Chapter 42
Jim Vassilakos
From the entrance opposite the stadium, carried by a team of standard bearers, emerged the black banner of the Navy with its bright yellow sunburst, and immediately following it were two columns of my marines in battle dress, Jaamzon’s Honor Guard, her coffin suspended between them. They slowly marched out, the precision of their movements a study in discipline.
I saluted the Navy banner, then turned and strode backstage, passing the Olav robot, Amika, Guri, and Ensign Florence on my way to Captain Masa. He was talking to someone over his wristcom and made a hang on gesture. Josefeen, leaning with her back against a wall, was on a call as well. I drew open my psychic curtain and focused upon her for a moment, hopeful that our durable link had survived the psionic scream.
“A boy? How old?” So far so good. I knew what she was saying without actually having to be within earshot, and she wasn’t even looking at me.
“We’ll know more in a few minutes,” a voice replied. I knew, somehow, that it was the voice of some IBIS liaison with whom she’d been interfacing, a Mr. Eneri Smith, which sounded like an alias.
It struck me as curious that they’d be on an alias names basis, but then I realized that Josefeen wasn’t really named Josefeen. Her birth name was Henrietta. (Mental reaction, if any?)
As she looked at me, I could sense a slight roiling in her stomach.
«What’s this about a boy?»
«Some fish IBIS just snatched.» More like a minnow. He’d fainted during the psionic scream, his family reacting as one might expect. Josefeen/Henrietta closed her eyes and took a calming breath. She suspected he was too young to be a Zhodani spy, and if he were a member of terrorist group, he probably wouldn’t have been with his entire family, although they had recently immigrated, so all their backgrounds and associations would have to be reinspected, this time with a fine-toothed comb.
“Captain Plankwell?” Masa was done with his call.
“The Countess can do as she pleases with Olav,” I said. “I am done with it and whatever scheme Karneticky was cooking up with it. I am going to collect my forces and relocate back to the Jaqueline. I expect I will be testifying remotely to the Court, as I am not really interested in putting myself in the crosshairs again.”
“My aides are being swamped by interview requests for you,” Masa replied. “Can I put through three as a pool interview to head off the rest?”
A pool interview? Three versus one? “Will it be friendly?”
“I’ve found them to be balanced in their approach to the Navy.”
Balanced. He was speaking euphemistically. They’d all be pro-Imperial, pro-military, and very pro-Navy. Without a doubt, Masa was playing his own games, but after the help he’d given me, it would be churlish to refuse, and since this would hardly be an unfriendly interview…
“Give me time to settle down and I’ll do it. Say, in thirty minutes or so, while we are boosting out of the well? Virtual only.”
“Very good,” he said. “And good luck, Captain.”
I walked over to Josefeen.
“How was the speech?” she asked. «Did you sense any telepathic probings while you were up there?»
«No.» I had not sensed any sort of intrusion during my speech, though I’d certainly felt the psychic scream. As for this boy who’d apparently gotten caught in our web, Josefeen was thinking that whatever happened to him would likely be based foremost on the strength of his psionic potential. If it was weak, he’d be returned to his family, but if it was strong, he’d be taken and probably under false pretenses. Only if his head of household were of sufficiently high status would this even be questioned. After a long career interfacing with IBIS, she knew their ways.
Let me know if you want Gus to continue with this:
“Thank the base quartermaster for the Kinnuki. I guess I’ll have to leave it with you. I will catch a ride with my Marines.”
And this:
I tabbed my wristcom and requested Fa’Linto to bring secure transport to my location and pick up my group.
(Who is in your group?)
Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
One more question that has to be asked: Would Captain Plankwell, due to protocol, need to remain on stage for the duration of the honor guard?
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Conrad Rader
From the entrance opposite the stadium, carried by a team of standard bearers, emerged the black banner of the Navy with its bright yellow sunburst, and immediately following it were two columns of my marines in battle dress, Jaamzon’s Honor Guard, her coffin suspended between them. They slowly marched out, the precision of their movements a study in discipline.
I saluted the Navy banner, then turned and strode backstage, passing the Olav robot, Amika, Guri, and Ensign Florence on my way to Captain Masa. He was talking to someone over his wristcom and made a hang on gesture. Josefeen, leaning with her back against a wall, was on a call as well. I drew open my psychic curtain and focused upon her for a moment, hopeful that our durable link had survived the psionic scream.
“A boy? How old?” So far so good. I knew what she was saying without actually having to be within earshot, and she wasn’t even looking at me.
“We’ll know more in a few minutes,” a voice replied. I knew, somehow, that it was the voice of some IBIS liaison with whom she’d been interfacing, a Mr. Eneri Smith, which sounded like an alias.
