Chapter Seven
Conference Room, DUCC, Washington, DC, April 7
“So, what did Arges mean by ‘heroes’?” asked the Secretary of Commerce.
“He tried to explain it to me, but I still don’t get it,” answered the president. “He said that every time societal upheaval has happened before, there have been some sort of leaders, he called them ‘heroes,’ that came to the forefront and led their civilizations back from the brink of anarchy. He thinks that some of the members of Calvin’s platoon are these people reborn.”
“So, from some cosmic sort of perspective, it’s preordained that we’re going to win?” asked the Secretary of the Air Force, with a look of hope in his eyes. “The good guys always win?”
“No,” replied the president, “even if you believe this whole hocus pocus magic that some sort of heroes show up when needed, Arges said that good doesn’t always win. In fact, they used to have some sort of box that allowed them to see into other universes. In many of these, the ‘good’ civilizations have won and are still in existence. But in others, the ‘bad guys’ won. Arges also said that in one universe, the Milky Way didn’t exist anymore.”
“What?” asked the science advisor. “What do you mean, it didn’t exist?”
“I mean that it was completely destroyed,” answered the president. “It was just gone. 300 million star systems, all just gone.”
“That’s impossible...” said the science advisor. “What could do that?”
“They don’t know,” said the president, “but Arges said that he would greatly like to avoid that happening in this universe.”
“Yeah, me too,” muttered the science advisor.
“So, what’s the deal with these heroes?” asked the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“I don’t know,” said the president. “Arges was very vague. He just said, ‘they rise.’”
“Do you believe that?” asked the Chairman.
The president shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounds like wishful thinking to me. Arges believes it, though, as do the other two Psiclopes. They all believe that there is an all-powerful being or force that watches over us.”
“God?” asked science advisor.
“It could be,” said the president. “I asked the same question. He didn’t want to say ‘yes,’ but he also didn’t want to rule it out, either. But he did say that the being wasn’t entirely focused on ‘the good guys always win;’ in some universes, the bad races won in the end.”
National Assembly Building, Abuja, Nigeria, April 10
“I would personally like to thank everyone for coming today,” welcomed the German Luftwaffe general, Heinrich Gottlieb. Calvin looked down the long table that held the personnel review board. In addition to the German that was the board’s chairman, there was also a representative from all of the original members of the world government: the United States, Canada, Japan, South Korea, Italy, the United Kingdom, Germany, Chile, India, Australia and the host country of Nigeria. This was the second board for all of them, as the same admirals and generals had met several months previously. The Vella Gulf’s squadron had sustained a number of losses on its first mission and they had met to fill them. “I would also like to thank Lieutenant Commander Hobbs for making time in his busy schedule to be here today,” Gottlieb continued. “I know his experience will be able to add much insight into the selection process.”
Today’s board would probably be more challenging, Calvin knew, as many of the new nations were also in attendance. He expected all of them to jockey for positions in both the squadron and in the platoon. Russia would certainly expect to be compensated for its support of the process, he had been advised, and he knew that the Israelis would expect to be included, as well. It was one thing to say that the new government would be inclusive in front of the media; Calvin expected that it was going to be much harder trying to get the nations to actually work as one. He sighed, wishing he could be anywhere else. Preferably off planet, several stargates away.
“I would also like to thank the Government of Nigeria for allowing us to use this wonderful facility today,” General Gottlieb continued. The new Terran Government Headquarters building was not complete yet, but the government couldn’t wait for it. The new government had a multitude of issues that it needed to resolve so, in the interim, the president of Nigeria had allowed them to use the National Assembly Building, located close to where the new headquarters was being built.
“As most of you are aware,” Gottlieb advised, “this is the second meeting of this personnel board. We met one time previously to fill the losses the squadron sustained in combat. The purpose of this meeting today is to expand the manning of the space fighter squadron and to fill in the losses sustained by the platoon.”
