Published: 02 Jan 2017

Part XI

THREE WORLDS
Formerly Published as “0300 Books I, II, and III”

Chapter 29: USF Charleston, Intel Team Meeting

“If you don’t have a donut by now, you’re out of luck,” Kevin said, calling to order the meeting of the Flag Intel Team.

The boys seated at the table giggled. They averaged 12 years of age, so that was okay.

The men smiled. They averaged 30 years of age and 24 years in Fleet, but they had worked with the kids long enough to know how important was food to them.

I had added eight of the best and brightest officers recruited from throughout the task force to the eight GWGs that made up the Intel Team. At first, the veil had kept the older men from questioning the age of the kids—at seventeen, Kevin was the oldest, and the team included two eight-year-olds. After two weeks of interaction, however, I judged that the kids had earned the men’s respect, and re-introduced them while pushing the men to see the kids as they were.

I had been right. The older men had experience and an encyclopedic knowledge of the profession (the world’s second oldest, if stories were to be believed, and exceeding the world’s oldest profession only by the number of amateurs who participated). The kids brought a fresh perspective as well as the power of their Meta abilities. The men and the boys quickly became paired in mentor-protégé relationships, creating a synergy that often surprised me. Keeping the boys’ abilities a secret? Keeping secrets was second nature to these intelligence professionals, and none of them had any reservations about the oath they were asked to take.

The imint team began this meeting with an oblique image of a massive complex of two- and three-story brick buildings nestled in the foothills of Virginia. Alex described the image.

“We have found the seat of government. We initially focused on Washington, DC, since it was the location of the government of the USA on our world; however, working from clues teased by the sigint team from the Reverends’ televisor broadcasts, we’ve identified the Scudder’s headquarters to be in Lynchburg, Virginia.

“Our observations of Washington, DC reveal a city of monuments and museums, deteriorating and with few inhabitants and no visitors.

“We found what may be the headquarters of the Army in what corresponds to Fort Belvoir, Virginia in our world. We’ve not confirmed this and are still working.

“There is an Army post about 70 miles east-southeast of Lynchburg that corresponds to Fort Pickett on our world, and there is a contingent of Army troops in barracks adjacent to the Scudder’s headquarters. A rail line connects Ft. Pickett and Lynchburg, and there is frequent traffic on that line.”

“What do we know about the televisor signals?”

Marty took that question. “The signal comes from a central location, probably Lynchburg, and is transmitted throughout the North American Continent by microwave to towns where it is re-broadcast from tall antennas.”

“What’s the focus of your work?” I prompted.

“Army strength and disposition, technology, society,” Cam said.

There was nothing more to say, and the meeting broke up, quickly. I signaled Cam to stay behind, and brought him to my Ready Room.

“Cam? Do you remember what we said when we first met?” I knew the answer. Cam knew what I asked. Like all the Metas, he had nearly perfect eidetic memory.

“Sure,” he said. “I said we weren’t related, and you said that all Stewarts were related.”

“Since Will started looking at Metas’ DNA, I’ve done some checking. Your DNA and mine were close enough that I did a little more investigation.

“Cam? We are related. We are more than just cousins. We are first cousins once removed. Your father and my father were cousins.”

I felt Cam’s blood pressure drop, and caught him before he fell. He didn’t quite pass out, but it was a second or two before he was able to stand without my holding him. I felt that, as well, but didn’t release him.

I felt his emotions: sadness that he’d not known his own father or his family; sadness that I’d not known anything about my own family; and ineffable joy when he realized that a blood relative was holding him, hugging him.

He asked a critical question. “Do George and Danny and Artie know?”

“I’ve not told anyone,” I said. “It’s going to be hard to keep secret any longer, though.”

“Are they going to be okay with it? That we’re really related, and not just by adoption?”

Before I could answer, Cam said, “If this might make problems between you and George, Danny, and Artie, I don’t want it.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?” I asked, knowing as I spoke that it was not only a rhetorical question, but a stupid one, as well.

Cam caught both thoughts, and grinned before he said, “Sometimes, Cousin Paul, you’re really silly, but I love you, anyway.”

George, Danny, and Artie were as happy with this news as were Cam and I—perhaps happier. Danny knew he had no living relatives; George’s father was dead and his mother had forgotten everything she’d ever known about him. Artie’s father was unknown and, given the circumstances, would always remain so. While we might, someday, locate his mother, it was highly unlikely. These three boys had each other, and me, and it was with happiness and enthusiasm that they welcomed Cam into our family.

