8
Much to the disgust of Fleet personnel, many Sudorians have gone voluntarily to Brumal to study and better understand our old enemy. That they have even been able to do so is one indication of both waning Fleet influence and the increase in its perpetual search for a purpose. When Parliament voted for civilian researchers to be allowed to travel there, Fleet commanders could not argue against using warships for transporting those civilians, since the War was undeniably over. The request also enabled Fleet to find a new use for these vessels, and thus seek funding for their maintenance. This steady migration of researchers nearly ended when a typically naive faction of the Orchid Party detonated a nuclear bomb inside a Fleet ground base on Brumal, as a protest against Fleet oppression. Believing the indigenous population to have caused this explosion, the response of the captain of the nearest hilldigger was to launch a missile down into the nearest Brumallian town, incinerating its entire population of 5,000. This shamefully misguided act was then used by Parliament to prevent Fleet clamping down on further migration. A memorial stone was erected in memory of the personnel who died in the Fleet ground base. The burnt-out Brumallian town, however, was quickly filled in and, if you ask now, no one is entirely sure where it was located.
— Uskaron
Defence Platform One
With puzzlement, Kurl studied his screens for a moment then raised his gaze to the thick glass window above which girded the entire operations room. Outside, in the black of space, he could just make out the shape of the hilldigger.
"So what's this all about?" asked Cheanil.
Kurl grinned. "When Fleet start giving me notice of what they'll do next, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then I'm as bewildered as you are." He paused, checked his displays, then asked, "Who have we got out there?"
"Dravenik on the Blatant. Last I heard he was on Corisanthe Watch." Cheanil studied something coming up on one of her screens. "Apparently he has been replaced there by Franorl on Desert Wind."
"Dravenik is next in line for Admiral," Kurl observed, "and apparently Carnasus has started wearing a cooling hat."
Cheanil glanced at him. "And what's that got to do with anything?"
Kurl leant back, shaking his head in irritation. "It may be nothing…I don't know. Can you open a com channel to him?"
"I am not sure the Commander would be best pleased. Maybe we should inform him about this, and he should speak to Dravenik."
"Come on, Cheanil, I've been on this station longer than the Commander and I know what I'm doing. I'll just make a polite enquiry." He paused for a moment. "Do you want to go and wake up Commander Spinister?"
Cheanil grimaced, input the required information, and one of Kurl's screens blanked for a moment before a channel-holding graphic appeared. Then that abruptly disappeared and a young man wearing a coms headset peered back at him. Kurl realised that this image was also computer-generated, since he was talking to a tacom.
"Hello," said Kurl. "I'm calling from Defence Platform One, and am obviously curious about why you have positioned yourselves so close to us."
"I'll pass you on to Lieutenant Crastus."
The screen blanked again, the holding graphic reappeared and remained in place for some minutes before the officer in question appeared.
"You are calling from Defence Platform One?" asked the Lieutenant.
"I certainly am."
"And you wish to know why we are holding our present position?"
"I certainly do."
"Well…I did not get your name?"
"Kurl."
"Well, Kurl, when Parliament decides Orbital Combine must be informed of every Fleet manoeuvre, then you will have every right to pose such questions. Until then, such questions are not only impertinent but a security risk."
Kurl shrugged. "I'm only asking what Commander Spinister will be asking Dravenik sometime soon."
"That is Captain Dravenik to you, civilian."
Tightly, Kurl replied, "It may have escaped your notice, but this is a military defence installation."
"Yes, though it would seem there are those who do not consider it as efficient as a hilldigger. For your Commander's information, we are here for planetary defence as an added precaution since that Brumallian missile attack on one of our ships. This has been approved by Parliament. Thank you for your interest."
The screen blanked again.
"Approved by Parliament?" said Kurl, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. He glanced across at Cheanil, then looked at the display she was studying. One screen showed the present locations of all the personnel aboard the platform. "I guess I should inform the Commander," he added.
Cheanil shook her head and began groping under her console for something. "No, I don't think you'll be doing that."
"Huh?" Kurl wondered what she was now doing. If she was having trouble with her equipment, she should get Grant up here. Then again—Kurl checked her display—Grant was in the refectory with some of the other techs, and probably halfway through a bottle of kavis by now. "Why won't I be doing that?"
"Because you'll be dead," said Cheanil, sitting upright and pointing at him the silenced handgun she had retrieved from under her console.
"What do—?"
The gun made a triple thunk and an iron fist slammed into Kurl's chest hurling him from his chair. Lying on the floor, struggling for breath, he just could not believe this was happening. Cheanil came to stand over him, pointing the gun down at his forehead. Brief light ignited inside the barrel. It dropped a blackness on Kurl that would never end. Cheanil returned to her seat and pulled the two spare clips from where she had taped them under her console two hours earlier. She had rather liked Kurl and therefore regretted the necessity of killing him, but she did not feel the same about the others. Commander Spinister, the other officers and the station techs were all definitely and arrogantly Orbital Combine people. All of them felt that Fleet, which had kept the Brumallians from their throats for a century, was now obsolete. Cheanil felt that the ease with which Harald had organised her penetration of Combine, her promotion to coms officer aboard this station and her smuggling of arms aboard were all proof of how wrong they were. Though, admittedly, Harald was no ordinary Fleet officer.
Cheanil picked up her console and checked its screen. With the radio link established to the station computer, she could now see clearly where everyone was, and thus plan her actions accordingly. Grant and eight other technicians occupied the refectory, Spinister and four others were in bed, and a four-person crew was conducting maintenance on the maser array outside. Cheanil entered the lift to the rear of the operations room and took it down to the living area. Stepping out she could hear Grant and the rest of them roaring with laughter or speaking with that stepped-up volume that bottles of kavis tended to provide.
Entering her own quarters she quickly pulled out her case from under her bed, input its lock code and hinged it open. As she hoisted out the Fleet-issue disc carbine, power pack and spare magazines, she again wondered at Harald's brilliance. Combine Security was by no means a pushover, yet he had gone through it like it just wasn't there. There seemed something almost supernatural about his abilities…not that Cheanil believed in anything like that. Strapping on a harness to carry the power pack and the magazines, she considered this further affirmation of Fleet superiority, and some sign of just what Fleet could achieve under the right leadership: in other words Harald.