It struck me as curious that they’d be on an alias names basis, but then I realized that Josefeen wasn’t really named Josefeen. Her birth name was Henrietta. (Mental reaction, if any?)
As she looked at me, I could sense a slight roiling in her stomach.
«What’s this about a boy?»
«Some fish IBIS just snatched.» More like a minnow. He’d fainted during the psionic scream, his family reacting as one might expect. Josefeen/Henrietta closed her eyes and took a calming breath. She suspected he was too young to be a Zhodani spy, and if he were a member of terrorist group, he probably wouldn’t have been with his entire family, although they had recently immigrated, so all their backgrounds and associations would have to be reinspected, this time with a fine-toothed comb.
“Captain Plankwell?” Masa was done with his call.
“The Countess can do as she pleases with Olav,” I said. “I am done with it and whatever scheme Karneticky was cooking up with it. I am going to collect my forces and relocate back to the Jaqueline. I expect I will be testifying remotely to the Court, as I am not really interested in putting myself in the crosshairs again.”
“My aides are being swamped by interview requests for you,” Masa replied. “Can I put through three as a pool interview to head off the rest?”
A pool interview? Three versus one? “Will it be friendly?”
“I’ve found them to be balanced in their approach to the Navy.”
Balanced. He was speaking euphemistically. They’d all be pro-Imperial, pro-military, and very pro-Navy. Without a doubt, Masa was playing his own games, but after the help he’d given me, it would be churlish to refuse, and since this would hardly be an unfriendly interview…
“Give me time to settle down and I’ll do it. Say, in thirty minutes or so, while we are boosting out of the well? Virtual only.”
“Very good,” he said. “And good luck, Captain.”
I walked over to Josefeen.
“How was the speech?” she asked. «Did you sense any telepathic probings while you were up there?»
«No.» I had not sensed any sort of intrusion during my speech, though I’d certainly felt the psychic scream. As for this boy who’d apparently gotten caught in our web, Josefeen was thinking that whatever happened to him would likely be based foremost on the strength of his psionic potential. If it was weak, he’d be returned to his family, but if it was strong, he’d be taken and probably under false pretenses. Only if his head of household were of sufficiently high status would this even be questioned. After a long career interfacing with IBIS, she knew their ways.
Let me know if you want Gus to continue with this:
“Thank the base quartermaster for the Kinnuki. I guess I’ll have to leave it with you. I will catch a ride with my Marines.”
And this:
I tabbed my wristcom and requested Fa’Linto to bring secure transport to my location and pick up my group.
(Who is in your group?)
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Jim Vassilakos
I tapped my wristcom. “Major Fa’Linto, bring secure transport to pick up my group.”
“How many in your group, sir?”
“Four.”
“Aye sir.”
“Four?” Josefeen squinted. «Oh, hell no! We are not taking…»
“Canon Forklinbrass,” I said, “how would you like to have dinner with me aboard my ship?”
“I’d be delighted, Captain.” Of course, he was thinking mainly about the Eye of God, the cravings of his soul more insistent than those of his stomach.
“You can accompany us on the ride back.”
“That’s very gracious of you.”
«Bringing him on board will help keep your holy eyeball under wraps for a little while longer,» I explained. «We can even practice memory wiping on him.»
«Oh! Okay, then.»
The fourth member of our party would be Corporal Hoskins, my bodyguard, although why I’d still need a bodyguard aboard my own ship was a question I hadn’t bothered contemplating.
“Did we leave anything in the Kinnuki?” I asked Josefeen.
“A certain medical device,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation.
Ah. The hypo gun. I rubbed my neck.
“Corporal Hoskins, there’s a Kinnuki in Starport Parking.” Where, exactly, I had no idea.
“Take the escalator back to the starport,” Josefeen interjected. “Stay to the right, and go to the first lot past the custom’s checkpoint.”
He’d get access through the base quartermaster’s office. Once he was gone, I fired off a quick message via my wristcom to expedite the matter and thanked Commander Shumurdim for the Kinnuki. It would have been nice to keep it for longer, but now that I’d been driving it for a while, it was probably becoming a security risk. Plus, I was pretty sure if I kept flying it in and out of orbit like it was a fighter, I’d eventually burn off its heat shield.
A message came in from Fa’Linto, directing us to one of numerous landing pads surrounding the stadium’s upper concourse. It wasn’t far from where we were presently, just several floors up, so we took the elevator, and after we arrived at a small waiting area near the pad, I contacted the Jaqueline, updating them as to my expected itinerary. I then made a note to myself to add a commendation to Wang’s service jacket for the exceptional maneuvering in an atmosphere, and I began writing a message to Dr. Willin, asking her to have Josafeen report for a tox-screen once we were back on board.
