Solfleet: The Call of Duty (89 page)

“But a
breathable atmosphere means plant life to produce oxygen, doesn’t it? And in
order for there to be plant life, there has to be water.”

Benny looked
at him, grinning slightly—the experienced traveler amused by the naivety of a
child—and asked, “How many alien worlds have you visited during your career,
Dylan?”

“I don’t
know. Eight or nine maybe.”

“All similar
to Earth?”

“Pretty
much. For the most part, I guess. Why?”

“My friend,
there’s a world out there where a billion square mile forest of three hundred
foot tall naturally energized crystals provides a breathable atmosphere to the
inhabitants. There’s another so hot that water only exists as vapor and the
plant life draws it right out of the air, then splits it into hydrogen and
oxygen much like our fusion drives do. I’ve already told you stories of at
least a dozen more alien worlds.”

“Point
taken.”

“However, in
this case you’re at least partially right. There is water down there, but only
in the form of thousands of underground fresh water rivers and lakes. The
native plant species developed deep root systems to tap into it. If there ever
was any surface water down there, it’s long since evaporated, but as far as I
know, there’s never been any evidence of...” He fell silent as something on the
overhead display caught his attention.

“What’s
wrong?” Dylan asked.

“Yeah, I was
afraid of that,” Benny said as he gazed up at the short-range scanner screen on
the left.

“Afraid of
what?”

Benny
pointed up at the screen. “Reception committee.”

Dylan gazed up
at the two slow-moving bright red triangular blips Benny had just pointed out
to him. Angling in on them from two widely separate points on the screen, each
was pulling a seemingly random series of letters and numbers along behind it. He
knew, of course, that those readouts were their identification tags, but he
didn’t have a clue what the codes stood for. “Any idea who they are?”

“Solfleet
Military Police patrol boats,” Benny answered. “Vectoring in on two different
intercept courses. Looks like it’s going to be a red tape landing.”

“A what
landing?” he asked, looking at the old captain.

“A strictly
by-the-book kind of landing, I’m afraid,” Benny explained, clearly not thrilled
with the prospect. “Lots of unnecessary chatter and extra safety and security
procedures.”

“Oh.” Hoping
to lighten Benny’s suddenly sour mood, Dylan quipped, “I think you’ll do all
right with it, Benny. After all, you’ve been flying this boat for two weeks now.
You must have the hang of it by now.”

And that was
all it took. Benny looked at him, eyes and mouth wide open in exaggerated
response but smiling at the lighthearted insult. “I was flying starskiffs...”

“...over
sixty years before I was born,” Dylan finished for him with a grin. “Yes, I
know. You’ve told me.” Throughout their journey, Benny’s prideful ‘I-have-more-life-experience-than-you-could-ever-dream-of’
response had become a standing joke between them.

“More like
sixty-five,” Benny amended, just to get the last word more than to correct the
minor misstatement. They shared a laugh, but only a short-lived one.

“
Unidentified
Earth skiff, this is Solfleet Military Police Patrol Boat three-zero-five. I
have you on my scanners and show you on standard orbital approach to the planet
directly ahead of you. Please identify yourself and explain why you’re not
transmitting your vessel’s identicode.
”

Dylan looked
to Benny for guidance and asked, “We’re not transmitting our code?”

“No, we’re
not. Admiral Hansen told me not to, for security reasons.”

“But they were
expecting us here, right?”

Benny looked
him in the eye. “No, they weren’t, for the same reasons. This facility is a
very sensitive and highly classified one, Dylan. The admiral didn’t tell
anyone
we were coming.”

“Then...what
should I say?”

“It’s your show,”
Benny reminded him with a shrug. “I’m just your pilot.”

Dylan might
not have been a pilot, but communications protocols among Earth’s various
space-faring organizations were all standardized for simplicity sake, so
knowing and following the proper procedures, at least, wasn’t a problem.

He switched
on the comm-panel. “P-B three-oh-five, this is Lieuten...” He clamped his mouth
shut and checked himself, realizing his mistake even as he made it. He was
supposed to posing as a sergeant, but he’d said too much to be able to disguise
it now.

