COMMANDER

The Hanosian entourage shortly appeared in three helicopters, two small and one huge. The smaller ones had two rotors spinning conversely, one rotor each on two stubby wing-like projections. The bigger machine had four rotors. They landed near the hut and ten men dressed in what might be uniforms appeared from the two smaller helos and moved forward to check out the hut and the surroundings. They moved upright and with dignity, not bent and rushing as would men with fear or distrust. Our suits picked up their sensor emanations as they swept the hut and area for listening or recording devices, weapons, or explosives. Within minutes they signaled all clear.

Captain Lewellyn commed us to initiate greetings. I gathered the team.

“Dog, you’re in the AV on overwatch till I call.”

“Got it.”

“Buzz, CanMan, Spear, Boomer, Mouse, you’re with me. Dismount here, change to BBDs with camo off. The rest of you stay suited and powered but hands empty.”

I dismounted my suit and dressed in my full BBDs, then mounted my katana between my shoulders, handle up, but left my firearms in the AV. The others I had ordered to dismount all loaded up with their rifles and handguns, plus whatever blades they brought. The weapons were all powered but on stand-by. With the five in BBDs arrayed in a line behind me, and the suited team in a line behind them, we began walking toward the Hanosian contingent. I had expressly ordered camo off so we did not give away any of our “secret” abilities, such as the BBD ability to mimic nearly perfectly any terrain color schema surrounding us. It wasn’t perfect camouflage but at a distance of thirty meters and beyond it was damned amazing how well we disappeared into the background.

The Hanosians waited for us, lined up in ranks much like we were. The man in front was dressed in a dark gray suit with widely flared pant legs below the knees, a wide black belt, a white shirt with a black tie, which looked like a cross between a formal bow tie and a normal one, and a dark red waistcoat or vest, all under an outer jacket with rounded tails hanging below his knees. Several of the others behind him were dressed similarly but in different shades of muted colors, all dark, and none of the men wore any facial hair.

There were only two females with the contingent, and they were dressed much like the men but wore their hair longer and had a piece or two of jewelry. Ten of the men were dressed in what we could now see were definitely uniforms, a dark gray coverall belted at the waist with a wide, black belt which looked like a fabric. There was what appeared to be rank insignia on the shoulders and they all carried what appeared to be auto-fire projectile assault weapons.

We stopped about five meters from them. The man in front stepped forward and held up both hands, palms out, and spoke.

“Greetings,” he said to me. “My name is Grone Nefal. I am the deputy minister of the Hanosian planetary government.”

Nefal was a handsome man of perhaps forty-five to fifty-five years, with light gray highlights in his hair yet with a face mostly unlined by wrinkles or other signs of age. He smiled easily and seemed energetic.

“Greetings, Grone Nefal. I am Commander Rawlings, leader of this small military group sent to meet with you initially.”

“We are pleased your people have accepted our invitation,” Grone said. “Allow me to introduce my team, and do not fear we will expect you to remember each name instantly. This is all very new to all of us here, and we will take things as slowly as necessary.”

“Thank you, Grone Nefal,” I answered. “I would be happy to introduce my team, as well. I agree this is a momentous occasion, and we need to proceed slowly at first, to ensure we make the best attempt to get it all right.”

The captain and I agreed we should say nothing of our experience of betrayal from the Shaquaree, or, indeed, anything of aliens or which would give away any of our background too soon. We needed to know much more about these people and their visit from the Shaquaree before we revealed anything of ourselves.

“I will not try to introduce my personnel who remain in their battle armor,” I added, “because of the difficulties involved. They will remain outside of the hut. I recommend you pick out a similar number to remain outside as well.”

“Agreed, Commander Rawlings, but we would request your armored personnel remove themselves from the hut site at least five hundred meters. My people will do the same.”

“That is fair, Grone Nefal. Agreed.”

Five hundred meters! Five hundred meters meant literally next to nothing to a trooper in ABS. Perhaps Nefal simply didn’t realize this . . . then again, perhaps he did and this was just a pro forma request for some reason. It didn’t really matter to me. The distance meant nothing but the request and the accommodation could mean a lot.

