In Russian she spoke to the man, who had fallen back in his chair and was holding his now useless right arm. “You assholes in charge are always getting others shot. Tell me, how does it feel, you
bljadin syn
?”
“You are making a big mistake Dr. Tropsha.”
“No,” she cut him off, “it is you who have made the mistake. If your thug had killed the Chief, I would have killed all three of you.” Turning back to the Chief she said in English, “Chief, we must get out of here.”
The Russians were carrying old fashioned Makarov semi-automatic pistols. The compact 9mm was still popular with Russian agents because of its small size, making concealed carry easier. Quickly removing the pistol’s magazine and ejecting the round in the chamber, Ludmilla released the slide lock by pulling the spring loaded trigger guard down and to one side. She stripped the slide from the body and threw the pieces into a nearby trash bin. Retrieving the other two guns from the floor, she repeated the procedure on them as well.
Ludmilla then peeled back the upper left side of the Chief’s jumpsuit and applied a large compress to his still bleeding wound. In the process the Chief’s blood was smeared on her jumpsuit, shockingly red against the white material. “Chief, now we go,” she said, closing her case. “please give me the stunner.”
The Chief handed her the nonlethal weapon and without hesitation she turned and stunned the wounded but still conscious Russian agent. Then, holding the door open for the Chief she called the shuttle on her collar pip, “Lt. McKennitt, we are headed back to the ship. The Chief has been shot and we might need a little help exiting the building…”
Kong Karls Land, Svalbard, Norway
“Hey you mangy walking carpet! How are you doing?” Bear shouted to his old acquaintance, Tornassuk. Bear, Isbjørn and Umky were approaching Tornassuk and a smaller female from the west.
“Is that you, Pihoqahiak?” the big male replied. “I figured you for a hunting trophy by now. And is that Isbjørn? You still hanging around with this bum?”
“For now,” Isbjørn answered. “Umky and I just ran into him a few kilometers west of here. He helped us out with a little dumb bear problem we were having.”
“I had it under control, Mom,” Umky said.
“What you had under control was setting the stage for your funeral, sonny,” Bear chuckled, causing Umky to look at him angrily but say nothing more. Bear sat down in front of the pair of new bears. “And I go by Bear now, my English speaking human friends found Pihoqahiak a bit of a mouthful.”
“Just ‘Bear’?” Tornassuk asked, looking a bit skeptical. “That’s either really unimaginative or really conceited.”
“Oh dude!” Bear exclaimed, waving a dinner plate sized paw in front of his face. “somebody has been chowing down on rancid blubber!” Fully grown male polar bears had a tendency to eat only the high-energy fat of a seal or walrus, leaving the more protein rich meat for scavengers. Even if a carcass had been rotting for several days, they consumed the blubber with relish.
“Yeah, there’s a dead walrus on the beach back that way, been there a couple of days,” the other big male responded, “and stop trying to change the subject. Since when do you hang with
Homo sapiens?
”
“Is the pup yours, Isbjørn?” asked the female, ignoring the conversation between the two males. Then, in a burst of insight, she added, “and yours too, Pihoqahiak? I always heard you were a bit different, but what are you trying to do, start a nuclear family like the humans pretend is normal?”
“You’d be surprised what I’ve been learning from the humans, little lady,” Bear replied with a grin and a half leer. This caused Isbjørn to nip Bear on the ear. “Hey,” he said pulling away, “I didn’t think you were the jealous kind, babe.”
“No female likes it when her escort starts flirting with the competition,” said Isbjørn, adding cattily, “not that dear Snowflake is really competition.”
“Oh yeah. Like you’re the Queen of the Arctic,” the other shot back sarcastically, flashing a bit of incisor.
“Now ladies, rather than snipe at each other, why don’t you let me tell you about a trip I made, a journey befitting the legend of Pihoqahiak?” The other bears looked at him curiously. All polar bears are curious to a fault and talking polar bears, in particular, love a good story. “Let me tell you about fighting giant alien spiders on the Moon and taking a trip to the stars…”
Dr. Saito’s Lab, University of Tokyo
The telephone in Dr. Saito’s laboratory was ringing. This was unusual because it had stopped ringing half a year ago, after Dr. Saito went into space to spend some time on board the International Space Station. There was a brief flurry of calls when his death in the solar eruption was announced two months ago, but those were just news reporters looking for “reaction” to the Doctor’s death.
