if we don't' situation."

  "In fairness," Admiral Woo said, "the seventy-nine people in question were clones. With the refugees, we're talking about sentient beings forced fr
om their homes because of war. It's quite a different matter."

  "That will only be acceptable for the first million or so. After that, people will begin demanding we put a stop to it. It's better if we never let it start."

  "We may not have a choice," Admiral Platt said. "I have just twenty warships operating in the sectors that cover most of the seven hundred sixty-two light years of border with the Clidepp Empire, and the ships are the oldest and slowest in the fleet. The situation in Region Two has reduced our resources there to far less than what I would call the bare minimum. We estimate that we only happen upon one ship in twenty that crosses into our territory. And if a border patrol ship encounters more than one ship crossing at a time, our captain has to decide which one should be stopped if they both run."

  "If this civil war, or revolution, escalates before things in Region Two are resolved, we could completely lose control in those border sectors," Admiral Hubera said. "We must take action now."

  "What kind of action are you proposing, Donald?" Admiral Hillaire asked. "We have no additional ship resources we can spare."

  "I don't know, but we have to do something."

  "That's helpful, Donald."

  "I know what you'd like to do. You'd like to bring Carver into this."

  "Admiral Carver has enough on her hands right now," Admiral Hillaire said, "or yes, I would suggest we consult with her. We need an innovative thinker right now and I know of no one more qualified to offer a possible solution to this problem. I admit that I can think of nothing at the moment."

  "I doubt that even Admiral Carver could come up with something this time," Admiral Woo said. "We have neither the ships nor the personnel we need to do the job, so there's nothing we can do right now except stand helplessly by and watch the situation deteriorate. I don't like to admit it, but that's the way it is."

  "We didn't have the ships or personnel needed to fight the Milori invasion, but Admiral Carver found a way," Admiral Hillaire said. "Twice."