Within a few minutes we were in the hut. The women with them came inside with us. They all looked very human, except for somewhat larger than normal ears. Well, that and the violet-colored eyes they all had.

Initial conversations went well, and we found the Hanosians to be direct and clear in their speech and meanings. We agreed both sides aspired to peaceful co-existence and a building of relationships.

Through careful, sequential steps of progress helping to build trust, we worked our way to the meetings between the prime minister and the captain over a two-week period. To our amazement, we were then invited to meet with their entire cabinet of ministers in the main government building in the capital city, and we were invited to bring along my team, fully suited.

“With all of our ministers in the room with your armed team,” Grone Nefal said, “we have little concern your contingent will feel at all threatened or ill at ease. You are invited to check and monitor the meeting room and all connected rooms for any sort of eavesdropping device or weapon threat, as well.”

“That is . . . quite an offer, Minister Nefal,” I responded, trying to keep the shock from my voice.

“Well, someone has to make the first move of full trust,” he replied, “and please, you may address me as Grone when we are not in a formal function.”

I smiled at him. “My friends call me JD, the initials for my first and middle names.”

Grone lifted an eyebrow, and smiled.

A few days later, Captain Lewellyn and I, along with three of his staff officers and Team Zulu in ABS, entered the rotunda of the capital building. A pretty Hanosian female envoy led us through a hallway and into a large meeting room. We made less noise than I thought we might as eleven suited troopers followed the Navy officers and I through the hall and into the room. To my surprise, there were no security forces anywhere to be seen other than an occasional guard standing by doorways in light body armor with weapons slung rather than in-hand. Most definitely not what I had expected. They had sent a single female to greet us in the plaza outside the building where we landed the AV, with an obviously token security force group of five men with only holstered sidearms standing at attention. Three of them were holding flags on short poles, like sort of an honor guard, I guessed.

Despite their smiles and apparent openness, I distrusted these Hanosians. They were far too trusting, far too open, not nearly enough security-minded. I had my Team Zulu in full armor and I still felt inadequately prepared! Something was not right with this situation. I had shared my misgivings with the captain and, though he had verbally agreed, he seemed quite relaxed and almost as if he were enjoying the visit. Under my controlled external responses, I was nervous and paranoid.

The ministers were already there, seated and quiet. The prime minister was led to our group by Grone Nefal, who performed the introductions. The PM’s name was Edder Bando, a handsome older man as evidenced by his graying and somewhat thinning hair and the etched lines in his face.

“Line up with backs against the walls at parade rest, team. Ronin, spread them equally against the three walls not occupied by the ministers, then come and stand behind myself and the captain.”

“On it!”

A few minutes later, we were all seated. The ministers were all against one wall on a raised dais behind the prime minister and his deputy, who sat at a table at floor level facing the captain and me. With a rap of his gavel, the PM called the meeting to order. Then, with a wave of his hand, he invited the captain to speak first.

“Thank you, Prime Minister Bando, for your gracious invitation which we gladly accept. Since the Hanosian people have made the first move to full trust and open dialogue, please allow me to reciprocate. We are from a planet we call Earth and part of a mighty Fleet of military starships. However, in a battle with the Shaquaree, those alien beings who were here to visit this system just prior to your message to us, our ship was severely damaged and barely managed to escape.”

There was no reaction from the Hanosians, they continued to sit quietly and attentively while waiting for the captain to continue. So! They assumed we knew about the Shaquaree visit!

“We lost many personnel and much material to that battle. Several of our flagship Fleet vessels were destroyed. Many thousands of humans lost their lives to the treachery of the Shaquaree. Yet, as we discovered, the worst part was yet to come. When we arrived in this system, we found none of the orbiting bodies where we expected them to be. After careful analysis, we were able to determine we had apparently traveled in time. We traveled 800 years into the future, from our perspective, to arrive here. I know this may be hard for you and your people to believe. It was quite difficult for us to accept at first, as well.”

The captain stopped speaking, the silence an invitation for the Hanosians to reply with either comment or question.

“Not at all, Captain,” replied Prime Minister Bando. “You see, you and your ship, the Rontar, are in our history books. It may surprise you to know you and your crew are all fugitives, wanted by authorities for crimes against the Shaquaree. You all have prices on your heads.”