Now, with renewed rumors caused by the supposed return of the mystery spaceship, it looked like the news hounds were back on the trail. The Internet was awash with videos of planets and space stations, battles with aliens and interior shots of the mystery ship. There was even a clip of a flying saucer taking off, after supposedly returning some missing soldiers. It went viral after the U.S. government tried to have it taken down. Mizuki did not know whether to believe any of it or not.
Dr. Mizuki Ogawa was a recent PhD and had signed on as a post-doctorate researcher in Dr. Saito’s lab just before he took his ill fated trip into space. She had been keeping the lab open since the announcement of Dr. Saito’s death because no one had bothered to come by and tell her to shut the place down. In a way, she felt, it helped to keep his memory alive.
This caller was certainly persistent, she thought, why can’t they leave Dr. Saito’s spirit rest? Mizuki never used the lab phone. Like every other person under the age of 50 in Japan, she had a late model cell phone that could do everything but drive a car and make sushi. Finally it was more than she could stand. Angrily she picked up the phone and said, “
Moshi moshi, kochira wa Mizuki desu.
”
“
Konnichiwa
, Dr. Mizuki Ogawa?” the voice on the other end asked.
“Hai, this is Dr. Ogawa, what do you want?” she replied in Japanese.
“I am a friend of Dr. Saito’s.” came the response in understandable Japanese, though the speaker was certainly not a native.
Switching to English, Mizuki tried again, “You mean you were his friend. He is dead. What do you want with me.”
“Dr. Saito told me you have a little sister, Kiyoko,” the voice on the phone continued in English. “But you call her Koko, to tease her about her height.” The name Koko means stork in Japanese. “I tell you this to prove that I know Dr. Saito well.”
How did she know that?
Mizuki’s interest was piqued in spite of herself. “Why do you wish me to think you knew Dr. Saito? Who are you? Why are you calling me with this!”
“I assure you that Dr. Saito was alive a few days ago when we dropped him off in Okinawa. But now he has vanished and we think he is being held against his will somewhere in Tokyo. I am Lt. Gretchen Curtis, first officer of the starship Peggy Sue and we need you to help us locate Dr. Saito.”
Mizuki’s mouth opened in wordless disbelief as the receiver slipped from her grasp. This had to be some kind of tasteless prank being played on her by some of the other post-docs. There were a number of native English speaking students at the University and it would be easy to put one of them up to making the call. She recovered the receiver and hung up the phone.
A minute later it rang again. Mizuki hung up without answering and left the phone off the hook. Two minutes later her cellphone rang, an incoming call from an unknown number.
“Dr. Ogawa, please do not hang up again,” said the woman’s voice. “Dr. Saito is my friend and I fear he is in grave danger. I have called his apartment number and his cellphone, both are not working. Not out of service, there is no busy signal or error message, just dead silence. His PC is not available for chat either.”
Strange,
Mizuki thought,
a caller should have at least gotten Dr. Saito’s answering machine or the message service for his cell.
No one earns a PhD in physics without being inquisitive and Mizuki’s curiosity was now fully aroused. “Yes,” Mizuki said cautiously, “what do you want me to do?”
“Could you go by Dr. Saito’s apartment and see if there is anyone there? Or any sign of recent activity?”
That seemed like a reasonable request, if the woman really is who she says she is. “What should I say if there is someone there other than Dr. Saito?”
“Tell them the truth, that you are Dr. Saito’s post-graduate assistant and you are checking to see that his apartment is still intact.”
“And then?”
“Regardless of what you find, call me back at this number…”
Peggy Sue, High Earth Orbit
The Captain returned to his ship in a large shuttle, loaded with new personnel. Though the seats in the big shuttle were large and comfortable, the Captain claimed the privilege of rank and rode in the less comfortable co-pilot’s seat for the journey. With Ludmilla in danger he was not feeling particularly sociable.
In the passenger cabin were a number of notable additions to the ship’s complement. Among them were the SEALs, jesse Lowe and several new environmental and engineering technicians. Also on the flight were Richard Carmichael, MD, a thoracic surgeon, his operating room nurse, Giselle Bollard, and Gene Hofstadter, doctor of veterinary medicine specializing in large exotic animals. All the newcomers bubbled with excitement over their first flight in space.