«I don’t need a tox-screen, and I sure as Cleon’s thumb-toe don’t need Willin discovering that psi-enhancer in my system.»
(response?)
A jet black G-Carrier dropped out of the sky, and we piled into it, though Hoskins hadn’t yet returned.
(It’s not surprising, as getting to the starport via the escalators, then finding the Kinnuki, and then going through customs and getting back to the stadium would take some time.)
Conrad Rader
I tapped my wristcom. “Major Fa’Linto, bring secure transport to pick up my group.”
“How many in your group, sir?”
“Four.”
“Aye sir.”
“Four?” Josefeen squinted. «Oh, hell no! We are not taking…»
“Canon Forklinbrass,” I said, “how would you like to have dinner with me aboard my ship?”
“I’d be delighted, Captain.” Of course, he was thinking mainly about the Eye of God, the cravings of his soul more insistent than those of his stomach.
“You can accompany us on the ride back.”
“That’s very gracious of you.”
«Bringing him on board will help keep your holy eyeball under wraps for a little while longer,» I explained. «We can even practice memory wiping on him.»
«Oh! Okay, then.»
The fourth member of our party would be Corporal Hoskins, my bodyguard, although why I’d still need a bodyguard aboard my own ship was a question I hadn’t bothered contemplating.
“Did we leave anything in the Kinnuki?” I asked Josefeen.
“A certain medical device,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation.
Ah. The hypo gun. I rubbed my neck.
“Corporal Hoskins, there’s a Kinnuki in Starport Parking.” Where, exactly, I had no idea.
“Take the escalator back to the starport,” Josefeen interjected. “Stay to the right, and go to the first lot past the custom’s checkpoint.”
He’d get access through the base quartermaster’s office. Once he was gone, I fired off a quick message via my wristcom to expedite the matter and thanked Commander Shumurdim for the Kinnuki. It would have been nice to keep it for longer, but now that I’d been driving it for a while, it was probably becoming a security risk. Plus, I was pretty sure if I kept flying it in and out of orbit like it was a fighter, I’d eventually burn off its heat shield.
A message came in from Fa’Linto, directing us to one of numerous landing pads surrounding the stadium’s upper concourse. It wasn’t far from where we were presently, just several floors up, so we took the elevator, and after we arrived at a small waiting area near the pad, I contacted the Jaqueline, updating them as to my expected itinerary. I then made a note to myself to add a commendation to Wang’s service jacket for the exceptional maneuvering in an atmosphere, and I began writing a message to Dr. Willin, asking her to have Josafeen report for a tox-screen once we were back on board.
«I don’t need a tox-screen, and I sure as Cleon’s thumb-toe don’t need Willin discovering that psi-enhancer in my system.»
(response?)
A jet black G-Carrier dropped out of the sky, and we piled into it, though Hoskins hadn’t yet returned.
(It’s not surprising, as getting to the starport via the escalators, then finding the Kinnuki, and then going through customs and getting back to the stadium would take some time.)
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Jim Vassilakos
«I don’t need a tox-screen, and I sure as Cleon’s thumb-toe don’t need Willin discovering that psi-enhancer in my system.»
«That’s certainly a consideration. Do you have a better idea? I’m worried about you, after all.»
«You want to worry about someone, worry about Holy Roll-me-a-Joint over here. He’s had more drugs than a whole college campus on graduation day.»
If she meant his lifetime consumption, that was probably true.
«Well, if you just want to suffer through dinner, I guess that’s up to you. Yes, you are invited, my new Intel aide.»
I canceled the message I’d started, and a jet black G-Carrier dropped out of the sky, the maroon sunburst of the Imperial Star Marines emblazoned on its ventral surface. Unfortunately, Corporal Hoskins hadn’t yet returned, but this didn’t surprise me. Taking the escalators back to the starport, then finding the Kinnuki, and then going through customs and getting back to the stadium would take more time than had elapsed, though how much more I had no idea.
“We’re waiting for one more passenger,” I told the driver as soon as we piled in via a pressurized gangway. “He’s on a retrieval mission. Then we can get out of here.”
“Yessir.”
The passenger compartment included a holographic display, which I envisioned the Major using to keep himself up-to-date on whatever tactical situation was developing down below.
“While we’re waiting, can you pipe in a feed of the memorial?”
“Yessir.”
The display flickered on as I settled into a rather comfortable chair, but as I sat with my hands on the chair’s arms, I felt an unusual mixture of emotions. I couldn’t quite discern if this was some new psionic sense I was experiencing, or if it was just the mixture of emotions I was feeling myself, watching as two members of the honor guard, due to some archaic tradition, solemnly folded the Navy banner thirteen times, until it resembled a compact triangle. Many weeks from now, a similar ceremony would be carried out on Olympia, and the banner would be presented to Jaamzon’s parents along with her casket. The Navy, ever efficient, would also send a Personnel Affairs officer from the nearest naval base to smooth out the distribution of the survivors’ pension and deliver her effects. But for now, the task of this honor guard was done.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Masa’s voice came over the loudspeakers, “we have a special guest who will now speak on behalf of Countess Helena. The Imperial Navy presents to you the reincarnation of Olav hault-Plankwell.”