I never knew, or asked, who was first to take Cam into his bed. And who invited Maudi who was Cam’s boyfriend. On the other hand, I knew when the boys felt that Cam and I should become more than just kissin’ cousins.

Only Danny and George could have done what they did, because only they had unrestricted access to my quarters, only they and Cam could block me without my becoming suspicious, and that’s what it took for them to have Cam waiting for me.

They may have blocked me, but it didn’t take any effort for me to understand what was going on. “Cam?” I asked. “Is this truly what you want, and is it okay with Maudi? With George and Danny and Artie?”

Cam giggled before he answered. “You’re being silly, again, Cousin. It took all of them to get me here.”

Chapter 30: Fleet Laboratory—CERN-Higgs

That afternoon, George asked for some private time. He was scared.

“George, something’s seriously the matter,” I said. I held out my arms, and he came to me for a hug.

“They’re going to destroy the world!” he said. “Look.”

It took only seconds for the story to unfold through the telepathic link. George, with the help of the other Geeks with Guns and some clever hacking by Danny and Tobor, had figured out what was going on at CERN-Higgs.

“Can they really do this?” I asked, after George finished.

“Not any more,” he said. “Tobor is monitoring. We’ve—sabotaged is the only word for it—we’ve sabotaged their computer. It will not allow the collider to operate that way, but it will report data as if it were. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to fool them, though.”

“Good work, George. All of you. Make sure the team knows how good they did. I’ll tell them, later. Now, however, it’s time to kick butt.”

I sent a 372-word private message to Admiral Davis. He sent a single-word reply. “Yes.”

My next message was to my team planetside. A shuttle got them here in less than two hours. They were all excited, but Bobby, most of all. He ran to Danny, and hugged him, and showed him the new Senior Cadet insignia on his collar.

Two hours after the GWG team arrived, another shuttlecraft docked. Three people from CERN-Higgs were escorted directly to my conference room. One was the guy I was supposed to have replaced, Captain Stoddard. Another was Dr. Hudson, the senior project scientist. The third person was Dr. Karl Adams, a postdoc from the Dirac Institute recently assigned to CERN-Higgs. The CERN-Higgs people probably knew something was wrong. At least, they knew something was urgent; they’d been invited to this meeting by armed Fleet Marines.

Seated at the table with them were the entire Flag Staff and all my Geeks with Guns Team.

I began the meeting. “A week ago, a rift opened in a universe we have named U-Long. A flight of 30 shuttlecraft, similar to ours, were pulled through that rift into a second universe we are calling U-Cal, after the California Liberation Army.

“The shuttlecraft were drawn to a battlefield where the government of the United States in U-Cal was crushing a rebellion. The California Liberation Army were those rebels; the government of the United States consisted of religious fundamentalists led by Reverends—”

Dr. Hudson interrupted. “We know all of this, and we have work to do, work that was put on hold by your summons. We—”

“Doctor, do not interrupt me, again.” I kept my voice level, but I bit off each word—and pushed. The man reddened, slightly, but kept his mouth shut.

“The Reverends had the upper hand on the battlefield. Their weapons were superior; their forces were larger.

“Captain Long, commander of the shuttlecraft from U-Long, assessed the situation, and joined his technologically superior forces with the rebels. After destroying the Reverends’ forces, the Long shuttles removed wounded and dead from the battlefield.

“By that time, a rift had opened between U-Cal and our universe. Captain Long’s forces detected the hospital ship, USF Hope, and brought the wounded there.

“The rift between our universe and U-Cal is still open and appears to be stable. The rift between U-Cal and U-Long no longer exists.

“The United Earth Space Fleet finds itself in a quandary. Since these rifts were created by CERN-Higgs illegally and in defiance of Fleet orders, we are responsible for both the people from U-Long and the people from U-Cal.

“Now, Dr. Hudson, you have the floor.”

Hudson and Stoddard had blanched when I said illegally and in defiance, however, Hudson managed to speak without outwardly revealing his feelings.

“Your charges are without merit and certainly cannot be proven. We did nothing illegal, and certainly have not violated orders. Now, if you have nothing more substantial than unfounded allegations…” He stood.

“Dr. Hudson, you are under arrest. My guess is that the reason you want to get back is to remove traces of your illegal activities from the records of CERN-Higgs. That is too late. Your data dump contained everything needed to convict you. It shows that you operated the CERN-Higgs collider in a way that created the two rifts. You were under clear, unambiguous orders not to create such rifts.