Arriving in an anxious mood after the three hour flight, Jack called a meeting of the ship’s officers in the main lounge. The lounge was the only semi private area that could accommodate the ship’s growing cadre of officers. Among those in attendance were Gretchen Curtis, the first officer, Jo Jo Medina, the chief engineer, Nigel Lewis, JT and the two helmsmen, Billy Ray Vincent and Bobby Danner.
“I’m glad you are all able to attend this meeting in person,” the Captain began. “Let me officially welcome aboard our new officers, Lt. JG Nigel Lewis and Lt. JG Sandy McKennit, who is currently planet side on a mission. I can assure you that both First Officer Curtis and myself are extraordinarily happy to have a couple more officers available to stand watch.” That remark brought a few chuckles. Jack and Gretchen wore themselves to a frazzle during the last trip, one of them always having to be on the bridge in case of emergencies.
“I am also happy to announce that Mr. Billy Ray Vincent and his fellow helmsman, Mr. Bobby Danner, have been commissioned as Lieutenants, Junior Grade.” There was a smattering of applause and verbal congratulations.
“Also take note that Mr. Bear, Mr. Taylor and Mr. Medina have been promoted Lieutenants. Mr. Taylor is assigned as ship’s science officer, responsible for the ship’s scientific sensors and liaison to the science section staff. Though he will wear science section burgundy, he is also one of the ship’s officers. Mr. Medina will continue to head the engineering section.” More congratulations.
“Finally, let it be known that Gretchen Curtis is promoted Lt. Commander and will serve officially as the Peggy Sue’s executive officer.” The Captain paused as the assembled officers came to their feet and applauded heartily. Once order was restored he continued: “Though it has always been clear that she is my second in command, I feel it is time to drop the fiction that this is not a Naval vessel and formalize the command structure. You will also note that we now have three Lieutenants, four Lieutenants JG, and four new midshipmen. The intent is for the junior officers to learn and advance as quickly as events allow.
“That is because we will be building a number of new ships—larger and more powerful than the Peggy Sue. And when those ships are commissioned, they will need captains and XOs of their own. Eventually, I hope each of you earns a captaincy.” This remark caused a number of smiles and not a few thoughtful looks among the junior officers.
Just look at them, all full of piss and vinegar,
Jack thought,
I remember when I was that young, convinced I would be the best captain in the history of the US Navy. Well, we’ve got matters to attend to first.
“I know that it is traditional to have a promotion party in celebration, but I’m afraid that we will have to delay that happy occasion for a few days. That is because we have a number of crew members in peril—a situation I intend to correct.”
Jack glanced around the table and saw looks of grim determination replace the celebratory mood of a few minutes ago. “Let’s start with the status of our missing Marines. Mr. Taylor, do you have an update?”
“Yes, Sir,” JT responded. “As Lt. Vincent suggested, we dropped a reconnaissance drone onto Camp Lejeune and had it do a stealthy survey of the base’s less populated areas. The drone picked up the unmistakable signature of one of our comm pips on a number of occasions.”
“Yes, Mr. Taylor? Go on.”
“Perhaps it best if I let Mr. Vincent explain,” JT replied, turning the briefing duties over to Billy Ray. Billy Ray smiled his laconic cowboy smile and said, “Well, Captain, what we figured out was that the Marines, or at least GySgt Rodriguez, are being moved around. The signal is steady over night, coming from a partially hidden compound of low buildings surrounded by guards and barbed wire.”
“That is presumably where they are bedding down,” added JT.
“That’s right. But during the day the signal moves. As near as we can tell, the squad is put on a bus and taken to some other location each morning, possibly for interrogation. They return by bus just before sunset each day.”
“And this pattern has held for how long, Mr. Vincent?”
“Three days now, Captain.”
“So do you gentlemen have a plan?”
“Yes, Sir,” JT answered, “we were thinking of hitting the bus at the end of the day. From our observations there are only a driver and two guards on board the bus. When it turns off Mockup Road, onto the trail to the detention site, there is a short stretch where it can’t be seen from either the road or the prison camp. We will disable the vehicle at that point, over come the guards and free the Marines before anyone knows what has happened.”