This was what I wanted to see, and out he came, walking slowly toward the lectern and finally bumping into it, causing it to slide forward a bit on the stage.
«This ain’t gonna go well,» Josefeen mentally murmured, thinking there were better uses of her time than listening to two men and an apparently drunk robot talk about a woman they’d never met. «Maybe the Canon slipped him a Mickey.»
(Response, if any.)
Indeed, the Countess was taking a huge risk, putting Olav out in public like this, but maybe that’s what she wanted, to make a public mockery of my family name prior to crucifying me over the interdiction. No. My encounter with the HPSS happened after Olav was already en route. Whatever was wrong with him had nothing to do with my invocation of Section 678, unless he was somehow being incapacitated remotely.
“Your Grace, honored descendant, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, and citizens of the Imperium,” Olav said, his deep voice tinged by an accent now five centuries old, “I will put this bluntly, if I may. The simple truth, which we must accept, is we are at war.
"As usual, the enemy’s attack came suddenly, and was, of course, completely unprovoked. This should not come as a surprise to anyone, as it has already happened five times, the first of which I dealt with personally. Unlike the other episodes, the successive Frontier Wars the Imperium has fought and won, this time there was not a full scale invasion but merely a murder. Well, that’s what it was, a murder.”
He glared at the audience, as though daring anyone to contradict him.
“How do we know it was the Zhodani and not pirates, as the Zhodani have claimed?” he asked rhetorically. “Well, that’s very simple, and now I’m going to tell you some things that will probably get me into trouble with the Navy, but I’m going to say them anyway, because you should know the truth. The reason we know it was the Zhodani is that it was a stolen Imperial cruiser that ambushed the Jaqueline at Quar, a cruiser they stole decades ago. It played the role of a wounded sister, thus luring the Jaqueline into their trap.
“This is the oldest trick in the book when it comes to piracy. Pretend to be in dire need of immediate assistance, then shoot whoever’s dumb enough to approach. Shooting the Jaqueline as she turned was particularly devious, as it meant our weapons couldn’t immediately be brought to bear, giving them the opportunity to make their escape. But the fact that they’d jumped so quickly means they must have been already charging their capacitors, which means that it was never their intent to strip the Jaqueline and either capture or abandon her crew. That’s what a true pirate would have done, but that’s not what they did, which means this could not have been a pirate attack.
“No. They jumped out immediately, which means they only wanted to slap us. Well, of course. This is how the Zhodani always underscore their diplomatic talking points. Interstellar polities disagree not so much verbally as kinetically, by demonstrating what can happen if proper listening doesn’t occur, and this attack — this murder — was essentially Zhodani-speak for 'listen to me when I’m talking.' So, you see, it is because of this cowardly, deceitful, and murderous act that is part and parcel of this perversion of diplomacy which the Zhodani have employed against us time and again, that we are here mourning the cold-blooded murder of one of our own, Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon. Say her name with me. Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon.”
A small portion of the crowd joined in.
“Again! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon.” It was a larger portion this time.
“Say her name, damn you!” Olav shouted. “Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon!” In short order, he had the whole stadium chanting her name. By now they were standing, and I could feel their emotions, a righteous mixture of hurt and rage, boiling up.
“‘We didn’t steal your ship,’ the Zhodani ambassador insists,” Olav continued, “‘and we certainly didn’t attack you with it. That would be injury on top of larceny, and we wouldn’t do that. It was certainly pirates. Oh, and by the way, we’re so sorry for your loss.’ Do we go along with this charade of theirs, waiting for them to hit us again, and again, and again, and again?! Because, that is what will happen. We know this from past experience.
“Why is it that every time a war starts, it’s always them invading us? That surprise attack always gives them the upper hand, and they always come here and put Jewell under siege, and then we’re forced to burn through years and thousands upon thousands of lives to liberate you, and this happens over and over and over. At what point will we, the Imperium, put an end to this?!”
He paused for a very long moment this time, various voices from the audience calling for Zhodani blood.
“Kill the Zhos!” people yelled. “Vengeance!”
Olav stood there, listening, but he gave no reaction, not even a nod of his robotic head. But the way he had the crowd going, it was obvious to me why he’d been a great commander. Yet this wasn’t the same Olav I’d talked to at the High Port. That Olav had talked about fighting for one’s comrades and for loved ones back home, but this one had a more expansive vision of family. His family was not merely his crew nor even his fleet. The entire Imperium was his family. And the murder of a single member could not go unavenged.