“You will be tried in military court. You will pay the price of your perfidy.” I love old-fashioned words. They had power that modern speech often lacked. “Captain Stoddard, you will accompany Dr. Hudson. Fleet Intelligence has questions for you.

“Dr. Hudson, before you are removed, I want you to know just who caught you. Sitting at this table are eighteen Fleet Cadets and Ensigns.”

This was a risk, and would strain the veil; however, the boys deserved it.

“They range in age from eight to sixteen. They are products of the Fleet School System. They found the proof in the data you sent us. They discovered what your next illegal operation was to be, and have thwarted it. Not only that, but they have found a way to take us where the project should have gone: controlled rift generation.

“Doctor Hudson, not only will you not get the Jefferson Prize you coveted, you will not even be remembered for what you did accomplish. These twelve boys will almost certainly share that prize, and they will receive the accolades.

“Ensign Stewart? Escort Doctor Hudson and Captain Stoddard to the flight deck; a squad of Marines is waiting to return them to Geneva.”

When Danny and his squad came back, I picked up the meeting.

“Not everyone has met the latest additions to the Flag Team. But you’ve seen what they can do. Guys, I am so proud of you I could bust. I was serious about recognition and prizes.

“What I’m going to say, now, however, must never leave this room. Are we agreed?” I looked from person to person, and got a nod and read a commitment from each one.

“Thank you. George, you put this together, you get to tell us.”

George stood and explained that the team had discovered not only what Hudson had done, but what he was planning. “He would have created a rift on Earth that would have connected to a star and allowed the nuclear furnace of the star to consume Earth. He was really going to do that, not because he was evil, but because he was stupid, and greedy, and thought that he could create star flight. He didn’t understand what he was doing, but was arrogant enough to think that he did. He thought the rift would open in the star’s Goldilocks Zone, but he forgot about the gravity well.”

The entire group was silent. Then, Kevin stood and walked to George. Kevin hugged George, said thank you, and stepped to the next boy on the Geeks team. Kevin was followed by Casey and, ultimately, the entire Flag staff.

If I had any doubts about my boys’ ability to integrate with the others, that display of emotion put them to rest.

I turned to Cory. “Captain Long, on behalf of the Fleet Council, our ruling body, I accept responsibility for bringing your people here and, therefore, for getting your people home.

“Colonel Stewart, on behalf of that same body, I accept responsibility for finding a home for you and your people in our universe, or returning you—suitably equipped for survival—to your universe.”

“Dr. Adams?” I addressed the third member of the CERN-Higgs group. The postdoc looked at me. He seemed oddly relaxed. “Dr. Adams, the records show that you were unaware of, and did not participate in the illegal activities. Your personnel records show that you have the qualifications to become senior scientist; you are hereby assigned that position. At some point, Fleet may assign a naval officer to command the project; until that happens, you are in charge of the entire project.

“Your first responsibility is to find a way to safely return the U-Long people to their universe. I’ve read a lot of the data. My team has read even more; they’ve filled me in. There are apparently a lot of universes out there. It will be critical to ensure that Cory and his people go to their home, and not one that’s close to it. Do you understand?”

The kid (he was just sixteen, and I think he was one of us who didn’t know it, yet) took it all in stride. “Yes, sir. I’ve been investigating the interleaving of universes, and understand what you mean. There could be a dozen, but not likely more than that, universes with a Cory Long. There could be more than one of those in which he disappeared on New Year’s Eve. There could be more than one F-U—I mean…” He blushed.

The boys’ giggles set him at ease. “Sorry, that’s what we’ve been calling it. There could be more than one U-Cal and more than one U-Long. Sir, we’ll do all we can. I can’t promise more than that. Will your team be able to help? George showed me some of their work and, frankly, I’m not sure I can follow all of it.”

I nodded. “Of course.” Before my geeks could object to being sent back to Earth, I added. “That will have to be done remotely. Now that my boys are in space with me, they’re going to stay here.

“One more thing, Dr. Adams. There’s a CERN-Higgs team on the Isaac Newton. I don’t know if they were involved or influenced by Hudson. Please vet them, and replace anyone you think needs replacing.”

Chapter 31: USF Charleston, Ops Team Meeting

George was not only the most practical of my sons, but also the one who best understood the military mind. It was he who reminded me that I had certain responsibilities to the men under my command, and that they couldn’t just sit here, at L5 twiddling their thumbs.

I’d already dealt with the R&R concerns of the ships’ captains, but it took George to point out that there were other things I needed to address.

“Daddy? You have warriors—ships full of warriors—who need action!”

“But we’re not even close to knowing what kind of action, or if we will be given authority for that action,” I said.