“
Say
again, skiff. I did not copy.
”

“P-B
three-oh-five, I say again. This is Lieutenant Dylan Graves of...the Solfleet
Military Police, aboard the starskiff
H.G. Wells
. We’ve been running silent
all the way from Earth to avoid enemy detection. Prepare to receive our identicode
and landing authority burst.”

“
Copy
that,
Wells
. Standing by.
”

Dylan
thumbed the data-transmit pad as a third patrol boat joined the escort group
from behind the
Wells
, sending everything the senior patrol officer
needed to know in order to allow them to land at the Window World outpost in a
nanosecond burst.

“
Burst
received. Stand by.
” There was a brief pause, then, “
Starskiff
H.G. Wells
,
adjust your course to heading three-five-seven mark zero-two. We’ll guide you
in.
”

“Affirmative,
patrol.”

“H.G. Wells
,
this is P-B three-zero-five. Power down your engines and prepare to be guided
down to the landing pad by magnebeam.
”

“Acknowledged,
P-B three-oh-five,” Dylan responded. “Powering down engines now.” He nodded to
Benny, who complied with the instructions without question just as he would
have if those instructions had come from his own commanding officer.

After a
moment, the view finally shifted from what had been starting to look like an
impending collision with the ground to that of a normal landing gear down
vertical descent. A few minutes later they touched down safely on the ground,
and Benny didn’t waste any time in shutting down all systems.

“Now that’s
what I call a perfect landing, Benny,” Dylan told him as they both released
their harnesses, “Thank you.”

“My
pleasure,” Benny replied with a smile as they stood and started walking toward the
access hatch. “Especially since I didn’t have to land it. I’m just glad it wasn’t
as rough a ride as the last time.”

“Yeah,”
Dylan snickered. “From the way you described it, so am I.”

As soon as
Benny opened the hatch a blast of very warm air hit Dylan square in the face—Benny
hadn’t been kidding when he said it could be warm—but he didn’t find it all
that uncomfortable...yet. But by the time they stepped off the bottom of the ramp
and Benny started what Dylan assumed was a routine post-flight walk-around
check of the vessel, he felt himself beginning to perspire a little. Ignoring
that as best he could, he stood fast and waited for the inevitable welcoming
committee, which didn’t take long to arrive.

There were
three of them. In the center and ahead of the others by a single step, a fairly
short and slightly overweight looking Asian gentleman wearing a somewhat
threadbare white lab coat hanging open over Solfleet naval class-B’s that
looked like he’d slept in them led the way. His ghostly complexion was a bit
rough and peppered with age spots, and his thinning salt and pepper hair, while
cut fairly short, was nonetheless unkempt and badly in need of a trim to clean
it up. He also wore old-fashioned silver-colored wire-frame eyeglasses. Eyeglasses!
Who wore eyeglasses anymore? Flanking him were two very serious looking Security
Forces troops in battle dress uniform with full combat gear, armed with large
caliber box-magazine fed automatic rifles of a type Dylan wasn’t familiar with.

“Gentlemen,”
the squat Asian began as he approached, smiling warmly and extending his hand. “Welcome
to the middle of nowhere. My name is Lieutenant Commander Toshiro Akagi. I’m
the commanding officer of this outpost.”

“Lieutenant
Dylan Graves,” Dylan responded, shaking the officer’s hand. “Pleased to meet
you, Commander.”

“Likewise, Lieutenant,”
Akagi responded. Then, offering his hand to Benny’s back, he asked, “And you,
sir, would be?”

“Captain
Benjamin Sedelnikov, semi-retired,” Benny answered as he turned away from the craft
and stepped forward to grasp the commander’s hand. And as they shook hands he
added, “And I would be back on Mandela Station tending to my dear
Selena
if
I hadn’t been tasked to bring the lieutenant all the way out here.”

Akagi looked
as if he were seeing a ghost. “Captain Benjamin...” His voice trailed off, but
his eyes maintained their gaping stare.

“Sedelnikov,”
Benny finished for him. “Yes.” The younger officer still just continued to
stare at him, and that was clearly making Benny feel a little uncomfortable. Finally,
when he’d had enough, he asked, “Are you trying to stare a hole through my
head, Commander?”

“What? Oh...sorry.
I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just...”