“As I said at the beginning,” Olav finally spoke, “we are already at war. The only question is whether the Navy, under the local leadership of Admiral Karneticky, will acknowledge this fact and act accordingly.”
Then he turned and exited the stage, leaving the crowd once again roaring for blood.
(Any thoughts from Gus?)
The hatch opened, and Corporal Hoskins entered the G-Carrier carrying the hypo-gun and our filter masks.
(Did you guys leave anything else in the Kinnuki?)
Timothy Collinson
Hi there,
«You want to worry about someone, worry about Holy Roll-me-a-Joint over here. He’s had more drugs than a whole college campus on graduation day.»
The display flickered on as I settled into a rather comfortable chair, but as I sat with my hands on the chair’s arms, I felt an unusual mixture of
emotions. I couldn’t quite discern if this was some new psionic sense I was experiencing, or if it was just the mixture of emotions I was feeling myself, watching as two members of the honor guard, due to some archaic tradition, solemnly folded the Navy banner thirteen times, until it resembled a compact triangles
«This ain’t gonna go well,» Josefeen mentally
.
“This is the oldest trick in the book when it comes to piracy. Pretend to be in dire need of immediate assistance, then shoot whoever’s dumb
enough to approach. Shooting the Jaqueline as she turned was particularly devious, as it meant our weapons couldn’t immediately be brought to bear, giving them the opportunity to make their escape. But the fact that they’d jumped so quickly
the Zhodani have employed against us time and again, that we are here mourning the cold-blooded murder of one of our own, Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon. Say her name with me. Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon.”
“Say her name, damn you!” Olav shouted. “Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon!” In short order, he had the whole stadium chanting her name. By now they were standing, and I could feel their emotions, a righteous mixture of hurt and rage, boiling up.
Olav stood there, listening, but he gave no reaction, not even a nod of his robotic head. But the
way he had the crowd going, it was obvious to me why he’d been a great commander. Yet this wasn’t the same Olav I’d talked to at the High Port. That Olav had talked about fighting for one’s comrades and for loved ones back home, but this one had a more expansive vision of family. His family was not merely his crew nor even his fleet. The entire Imperium was his family. And the murder of a single member could not go unavenged.
Then he turned and exited the stage, leaving the crowd once again roaring for blood.
Jim Vassilakos
Timothy Collinson
Timothy, thank you for those excellent edits.
Regarding Gus's reaction, I trust Conrad will modify it as he sees fit. Regarding the folding of the Navy Banner, maybe it should be some number other than thirteen.
I was thinking about this, but I'm not schooled enough in Imperial history to know of a specific number that might hold special symbolic meaning to the early Imperium. Do you have any suggestions?
Conrad Rader
Timothy, thank you for those excellent edits. Regarding Gus's reaction, I trust Conrad will modify it as he sees fit. Regarding the folding of the Navy Banner, maybe it should be some number other than thirteen. I was thinking about this, but I'm not schooled enough in Imperial history to know of a specific number that might hold special symbolic meaning to the early Imperium. Do you have any suggestions?
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Conrad Rader
«I don’t need a tox-screen, and I sure as Cleon’s thumb-toe don’t need Willin discovering that psi-enhancer in my system.»
«That’s certainly a consideration. Do you have a better idea? I’m worried about you, after all.»
«You want to worry about someone, worry about Holy Roll-me-a-Joint over here. He’s had more drugs than a whole college campus on graduation day.»
If she meant his lifetime consumption, that was probably true. [[I had gone to an exclusive prep school before entering the Academy, and both places had periodic tox screening, to weed out unbalanced performance enhancers mostly. If the Navy wanted drug enhanced performance, they'd be the ones giving you the drugs]]
«Well, if you just want to suffer through dinner, I guess that’s up to you. Yes, you are invited, my new Intel aide.»
I canceled the message I’d started, and a jet black G-Carrier dropped out of the sky, the maroon sunburst of the Imperial Star Marines emblazoned on its ventral surface. Unfortunately, Corporal Hoskins hadn’t yet returned, but this didn’t surprise me. Taking the escalators back to the starport, then finding the Kinnuki, and then going through customs and getting back to the stadium would take more time than had elapsed, though how much more I had no idea.
“We’re waiting for one more passenger,” I told the driver as soon as we piled in via a pressurized gangway. “He’s on a retrieval mission. Then we can get out of here.”
“Yessir.”
The passenger compartment included a holographic display, which I envisioned the Major using to keep himself up-to-date on whatever tactical situation was developing down below.
“While we’re waiting, can you pipe in a feed of the memorial?”
