Lost heir, p.9
Lost Heir, page 9
Continuing her self-appraisal, she examined her hemline to make sure the added length, made by taking out the hem, didn’t show. In the last six months, she had gained an inch of height, nearing what she suspected would be her ultimate elevation.
Satisfied, she frowned at the other changes that caused concern. If she kept filling out up top and at the hips, she would definitely have to buy a new set of whites. But, all in all, that would be all right, too. The whistles directed her way on their runs were becoming more frequent. Not a bad thing.
Stepping into the hall, she came face-to-face with a worried Patel. “You may not be going to the board after all,” Patel said bluntly.
“Why?” Maeve demanded. If she were a petty officer, she could leave the building and hang around with the other girls, maybe meet a nice guy like Marovian had.
“Come with me,” Patel ordered without explaining, pivoting toward the control room.
From inside the room, she heard Priscilla speaking on the com with Marovian at her new office in Base Security. “Maeve’s here now. Do you want to tell her what you just learned?”
“Your sister Vivian just flew into the base with Deputy Base Commander Pax Eckert.”
Maeve’s heart stopped for a moment. Vivian wouldn’t try to kill her like Morgain had, nor hurt her like that sadist Nimue. But she could be bad news, anyway, not least of all to the poor idiots she twisted around her little finger for her own amusement.
“Isn’t the commodore married?” Priscilla asked.
Marovian sounded distinctly uncomfortable when she answered, “Yes, he is. I know his wife and she is a good sort. She doesn’t deserve this.”
Maeve’s concern spiked as Priscilla bit her lip. After a moment, Priscilla suggested, “Maybe someone could encourage Vivian to move on to greener pastures.”
Maeve decided she needed to speak up since she had grown up with Vivian. “I know her. She won’t go unless she’s good and ready.”
“What if some ladies visit her and suggest she won’t like it here?” asked Patel.
Maeve shook her head. “She normally stays until the poor man she is dangling on her string has made a complete fool of himself. I can’t think what else could move her along.”
Marovian offered, “If it were my husband, and I know Chad would never do anything like this but, if it were, I’d go with him and we’d both let her know she’s unwelcome. After which, he’d sleep on the couch for a month!”
“Chad would be a fool to do anything like that,” Patel said.
“Men are fools more often than we’d like,” Priscilla said softly, “but I think Zeta is right. And since you came up with the idea, Ensign, you get to make it happen.”
“What?” Marovian squawked.
“I said, you go talk to the deputy base commander’s wife about Vivian. Then the two of you go to speak with him. I hope he’s not so far in that an angry wife won’t get his attention. If necessary, we can get Admiral Davies involved. I’ll let Asroc know you may be calling. Report back in an hour to tell me how it goes. I need to decide whether I am pulling Maeve from the board. We don’t want her running into Vivian in the headquarters area accidentally. If I have to pull her and she misses this board, the rules are that she won’t be able to try again for another six months. With all the grief I’m getting from admin about being a critical petty officer short, I’d rather not go through that for half a year more.”
Patel gave her an amused smile. “Plus, it will be embarrassing to explain why she couldn’t make it after you put so much pressure on the board to interview her early in the first place.”
“That, too,” Priscilla agreed.
The possibility of a delay, and especially its cause, turned Maeve’s stomach. She had studied hard for the board and now her sister might be taking it away from her. That Vivian hadn’t done this intentionally, to her at least, made no difference. She had messed things up just by being here.
Anger began to course through her veins, which, surprisingly, made her feel better. She wished Priscilla would let her reason with Vivian. That short, sharp conversation would be eminently satisfying, although the galaxy would then soon know her whereabouts.
Taking off her uniform coat to keep it crisp, she stormed around her room in her dress shirt and slacks before opening her study guide. After reading that for a while, she realized she couldn’t remember a single thing she had reviewed in the last ten minutes. The loss of this opportunity suddenly mattered more than she had realized. Being promoted would be a recognition of her hard work, of course, but it meant even more.
Every day the team spent ten minutes devoted to one of the points of the Creed and its importance. Judgment, justice, integrity, protection of the weak, sacrifice, virtue, and a willingness to defend the empire to the death had become more than just words she had repeated in school. As her protection team taught her each of the points of the oath; they had personalized and illustrated each one vividly by talking about people they’d known, situations they’d seen. This way of teaching had brought each part of the oath alive for her, while demonstrating how each part fit together as an essential support to the freedom of the citizens of the empire. It now motivated her to want to be a petty officer for real, so she could fight for them also. She found herself wishing that she could do more than be stuck here in hiding.
A rap at her door brought Maeve’s head up. “Come in.”
“Let’s go,” Patel said. “It’s all fixed.”
Maeve grabbed her coat, buttoning it quickly. “What happened?”
“Hurry, girl!” Patel shooed her down the hall. “It takes ten minutes to get there and we only have seven.” She began to trot for the car. Maeve did too, book under her arm.
Jumping into the passenger seat, Patel already had the car in gear and moving before Maeve could even buckle her seat belt. “So, what happened?” she demanded, the streets flying by as Patel drove three times the speed limit. Patel blew through a stop sign without even slowing down, something the Shore Patrol really hated.