He smiled at the stunned looks on our faces. “Do not worry yourselves, please. You are in no danger from us. It is the League of Confederated Planets who has placed this bounty, and we are not part of the LCP. There is much you have to learn of the past 800 years,” he continued, “and we will help you in the learning, provided you are what you appear to be. Is there one yet among you responsible for firing the first weapon at the peace conference at the dead planet in the Albi system, or did that individual perish in the battle?”

Albi system? It was Epsilon Wrangor, not Albi. No matter. I slid my chair back a little in preparation to stand but the captain grabbed my arm to forestall me. I ignored him, and stood.

“Prime Minister . . . assembled ministers of Hanos . . . I am Commander JD Rawlings, and I am responsible for what has been presented to you as weapons fire. I would like to set the record, your history, straight on that account. What was released was not a weapon at all. It was an unarmed sensor drone under nitrogen thruster power, dispatched by me to ascertain the cause of a power spike as read from my shipboard sensors from a supposedly dead asteroid. Behind the asteroid, in shadow from direct detection, was a stealth-shielded missile platform placed there by the Shaquaree in secret at some point during the months of building up to the actual conference. As it turned out, there were several hundred such missile platforms hidden among the asteroid belt where our Fleet ships were pre-set to arrange ourselves.”

I took a breath, and continued. “Literally thousands of missiles were fired upon the five vessels of the human fleet in a surprise attack. In the ensuing battle, all Earth ships save our own were lost to the Shaquaree treachery and betrayal. I will place myself before you for investigation, and will provide all available logs and recordings I control for your review.”

I took a step to one side and looked back. “Team!” I called out. “Power down.”

“At your command,” came Donner’s voice through external speakers.

All around the room the soft gray light glowing faintly on the armored suits began subduing and going dark. The active gel matrix lost some of its sheen and took on a dull appearance as the power feeding the matrix under the outer scale layer was deactivated on each suit.

I was wearing no weapons save my katana. I pulled it, within its casement, from the straps holding it in place on my back and placed it carefully on the table in front of me.

“You are turning yourself over to us for investigation and interrogation?” asked Deputy Minister Grone Nefal.

“No, Deputy Minister, I am not. I am presenting myself and my evidence to make corrections to the history books and to our perceived status as criminals.”

The captain stood and spoke.

“Prime Minister Bando . . . Deputy Minister Nefal . . . all assembled ministers of Hanos. I will tell you two things here this morning. I am Andreas Lewellyn, captain of the Rontar, and these two things I know to be true.

“I, like many others, initially blamed then-Lieutenant Rawlings for what appeared to be a foolish error in judgment costing several ships and many thousands of lives. However, I now know this man to be an honorable, courageous, and intelligent individual whom I do not believe capable of such an error in judgment. I also have seen the sensor data and recorded evidence of which he speaks, and can vouch for both its authenticity and accuracy. This is the first thing I wish you to know today. The second thing is this . . . I stand here now beside Commander Rawlings, and by his side in loyalty I will remain.”

I was impressed, and grateful. It was a helluva thing to say.

“Gentlemen,” the prime minister began in a placating tone, “if there was any one single lesson our society was able to take from our own wars of several hundred years ago, we know there are always at least two sides to every story, and usually many more. As I stated before, none of you are in any danger from Hanos. We do appreciate your offer to allow us to examine your evidence to refute the charges leveled at you by the LCP. We will accept the offer, as both captain and commander have acted honorably here today.”

He turned to face the ministers behind him.

“I propose we adjourn for today and give the captain the required time to return to their ship and gather the evidence. I further propose we invite the commander to remain here as our guest.”

There was a short, muted discussion by several of the ministers, then one stood and nodded.

“We agree with your proposal, Mr. Prime Minister, and accept it. We shall arrange a time with the captain to schedule our next meeting.”

Grone Nefal approached us as the other ministers filed out of the room. PM Bando stood to one side conversing quietly with a couple of them and what looked like either secretaries or aides.

“Commander, please, recover your ceremonial sword and let us discuss how to proceed,” Grone said equitably.

