Galactic Council Realm 2: On Duty Read online

  On Duty

  A Galactic Council Realm Book

  By: J. Clifton Slater

  On Duty

  Galactic Council Realm

  Books:

  On Station

  On Duty

  On Guard

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All the errors in judgment, faulty concepts, misuse of military tactics, unworkable theories, and rewriting of historical groups are mine. Also, the names I use in this story are associated with languages from around the world. You’ll find them listed in the Appendix along with their country of origin and meaning. Again, any name that has an incorrect meaning, is my error.

  I’d like to thank my tireless editor, Hollis Jones, for the many hours she spent correcting my spelling, grammar and convoluted sentence structure.

  I also want to thank Brian and Barbara Prezgay and Natalie Huck for their support and encouragement.

  I am a gamer and my time waster of choice are RPGs on my XBox 360. This book follows some of the aspects of the video games I enjoy. You can find maps and diagrams on my Facebook page. I hope you enjoy On Station: Galactic Council Realm.

  J. Clifton Slater

  Facebook: facebook.com/GalacticCouncilRealm

  E-Mail: [email protected]

  Twitter: @GalacticCRealm

  Thank You,

  J. Clifton Slater

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  On Duty

  Chapter 1

  The shuttle from Nafaka danced through the Heavy Cruiser’s screen, passed the Bricks and later through the Fighters. Finally, we flew into the flight pattern of the plant Station. The Galactic Council Navy had arrived, and the Rebel situation on the food planet was being handled.

  I was a little disappointed at not being on the ground to see the Galactic Council Marines in action. There was no doubt they would quickly clean out the remaining nests of insurgents. But, all that would happen without me.

  We docked and the first thing I noticed, when I departed the shuttle, was the transformation of the plant Station. From a busy yet organized economic engine, it had become a chaotic rolling mass of civilian, Naval and Marine personnel. As I walked through the crowd, I wondered if Admiral Gesina, Naval Commander of the Nafaka Sector, was still short staffed. By the looks of it, she probably had to add support staff just to survive.

  My first stop was at the offices of the 49th Air Wing. The same clerk, who had just months ago signed me in, was now signing me out.

  “Lieutenant, you are officially detached from the 49th Air Wing and removed from the roster. I’m sending new orders to your PID,” he said while reading his view screen, “I’ll have your baggage sent to the Visitor Officer’s Quarters.”

  “Where am I going?” I asked knowing clerks Galactic Realm wide always read new orders, especially when the orders were marked ‘secret’.

  I was surprised, when he admitted, “Don’t know, Sir. They’re sealed and marked for your eyes only. Good luck with orders like that.”

  My PID, personal information device, pinged and a message appeared. Sure enough it was marked, ‘secret: for eyes of Lt. Phelan Oscar Piran, only’.

  Before I could open and review the message, another pinged my device.

  ‘Mister Piran, please report to Senior Lieutenant Birgir, post haste,’ I read.

  So instead of checking in at the Visiting Officers’ Quarters, I took an elevator to the Naval Command deck. On the deck, I glanced to the right and saw my earlier thought was correct. The waiting area outside of Admiral Gesina’s office was stacked three deep with civilian suits, and uniforms with lots of shiny decorations. The herd of important people waiting to speak with the Admiral was being organized by three aides.

  I turned left and headed for the Naval Investigation Service offices. Senior Lieutenant Birgir, head of the NIS for the Nafaka sector, met me in the outer lobby and ushered me back to his office.

  “Take a seat,” he ordered, settling his bulk into a complaining chair. He wasn’t fat, he was just big, and his chair creaked loudly under the weight, “Tell me about Nafaka and the insurgents.”

  “You read the reports, I assume,” I began and his hand wave told me he wanted to hear my version, “At first, we thought they were bands of Rebels. Once we saw the new rifles and equipment that idea went out the space lock. There are two groups. A third landed planet side, but one of the original groups was removed.”

  “Removed how?” he asked interrupting my oral report.

  I couldn’t tell him I’d killed all the Rebels to punish them and to rescue a Druid candidate. Or tell him I’d been designated, selected, or chosen by my Clan as a Knight Protector of the Clan. I wasn’t sure why the honor was bestowed on me but there were benefits. I could ask for help from any Clan member or Druid and they were sworn to help. Just as I was sworn to rescue them and punish their attackers. No, it wouldn’t be a good idea to admit to being anything other than a Navy Aviator, formally of the 49th Air Wing.

  “That’s unclear, but I know positively the northern group is not functional. Maybe the Druids from Heartless Manor, the Druids compound, had something to do with it,” I suggested hoping to offer an alternative to the truth, “Have you located Princess?”

  “If you’re referring to Lieutenant Sade,” he said using her real name and rank, “A Marine patrol found her helicopter. They lost the trail but we have a full company of Marines looking for her and the insurgents. She wouldn’t get away with helping enemy combatants infiltrate Nafaka.”

  I didn’t want to contradict a Senior Lieutenant, but Sade, call sign Princess, had already gotten away with it.