Yes, there was a conflict in what I said. I knew, at least, I hoped, that someday we would be ordered to bring war to the Reverends’ universe. But I knew that we weren’t close to understanding what that would mean.

“No,” George said. “But you can’t do nothing.”

Hmmm. I thought about some of my lessons in leadership. “Not making a decision is making a decision,” came to mind. Before I could say anything, I felt George’s derision. I tossed that idea aside.

“What should I do?” I asked.

George grinned, and I knew (at least, I hoped) he was teasing me when he said, “I’m just a kid, Daddy. You have to decide.”

Since I wasn’t going to get any help from the Metas, I invited Captain Moultrie to a meeting, and asked him what should be done about task force training.

Rather than immediately answer my question, Captain Moultrie began to reminisce. “Did you know that Admiral Davis and I were six-year-old cadets together in Wales? We were roommates for a year. As soon as we met, I knew he was destined for command.”

The man paused, chuckled, and then said, “Never saw him as Fleet Admiral, though.

“He called me on a private circuit only minutes after we received your orders to assemble, and said something I thought was a little strange. He told me that I would be working for an unusual officer. One who had advanced quickly and had not had time to mature in leadership. He said that you were smart enough to know when you needed help, and that I should be prepared to offer what he described as ‘the benefit of my experience.’ I’ve been waiting for that, and I’m glad you asked.

“Your request is correct, Commodore.” he continued. “You have more than 22,000 men at your command, and you’ve done a remarkable job of integrating many of them into the intelligence gathering and analysis. But that’s a small fraction of the total. The others need something to keep them busy other than standing watch.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked.

“War games,” he replied. “If you approve, the Charleston‘s Ops Team will plan war games, and will lead the Green Forces. We will ask Honolulu to command the Blue Forces. We will pull in officers and cadets from the other ships to join the planning and command teams. There will be a Blue Flag Team on Honolulu, and I’d like to use some of your people on both Flag Teams.

“We can be ready to begin in five days.”

Captain Moultrie asked if I wanted to lead the Green Forces, but I declined. I think he was hoping that would be the case, and was pleasantly surprised when he put Captain Lowry, of the destroyer USF Buckley in my chair on the Flag Bridge. Captain Lowry had asked about the rift during the first intel briefing, and had been pestering Dr. Adams with questions related to transiting the rift. He had written two staff summary papers suggesting tactics associated with rift warfare, and I saw that Captain Moultrie had incorporated some of Lowry’s thoughts into the exercise.

“You saw action at Jamnagar,” Moultrie said. “But that was a single-ship operation. I think you’ll enjoy this show,” Captain Moultrie said. And then he chuckled. “You’ll also get a real feel for how fast a battleship can maneuver!”

The war game was to be based on a threat from the rift, although we wouldn’t actually maneuver through or around the rift between us and the Fundamentalist Universe. The exercise rift was a set of coordinates close enough to the rift that we could continue our real defensive mission. Standard Operating Procedures called for hospital ships and troop transports to stand back during engagements of warships, so Captain Moultrie was able to assign the Hope as comm relay between the real rift and the intel staff so that we’d not lose any data. On the evening before the exercise was to begin, he presented the plan to me, privately.

“It looks like you’ve covered everything,” I said. “I see that every ship will have a continuously updated vector that will take them back to their normal station and through the rift should something break. That’s impressive.”

“One of Captain Lowry’s thoughts,” Captain Moultrie said. “Another is that the Flagships’ computers will have the coordinates of the imaginary rift as well as the locations of all ships, and will hide ships that are on opposite sides of the rift from one another.”

“I read his staff summaries, but to see it in operation is going to be impressive,” I said.

Before the scheduled start of the exercise, I asked Corey and Artie to a private meeting.

“Guys, you know we’re about to start a war game that will pit half of the task force against the other half. The exercise scenario will assume a threat from a rift like the one that separates—or connects, rather—us with Artie’s world, and like the rift that we will create between us and Corey’s world to take him and his people home.

“I don’t want either of you to think that we’re practicing to bring war to your people. Artie, we are your allies. Corey, we are your friends and will be your allies.

“Now that I’ve said that, I want to make it formal and official.”

The Chief Flag Mess Steward shook his head, but he was smiling. My Conference Room was full of boys, and would stay that way for the 36 hours of the exercise. The GWGs who were not on the Flag Bridges of either the Charleston or the Honolulu were there. So were Casey and some of his boys, as well as Artie and the boys he was gathering to be his staff.

