Three Against the Stars (10 page)

Chapter Ten

A Journalist Comes Calling

C
olonel Stella Dakota’s office was a hodge-podge of 20th century, southwestern-style furniture, and 22nd century computers, communications terminals, and other modern conveniences. An ancient cuckoo clock and an old 2-D map of the United States, circa 1870, hung on the wall behind her antique, wooden desk. Next to the map hung a bow and quiver of arrows, a dream catcher, three rain sticks, and various totems of the Sioux Nation.

She stood and commanded the room from behind her desk, her face set like stone. It was all she could do to keep her anger cuffed and subdued. Beside her, Captain Luther Branch rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and grinned with pleasure. Lieutenant Blip Levine stood next to Branch, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

Sergeants Akira, O’Hara and Cortez stood at attention facing the colonel. They looked like three mischievous school children about to be chastised by their principle.

Standing off to one side, Corporal Flix watched them all through shifty eyes.

“You three really burn my jets!” Dakota addressed her trio of sergeants. “I warned you, O’Hara! Now tell me—who started the fight?”

O’Hara blushed and coughed into his hand. “Beggin’ the colonel’s pardon, it was all the caffeine in that tea we was drinkin’ what did it.”

“Peddle your blarney elsewhere, O’Hara,” Dakota told him. She turned her angry glare on Cortez. “Would you care to enlighten me, Sergeant?”

As nervous as a groom standing at the altar, Cortez shuffled his feet. He glanced at Akira, but she was staring at the floor.

“The Drakonians started it, Colonel,” he said.

Dakota stared at Cortez until he lowered his gaze. Then she turned her head slowly and glared at Akira until the sergeant began to sweat.

“Sergeant Akira, I thought you
would have more sense than those two space musketeers,” she said. “Can
you
tell me who threw the first punch?”

Akira cleared her throat. Sweat plastered the clean blouse to her sides. “Well, Colonel, you see, the toads—I mean the Drakonians—well, they insulted the Corps,” she explained. “We had no choice but to defend our honor, Ma’am.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Sergeant. Who started the brawl?”

“See, it was like this, Colonel darlin’,” O’Hara spoke up. “Them Draks had the nerve to call the Corps an elitist bunch of arrogant—”

“Planet humping—” Cortez interrupted.

“Misanthropes,” Akira cut in.

Chin up, shoulders straight, and chest swelling with pride, O’Hara said, “And that’s when I threw the first punch, Colonel.”

Dakota toyed with her eye patch to hide her reluctant smile.

“The conduct of these sergeants is most deplorable, Colonel,” said Flix. “They should be locked in the brig to await formal charges. I will personally testify at their court martial.”

The three sergeants glared at Flix. Even Branch and Levine shot him looks of resentment. Dakota’s one eye burned him with a nuclear salvo of anger.

“Corporal Flix,” she said calmly. “There’s an old adage that goes, ‘Wars are started by corporals, but won by sergeants.’ Do you follow me so far?”

The Rhajni corporal nodded. “Indeed I do, Colonel.”

“Good. Because it’s important that you do,” she said. “I only agreed to your being appointed my aide as a favor to Lord Chanori. But step out of line again and I’ll ship your whiskers out of here so fast it will make your fur stand on end!”

Flix narrowed his eyes, then clicked his heels and bowed.

“My apologies, Colonel Dakota,” he said.

Dakota ignored him after that, then turned and wagged a finger at her wayward sergeants. “Now, McLaglen has agreed not to press charges, provided you three pay for the damages to his café—which you most certainly will, I might add. It’s a good thing for you reprobates that he’s a retired Marine with a son who’s a drill sergeant at Parris Island.”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine, eh?” O’Hara said.

“O’Hara—you’re damn lucky those Drakonians you and your partners in crime beat up weren’t seriously injured,” said Lieutenant Levine.

“Lucky for them we was only playin’,” O’Hara quipped.

“I’d belay that sort of attitude if I were you, Sergeant,” Captain Branch said. “You have no idea what favors the colonel had to call in, what strings she had to pull to get the Drakonian commanding officer to drop all charges against you.”