Patel spoke in a clipped, amused tone, “Apparently, the deputy base commander’s wife is a real terror. Zeta had barely started explaining, when the woman, a tiny thing just a mite under five foot, whisked Zeta out the door and into her car. Ten minutes later, they reached the commodore’s office and Zeta sat in the waiting room while his wife laid down the law. Zeta said she could hear them yelling through the soundproofing. After a solid ten plus minutes, they, all three of them, went to visit Vivian in guest quarters. Vivian acted nice as could be, shook the commodore’s wife’s hand, kissed him on the cheek very primly, then gave Zeta a funny look. Turning to the commodore’s wife she said something like, It must be nice to have such good friends watching out for you. Then, she said she’d be leaving shortly.”
Maeve took a deep breath. Wow! She’d never have believed Vivian would be so civilized about being chucked out. Seeing where they now were, she realized they would be stopping in seconds. Butterflies flitted inside her middle. An hour ago, she’d been furious at the idea that she might not get to do this and now she wished to be somewhere, anywhere, else.
Patel screeched to a stop, then patted Maeve’s hand as she unbuckled her own seat belt.
“Knock ’em dead, honey. Erdogan is on overwatch. Mai Ling arrived at the building before us.”
Maeve smiled, or tried to, but she felt scared to death. It steadied her a bit that these women she admired had such confidence in her. Stepping out, she straightened her blouse, then centered her cap as Patel came around the car. Together, they marched in step toward the entryway. As they headed up the path to the huge, white building, a limo pulled past with a flawless brunette sitting in the back. Maeve didn’t notice her sister leaving the base.
Recruiting Circular 1 January 3400
Imperial Fleet Academy Entrance Standards
Prime Sector Academy
Entrance requirements circular as of January 1, 3300
Passage of exam with 125 of 150.
Age limits: Sixteen with superior marks of 140 or above.
Eighteen with standard marks.
Imperial family: Thirteen with superior marks; Sixteen with standard marks.
Must pass standard mental and physical examination for fleet service. No exemptions.
FOR THE EMPEROR, CHARLES ROLAND
Concurrence by Emperors Raul, Andrik,
Cezar, Benjamin, Esau Emanuel, Cyrus
7
* * *
Shanghaied
Camp Y, Beacon
0326 Local/2126 24 January 3469
Maeve uch Robert shot bolt upright in her bed, eyes wide but not really awake. Alarm? What time is it? Leaning over to look at her clock, it read 3:26. Irritation blossomed on top of her sleepy frame of mind. “What is going on? Who set my alarm for this terrible hour?” she grumbled.
The sound of the alarm filled the air again. That’s coming from the hallway! It’s the emergency alert, not my alarm! What a time for a drill! Grumbling wouldn’t help, so she jumped from her bed, throwing on her work uniform. She did allow herself the satisfaction of thinking This is dumb! I don’t want to play navy right now! Her mental rebellion made her feel a teensy bit better.
The alarm sounded three more times during the time it took her to throw on her clothes. Dashing for the mess, she hoped she would be there in time. SOP gave her sixty seconds at night to get dressed and into the mess for assignment when not on duty. As she entered, she saw Petty Officer Bonnie Patel, tensely watching the security repeater. In fact, they were alone in the mess. “Where’re the others?” Maeve asked.
Patel just shook her head as she concentrated. Maeve stepped into range of the screen and her stomach dropped. The screen showed a heavily armed detail at the gate, led by a commander. He looked ruggedly handsome and Maeve hated him from the moment she saw him.
At the moment, he seemed quite put out. “As I said, open up or we’re blowing down the door. Your unit has thirty minutes to be on the transport or you’re going in front of a court-martial. That won’t be here either. It’ll be on my ship. So get in gear and start moving!”
It amused her to see his obvious irritation, waving a tablet carrying some sort of official document. “Your orders from Base Administration are here! You must have received them and claiming you never received them doesn’t change anything. Now open this gate!”
What Maeve heard next shocked her. “Just a minute, Commander,” Lieutenant Priscilla Jenks said in a calm tone over the intercom. “This is a secure facility, as I tried to explain to you when you first rang. I can’t let just anybody waving orders in without proper clearance. Base admin doesn’t have authority to send us anywhere, which they know very well. This unit is directly under Prime Sector Fleet Communications Security Office. We aren’t going anywhere without their authorization.” Priscilla’s tone became colder at this point, “Plus, I wouldn’t attempt to break in. You’d be leaving with fewer men than you started with, I assure you. The shield is up and we’re not bringing it down without proper clearance.”
The commander made a visible effort to throttle in his anger. “We are under orders for this mission directly from Prime Fleet Intel. We are authorized to pick up any unit or personnel we need to carry out our mission. But fine, have it your way. Regardless, be ready ASAP. Your orders will be routed here within minutes.” The commander then turned away from the gate and began directing his men, including three battle suits, to surround the building, weapons facing in. The battle suits, almost seven feet of faceless metallic menace, scared Maeve as she watched their mechanical movements take them to three points around the perimeter. They each carried a heavy weapon, two laser cannons, and a huge machine gun.