Calvin thought back to the first mission. It had been a difficult one. Not only had they lost three space fighter crews (and their precious ships) in action against the Ssselipsssiss, they had also left a shuttle and a crew behind on Epsilon Eridani to help the ambassador there. Half of the crews that had initially been implanted were no longer with the squadron. As more of the shuttles had been built, it had been necessary to select new flight crews, or they wouldn’t have been able to fly half the number of shuttle missions that they currently were. It had been decided at the first board to allow the countries to replace their losses in the squadron and to expand the squadron to 10 flight crews, adding a Nigerian crew, an Australian pilot and a German weapon systems officer.
The Russian general raised his hand, and Calvin sighed again. They hadn’t even started, and it looked like the jockeying was starting. “I assume that we will be filling the positions based on the populations of the contributing nations?” asked the Russian. Of course he would assume that, Calvin thought. Russia was the only one of the 10 largest nations in the world that didn’t have anyone in either organization. If selection was done by size, they would be able to fill most of the open positions. Nations like Israel, ranked 96th in the world in population, would be effectively shut out of the discussion.
The Israeli general immediately raised his hand. Seeing it, the chairman said, “Let us try to remember that the future of our race rests on the two units that we are manning. The entire human race depends on our decisions.” He raised his voice. “I will not allow this board to descend into partisan politics. We must be above it! We will select the best people for the positions, not because they come from the right place, but because they are the best! Am I understood?” Calvin hid a smile. There’s nothing like a pissed off German for getting control of a meeting, he thought.
Both the Russian and the Israeli put their hands down and looked a little chastised. Calvin didn’t think they’d stay that way, but it was at least a start.
Time to throw them a bone, thought Calvin as he raised his hand. “I am happy to announce that it looks like we will have a full squadron of spacecraft for the next time out,” he told the board. “We need to increase the squadron’s manning from 10 crews to 16, so there should be room for all of the assembled nations to participate.”
Gottlieb nodded in appreciation. “This is how we will make the initial selections,” the German explained. “As you were previously notified, we will start with the pilots, and each representative will have one minute, and one minute only, to tell the board about that nation’s top candidates, and why they should be selected for inclusion into the squadron. A nation may nominate up to three. After each presentation, the board will make a secret vote and give the candidate a confidence level score between one and 10 on whether or not he or she thinks that candidate would be a good choice for inclusion. After all of the pilots have been voted on, we will narrow the results down and then determine who will be selected. Then we will do the same for the weapon systems officers and then the members of the platoon. Any questions?”
The Russian representative raised his hand again. “Will we be determining the crew of the space ship today, as well?” Calvin shook his head. He had heard that there was an effort among some of the nations to rename the Vella Gulf to something more representative of the planet in general, not just one nation. By addressing it as ‘the space ship’ rather than by its name, obviously the Russians were behind it. Really? Didn’t they have better things to worry about?
“The manning of the Vella Gulf will be decided at a meeting next week,” replied the chairman. “Any other questions?” Seeing none, he looked at the U.S. Air Force General sitting at the opposite end of the table from Calvin. “General Simon, would you please brief your first candidate?”
General Simon smiled as the first U.S. candidate, a navy lieutenant, appeared on the screen. “I’d be happy to,” he replied. “Our first candidate is Lieutenant John Turner. Lieutenant Turner is a veteran of our last war and our ‘Top Gun’ fighter weapons school...”
Terran Space Force HQ, Moon Base Alpha, Dark Side of the Moon, April 15
“How bad was it?” asked Calvin as Night and Bullseye walked into his office. Although space was at a premium in the lunar habitat, Calvin had staked out a small cubicle to hang his space suit, flight gear and other personal paraphernalia. It had a desk and a file cabinet and two chairs for guests. Calvin felt so cramped in the office most days that it felt like he had to go outside just to change his mind. He couldn’t wait to move back aboard the Vella Gulf. He had a much larger space there that he would previously have only considered to be ‘minimal.’ It now seemed palatial in comparison.
“It was as brutal as we thought it would be,” replied Night, who attended the entire selection process that filled out the ranks of Space Fighter Squadron One and the first platoon of what the leaders had decided to call the ‘Terran Space Marines.’ As the purpose of the platoon was to attack a nation from its base onboard a ship, Calvin could understand the analog of using the wet-navy Marine Corps. Calvin had to leave the selection board after the first day for consultation meetings with several of the national leaders. “About the only thing that they agreed upon without too much argument was to let the countries that lost platoon members fill their spots. That was one of the first things discussed; after that it got hard.” He looked at Bullseye.