Dakota sat in the chair behind her desk and pulled out a plastic pack of pills from one of the drawers. She flipped it open and popped a pill. “You three give me heartburn,” she said. “But you’re also three of the best Marines in this regiment. And that’s why I’m sending you out on another mission, instead of having you hauled off to the brig—which is where you belong!”

Flix’s ears curled forward with keen interest.

“We’re going out on a job, Colonel?” Akira asked.

“Yes,” Dakota replied. “Captain Branch will brief you. Captain, you may proceed.”

Branch cracked his knuckles and smiled devilishly. “As you know, our treaty with the Drakonian Hegemony is as fragile as a bridal veil,” he said. “And here you three almost cause an interstellar incident today!” 

“Do you think there’s more behind all this than just them Drakonian smugglers we caught up with on Grant’s Planet?” O’Hara asked.

“There’s always a possibility that the Drakonians are gearing up for war,” Branch said. “Yesterday the
Angel of Mercy
was heading for a rendezvous with the
Tulagi
when she went missing near the Shandru Galaxy. No one knows what happened. There was no distress call.”

“But that’s a hospital vessel, sir,” Akira said.

“
Dios mio,
all those innocent lives and helpless patients—murdered!” Cortez said.

“That’s just what it is—murder,” Branch agreed. “Lieutenant Levine, you’re in charge of communications. Tell them the rest.”

“A few hours ago the
Starhawk
and the
Frequent Wind
were patrolling a sector of the Kamali system when they suddenly went off the grid,” Levine said.

Cortez shook his head. “Poor Lieutenant Stevens,” he said in a voice filled with sadness.

“Let me guess, Lieutenant,” O’Hara said. “No communications? No SOS?”

Levine nodded. “That’s right, Sergeant.”

Captain Branch took over. “However, we just received a distress call from the Fontaine Mining Colony on Acheron. But the call was cut off in mid-transmission.” He smiled devilishly, his teeth sparkling white in the blackness of his face. “So we’re going on a little field trip.”

444

The
Stellar Princess
, an Omegan luxury starliner shaped like a sleek and graceful silver falcon, settled into a secondary orbit above Rhajnara and the
Iwo Jima
. Two massive hatches opened in the hull of the starliner, and a number of small, planet-bound shuttles took off for Rhajnara like young birds leaving the nest.

Human tourists and other humanoids from across known space struggled with their luggage as they filed toward the waiting shuttlecraft. Crewmembers from the
Stellar Princess
—Omegan Ornitori birdmen all—helped many of the passengers to board the waiting shuttles. The ship’s captain, an Omegan crowman, bid farewell to his passengers.

Cooper Preston stood in line with the other passengers waiting to embark upon their stay on Rhajnara. He was well-groomed and wearing a neatly-tailored black suit. He fumbled with two suitcases and a briefcase when he shook hands with the ship’s captain.

“Thanks for the lift, Captain,” he said.

“My pleasure, sir,” the Omegan replied. “Enjoy your stay on Rhajnara.”

As Preston moved up in the queue to board the next shuttle, another shuttle returned from planetside and slid to a halt inside the starliner’s great landing bay. At least three dozen Drakonian males, females and their offspring disembarked from the shuttle and hurried off down a passageway as if they were running from some great disaster.

Thinking nothing of it at the time, Preston shrugged and dragged his luggage over to the Omegan porter for inspection and loading.

444

From space, planet Acheron looked like any other desert planet—brown, desolate, wind-blown, unwelcoming. The planet’s twin suns burned white holes in the blackness of space. Two Comanche AEVs moved through the silent sectors of the Kamali star system, each one carrying three squads of Marines bound for the H-Class planet.

Inside Comanche One, the first platoon—40 Marines, all told—were seated in padded seats and strapped in with leather harnesses. With only four rows of narrow seats on either side of a main aisle, the AEV was cramped. Overhead compartments bulged with supplies and weaponry. Old wires and control panels hung loose, buzzing and rattling with even the slightest movement of the ship, as if it were a groundcar on a bumpy dirt road. The AEV was dark, dank and dreary. Most of the fiber optic lighting didn’t work, and the A/C unit was on its last breath.