“Yessir.”
The display flickered on as I settled into a rather comfortable chair, but as I sat with my hands on the chair’s arms, I felt an unusual mixture of emotions. I couldn’t quite discern if this was some new psionic sense I was experiencing, or if it was just the mixture of emotions I was feeling myself, watching as two members of the honor guard,
** due to some archaic tradition, solemnly folded the Navy banner thirteen times, until it resembled a compact triangle.**
Many weeks from now, a similar ceremony would be carried out on Olympia, and the banner would be presented to Jaamzon’s parents along with her casket. The Navy, ever efficient, would also send a Personnel Affairs officer from the nearest naval base to smooth out the distribution of the survivors’ pension and deliver her effects. But for now, the task of this honor guard was done.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Masa’s voice came over the loudspeakers, “we have a special guest who will now speak on behalf of Countess Helena. The Imperial Navy presents to you the reincarnation of Olav hault-Plankwell.”
This was what I wanted to see, and out he came, walking slowly toward the lectern and finally bumping into it, causing it to slide forward a bit on the stage.
«This ain’t gonna go well,» Josefeen mentally murmured, thinking there were better uses of her time than listening to two men and an apparently drunk robot talk about a woman they’d never met. «Maybe the Canon slipped him a Mickey.»
(Response, if any.)
Indeed, the Countess was taking a huge risk, putting Olav out in public like this, but maybe that’s what she wanted, to make a public mockery of my family name prior to crucifying me over the interdiction. No. My encounter with the HPSS happened after Olav was already en route. Whatever was wrong with him had nothing to do with my invocation of Section 678, unless he was somehow being incapacitated remotely.
“Your Grace, honored descendant, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, and citizens of the Imperium,” Olav said, his deep voice tinged by an accent now five centuries old, “I will put this bluntly, if I may. The simple truth, which we must accept, is we are at war.
"As usual, the enemy’s attack came suddenly, and was, of course, completely unprovoked. This should not come as a surprise to anyone, as it has already happened five times, the first of which I dealt with personally. Unlike the other episodes, the successive Frontier Wars the Imperium has fought and won, this time there was not a full scale invasion but merely a murder. Well, that’s what it was, a murder.”
He glared at the audience, as though daring anyone to contradict him.
“How do we know it was the Zhodani and not pirates, as the Zhodani have claimed?” he asked rhetorically. “Well, that’s very simple, and now I’m going to tell you some things that will probably get me into trouble with the Navy, but I’m going to say them anyway, because you should know the truth. The reason we know it was the Zhodani is that it was a stolen Imperial cruiser that ambushed the Jaqueline at Quar, a cruiser they stole decades ago. It played the role of a wounded sister, thus luring the Jaqueline into their trap.
“This is the oldest trick in the book when it comes to piracy. Pretend to be in dire need of immediate assistance, then shoot whoever’s dumb enough to approach. Shooting the Jaqueline as she turned was particularly devious, as it meant our weapons couldn’t immediately be brought to bear, giving them the opportunity to make their escape. But the fact that they’d jumped so quickly means they must have been already charging their capacitors, which means that it was never their intent to strip the Jaqueline and either capture or abandon her crew. That’s what a true pirate would have done, but that’s not what they did, which means this could not have been a pirate attack.
“No. They jumped out immediately, which means they only wanted to slap us. Well, of course. This is how the Zhodani always underscore their diplomatic talking points. Interstellar polities disagree not so much verbally as kinetically, by demonstrating what can happen if proper listening doesn’t occur, and this attack — this murder — was essentially Zhodani-speak for 'listen to me when I’m talking.' So, you see, it is because of this cowardly, deceitful, and murderous act that is part and parcel of this perversion of diplomacy which the Zhodani have employed against us time and again, that we are here mourning the cold-blooded murder of one of our own, Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon. Say her name with me. Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon.”
A small portion of the crowd joined in.
“Again! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon.” It was a larger portion this time.
“Say her name, damn you!” Olav shouted. “Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon! Lieutenant Thanatika Jaamzon!” In short order, he had the whole stadium chanting her name. By now they were standing, and I could feel their emotions, a righteous mixture of hurt and rage, boiling up.
“‘We didn’t steal your ship,’ the Zhodani ambassador insists,” Olav continued, “‘and we certainly didn’t attack you with it. That would be injury on top of larceny, and we wouldn’t do that. It was certainly pirates. Oh, and by the way, we’re so sorry for your loss.’ Do we go along with this charade of theirs, waiting for them to hit us again, and again, and again, and again?! Because, that is what will happen. We know this from past experience.
“Why is it that every time a war starts, it’s always them invading us? That surprise attack always gives them the upper hand, and they always come here and put Jewell under siege, and then we’re forced to burn through years and thousands upon thousands of lives to liberate you, and this happens over and over and over. At what point will we, the Imperium, put an end to this?!”