“We ended up with the 16 crews that we wanted,” Bullseye reported. “In addition to the Nigerians that you already know about, we got two Russians, two Indians, a Ukrainian, a Spaniard, a Kiwi, a Turk, a Saudi, an Israeli and a female French pilot that I already caught Lieutenant Simpson trying to stake a claim to.” He shook his head. “If she wants to steal secrets, there’s probably going to be a line forming to give them to her.”
“Good thing we don’t have any secrets then, huh?” asked Calvin.
“Yeah, pretty much,” agreed Bullseye, “but don’t tell her that. I’ve probably got a secret or two of my own that I need to share.” He winked. “In any event, we have a wealth of experience in a wide variety of aircraft types. The Russians and Ukrainians only nominated fighter pilots, but some of the other countries nominated helo pilots and a number of different types of weapon systems officers. Overall, I think we ended up with a pretty good mix of aviators.”
“Good,” said Calvin. “Thanks for suffering through that.”
“You can pay me in beers,” replied Bullseye. “A lot of them. Think in terms of cases.”
Calvin laughed. “I’ll get right on that,” he said.
“Good,” replied Bullseye. “Oh, there was one other thing. Some of the nations were finding it difficult to mix the navy ranks with army and air force, so the Terran Space Force is going to go to only using navy ranks.” He smiled. “I’m a Lieutenant Commander now, too.”
The three men shared a laugh. “Did they convert you over, too?” Calvin asked Night.
“Not yet,” replied Night. “The ground forces are still keeping their national ranks, for now, as the high command couldn’t agree on which branch’s ranks to use, even though they decided to call us Space Marines. I have a feeling that they’ll eventually go with the Marine Corps ranks, too, but there’s no way to know.”
“All right,” said Calvin. “How did the platoon’s manning end up? Did they get it figured out?”
“Yeah,” replied Night, “they were able to work out the manning, and we ended up with a lot of experience. The only problem is going to be getting everyone to work together. I don’t think that there will be a lot of problems with the aviators, but the platoon is going to have a number of nationalities that are traditional enemies working in close proximity to each other.” He shrugged. “If we can make it work, we’ll hopefully make it easier on the ones that come after us.”
“As you probably heard,” he continued, “Iran, North Korea, and China are still boycotting, so we didn’t have to worry about any of them. With the exception of those three, just about every other major nation in the world is ‘in’ and thinks that their special forces are more special than those of any other country. Overall, I think we did really well. If we don’t have the best people in the world, they’re all still in the top 1%.”
“The Space Force had more casualties than the Ground Force last time out,” commented Night, “so it absorbed more of the newbies, even after we moved Mr. Jones and Ms. Rozhkov to it. First off, Master Chief will be happy to know that we picked up another U.S. Navy SEAL, in addition to a Saudi Navy SEAL, as well. We also got an Israeli from the Shayetet 13 naval commando unit. You may not have even heard of it, as the unit is one of the most secretive in the Israeli military. They are really good.”
“As a matter of fact,” continued Night, “we’ve got several new members from units that we have heard mentioned in whispers, but never were able to confirm. Countries are confirming them now to get places in the unit. The next recruit, a Russian combat frogman, is one of these. He is from their Naval Spetsnaz unit called the ‘Barrakuda’ group. This is the group that killed ‘Buster’ Crabb. If you don’t know who Crabb was, he was the British spy that was the inspiration for James Bond. The guys in Barrakuda are ghosts; we’ve never been able to confirm their existence.”
“In addition to them,” Night said, “we also have a French Naval Commando, an Indian Marine Commandos (MARCOS) and a Norwegian Marinejegerkommandoen (MJK) operative. The French commando is from the Commando de Penfentenyo brigade, whose specialties are reconnaissance and intelligence operations behind enemy lines. MARCOS does all sorts of maritime special operations like counter-terrorism, special reconnaissance, unconventional warfare and hostage rescue. This unit is one of the few units in the world qualified to jump into the water with a full combat load. They specialize in maritime operations throughout Kashmir and often conduct counter-terrorist operations in the area. The MARCOS operatives are widely feared among the terrorists, who call them the ‘Bearded Army’ because they all disguise their identities with flowing beards. The MARCOS soldiers have been known to carry out a wide variety of operations on foreign soil. The last member of the Space Force is a member of Norway’s MJK. He is trained as a sniper and a forward air controller and also has some field medical skills.”