The war games were a great success, and no one was more pleased with the outcome than Captain Lowry, whose forces won, although narrowly. It was tradition that the losing force host the winning force to banquets. Since the task force was on station at the rift, that tradition could not completely be observed; however, the Honolulu hosted a party for the Ships’ Senior Chiefs and I hosted a party for the Captains at which Captain Lowry was the guest of honor.

Chapter 32: Treaty of Amity

Cory, Artie, and I spent an hour in private, talking and writing. At the end of the hour, we signed a document.

I sent a copy to Admiral Davis with a note. Here’s what we came up with. There’s room on the bottom for the Fleet Council to ratify it. It would be in our best interests to do so. We want the people from U-Long as allies; we want the right people from U-Cal as allies. There is no higher authority on the right side of U-Cal than Colonel Stewart; Captain Long will have this ratified by Starfleet as soon as he gets home. I signed the note, simply, Paul.

As soon as I hit the send button and stood up, Cory slammed into me and squeezed me in a very intense hug. He pressed his head into my chest, and allowed himself a single sob.

“Where did that come from, Cory?” I whispered.

“You told the admiral, as soon as he gets back. Not if he gets back.”

Artie hesitated for a moment, but jumped in when I held out my arm. Our three-way hug was the real seal on what we’d written.

The Charleston was ten times bigger than the Hope. Moving in all of the people from U-Cal and U-Long didn’t strain its capabilities. I waited until all the U-Cal survivors were ambulatory, and then called a meeting of everyone from U-Cal, U-Long, and my Flag Team. We also invited Captain Moultrie and a couple of his folks who we had brought onto our side of the veil.

“Atten—hut!” George’s voice echoed through the auditorium. The Fleet people jumped to their feet instantly. The older boys from U-Long were quick to follow. The boys in black and gray were a little slower, but stood just as rigidly as Artie, Cory, and I stepped to the center of the dais.

“At ease, be seated,” I said. I had a wireless mike, so I didn’t have to yell.

The boys were sitting in three distinct groups. The nearly 700 boys from F-U—U-Cal—were the largest group, and had taken seats in the rear. The boys from U-Long were clustered on the left side; the Fleet folks, by far the smallest group, were in the front rows of the right side. I hope his meeting will start integrating them, I thought.

“I am Commodore Paul Stewart, commander of Task Force Rift, which includes this ship and eleven others. To my left is Captain Cory Long, Commander of the Long Forces. To his left is Colonel Artie Stewart, Commander of the California Liberation Army in Exile.”

Artie looked good in a new uniform that fit him. By now, his people were all wearing new gray and black uniforms, too.

I punched a button on the clicker, and the screen behind us lit up. A document was displayed, but it was grayed out.

“Some of you were never taught to read, so we will read this to you all.” I hit the clicker again, and the upper left corner illuminated; the rest of the document was still dark.

“I, Paul Stewart, Commodore, United Earth Fleet, Commander of Task Force Rift, make this promise:”

I hit the clicker again, and the top center of the document illuminated. Cory spoke. “I, Cory Long, Commander of the Long Forces, Captain in Starfleet, make this promise:”

Another click, and the top right lit. Artie was learning to read, but had memorized what was written. “I, Artie Stewart, Colonel in Command of the California Liberation Army in Exile, make this promise:”

Another click. The center illuminated. I read for us all. “We swear from this moment forward, eternal amity among ourselves and among all those beholden to us or under our protection.”

Another click, and the three signatures at the bottom of the page lit. Below mine was the seal of the Fleet Council.

In less than a day, Admiral Davis had gotten the Fleet Council to ratify a treaty among Earth, and a rag-tag army of boys in exile, and a world that we couldn’t reach and which was represented by a bunch of teenagers in shuttlecraft.

“What this means,” I said. “Is that we are friends and allies: Cory, Artie, and I, and all of you—everyone in this room, and more. It means that we all will do everything we can to help one another; it means that we will never deliberately harm one another; it means that we will be careful not to accidentally harm one another. Cory, Artie, and I have sworn this oath, and made this promise for ourselves and for all of you.”

“Any questions?” My team was waiting for this, and scattered through the room, holding wireless microphones. Before they could get in position, one of the boys in gray and black stood and called, “How come Artie has a last name, and it’s the same as yours?”

“Artie has honored me by allowing me to adopt him. He is my son.

“Please, raise your hand if you have a question; someone will bring a microphone to you.”

The next was another of Artie’s people, a kid who looked like he was about 12. “Commodore Stewart, will you adopt me, too?” A couple of the older boys started to laugh at him, but were quickly shushed by the boys next to them.