He paused for a very long moment this time, various voices from the audience calling for Zhodani blood.
“Kill the Zhos!” people yelled. “Vengeance!”
Olav stood there, listening, but he gave no reaction, not even a nod of his robotic head. But the way he had the crowd going, it was obvious to me why he’d been a great commander. Yet this wasn’t the same Olav I’d talked to at the High Port. That Olav had talked about fighting for one’s comrades and for loved ones back home, but this one had a more expansive vision of family. His family was not merely his crew nor even his fleet. The entire Imperium was his family. And the murder of a single member could not go unavenged.
“As I said at the beginning,” Olav finally spoke, “we are already at war. The only question is whether the Navy, under the local leadership of Admiral Karneticky, will acknowledge this fact and act accordingly.”
Then he turned and exited the stage, leaving the crowd once again roaring for blood.
(Any thoughts from Gus?)
The hatch opened, and Corporal Hoskins entered the G-Carrier carrying the hypo-gun and our filter masks.
(Did you guys leave anything else in the Kinnuki?)
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Timothy Collinson
** Suggested replacement**at opposite corners of the flag, triggered the Fallen in Service transformation. The flag's smart pigments began reversing color, transforming the brilliant yellow sunburst on the black background into a smaller black sunburst on a yellow background. Two midshipmen of the Honor Guard began playing the Vigil for the Dead on their calls (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boatswain%27s_call), alternating with each other and dropping the octave over the minute long flag change. Once the flag and the Vigil were complete, the Honor Guard began the precision folding of the flag down to the compact square of yellow with a black bar across the square diagonally.
which we must accept, is we are at war.
[[OOC well, poop...]]
{{I stared at the display. Finally, with the slightest motion I could muster, I clicked the display off and sat in silence. I pulled the curtain down hard, cutting off Josafeen midthought.Fecking nobles.
Jim Vassilakos
Using my wristcom, I keyed open a channel to the Jaqueline.
“This is the captain. Issue general recall to all crew. Expedite all standing repairs that require the yard. Load all the refit supplies to complete the lesser repairs on our own. Request a departure window from Traffic Control in the next seventy two hours.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Blodder said. “Sir, you’ve received a request for a conference call from a Captain Camello Masa. He’s telling me it’s…”
“The group interview,” I said, nodding. “Accept and put it through as soon as it begins.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The hatch opened, and Corporal Hoskins entered the G-Carrier carrying the hypo-gun and our filter masks.
“Thank you, Corporal,” I said. “Sit down and strap in. It’s time we were heading home. We’re ready to lift off.”
“Yessir.”
The G-Carrier lifted off the pad as Hoskins buckled his safety harness.
“Let me see that,” Josefeen said, eyeing the hypo-gun. He handed it over, and as she examined it, frowning, my wristcom beeped. It was the conference call. I switched the holodisplay back on and flicked the call over to it, which caused four faces to appear in a two-by-two matrix directly in front of me. On the upper left was Captain Masa, and next to him was a blonde woman of about my age with dark circles under her eyes. She appeared against a blurry, purple background, which was either deliberately out-of-focus or simply computer generated. The two lower cells contained two men, one young and the other old. The older one I recognized. He was a reporter with the Traveller News Service.
“Captain, are you there?” Masa asked.
(…)
“We can’t see you. Are you able to send us a video feed?”
(As Gus looks more closely at the holographic console, he’ll notice there is, indeed, a “GravCam” button.)
“Captain,” Masa said, “this is Kathi Gibila with Limid News, Dan Gala from the Madid Network, and Waltor Geshnura from the TNS. We are also awaiting a representative from the HPSS, but we can go ahead and start.”
“Captain Plankwell,” Ms. Gibila said before either of the two male reporters could so much as blink, “please tell our viewers what happened.”
Conrad Rader
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Jim Vassilakos
“Captain Plankwell,” the younger man said, looking down at what were probably his notes. “Just a short while ago, a robot introduced by Captain Masa as the reincarnation of your ancestor, Olav hault-Plankwell, declared we are already at war. Do you support this assessment, and what do you think about everything else this Olav robot said in his address to the people of Jewell, and is he, sir… is it really the reincarnation of Olav hault-Plankwell, in your personal estimation?”
Conrad Rader
“Captain Plankwell,” the younger man said, looking down at what were probably his notes. “Just a short while ago, a robot introduced by Captain Masa as the reincarnation of your ancestor, Olav hault-Plankwell, declared we are already at war. Do you support this assessment, and what do you think about everything else this Olav robot said in his address to the people of Jewell, and is he, sir… is it really the reincarnation of Olav hault-Plankwell, in your personal estimation?”