Priscilla walked in a minute later, her uniform having that comfortable mid-shift look it got after six hours or so on duty. She didn’t look as calm or collected, though, as she had sounded speaking with the commander.
“Get packed, shower, everything you need to do to move out,” she clipped out in an angry tone. “Admiral Davies is off-planet, and I can’t get the archeon operator to contact his flagship. Until we get this straightened out, we’ll just have to go along with it. Thank goodness we have Zeta to iron things out later.”
Patel gave her a raised eyebrow. “When they tried to get us assigned to them, shouldn’t a flag have stopped them?”
Priscilla frowned. “Our individual records are flagged, which would normally stop this kind of nonsense, but our unit cover, 3-77, is not protected. Apparently, this Commander Bhat asked personnel for a complete communications security unit and we were the only one nobody had a reason to keep!” Priscilla really appeared exasperated at this point. “Of course nobody wants our unit; we set it up this way to keep a low profile! Now it’s come back to bite us in the behind.”
Maeve felt a burning desire to know one thing. “I thought our shield and automatic defenses would keep out intruders until Admiral Davies could send reinforcements.”
Priscilla shook her head. “These people are supposed to be on our side and can get the codes to disable our defenses. Something smells, though, them showing up in the middle of the night like this. That could be just because Fleet HQ is on the other side of the world and they’re getting a late start from there, but it feels very odd. However, the last thing we want is people asking questions. If we arm the defenses, besides being somewhat pointless under the circumstances and possibly killing people on our side, there will be lots and lots of questions asked by people in official positions who will be entitled to answers. Even if Admiral Davies tells everyone to forget it, the rumors of a big fight here on Camp Y will get around to people we don’t want knowing about us.” Biting her lip, she sighed. “Let’s get packed, we only have thirty minutes or so. Move it!”
Maeve ran to her room, her home for the last seven plus months. It looked pretty bare, not much to see, light yellow painted walls, closet door of white pine with her mirror hanging from it, a mirror she couldn’t possibly pack, some pictures of her and her friends, the women in the unit. Tears began to roll down her cheeks; she couldn’t help it or stop them, as she stood frozen in the middle of her room. The first four or five months, the women who had become her friends had kept her so busy she didn’t have much time for nightmares, though they had come anyway. Then, after her promotion to petty officer, third, things had settled into a more normal routine. Still learning, she now worked on lots of things other than electronics and communications. A sob burst out. She wouldn’t be here for Zeta’s baby!
Petty Officer Marva Erdogan stuck her head in the door. “Hustle, Maeve. We need to move out!” Maeve didn’t answer, didn’t even turn around. Erdogan stopped in her tracks, then stepped into the room. Maeve’s tears were still silently falling, arms loose at her sides. She couldn’t face this!
Arms slid around her from behind, a soft voice in her ear, “It’ll be okay, honey. Want to talk about it?”
Maeve shook her head, brought her hands up to squeeze her friend’s arms in gratitude before letting go. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I must look terrible,” she said.
Erdogan gave her a crooked smile. “I’ve seen worse. Let’s get you packed and then you need to take a shower.” Maeve nodded gratefully. Together they quickly stowed Maeve’s official things. Marva gave her a slap on the shoulder. “Now, get going, girl! We need to hurry.”
Racing to the shower and, stepping into one of the two stalls, she began to analyze the situation the way her father had taught her. Her first thought quickly reached the point that somebody needed the special skills of her unit. It hit her; she could use her new skills to help stop the rebellion for real. Wow! She began to get excited. Finished, she raced back and threw her clothes on. She grabbed her bags and headed for the front door. She could even feel a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her mouth. This might be fun, although Admiral Davies would likely have them back here as soon as he found out about this mix-up.
Priscilla looked the team over. Hitting the com, she spoke to the only one of the team not there, Petty Officer Qi Mai Ling. “Anything from the admiral?”
“Negative.”
“Disable the special security systems we installed and the defense net.”
“Aye, aye.” After a pause, “I’m on my way.”
Maeve noticed that even Mai Ling’s bags stood ready by the door. Priscilla shouldered her space bag. “Let’s go. Maeve in the middle. Everyone, keep your weapon hand free.” Maeve’s incipient smile disappeared as Priscilla’s tension hit home. She had misjudged things in her excitement. A potentially dangerous situation and her personal pistol lay at the bottom of her space bag! If shooting started, she’d be helpless! What had she been thinking? Her embarrassment increased her nervousness.
As a tight group, they marched out the door and through the gate. Stepping into a light fog, she saw the commander and his men waiting by a couple of trucks. “Get on!” ordered the commander. His name tag read Paul Bhat. Maeve knew she’d never forget him.
She swung her space bag up easily, before preparing to jump in herself. All that daily running and exercise made this easy, which meant she wouldn’t look stupid in front of Bhat’s men. She knew she looked and acted like a spacer. As she jumped up, one of the men whistled at her. She felt embarrassed.