  “So, she’s gone grunt?” I mumbled to myself, then to Birgir stated, “She didn’t seem the type to be crawling around in the dirt.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked as he slipped into investigator mode.

  I was relieved to see he was more interested in Princess then in the reason the insurgents were missing.

  “She’s a hot shot pilot,” I explained, “Sade likes to come in hot, skirt the rules, and blow out of the area. I’d be surprised if she were running around in the weeds.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes until he was satisfied. Once dismissed, I took the lift to the Visiting Officer’s Quarters. It seemed like a good idea to read my new orders in private.

  The slow pace I’d experienced on my last stay on the plant Station was gone. In its place were a stream of crewmen carrying officer’s bags, messages and cleaning. My Marine Corps Drill Instructor would be proud, no more dust collecting on the negative
edge of railings and pipes. Everything was ship shape and seemed to be running smoothly, until I reported to the assignment Chief.

  “Sorry Lieutenant, we’re booked up,” he said gruffly. He turned his view screen around to prove his point and indicated the red marks on each of the rooms, “We’ve already moved out two Lieutenants to make space for more senior officers.”

  “Where did they go?” I asked, “Maybe, I could bunk with them?’

  “Sorry, Sir, I’ve no idea where they went. But, I’ve got nothing for you and if another Captain arrives, I’ll have to deal with an angry Commander,” he said turning the screen back to face him, “If you were with Merchant Fleet, I hear tell they have rooms.”

  The Chief looked at me as if I were out of my mind when I laughed. Or, it could have been the stupid grin on my face as I walked away.

  It just so happens I have papers of an able body spaceman in the Merchant Fleet. That wouldn’t get me much at the Merchant Fleet Motel. My navigator’s certificate would, but I went whole hog and registered as a Reserve Captain of the Merchant Fleet.

  After the clerk at the desk finished bowing, scraping and kissing my butt, I was led to deck four by a porter. She pointed out that an agreement between the Merchant Fleet and the Navy had reserved this deck for senior naval officers and Merchant Fleet Captains.

  I saluted two Rear Admirals, who looked at me strangely. Whether it was my dusty flight suit, or the out of place Lieutenant bars that had invaded their space, or the Clan strap with the elongated pouch hanging over my shoulder, I didn’t know. But, they didn’t look happy. I ignored them as the porter and I continued our stroll down the carpeted hallway.

  The three room accommodations were extravagant. Captains and Admirals live significantly better than their crews. I poured a scotch, dumped in two ice cubes, and settled on the overstuffed couch. I opened my PID.

  ‘secret: for eyes of Lt. Phelan Oscar Piran, only’.

  ‘Report to Special Navy Operations, headquartered on the Naval Command Station in the system of planet Uno. Transportation via Navy Ship, five months’ travel time is allotted, dress is ship appropriate’.

  Not a word about the assignment. I read it again to see if I’d missed anything. No, nothing in it but the ‘get here on time’ order. Most sets of orders will at least give you an idea of the job. This gave me zilch. I finished my drink and went to clean up.

  The folks at Merchant Fleet certainly were efficient. My pressed uniforms arrived along with a more than adequate lunch. After eating and getting dressed, I left the grandeur of the Captain’s deck.

  The Naval Transit Office was not as impressive. It was bedlam. Three clerks were reporting to a Commander who in turn was consulting with three other clerks. The Galactic Council Naval Fleet had most assuredly arrived at plant Station.

  It took an hour of shuffling forward to reach the clerk. Now, I wish I’d had another scotch before I left the suite.

  “Lieutenant Piran. We can place you on a Yacht or a long range Patrol Boat,” the clerk advised me after checking the destination and time of travel allotment.

  “Who’s on the Yacht?” I asked already suspecting a problem.

  “Two Captains, two Commanders and an Admiral,” he said, “Should be good for your career to rub elbows with them.”

  I shuddered at the thought of being the lowest ranking passenger on a ship full of superior officers. It was one thing to be assigned to a ship, there were lots of senior officers there, but they all had jobs. On the nightmare Yacht, they’d be sitting around talking. And who would they have to jaw with and impress with their knowledge? The lowest ranking officer on the cruise.

  “What’s the story on the Patrol Boat?” I asked hoping for less social accommodations.

  “It’s a working cruise, Sir,” the clerk said focusing on his screen, “They have billet openings for a Navigator, an engineer and, ah, a GunShip pilot.”

  A Patrol Boat has room for two GunShips onboard. For a long range Patrol Boat, it wouldn’t have a full squad of Marines, more likely a four-man fire team with a Sergeant for the guns. They’d also act as a boarding party, if the Boat needed to investigate another ship. The GunShip would be exterior security for the Patrol Boat so no door gunners. Not glamorous, but definitely preferable to the brass filled Yacht.

  “Put me down as the pilot for the GunShip,” I said, “When does she shove off?”

