Angry Ghosts (14 page)

The whole group is too large to fit in at the same time; but the operators make sure the colonists, Maiella, Argo, and Thompson go with the first load. The heavy gate slides closed, and the large elevator descends.

Gregor leans over to the counselor, still taking in his surroundings. “It feels strange to be off the
Europa
. I haven’t seen anything new in years… It’s really exciting!”

The counselor
nods demurely at the sentiment.

As curious as Gregor and the other colo
nists are about the MedTechs and Operators, the cadre personnel seem more curious of them, but there is a good-natured silence as each side wonders what they should say. The polite smiles and foot shuffling go on; then all at the same time, every person in the elevator car begins a question. All mouths stop in the middle of the word they were forming. Colonist and cadre alike give in to the comedy of it, the laughs coming easily and long. Only Maiella, Argo, and Thompson maintain their straight-faced expressions.

With a thump, the elevator reaches its lowest point, and the heavy gate slides aside. Beyond is a short, wide metal corridor ending at large doors, already opened. The group moves out of the elevator, proceeding b
riskly toward the hall beyond the open doors.

Inside, the hall is busy with hundreds of cadre personnel filing in from similar entrances and finding seats. At the front of the
hall stands a short stage with a long table stretched across its left half. More uniformed personnel stand there, but they appear very fit with full heads of steel gray hair. Their charcoal uniforms bear broad panels of assorted colored bars, and their physical shapes are unmistakably those of operators.

One of the gray-haired operators notices the colonists strolling in among the others, and he raises an arm high to hail them, beckoning them forward.

Keller, Gregor, Ortega, the counselor, and Sharon guide themselves through the admiring crowd, then step up onto the stage. The gray-haired soldier who beckoned them is a tower of a man and large in build, surpassing Thompson in stature. He wears a pleased smile and introduces himself warmly.

“I am General O’Kai. Welcome to Cadre One!” The general outstretches his large hand to each of them, grasping firmly. “Please allow me to introduce the members of our leadership council: Colonel Shao-Lo...”

A tall, muscular woman with short hair steps forward, greeting her guests stiffly, yet courteously.

“Colonel Munro….”

A man of Argo’s build steps forward, extending a beefy arm. His other arm is dwarfed in comparison, being much smaller and shorter in length.

“Major Chusan....”

Another tall and muscular man with a heavily burn-scarred face steps forward as he is introduced. He bears a more serious look than the others, though if that is a result of the scars or his general demeanor, the colonists cannot tell.

“And Major Ralla.”

A leaner woman steps forward with numerous silver HDI terminals extending just beyond her short-cropped hair. She exudes phenomenal confidence, as much as the general himself.

Gregor studies the
polished terminals embedded in her scalp, making the association. “Are you a…Geek?” he asks.

Ralla smiles politely. “That was my designation when I was an operator. Now I regulate the cadre mainframes and contribute to leadership decisions with the council.”

Gregor nods in respectful understanding.

“General,” Keller begins, “
I present the senior officers of the colony ship
Europa
: Commander Javier Ortega, Lieutenant Commander Sharon Jones, Lieutenant Gregor Petrova, ship’s counselor, and myself, Captain Braemar Keller.”

The general smiles broadly, gesturing his guests forward. “Please, come sit with us.”

The colonists step up onto the stage, and Major Ralla guides them to their seats. There, they all sit except for the general who remains standing, supervising the rest of the cadre as it files in.

Major Ralla finds herself beside the counselor, and a question has been in her mind since she met him. “Counselor…is that your
only
appellation?”

The counselor nods, and seeing her inquisitive expression, he elaborates, “In my role aboard the
Europa
, I frequently have to arbitrate disputes, and I'm trusted with highly sensitive information about each crew member. By using title only and not carrying a familiar name, it enhances my appearance of impartiality and makes the job easier.”

Ralla raises an eyebrow at him. “We don’t keep secrets about ourselves, and there are no disputes. Everything is planned.” Her smile creeps back. “You could have a name here.”

The counselor is caught completely off guard by the major’s insight. From what he learned about the cadre from Maiella, Thompson, and Argo, he never expected to find one of them so immediately sensitive to how isolating and burdensome his role has been. He looks graciously on her, giving her a friendly touch on her shoulder.

“Cadre personnel!” O’Kai’s voice booms, “Your attention!”

All in the audience face their general. Every mouth closes in silent obedience.

“I know you are all aware by now that there are new faces here in Cadre One. They came to us aboard a ship ten times larger than anything we have ever collected, and here is their Leadership Council!”

The entire audience shouts a hurrah, all at once.

Keller is about to correct the general, but the counselor touches his arm, whispering, “It’s how they know us.” Keller understands, letting the semantics slide.

O’Kai raises his arms up to reel the crowd back in and continues, “They didn’t know we were here. Someone had to find them and guide them back to us.” O’Kai pauses a moment, allowing the crowd to wonder, then answers their communal question. “Team
Spectre
…”

Shocked gasps go up fr
om the crowd. There were few stories passed down through the generations, but the story of Team Spectre was one of them. The exploits of Maiella, Argo, and Thompson were used as parables to the initiates entering the Operator Corps; and they were described as the epitome of what everyone should strive for, nearly deified. Forty years after their final departure, they were declared lost; and that day became an anniversary to honor the ultimate sacrifice that they and every other fallen operator had made. Now, all watch in reverent awe as these three resurrected operators stride toward the stage at O’Kai’s command. Before, the stories made them out as heroes. Now, back from the dead, they are invincible.

