Chapter 25

I had just come from a meeting with the food services and supply people. We had been discussing dry goods. What we had on hand, what we needed, and what we could make ourselves. It was a long and boring meeting. After all, how much can be said for herbs and spices? I’m sure that the topic is interesting to some folks. I had to struggle to stay awake and interested. Finally, the meeting concluded, and as usual, nothing was decided, and everything was to be discussed at the next meeting, again.

As I walked away, I tried to come up with a good reason for April to attend. Then I could come up with a minor emergency and be spared. I was also thinking about lunch. All the talk of food and food preparation had given me an appetite. Spending a quiet lunch with April was sounding mighty good.

Then my communicator demanded my attention. “Captain, this is Smith in communications. We’ve got a Federated Nations Inspector demanding permission to board. What do I do?”

“Ok, Smith, we’re nice people. Give them a docking port, and I’ll meet them there.”

“I already tried that, Sir. He’s demanding that we open our flight bay for him. I tried, Sir. But he was very insistent.”

“No worries, Smith. This is what we’ll do. Call Security and let Mr. Barth know what’s going on. I want at least a platoon of his militia standing by, out of sight. Then I want the area surrounding the hanger sealed. No one in or out, unless I say so. Have you got that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’ve already notified Mr. Barth. He’s on the way.”

“Great. Once you’ve got all that, then call our visitors and grant their request. I will meet them in the hanger.”

I got to the hanger well ahead of the Federation ship. It takes time to scavenge the oxygen. We aren’t going to just throw the doors open and waste all that air. Then there is the time spent opening the hanger doors. Something that big and massive doesn’t move or stop quickly. I waited in the flight operations office with April, David Barth, who was in combat gear, and Tom Olivet, my new flight boss.

None of us had any idea what the Federated Nations could want with us. We avoided them as much as possible. They didn’t have much power here in Mars orbit, but they can be a definite pain in open space. One thing they could do is contest ownership of any number of items. Also, most of the technicians we had on board were Federal citizens, which gave them a certain level of interest.

As soon as their shuttle had settled, the doors sealed and the atmosphere back up to level, I stepped out onto the flight deck. I wasn’t dressed in any fancy or formal suit. Just my usual ships coveralls with my eagles on the collar points. My name tag and rank were prominent and easily seen. I walked to about 30 yards from the bow of the shuttle. I could see the pilot and co-pilot through the command deck portholes, and I could see that they saw me.

After about 10 minutes, I was getting irritated and about to head back to flight. When a cargo hatch on the side of the shuttle opened up. Two squads of FN soldiers spilled out and formed an honor guard. I could tell these weren’t FN Marines. The regular army was bad enough. Marines could have turned this deadly.

Then something happened, that I had only seen in old earth movies about the wet navy. A navy Ensign stepped out and started blowing a tune on a boatswains whistle. Really, an old-time boatswain whistle. What happened next was even more astounding.

The Ensign called the honor guard to attention. And out stepped the most gawd awful, overdressed, comic opera figure. He looked like he had just walked out of a parody of a Gilbert and Sullivan (not related) play.

He was short, maybe 5 foot 6 inches, heavy set. A visible 50 pounds or better of fat. He was wearing a navy-blue imitation uniform with gold and silver braids. They were everywhere, on the cuffs, the lapels, running down the pants’ outer seams, which had a 10-inch bellbottom. There was no way in hell I was going to ask how many buttons.

Next were the ribbons and medals. He had more than a North Korean General. The mixture of colors, shapes, and stripes was blinding. To top it off was his hat. Easily a foot-wide saucer cap, the same color as his uniform, with the same gold and silver braiding. If there was anything under the gold on the brim, I couldn’t see it.

As he strutted towards me, I could almost hear the drums and fifes he must have heard in his mind. When he was about a yard from me, he stopped and put his fists on his hips. His head was tilted back, and with a sneer, on his lips, he looked me up and down.

Nothing was said.

A minute passed, and still, nothing was said.

When a second minute passed, he lost patience, “Well?” He loudly proclaimed.

“Well, what? It’s your credit bub, what do you want?”

“I am Percival B. Fitzhume. I represent the Federated Nations Inspector Generals office.”

“Great Percy, I am Henry Sullivan. I am Captain of the Sewards Folly. An independent mining ship. Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way, GET YOUR DAMNED STORMTROOPERS OFF MY DECK!”

Fitzhume got a shocked look on his face. It took a moment. Then he tried to power on “Look, Captain...”

“5,” I interrupted.

The interruption broke his chain of thought. He tried again. “Captain...”

“4,” I interrupted again.

Now his curiosity got the best of him. “What does that mean, Captain? what does 4 mean.”

“Tinhorn, that’s how much time you have before I pitch you out the nearest airlock. Which is right over there.” I pointed to the obviously open hatch of an airlock. “3”

Now he got indignant. “What? How dare you, Sir? Threatening an officer of the Federation? You could face heavy fines and possible internment.”

I grinned at him “2.”

It seemed that he still thought he had the upper hand. “Well, I don’t think you could get away with it. My escorts are armed and would cut you down before you got halfway to the airlock.”

I was still grinning, but now I showed him my teeth. Raising my voice, I called out, certain that not only April but those troopers would hear. “April, on my command, blow the seals on the hanger doors.”

I looked down into Percy’s eyes and still loud enough to be heard by the troopers. “Blowing the seals will vent this whole hanger to open space. The explosive decompression will pop those doors like a cheap bottle of wine. Sucking you, your minions, and anything not nailed down out of this hanger.”

The decompression alarm klaxon started.

“But, but, but,” he stammered “You would die also.”

Now I leaned in close to him and glared directly into his eyes. “Yup, you ready for it?” I paused for a moment. Then drew in a breath.

“No, no, no,” he turned to the honor guard who, to a man, were looking at him. “Ensign,” he squealed “Stand down. Get your men back on board the shuttle, quickly.”

Several of them were openly grinning. One even snickered. All of them were quickly hustled on board by the Ensign. As the last man boarded, he turned and looked at me. He was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Ok April, stand down.” the alarm klaxon quit.

Now I smiled down at him. “Now that we’ve taken care of that, what can I do for you and the Federation Mr. Fitzhume?”

I think this probably confused him more than anything else. We had just been a breath away from certain death. And now I was all sweetness and light.

He stammered for a moment and continued. “Captain Sullivan, as I said earlier, I am from the Federation Inspector Generals Office. We have discovered that several ships are missing from our inventory. Very important, very dangerous craft. I have received word that you are seeking to purchase new ships. Ships that would be used as scouts during your mining operations.”

I touched my index finger to my chin. My face a study in concentration. “Well, Sir, we are indeed looking to purchase ships for our flight operations. But we are looking for new craft. Not FN surplus. Those craft wouldn’t fit our needs.”

“These are not surplus ships. They may have been made several decades ago, but they have been in a mothball situation since manufacture. They are part of the fleets ready reserve.”

“Several decades? What makes you think that they have recently been stolen? Couldn’t they have been taken some time in the past? did they even exist?”

“I assure you, Sir, they do exist. And their disappearance was recent. My predecessor did an exhaustive inventory.”

“Your predecessor? Where is he at? Have you discussed this with him?”

“Well, no. He is currently unavailable.”

I was on firm ground here. This popinjay’s arrival was unexpected, unwanted, and unwarranted. But now that he had let the cat out of the bag, I knew what he was after. “He was arrested two years ago by Federation Security for misappropriation of funds. I remember the case quite clearly. I was an FN officer at the time.”

“Still, this ship is on my list of possible suspects. I require an inspection of your ship.”