“You didn’t
mean to stare?” Benny asked. “Then I suggest you see an eye doctor.”

Akagi
grinned. “It’s just that... I recognize your name, sir. I can’t believe...”

“That I’m
still breathing?”

“Well,
frankly sir, yes, but that isn’t what I was going to say.” He shook his head in
wonder. “To think that you have actually come back here in person after all
this time. Benjamin Sedelnikov, chief technical engineer of the
Australia
and
co-discoverer of the...” He glanced at Dylan, then concluded, “...of these
ancient ruins.”

“In the
flesh, Commander. And quite a bit more of it than the last time I was here, I
might add. But enough of the hero-worship. Please, just call me Benny.”

“That’ll
take some getting used to, sir, but I’d be honored.”

“Thank you.”

The three
officers just stood there for the next several seconds and just gazed silently
at one another under the Security Forces’ watchful eyes. Then Commander Akagi finally
spoke up again. “Well, gentlemen. If you’ll follow me.”

He turned on
his heel and led them toward the small building he and the SFs had come out of.
As they approached the door he looked Dylan over and said, “I’m obviously not
one to be pointing out flaws in the wearing of the uniform, Mister Graves, but
unless there have been changes that I’m not aware of, yours is standard
enlisted
Military Police issue. And I know those are still the stripes of a staff or
a squad sergeant, depending on your job.” He touched his fingers to a series of
buttons on the control pad next to the door, then put his hand on the reader
panel. “Why do you identify yourself as a lieutenant?”

“I’m actually
a lieutenant J-G, sir,” Dylan informed him.

“Then why
the enlisted uniform and sergeant’s chevrons?”

“To mislead
anyone who might have seen us departing Mandela Station. To make them think I’m
just a regular MP escort on an official run. Officers don’t normally pull that
duty.”

“I see,” Akagi
responded with obvious apprehension. He looked as if he were beginning to
suspect some kind of trouble. He pulled his hand away from the panel before the
system granted them clearance to enter. “I take it you’re
not
just a regular
MP escort on an official run.”

“No, sir,”
Dylan admitted hesitantly.

When he didn’t
elaborate further, Akagi didn’t hesitate to ask, “So who are you really?” and
the expression on his face evidenced his suspicious expectation.

Dylan looked
at Benny, silently asking his advice.

“I think you
can tell him the truth,” Benny told him. “I’m sure he knows well enough to keep
it to himself.”

“Of course I
do,” Akagi confirmed. “And so do the guards. We all had to swear a special oath
of secrecy before being assigned here.”

“Besides,”
Benny continued, having gotten the impression that Akagi was a man who would
most likely
not
just let them do what they were there to do without
knowing exactly what was going on, “you’ll have to tell him soon enough, I
think.”

“You’ve got
that right, sir,” Akagi firmly verified.

Dylan looked
back at the commander and said simply, “S-I-A.”

Akagi
noisily blew out his breath and threw his arms out to his sides as he turned
his back and stepped away from the door. “I’ll be a... Son-of-a-... I should
have known!” he exclaimed. He slapped his thighs in disgust, then faced Dylan
again and comaplained, “It’s bad enough your Admiral Hansen has taken to
wasting my valuable time by grilling me over the comm-channels every three
days! Now he’s sending his agents here to give me the third degree in person?
What the hell does he think I’m holding back?”

“Whoa! Take
it easy, Commander,” Dylan said, raising his arms in surrender. “Admiral Hansen
doesn’t think you’re holding
anything
back. At least, not as far as
I
know. I’m not here to interrogate you.”

“Oh no?” the
commander asked doubtfully. “Then why the hell
are
you here?”

“Well...”
Dylan hesitated, then folded his hands behind his back, taking on a calmer and more
professional posture. “I’m sorry, Commander, but I can’t tell you that. It’s
classified.”

“Oh really?
What a surprise.”

“Nothing
against you, sir,” Dylan assured him, “but like Admiral Hansen says, it’s just
the nature of our business.”

“Oh, I see.
It’s just the nature of your business,” Akagi mocked, clearly dissatisfied with
that particular response. “I swear, if I had ten federals for every time I’ve
heard that line... It may be the nature of
your
business, Lieutenant,
but it’s not the nature of mine.”