“The additions to the Ground Force are equally skilled,” said Night, looking at the list. “The first of these is Sergeant Alka Zoromski from the Polish Operational Maneuver Response Group. That group is an elite counter-terrorism unit that fills a variety of special operations and unconventional warfare roles, including anti-terrorist actions and projection of power behind enemy lines.”
“In addition to the Russian Naval Spetsnaz frogman, we also got a Russian from the ‘Lynx’ unit of their Special Rapid Response Unit. Since the unit was established in 1992, it has participated in almost every known special operation in Russia. They are usually tasked with Special Weapons and Tactics (SWAT)-type special operations, including apprehension of dangerous criminals and high-profile raids. He will bring some interesting skills in missions that are outside of normal special ops.”
“Cool,” said Calvin. “You never know what we’re going to need.”
“Our other Israeli is a member of their elite Sayeret Matkal unit,” Night continued. “You may not recognize the name of the unit, but this is the one that conducted the raid on Entebbe, where it rescued more than 100 Air France passengers who were being held by terrorists. Although everyone here is good; this group is one of the best.”
“Our final operative is the one that I am the most worried about,” said Night, looking down again.
“Why is that?” asked Calvin. “Did one of the nations stick us with a ringer?”
“No,” replied Night. “He is from the Special Service Group of Pakistan’s special operations forces. I’m not worried about his skills, as this group is considered one of the top special forces groups in the world. They can do anything you’d like, from unconventional warfare to foreign internal defense to hostage rescue. What worries me is that he is a Pashtun from the Afghan/Pakistan border. I don’t know him, so he wasn’t someone that fought with us against the Afghan insurgency. I don’t know if that means he was helping the insurgents, or just happened to be stationed in another area while I was there. If he was in another area, it’s likely that he was in Kashmir, and may have run afoul of our Indian operative that would have been there. I have a lot of questions that I want answered before I take him into combat.”
Special Forces Training Command, Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, WA, April 25
“Sir, you have got to see this,” said Night, walking into the office.
“What is it?” asked Calvin, looking up from the never-ending stack of paperwork he had brought with him on his trip to review the training course for special operations in space.
Night moved to stand by the window that looked down over the hangar bay. “Just come here,” he replied. “Quick. You’re gonna love it.”
Calvin got up from his chair and crossed the room to the window. “I don’t mind taking a break from the paperwork,” he said. “What’s so important?”
Night pointed to a large mat where two people were engaged in a heated hand-to-hand combat match. The entire platoon stood around the mat watching, jeering and calling suggestions, most of which weren’t repeatable in mixed company. There were also a number of students that he didn’t recognize yelling at them. Calvin could see that one of the participants was Master Chief O’Leary, but he didn’t recognize the other. Both were bleeding in a couple of places. For Master Chief, that was no small feat, as his skin had been augmented to resist burns, punctures and cuts.
“Is that one of our new guys?” asked Calvin, looking at the other guy. “I don’t recognize him.”
“He’s actually from the ship’s crew,” replied Night, “but he is really good. Did you see that combination that Master Chief just threw at him? That’s some sort of Rigelian nerve punch/kick combo that we got from a combat download. There’s no way that guy could ever have seen that combination before, and yet he was able to block and avoid it.”
“Whoever he is, he obviously got some augmentations done when he got his implants,” remarked Calvin. “There’s no way he could be that fast without them.”
Night laughed. “That’s what I wanted you to see,” he said. “The guy is totally augment-free. He’s naturally that fast. If anything, he’s faster than Master Chief is with his implants. He just walked in here, walked up to Master Chief and said, ‘Hey, if I can take you four out of seven submissions, can I go down to the planet with you the next time the Gulf goes out?’ Master Chief didn’t think there was any way that the guy could win, so he said, ‘Sure.’”