“What’s your name, Cadet?” Artie asked.

“Um, Terry, but I’m not a cadet,” the boy said.

“You are, now, Terry. All of you except the officers who have already been appointed to the staff are cadets.

“Now, about adopting. When Commodore Stewart adopted me, he explained something important. We—the California Liberation Army in Exile—we have a mission. Just because we didn’t complete our plan to take out the Reverends at their retreat in Las Vegas doesn’t mean our mission is over or that we failed.

“We are alive; Fleet people are going to train us. They’re going to help us get ready to go back to our world to continue our battle.

“We’re still working out the details. We’ll tell you more about this, later.”

“What does this have to do with adopting?” someone called.

“It means that when I go back to our world, my father and my brothers may not be able to go with me. It means that we may be separated. Maybe forever. That’s something you have to think about before forming bonds by adoption or anything else. It’s something that Commodore Stewart and I talked about a lot.”

There was a long silence.

“Here’s what we’ve decided,” Artie continued. “There are 4,500 or so men on the Charleston. There are 686 boys who survived the First Battle for Las Vegas. We’re going to be here for a while. You will all have a chance to meet and work with the crew of the Charleston. You and they know that some of you want dads. If you find someone, and he wants to adopt you, Fleet will make it happen. Some of the crew have families back on Earth; some of you may get mothers and brothers and sisters, too.

“We will be going to Earth, this universe’s earth, for training. When we do, you’ll get a chance to meet your families. You’ll get a chance to find happiness and love… until we have to go to war, again.

“Commodore, what’s that thing you told me, about grabbing happiness?”

“Carpe diem,” I said. “It means seize the day. What it really means is just about everything the Reverends didn’t believe in. It means be happy, be as happy as you can, when you can. As long as your happiness doesn’t hurt someone else.”

“Just remember,” Artie said. “When we go back to our world, you may be separated from your dads and your families, forever. That’s the nature of things.

“Think hard. If you want this, then Commodore Stewart and I and Fleet will make it happen.”

“Sir, when are we going to get our weapons and communicators back?” That was one of the Long group.

Cory took that question. I knew what he was going to say. We’d already talked about it. “Our communicators don’t work here,” he said. “Except for short-range-direct, and that’s usually blocked by the metal of the ship’s walls. The communicators also may cause interference with some of the ships’ electronics. So, I’m going to hold on to them. Our phasers—as well as our shuttle power supplies—were pretty much exhausted during the battle and medevac. We’ve solved the power problem; as soon as we get a couple of shuttles converted and powered up, we’ll charge phasers and return them.

“Everyone will be issued communicators that do work. However, there aren’t enough to go around. More have been requisitioned, but they’re low on the list of essential supplies. Apparently, someone decided that pizza should be at the top of the list.”

That got a laugh. The Long group had broken even my team’s record for per capita pizza consumption, and Artie’s people were fast picking up the habit.

“How about our guns?” That was one of Artie’s boys.

Artie and I had talked about that, as well. He took the question. “You all know by now that we’re in a spaceship, about 250,000 miles above Earth.

“There’s no air outside the ship. The walls are metal, but a bullet from one of our rifles might punch a hole in the wall and let out the air. We probably wouldn’t all die, but someone might.

“The Quartermaster has requisitioned a supply of different guns and bullets for us.”

“What kind of guns?” one of Artie’s people asked.

I took that one. “Ensign Stewart-Rogers? Please bring your weapon up here and tell us about it.”

George stepped onto the dais and stood beside me, at attention, his gun at port arms.

“This is the MK-7 fleet standard over-and-under rifle. It can fire bullets or flechettes, and grenades. Onboard ship, the weapon is loaded only with low-penetration flechettes. These are effective against people, but will not penetrate a ship’s walls or ports. The magazine holds 60 rounds. The gun can be set to fire single shot, a burst of three, or can empty a magazine in zero point five seconds.”

“At ease, Ensign. Thank you.” I addressed the audience. “This is Ensign George Stewart-Rogers. He and Ensign Danny Stewart—Danny, stand up, please—they are joint commanders of my security detail, they’re my sons, and they’re boyfriends. Get to know them. They’ll be in charge of training anyone who wants one of these rifles. We’ll set up a range in one of the recreation spaces. Then, we’ll do live-fire training on Earth.”

“Quartermaster? Got all that?” I grinned. Avery returned my smile. “Aye, aye, sir: pizza, communicators, and guns, in that order.” There was a rustle of laughter.