“Thank you, Grone. However, you should know it is not ceremonial. It is my personal weapon, and quite functional.”

Grone was a little surprised but did not seem put off by this admission at all. I began to reposition the katana while Grone spoke with the captain to arrange the transfer of the promised data and recordings. A voice spoke in my head.

“Wolf, what are we doing now?”

It was Ronin. I made an unobtrusive hand signal rather than speak and saw the suits all power up but remain motionless. I turned back to Grone and Lewellyn knowing Ronin and the team would continue monitoring whatever happened, ready to move on my command.

“Grone, the offer to remain as your guest . . . does it include my team here?” I queried.

“Ah . . . um . . .” he stammered, taken by surprise, “we had not considered the option of them staying here with you. Is this a problem?”

“Actually, it is,” I replied. “You see, as a new team in training they are outside of the normal chain of command and report directly to me. The captain and I felt this would be a beneficial experience for them.”

“I apologize, JD, but the idea of the whole security team remaining has not been considered. Please, give me a moment to discuss this with Mr. Bando.”

“Thank you, Grone. We will wait here.”

Grone hurried away and I turned to the captain.

“Captain Lewellyn, you certainly took me by surprise with your statement of loyalty and support. To say I appreciate it would be a serious understatement, and would wrong you. Thank you, sir.”

I held out my hand. Lewellyn regarded me seriously for a moment, a pensive look on his face. He finally reached out and took my hand to shake it with a firm grip.

“Andreas, please . . . but never ‘Andy,’” he said with a wry smile. “I quite meant what I said, Commander. Reports of your behavior and activity aboard ship have been varied and disturbing over the last two months, yet the positive changes in the clan, the attitudes of the troopers, has been self-evident. And, if I may be so bold, astonishing, considering our circumstances. Many of my own people have been commenting on it.”

“Thank you, Andreas. JD will do for me.”

“Ah . . . JD . . . very well. To have come to a first name basis is all well and good, JD, however, I must admit to at least some level of elitism, as you would call it. I simply call it seasoning. The point is, young man, while I do have respect for you and what you have done with the clan thus far, I still think you are brash and headstrong, too quick to action.”

As if his former louder words had been for the benefit of anyone listening nearby, Lewellyn leaned forward a little and spoke much more quietly. “There is much at stake here, JD, much more than they are letting on.”

“Yes?” I responded, hoping for some illumination on what he knew or suspected.

“So, think first . . . act second,” he murmured, holding up first one, then two, fingers, “and don’t fuck it up!” he finished, poking me in the chest with those two fingers as if I were one of his Navy junior lieutenants receiving a lesson.

I chuckled. “Yes, Captain.”

Grone was returning. With Grone looking at us, and with the other ministers standing and talking quietly nearby while stealing glances at us without being overly obvious, I realized the captain had spoken and acted not only for our own interpersonal communication. He had also been putting on a show for our hosts! He was setting himself up as the top leader and me as his trusted, right-hand minion, which the ministers would subconsciously accept as normal due to their “top-down” governing hierarchy. His every word and gesture, seen or overheard by the ministers, showed he was in command and revealed me to be an underling in need of more experience and “seasoning,” as he put it.

My disrespect for his pompous ways and what I perceived as arrogance disappeared in an instant as I saw him in new understanding. Perhaps he was an elitist, but he was a crafty and intelligent one!

The captain leaned even further forward to look up at me intensely and whisper, “Trust none of them.”

He leaned back and the smile returned to his face as he turned to Grone, now closing on us.

“Good news, JD,” the deputy minister reported. “Your team is welcome to stay with us as well, although, we do ask the armored suits and weapons be stored in a separate facility. It wouldn’t do to have such armored behemoths striding up and down the streets, you see. It might frighten the children,” he finished with a big smile, probably hoping he had made a joke.

I felt the captain’s elbow touch my forearm. His way of reminding me of those words he had just spoken to me as normally he eschewed the touch of others. Probably due to the streak of elitism he spoke of and not wanting contact with commoners. Hey, I’ve seen worse quirks. But I took the message.