  “The Swanhilde isn’t in port yet, Sir,” he said reading from his screen, “Looks like, two days till docking. You can report to Captain Viljami once she makes port.”

  I walked away from the Naval area and thought, ‘Swanhilde, the fighting swan’. It sounded good to me.

  Chapter 2

  The Galactic Naval area was on the far side of the commercial loading docks. I took the long way around and found myself walking between the tower docks where shuttles unload containers of fruits and vegetables. Just before reaching the lifts, I saw the civilian authorities were doing a better job than the Navy. A much shorter line was queued up at the Civilian Transit counter.

  I was thinking how the Merchant Fleet seemed to be more organized then the Navy, and that was the only reason I was looking at the transit counter. The only reason I noticed Lieutenant Sade.

  The woman wasn’t in uniform. It wasn’t even a worker’s outfit. Her clothing was as bland and non-descript as they come.

  Her height drew my eye, she was tall. I still didn’t recognize Princess until she turned her head and looked directly at me. You can change your clothes, hair color, and stoop a little, but even heavy makeup couldn’t hide the scar that ran from her chin to her temple. She glared at me, broke away from the line by shoving a couple of people, and ran.

  I lost sight of her for a second when she cornered around a tower dock. Her stride was longer than mine but the dock was an obstacle course. She might have been able to lose me in a straight run but the weaving and dodging allowed me to keep pace with her.

  I’d almost caught up when something pounded my legs out from under me. The pipe, I knew what it was because nothing sounds like a pipe when it’s dropped on a metal deck. My assailant and Sade were both gone by the time I crawled to my knees.

  After a quick message to Birgir, I limped in the direction I’d last seen Princess. Beyond the loading dock, I ended up at a ladder. It led down to a landing with a maintenance hatch.

  Before I could start down the ladder, five Marines and their Sergeant flooded the area.

  I returned the salute and said, “AWOL woman, suspected Rebel, Lieutenant Sade. She went down there.”

  “We’re on it, Sir,” the Sergeant said, “The loading dock is sealed off by other units. Three of you on me. You two, wait here until relieved by Lieutenant Birgir. He should be here shortly.”

  With that, he led three of the Marines down the ladder. I stood with the other two Marines, who like me, just stood there waiting for the investigator.

  I was frustrated. If the Marines had been a few seconds later, I could have changed into my Knight Protector of the Clan clothing and tracked her. Of course, it was better the public and the Military stayed ignorant of my special equipment. In either case, I didn’t want anyone to know about the camouflage and the tactical capabilities of my Clan gear.

  Lieutenant Birgir came huffing around the tower dock accompanied by two really big Navy Shore Patrol guys.

  “Got an escort?” I asked pointing to his two guards.

  “After what happened to us, I decided that I wanted a team with me at any crime scene,” he said holding out his arms to encompass the area, “What happened here?”

  I explained about spotting Sade, the chase and the attack with the pipe.

  “It sounds like Sade had help,” Birgir said stating the obvious, “Did you get a look at the other one?”

  “No. And I think she had help from more than one guy,” I said, “Her trip from planet side took some planning and she was at the transit counter, so she has travel papers. A lot of trouble went in
to helping Princess get here.”

  “Sir, if I might interrupt,” one of the Marines said.

  “Yes, Lance Corporal?” I replied.

  “You’re bleeding, Sir,” he said pointing to my shins.

  I looked down and, sure enough, two small spots of red were creeping through the material of my trouser legs. Adding to my discomfort, pain began radiating from my shins.

  “Senior Lieutenant Birgir. Why is it that every time we meet on the loading dock, I end up in sick bay?” I asked looking from my legs to the big investigator and back to my legs.

  “I don’t know Piran,” he said pointing to his Shore Patrol escort, “But it’s why I have these guys with me.”

  Limping and cursing the ruination of my uniform trousers, I left the cargo deck and made for the medical deck.

  The doctor walked in, sat down on a stool and pull out a pad. I’d been in the medi-chamber for two hours and the swelling in my shins was almost gone. I looked down at him from where I sat on the examination table.

  “Well, your incident saved us from making an appointment,” he said typing something into the pad, “I needed to clear you for space flight duty after your planet side assignment.”

  “How’d I do?” I asked not expecting much change since my last check-up.

  “Well, they must have fed you good on Nafaka. Your weight is up several kilos,” he stated, “In most cases, we’d put you on a diet. However, your body mass index is superb. More like a twenty-year-old rather than, what, you’re thirty-eight?”

  The flying on Nafaka had been rough but there’d been nothing to account for the change in my body. Unless, it was another gift for a Knight Proctor from the Druids.

  “Clean living doctor, just clean living,” I said standing and testing my legs.

  “Keep it up, Lieutenant. You’re cleared for flight status,” he stated standing and ushering me out of the door.

  I wanted a drink, a hot meal and a good night’s rest. I wanted that, I really did. But what I did was pull up the schematics of plant Station. After locating the maintenance tunnel that connected with the hatch, the one Sade had used, I took a lift up to the level.