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Jim Vassilakos
It was now the older man’s turn, the one from the TNS. “In your speech, you spoke of seeking vengeance. Who will you be seeking vengeance against?”
Timothy Collinson
"No, it is not the reincarnation of Olav hault-Plankwell. We are not currently at war. I suggest you direct inquiries about the volatile statements made by an experimental piece of technology to the Countess, who commissioned the current interaction of the device after the Navy and the Ministry of Technology evaluated the item and deemed it not worth our time or investment."I am rather surprised that the media is chasing this as Olav reincarnated. It is simply a database of records and information about the original Olav Plankwell, with an interface that mimics human reaction. Are you so taken by the esteem of the original that you would accept what I would consider a poor copy? For what possible reason, other than to take advantage of people rightly patriotic in their holding of Olav hault-Plankwell as a hero of the Imperium from over 500 years ago?
Timothy Collinson
"I assume you are referring to the events leading up to the sudden imposition of a Section 678 Interdict over Heron City. It was the sudden escalation and use of force on two active duty nala officers,
namely Captain Masa and myself by representatives of the HPSS over a matter of mistaken documents. The attack was so sudden and jarring, and may I say, so out of character of the general treatment I have encountered from the civilian population on Jewell, that I immediately suspected something was drastically wrong."As you well know, an attack on naval officers is tantamount to an attack on the Navy and by extension, the Imperium. Captain Masa and myself belong to two different Fleets and he is well known to the local population."The Navy has long used overwhelming force as a doctrine to settle conflict. It was in our interest to settle matters conclusively.
As we continue to process data gathered from the incident scene, we will take up the offer of the Countess to assess our concerns in Court.
Conrad Rader
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Conrad Rader
It was now the older man’s turn, the one from the TNS. “In your speech, you spoke of seeking vengeance. Who will you be seeking vengeance against?”
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Jim Vassilakos
Now it was the lady’s turn, once more. “Do you believe it is reasonable, given everything the Imperial Navy has done for Jewell and everything you are continuing to do by patrolling the border and ensuring our safety, that service members of the Imperial military, and the Navy in particular, should be afforded special consideration under local law?”
Conrad Rader
Now it was the lady’s turn, once more. “Do you believe it is reasonable, given everything the Imperial Navy has done for Jewell and everything you are continuing to do by patrolling the border and ensuring our safety, that service members of the Imperial military, and the Navy in particular, should be afforded special consideration under local law?”
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Jim Vassilakos
Conrad Rader
And now it was back to the younger man. “Captain, I don't know if you can answer this as forthrightly as you might like, but it is a question I have to ask. Do you think someone in government is misusing the memory of your ancestor, Olav hault-Plankwell, for political purposes?”
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Jim Vassilakos
“Okay, that’s all that we’re going to allow today," Masa said, my telepathic tendrils getting nothing from the reporters, although from Josefeen, I sensed a certain degree of confusion.
“May I have my final turn?" the older man asked. “I promise, it won’t be a trick question.”
“Okay, Waltor, go ahead.”
“Final question,” the TNS correspondent said. “Captain, I have learned that tomorrow is going to be a special day for you. May I have the honor of being the first to wish you a happy birthday?”
Conrad Rader
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Timothy Collinson
I apologize for the weird typos my autocorrect keeps throwing in when I am not looking (nala = Navy)
Jim Vassilakos
They all thanked me, and I closed the connection, mostly happy with how it went. I felt I really was much better at the small group dynamics than at big speeches.
(Feel free to include any other thoughts Gus might have.)
I tried not to think about the mountain of paperwork that had no doubt been accumulating back on the Jaqueline. Dirtside exercises were all well and good, but the Navy bureaucracy demanded near-constant attention. Indeed, if my commanding officer were anywhere close, I’d have probably drawn a frown and perhaps even a demerit for neglecting my duties, but being on detached patrol had its privileges. My commanding officer was a week away by fleet courier, and anything slower would take twice as long.
«We might have a slight problem,» Josefeen’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
«What is it?»
«The ampule cartridge.» She glanced down at the hypo-gun. «It appears to have gone missing.»
Conrad Rader
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Conrad Rader
Jim Vassilakos
Jim Vassilakos
https://docs.google.com/document/d/12Qcu_kgy_32U35juKd1saUV4wY0se_Ze/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=113687616933633107445&rtpof=true&sd=true
PLEASE REMEMBER to change "EDITING" to "SUGGESTING" (near the upper right-hand corner) before doing any edits.
Conrad Rader
Hoskins thinks for a moment but says no.What does Gus want to do when he gets back to the ship?
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Jim Vassilakos
Timothy Collinson
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PO1 2ST