“Again, I must congratulate you on Hanosian generosity,” I responded to Grone, “for extending the invitation to my full team. Unfortunately, we must consider other options. You see, one of the strictest rules we Marines have is we may not let our assigned equipment out of our personal control unless it is being turned back to Marine inventory. But, again, thank you for your consideration and effort.”

I turned to the captain. Why not take advantage of the setting he had created?

“Captain Lewellyn, sir, it would appear I will now be able to comply with your request to re-assign your personal security guard prior to standard timing. This team is not as experienced as most of the other teams but I cannot spare any of those teams currently considering our, um, situation. Rather than having to give up control of our armor and weapons, I must insist you accept this slightly inferior team as your bodyguard for the time being. I will return to the ship with you to make the . . .”

“Damn it all, Commander,” Lewellyn was suddenly the putout and angry captain, “I was really hoping for Team Alpha! But, I suppose this team will have to do for the present. Very well.”

I had to hand it to him. He had sounded quite disgruntled as he effortlessly fell into the role I presented.

“I apologize, Grone, but, as you can see, my duties require me to return to the ship immediately to address this issue. I am afraid I cannot accept your invitation.”

“Um, may I ask a question, gentlemen?” Grone queried.

“Certainly, Grone,” I responded with a smile.

“Does the requirement of this team place a hardship on the captain? Must you return to your ship? Could you not give your orders via comms?”

I frowned. “An odd question, Grone. Why do you want to know?”

“Oh, nothing . . . no reason, I mean. It is just . . . we had no intention of placing any hardship on either the captain or yourself, JD. And, I must admit, I had very much looked forward to spending more time with you on an informal basis.”

Grone leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice to a level to be heard only by the captain and me and confided, “You see, JD, I admit to being somewhat smitten and in awe of standing with the actual men from our history books. This is unprecedented! I feel like a schoolchild from a faraway commune come to visit the capital for the time and then getting to meet the prime minister! What an amazing time in my life! Please, Captain Lewellyn, JD, may you not reconsider your priorities about this?”

Grone actually made it sound reasonable. Okay, I could play along.

“I am no celebrity, Grone. I am just a soldier who did his job, and I still have a job to do.”

I turned to Lewellyn. “Captain, I know this is not in accordance with your wishes and your previous orders but, under the circumstances, would you consider an extension of the duty time of the current bodyguard team?”

“Regular rotation is quite important, as you well know,” Lewellyn responded imperiously. “However . . . in the face of such a request from the planetary government, how could I possibly stand in the way? Provided the requirement about the armor and weapons can be waived . . . even I cannot contravene that regulation . . . and to encourage ongoing goodwill and negotiations, I will grant your request concerning duty time extension of the current team. Actually, this time away from the ship and on-planet as a representative of the Fleet may do you and your new team some good, Commander.”

Gods Above! Lewellyn sounded even more remote, imperious, and elitist than I had ever before heard! It was all I could do to not smile or chuckle at this revelation of his acting ability.

“Very good, Captain.”

Grone had one last question he addressed to the two of us. “Does the captain normally require a bodyguard team while on board his own ship?”

He was probing, trying to find out if this was a reaction to the new situation of the Rontar meeting with the Hanosians, or if it was, indeed, a normal situation.

“Protocol is protocol, Grone,” I answered.

“I quite understand. Yet, again, it was not our intention to place any hardship on any of you. Would you agree to leave the armor unmanned so long as the suits are stored where you are staying?”

“Certainly, Grone! PM Bando has assured us of our safety while here with you. We only need to satisfy the regulation that our suits and weapons remain in our possession.”

“Wait here, please. I will speak to the PM.”

Grone hurried across the room as quickly as he could without creating a scene. I turned to the captain, who had a very small and sardonic smile touching only the barest corners of his mouth without quite reaching his eyes.

“Nicely done, JD. It seems once again I may have underestimated you.”

“At any rate, you were right, Andreas. They failed their first real test with flying colors, didn’t they?” I responded with more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, they did,” the captain agreed. “You led them to water, and they drank quickly. They want you to remain here on the planet quite a lot, and now they want to keep your team here, as well. I have a bad feeling about this.”