“Boyfriends?” That was one of Artie’s people. Artie looked at me. I looked at him and turned off my wireless mike. We had anticipated this, and prepared for it, including modifying what I had told Artie when we met. “Your question, Artie,” I said.

Artie nodded and faced the assembly. “Everyone from my universe knows that the Reverends claimed to hate fags.”

That brought some gasps from my folks and the U-Long boys. Fags was a dirty word for us. I held up my hand; Cory saw me and copied the move. People settled down, and Artie continued.

“I’m sorry. I know… that’s a dirty word… in all three universes. It’s just that it’s the only word I’ve known all my life until a few days ago.

“We knew that if the Reverends caught a couple of boys who loved one another, they’d burn off their sexual organs with branding irons.

“Then they’d cut their heads off—with a sword—on television.”

There were gasps from Cory’s people. All my people had heard it before; still, several looked pale.

“From the time I was twelve years old, I was one of the Reverends’ sex-slaves in Las Vegas. They said gaypeople were evil, but they didn’t have any problem f… f…

“Can I say it?” He looked at me. I nodded.

“They didn’t have any problem fucking me, or other little boys and girls.”

“I didn’t like it when the Reverends fucked me; but I wanted, I wanted a friend, someone I could love and do sex stuff with. I wanted a boyfriend.

“The first day I was here, Commodore Stewart told me Danny and George were boyfriends. I was so jealous, I hated them.

“I’ve never told that to Danny or George. I’m glad I didn’t, because it didn’t last, because they showed me that they loved me. Commodore Stewart proved that when he adopted me and made Danny and George my brothers.

“If you want to be boyfriends, you can be boyfriends as long as both of you are old enough to understand what that means. You can tell anyone you want about it, and they won’t make fun of you, they won’t hate you. That’s part of what amity means. It means friendship and love and not hating someone.”

None of Cory’s people asked the most important question: when would they go home. Cory had forestalled that by keeping them informed about the CERN-Higgs team’s work, and by reassuring them that everything that could be done, was being done.

Some of Artie’s people, however, weren’t quite as satisfied with his assurances.

“When can we go back to California? When can we fight the Reverends again? Will your dad help us?” This one was an older boy—older than Artie. I felt the belligerence in his mind; Artie did, as well.

“Listen up, and pay attention,” he said. His voice was firm, his face was firm, and he looked the boy in the eye.

“We lost more than 300 kids, mostly the youngest, the ones with explosives strapped to their little bodies, because we were not prepared.

“We would have been totally destroyed if it hadn’t been for Captain Long’s people. Many of us were wounded so badly we would have died if it hadn’t been for Captain Long and Commodore Stewart’s people.

“We’re not going back until we are prepared. And that means training, it means learning new weapons, it means gathering intelligence, it means planning.

“None of us have family waiting for us, wondering about us. We were all orphans. The only reason for us to go back is to fight, but we’re not ready for that.

“I talked this over with my dad, with Captain Long, and with the admiral who is my dad’s boss. We thought about letting anyone who wanted to quit the California Army, go home. But, you would know too much; we can’t risk that. No one will go home until we all go home. We will go home only when we’re ready. So, the best thing you can do is work hard, train hard, and make us ready.”

Chapter 33: USF Charleston Intel Briefing

The next morning, it was business as usual, and within a week or so, we had enough new information to conduct a videoconference for the Task Force. The briefers assembled in my Conference Room. Tobor controlled the conference cameras and would keep them off the GWGs.

Lt. Anderson, who was Bobby’s mentor, began the briefing. He and Bobby had created the computer model that teased the information from imint and sigint, so it was their privilege to announce it.

“Six days ago, it appeared that the Scudder had departed Lynchburg by train accompanied by Reverends and Army troops. We saw them assembling on the platform at the train depot; we saw them dispersing upon their return. The trip lasted six days during which the train stopped at a dozen towns and communities for about 90 minutes each time. In about half the locations, people assembled near the train; in about half, the Scudder was driven by motorcar to an assembly hall.

“This may not be important, but the Scudder’s train appears to be oil-fired.”

“What does that mean?” One of Captain Moultrie’s staff asked. I brought them into intel briefings both because of the Charleston‘s role as Flag Ship of Task Force Rift and because they had operational experience.

“The locomotives’ smoke is clean, unlike the common coal-fired trains. And, the trains include what appear to be tank cars carrying the oil. Why this is the case we can only speculate.”

“How does the Scudder communicate when he is on this train?” The Charleston‘s senior intel guy asked. That was perhaps a more important question.