Every eye studies them carefully. The old-styled armor, clunky and heavy by modern standards, the oversized weapons, their shorter height, their
thinner builds—all would suggest inferiority, but not here. To every Cadre individual, those features are all proofs of their superiority, how much they accomplish with so much less than everyone else. Here, they are personifications of capability and supremacy—avatars of hope sent to guarantee the cadre’s future.

They stand beside the general and turn in unison to face the crowd, chests out, expressions straight and stern.

“Team Spectre,” O’Kai begins, “you three have been known throughout the generations for your superb service records. There was no length you would not go, no task impossible for you to accomplish. We believed you were lost to us, but after two hundred thirty-seven years, you
continue
to set the example. Amid the infinite expanse of space, you found our ancient brothers and sisters, guiding them safely home to us.
Well done!
”

The crowd explodes with cacophonous cheers and applause, fillin
g the large hall to the heavily reinforced roof. O’Kai smiles out at them, scanning the sea of undulating people, some moved beyond joy to tears. He allows them the moment, even looking at the colonists himself with admiration and fondness. When he turns to Argo, Maiella, and Thompson for another round of praise, he sees they are still stern faced and solemn. He steps closer to them so they can hear his lowered voice above the crowd.

“You can allow yourselves to join in. This is a special time where emotion
is
appropriate. There is no shame in it here.”

Thompson looks as if he is in pain.

“It’s not that, sir. It’s something else.”

“Well, what is it, Major?”

The hoots and shouts die down as the audience notices the serious candor between Thompson and O’Kai. They pick up on it quickly, the cheering abating abnormally fast, and they lean forward in their seats.

“There’s something we need to tell you all,” Thompson admits, guilt setting his brow with conviction to confess. O’Kai squints at him queerly, unsure what he could possibly have to say.

“All right, Major,” the general allows, “go ahead.”

Thompson nods respectfully, checking with Argo and Maiella before proceeding. They nod back at him, dropping their heads. O’Kai steps toward the table of his officers and the colonists, allowing Thompson the full attention of everyone present. Thompson steps to the edge of the low stage, grim and serious. The silence
of his audience is perfect.

“Friends!” he shouts across the broad hall. “Friends… I call you all my friends though I have never seen any of you before… This moment is incredible… so
good
for us and for our new guests. That we both survived, us and them, with
completely
different tools and skill sets is a testament to the durability of our kind. Now, reunited, we can share those tools and abilities that kept us alive by learning from each other, helping each other… We will
all
be stronger and healthier from this reunion.”

The first claps of applause come from the table where Keller, Sharon, Ortega, Gregor, and the counselor heartily endorse his speech. The acclaim spreads swiftly through the room, nearly regaining the original pitch from before, every face so eager for the good news, and overflowing with gratitude to be hearing it. Thompson’s face remains hard, however, and he raises his arms to be heard. The shouting dissipates immediately.

“It’s the greatest moment of our history…which adds to the pain of our failure.”

Questioning glances circulate throughout the hall, including the cadre council members.

“What the hell is he doing?” Ortega asks Keller. Keller shakes his head, staring with narrowed eyes.

“During the intercept and capture phase of our rotation, we caused the deaths of seventeen people before we realized the ship we were attacking had human occupants.”

Gasps of horror rise from the crowd in all directions.

“For that crime,” Thompson continues, his face wracked in despairing shame, “we expect judgment and await our exile from the cadre.”

The audience before him is still as the grave, staring at what was once their ideal now reduced to ashes. The subtle hum of the ventilators provides the only audible sound.

Keller’s jaw is open with disbelief, and Gregor grabs him by the arm. “Holy shit! He was
serious
!”

O’Kai shifts his posture, taken completely by surprise. He looks out into the sea of horrified faces. Turning toward Thompson, Maiella, and Argo, he blinks hard.

“That is...unfortunate. I will form a tribunal to review the incident. Lieutenant Argo, Lieutenant Maiella, and Major Thompson, you will all be restrained in quarters until the review is complete. We expect any information you have on the incident to be surrendered along with all of your gear, armor, and weapons. Understood?”

The three operators stand at attention, chests out, anguish trying to force its way through their stalwart expressions. In unison, they reply, “
Sir, yes, sir!
”

“Major Chusan,” the general orders, “escort Team Spectre to quarters and restrain them. Bring their equipment and any information they have on the incident with you to the council chamber. Have Gun Deepak and Gun Keiko assist you as necessary.”

“Sir!” Chusan replies, swinging a flat hand to his brow.

O’Kai turns to the crowd, gathering their faltering attention with his powerful voice.

“Normal duty schedule resumes in fifteen minutes! Leadership Council convenes in twenty minutes! To your posts!”

The crowd stands as a single unit and shuffles rapidly to the exits. The general faces his second in command.

“Colonel Shao-Lo, arrange quarters for our colonist friends and provide them with any supplies we can spare.”

“Sir,” she replies.

Taking a knee, O’Kai looks into the faces of the shocked colonists. “As general of this cadre, I am responsible for every action taken by it. I cannot begin to describe how much I deplore the loss of your comrades. When the tribunal begins, we would like your testimony. You may wish to take rest in your quarters first, because the tribunal can not convene for another eight hours.”

“Eight hours?” Keller asks in amazement.

“Would you prefer it sooner?” O’Kai asks, misreading Keller’s reaction entirely.

“No!” Keller exclaims. “Is eight hours enough? So much happened…” He looks among his own officers for support and finds they seem to share his sentiment.