He had no trouble finding the shuttle, even in the dark.
The troops, his troops, had cleared a fairly large area to allow the craft to land in the center. They were arranged in orderly rows on either side of the ramp . . . A ramp that emerged from the cleanest vehicle Junior had ever seen.
The shuttle was vaguely rectangular with a large view port across the front, an access hatch on one side and another in the rear, which was open displaying orderly crates of Be-Esunium.
As he walked around to examine the payload, he took in the rest of the shuttle. There were narrow wings on either side. They looked too small to support the weight of the shuttle, but possibly provided some stability.
The black painted craft sat on three short legs that ended in long skids.
"Cargo looks well situated, Specialist," Junior greeted McComb, "Do I have to call you that?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.
"I'd recommend it, Sir," McComb answered, "Your situation is fairly tenuous as it is."
"Alright," this situation had Junior constantly looking over his shoulder as it was, "Time to go?"
He followed McComb through the side hatch as the other troops followed him on board. However as they strapped into crash netting on the sides of the shuttle, Junior was walked all the way to the front of the shuttle.
"We thought you'd enjoy the view, Sir," McComb explained.
As if on cue, the shuttle lifted with only a slight increase in engine noise. It rose slowly at first but it smoothly and gradually picked up speed.
Junior looked out the view port, first watching Impact sink into the distance, then watching the clouds as they got closer and closer.
The clouds completely obscured his vision or a second, but as the shuttle emerged above them he saw something that both amazed him and filled his gut with lukewarm dread.
The G5493 was the largest single object Junior, or anyone that Junior knew, had ever seen.
And it was ugly.
Junior could appreciate the smooth lines of the shuttle, but the G5493 was all sharp edges and flat surfaces. While Junior could sense the power, even at rest, that this massive machine represented, he could not imagine it moving. It did not visually communicate flight to Junior so, for reasons he didn't fully understand, the carrier seemed an unnatural thing to him.
Junior understood that in space there is no air. Making spacecraft aerodynamic was worse than useless for practical purposes. There was no air to resist space flight, therefore there was no reason to reduce that resistance. But, for decidedly un-practical reasons, Junior decided that any human-made flying vehicle should look like it belongs in the sky.
Junior hated the G5493. He hated the look, he hated the name and, as he stepped out of the shuttle and onto the flight deck, he hated the smell.
"What is that?" He asked McComb, as politely as possible trying to discreetly breathe through his mouth.
"Just recycled air, Sir," McComb replied, "It takes a little getting used to but it is perfectly safe."
There were two rows of twenty officers lined up on either side of the walkway to the large steel doors at the end of the landing platform.
Earth Prime Protection Force uniforms were made of a black fabric with an almost metallic sheen.
The officers wore various badges and ribbons and rank designations, but Junior didn't know what any of them meant. The officer on the left side closest to the door stepped forward before Junior could pass and said, "Sir, welcome aboard the G5493. I am Captain Smith. I have responsibility for the operation of this vessel. I trust you will find everything to your satisfaction."
Junior extended his hand. The man looked at it as if Junior were trying to hand him a week dead pile rat.
After a few seconds, Junior withdrew his hand and said, "I'm sure I will."
He brushed past the man and into a brightly lit hallway. McComb was a step behind him.
"Sir, to the right is the bridge. Left would take you to your quarters."
Junior chose right. He didn't like the idea of spending any more time on this ship than he had to to convince these people he was not the right man for the job, but also not worth killing. Seeing the room where he would be expected to sleep and live was too much.
He set off down the hall at a brisk pace, eager to get this over with.
As the door to the bridge opened, Junior was struck by the amount of flashing lights. He had never seen so many computers at once, and each was hovered over by a man in another black uniform.
"Fleet Commander on deck," a female computerized voice sounded.
At once, the men in the room stopped what they were doing and stood at attention.
Junior walked among them. He paused near one and looked at the screen of the computer. He tried to look concerned, but he had no idea what the computer was supposed to be doing, so he had no comment to make.
The view port looked over the surface of what Junior assumed was EcoHope 11. His suspicions were confirmed when the delivery rocket fell past the screen and punched a hole through the clouds.
"Guess that is headin' for the crater, right?" he asked McComb.
McComb checked his terminal and nodded.
"Is there anything specific you'd like to see before I take you to your quarters?" McComb asked.
Snce Junior didn't know what there was to see, he shook his head and walked back towards the door.
As McComb followed him into the hallway, he threw a quick, "As you were," over his shoulder. Junior heard the activity in the bridge resume just before the door slid shut.
"I had the staff remove the personal effects from our former Fleet Colonel's room, but all of his title related supplies should still be in place. Get acquainted with the computer (there is a manual on the desk) and try out the nano shower. I'm going to check on the ore. I'll be back in about an hour, at the latest."
He keyed the sequence to open the door and waved Junior in. He turned to leave. Just as the door shut, Junior heard him say, "Welcome aboard, Sir."
Chapter Twenty Seven Interlude
File: Datanet Core Server Gamma Alpha ninety six, Galactic Technologies, Era: Modern -0, Index Earth Prime Protection Force, Computing, Data Supplied by Datanet Tech Officer's Manual
The amazing computer systems of Benevolent States United star ships are powerful, responsive and easy to use. Having completed the three year officer's training program, you will have no issues operating these systems. However, here are the basics in case you suffer memory loss, information attack or your voice box is destroyed in combat.
First, calibrate the voice recognition system by stating your name, rank, and Faithful designation number.
After that, the computer can be tuned to your voice by reciting the first twelve lines of the Founder's Speech from the third day of the Benevolent States United's governance. All Faithful school children know that one, and the computers recognize it as an initialization string.
Following the calibration, supply standard orders, requests and commands and, if you have the authority, the computer will see to your needs.
If you should have any trouble with your computer system, please contact the computer specialists located in the lower decks of every EPPF star ship.
"Please state rank."
"I don't know, I told you!"
"Please state rank."
What was it? With a flash, Junior's stressed mind provided the answer.
"Fleet Colonel"
"Please state name and rank."
"I'm Junior, Fleet Colonel."
"Please state name and rank and Faithful designation number."
"What?"
"Please state name and rank and Faithful designation number."
"I don't know it."
"Please state name and rank and Faithful designation number."
"I'm Junior, Fleet Colonel, you suck."
"Please state name and rank and Faithful designation number."
"I'm Junior, Fleet Colonel, number . . . seven?"
"Please state name and rank and Faithful designation number."
"I'm Junior, Fleet Colonel, number (mumble mumble)."
"Please state name and rank and Faithful designation number."
"I'm Junior, Fleet Colonel, number (cough)."
"Please state name and rank and Faithful designation number."
"I'm Junior, Fleet Colonel, number," He looked at the wall, dug through the desk, grabbed a file folder marked "Stevens" and read, "RV7TT-43UV3-2WVTY"
"Processing. . . . . Please wait . . . Please recite the first twelve lines of the Founder's Speech."
"Shit!"
"Please recite the first twelve lines of the Founder's Speech."
"Up yours!"
"Please recite the first twelve lines of the Founder's Speech."
"I don't know it!"
"A service call has been placed on your behalf. Please expect a technician soon. Good day."