“Perhaps not when on the train, but when it stops,” Senior Chief Anderson, Alex’s mentor, answered for Imint.

Lt. Commander Goodson, Marty’s mentor, took over the briefing. “We have detected no radio signals in the Reverends’ territory. However, there are wires on poles along the tracks. Our electrical engineers have examined the wires, looking especially at the impedance matching equipment and boosters we can see. Their opinion is that this would not support voice telephony, but would support telegraphy. They may be using old-fashioned Morse code.”

“Wonder if it’s the same as ours,” Kevin asked from off-camera. “Can you get a sample of the code? And can you find an amateur radio operator or two among the crew?”

Marty, also off-camera, nodded. “We’re working on it,” he said.

Lt. Commander Goodson continued his briefing. “There are also telegraph lines between towns and what appear to be labor camps. The lines in the southwestern USA and in Canada run through some pretty isolated areas. It shouldn’t be hard to get someone on the ground and up a pole. An induction coil around the wires, a processor chip, a little flash memory, and a burst transmitter, powered by a couple of solar cells, should be small enough to escape detection.”

Casey was head of the operations team, and liaison between it and the intel team. “We can do that without being detected, I think,” he said.

“And an auto-destruct,” the liaison from opsec said. George was responsible for opsec in addition to a lot of other things, but George was learning to delegate.

One of the men from the Charleston—a Senior Chief—spoke. “Our electronics shop can make something like that, I think. If not, we can requisition from Fleet, and they’ll manufacture them at Cardiff.” He looked at Marty. “Can we meet after?”

Marty nodded. My people were also learning that not everything needed to be brought up, torn apart, and resolved in a meeting of the entire team.

“We also can start looking for places to tap the lines along the train routes, but they’re more populated. Trains are the only long-distance transportation we’ve seen,” Lt. Commander Goodson added.

Kevin turned to me. “Commodore? Do you approve?”

I hesitated only a moment. “Thanks for asking, Lt. Cathcart, but…” I scanned the room, making eye contact with each person. “This is your show. As long as we are undetected, as long as we do not reveal ourselves or our capabilities to the people of this world, both the Intel and the Ops Teams may do what you think necessary and proper to collect intelligence. Just keep me informed—and let me know if there are problems you cannot solve. I don’t expect there to be many of those.”

“Yes, sir,” Kevin said, and turned back to the sigint people.

“If the Scudder is traveling, though, what about the nightly televisor messages?” the Charleston‘s intel chief asked.

“Some are likely recorded in advance,” Cam said. He and Commander Fitzgerald, his mentor, were the senior analysts and were expected to come up with answers to why and what if questions. When Cam said, likely he meant for sure, except for quantum fluctuations and events with a probability of less than 1.000.

Cam continued. “The recording is probably done in Lynchburg. There may be studio facilities elsewhere. They may be able to inject into the microwave network, which often follows the train tracks, and there could be a recording studio on the train.”

“What may be an important question is, why the travel?” Commander Fitzgerald said.

“Because the Reverends’ hold on the populace is tenuous? Because the Scudder gets off on making public appearances? We can only speculate,” Cam said. When Cam said speculate he meant, We need more information.

And everyone knew what that meant: we needed someone on the ground, we needed humint. Everyone knew it, but we all were afraid to say it.

Chapter 34: Humint?

Artie asked for a meeting. The request came through channels—meaning from Artie to George—so I knew it was official, and not family. Artie was trying very hard to be a proper soldier and to balance duty and family.

“Commodore, I have a soldier who wants to undertake a humint mission.”

“What’s the story, Colonel?” I asked. As long as he was being formal, I thought I should, as well.

“One of my privates, a twelve-year-old, has volunteered. He’s sharp, he’s small and he doesn’t look dangerous. He thinks he can move around in Lynchburg without being questioned.”

A child! I thought. I’m so dependent upon children. At twelve, I had been a bridge officer, a lieutenant, on the USF Emilie du Chatelet. But this was different. No matter how sharp this kid, he wasn’t a Meta.

“Colonel, please tell your man that his offer is appreciated and honored, but I am not yet prepared to insert humint resources at this time. Please make sure he understands that this is not a reflection on him, but because of the much greater danger to the entire task force should he be captured and forced to tell of us—that he and nearly 700 others from California were on a space ship from another world. That would expose all of us to danger whether now or later when we return to your world. I’m sorry.”

Artie saluted and left. And left me with a conundrum. We needed humint, but how to get it?

As always, please let David know what you think of his story: david.mcleod@castleroland.net