“He’s got to know that he can’t authorize that,” said Calvin, shaking his head. “What’s the count so far?”
Night grinned. “I think it is tied three-to-three right now. Master Chief won the first three points, hitting him with a bunch of the off-world stuff that we learned, including some of the lizard stuff that he’s been working on with Bob and Doug. He hasn’t scored since then, though, and he has taken a bunch of hits.”
“The funny thing,” said Night after a pause, “is that the new guy said he is better with rifle and pistol than he is at hand-to-hand.” At that moment, the newcomer faked high and struck low, sweeping Master Chief’s legs out from under him. While Master Chief was still going down, the newcomer pounced on him, taking him down in a choke hold that Master Chief couldn’t escape. The newcomer won, 4-3.
“Wow,” said Calvin, watching Master Chief’s struggles diminish as he passed out from blood loss to his brain, “that guy really is good. We need to get him on the team; make sure you get him implants and a suit.” He turned to find Night laughing. “What?” he asked. “Who is he?”
“That gentleman is Father John Zuhlsdorf,” replied Night. “He’s the Gulf’s new chaplain.”
National Assembly Building, Abuja, Nigeria, April 27
“I would like to thank all of you for attending this session today,” greeted the British prime minister. The first female to hold the post since Margaret Thatcher, Juliette Ricketts-Smith was also First Lord of the Treasury and the Minister for the Civil Service. Like the ‘Iron Lady’ before her, the ‘Cobalt Countess’ wore her nickname proudly. Not only was cobalt a hard metal (harder than iron, she was fond of saying), but cobalt was also one of the three elements that were magnetic at room temperature, like her personality. The fact that she often dressed in blue was purely coincidental. “I do not believe that there is any more important appointment before this assembly than who to send as the next ambassador.” She looked out at the nodding heads in the crowded assembly hall. The heads of state of nearly all of the participating nations were in attendance. Those that weren’t had sent their seconds. As the first ambassador to the stars had been from Britain, the only agreement so far was that the next one should be from somewhere else, making it her duty to moderate the session.
“Having been an ambassador, myself,” she continued, “I have seen both sides of the ambassadorial mission. I have seen ambassadors fall flat on their faces, and I have seen others rise to great acclaim through their tireless efforts. As we proceed with our task today, there is one quality that must be paramount; the person selected for this post must be an expert communicator. It is not necessary for the ambassador to be highly polished, but she should be tactful and must be able to get the message across clearly and precisely.”
“As everyone here well knows, communication among diplomats involves dialogue: unless the diplomat is willing to give information, it is unlikely that he or she will be able to obtain it.” She smiled, dialing the magnetism up several notches. “Think about the parties you have been to on the diplomatic circuit. The person that everyone always wants to talk to is the one who is interesting to talk with. At the other end of the spectrum is the guy on the couch, alone with his drink. The way people avoid him, you would probably think he has some sort of contagious disease.” She heard several chuckles from the audience. “I see everyone is familiar with that person.” She could see that she scored with that one.
“For a moment,” she continued, “let us try to stand in the shoes of our hypothetical ambassador, so that we may better know the necessary qualities of the person expected to fill the post. On one hand, the ambassador must convince the other government of the significance of the subject under negotiation and why agreeing to the ambassador’s position is useful to his own country, or planet in this case. Having achieved this, the ambassador then must also convince her own government to go along with it as well. This will be a big job, as she will not have one boss, but all of the nations that are currently represented in this noble body. Good luck with that! I know most of you,” she said with a wink, “and I couldn’t imagine trying to satisfy all of you at once.” The double entendre was intentional, and there was laughter across the auditorium. “What’s even worse is that, in all likelihood, the ambassador will return to find out that she now has even more bosses than when she left.”
She worked the crowd for another 10 minutes, talking about the importance of a number of qualities like discretion, a good sense of humor and the importance of good judgment. By the time she was finished, they were eating out of her hand. A single hand was raised at the end of the applause. As was previously agreed, the German president stood up and formally nominated Cobalt Countess for the post. With the exception of the Russian and French delegates, her appointment was unanimous.
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