Pretty Boy was reading an ancient copy of
Leatherneck Magazine
that had been well preserved in plasticene. Fatty Russo sucked loudly on a lollipop. Tattoo Annie shared her chewing gum with Corporals Susan Baim and Jemma DeVito. Lieutenant Blip Levine used a dirty rag to polish his portable Questron subspace communicator.

Across the aisle, Monster Kowalski vomited into a barf bag. Horseface Jenkins picked his nose, and Skinny Jones cleaned his .45 automatic. Blondie Hampton doodled on the back of her helmet. Nervous Ned chewed his fingernails. Tommy Barnes picked his teeth. Sergeant Erin Ransford, a pretty strawberry blond, swapped old comic books with Corporal Nick Falco, an olive-skinned heartbreaker.  The rest of the Marines exchanged tall tales of battle, composed letters to loved ones, played a few hands of poker, or slept. It was pretty much a routine affair.

Akira’s mind was mostly on her own personal problems, still wondering how she was going to break the news to her friends that she was getting married. She’d been hoping to stand down and enjoy some leisure time before the wedding. Plus, mother hen that she was, she also worried about Makki . . . worried about his desire to undo Corps tradition and become the first Marine from another planet. He was reckless enough as it was.
But as a laserneck?
she thought, shivering at the idea of what sort of trouble he’d get into, especially with Cortez. No, Makki was born to be a physician, and by God—she and Sheel Pham would see to it that he went to medical school as soon as his hitch was up.

To take her mind off her troubles, she folded an
origami
dinosaur while Makki watched from his seat across the aisle. They exchanged nods and smiles of encouragement.

“You okay, Corporal?” she asked.

“As always, this mewling trusts in the Maker of All Things,” Makki replied.

“Well, this mission’s gonna be a piece of cake. Probably won’t even need you.”

“This one can only pray that it is so.”

“Hang tough, Corpsman,” Akira told him. But she wasn’t feeling good about this mission. Something big was about to explode . . . something that might rock Rhajnara to its molten core—and maybe set off all the known galaxies like a supernova.

Other Marines, bored but revved up for action, began to gripe. Akira listened with one ear. She’d heard it all before, but still found it amusing. It would be a warm day on the ice-planet Ymir before she’d hear anything new amidst all the whining.

“Holy crap—this crate rides like a rollercoaster car on its last wheels!” Nick Falco said.

“Anybody know when this bucket’s gonna touch down?” asked Tattoo Annie.

“What’s the in-flight movie?” Corporal Baim wanted to know.

“I hear this one’s gonna be a walk in the sun,” said Sergeant Ransford.

Tommy Barnes scratched his curly brown hair. “That’s what they always say.”

“Hey—they serve chow on this crate?” asked Fatty.

“You know, sometimes I get the feelin’ that every stinking job in the Corps is my own personal property,” Barnes whined.

DeVito groaned. “Listen to that guy, will ya?”

“He never had it so good,” said Skinny Jones.

“He found a home in the Corps,” Annie and Ransford said at the same time.

Horseface Jenkins turned to Blondie Hampton. “You scared?”

“Who? Me?” she replied. “I’m scared silly. What about you, Ned?”

Nervous Ned stopped chewing his fingernails long enough to say, “What do you think?”

Monster Kowalski barked a laugh. “You kids kill me,” he said.

“Are you saying you’ve never been scared?” Blondie asked him.

“Course I been scared,” Kowalski replied. “Up to and including now.”

Across the aisle, O’Hara tapped his chronoband, put it up against his ear, and shook his head. Sitting next to him, Cortez filed his fingernails and yawned with boredom.

Akira took a long, slow look around her. Everything was as normal as it could be. But then—why did she have this premonition that something dark and evil rode the solar winds?

“All right, kids—belay the chatter!” Lieutenant Levine yelled. “Listen up and listen good, ‘cause the Captain’s gonna preach you a sermon.”

Captain Branch strutted up and down the center aisle.

“Clean your ears, you miserable specks of cosmic dust!” he said. “Comanche One sets us down on Acheron while Comanche Two maintains orbit. Our job is to scope, scan and secure the area. Then C-Two will join our little party. Anyone got anything they wanna say?”

Cortez raised his hand. “I have urgent need to use the latrine, sir.”

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