First Admiral 02 The Burning Sun (12 page)

“Right, Marilla, don’t be nervous,” the gently smiling Sownus said.

“Sir!” Marilla yelped caught by surprise and snapped to attention.

“In we go now, remember to salute,” Sownus said and ushered Marilla towards the grey force-shielded door of the famous Briefing Room One.

Clutching her folios to her chest, Marilla stepped through the force-shielding, her heart hammering in her chest and her throat feeling dry.

Inside Briefing Room One, Marilla was surprised to find just how small the room where First Admiral Caudwell outlined his plans was. Expecting something much grander and more impressive, a part of Marilla Thapes was rather disappointed. In the pale grey painted Briefing Room a table for only four or five people was dominated by the First Admiral’s high-backed chair. Occupying the seat was Second Admiral Marrhus Lokkrien the Bardomil who was the effective second-in-command of the whole Universal Alliance military. And, as she registered the presence of Admiral Lokkrien, Marilla realised that there was no one else present. The other Departmental Heads had been dismissed prior to Marilla’s arrival.

“Sir,” she snapped to attention and stumbled as the precious folios started to drop from her sweaty-palmed grip.

“At ease, Technician Thapes,” Lokkrien said calmly returning the salute without standing up.

“Get yourself sorted out Marilla and start in your own time,” Sownus instructed from behind her before taking a seat next to Lokkrien.

Fumbling with the folios, Marilla was aware of the steely gaze of the Second Admiral who was beginning to show signs of irritation. Taking a deep breath, Marilla focussed on her folios and made sure that they were in the right order. When she was ready she stood to attention once again.

“Proceed,” Marrhus Lokkrien intoned professionally.

“Gentlemen,” Marilla began nervously, “I believe that the Bardomil have developed and produced an emitter weapon that generates massive solar flares and that they are intending to deploy it somewhere against the Alliance.”

“Well, that’s quite a claim, Technician,” Lokkrien interrupted, “I trust that you can substantiate it?”

“Yes, sir; I have evidence that supports that hypothesis,” Marilla said nervously.

Marilla Thapes had been warned that Marrhus Lokkrien was a highly sceptical individual. Dozens of seemingly stupendous claims like Marilla’s emerged from various departments every week, and Lokkrien’s sharp incisive mind was well-honed at separating the wheat from the chaff.

“If I may, sir?” Marilla asked.

With a gesture, Lokkrien indicated his assent and leaned forward, elbows lodged on the table top.

Slipping the first folio onto the red, square plate, Marilla passed her hand over the white control panel to operate the projectors. A moment later, the projector image cleared to show the faces of two Xanath; one considerably older than the other.

“Master Sammut Claggit, to the left, sir, and his assistant, known to us as Marrut Bem,” Marilla introduced the two dead weapons specialists, “Master Claggit was an expert in magnetic field manipulation who worked at the Bardomil Imperial Academy of Sciences, Peace and Friendship; both were found dead under mysterious circumstances.”

“How mysterious?” Lokkrien asked.

“Both were killed in a hunting accident according to Bardomil video news broadcasts,” Marilla explained, “But, Master Claggit was known to be a non-carnivore with a weak heart who stood vehemently against blood sports.”

With a brief shrug, Lokkrien indicated for Marilla to continue.

“Scanning the scientific literature, the thrust of Sammut Claggit’s work was in manipulating the magnetic fields of planets to make them inhabitable for colonists or for military installations; however, a month ago, a massive solar flare incinerated the planet of Collizon in the Artreaus system,” Marilla paused and changed the folio sheet.

The new image showed a three-dimensional image of the planet of Collizon being swamped by the massive super charged solar flare.

“Data from the
Vasco Da Gama
indicates that this was not a naturally occurring phenomenon,” Marilla continued as the image of Collizon was scorched, “the yellow dwarf star at the heart of the system was not in its natural cycle to produce flares,” Marilla added.

Turning her attention away from Lokkrien’s stern gaze, Marilla focussed on the image in front of her.

“The yellow dwarf in the Artreaus system is too young and immature to naturally produce so destructive a flare,” Marilla continued as the atmosphere of Collizon finally collapsed on the image leaving a glowing cinder floating in space, “the episode, according to both intelligence operative and long-range scanner sources was witnessed by the Bardomil Empress.”

“Empress Lullina was there at the time?” Lokkrien suddenly perked up, “Just passing through or was she waiting for it to happen?”

“The Imperial Fighter Carrier Taurai was stationed in the Artreaus system for nearly four hours before the flare mysteriously erupted,” Marilla indicated as the Collizon image disappeared.

“Go on, Technician Thapes,” Lokkrien said, now captivated by the presentation.

“I had a word with the people at Theoretical Weapons who said that the Garmaurians had been using bursts of high-intensity Lissian radiation to create very small-scale solar flares for many centuries; they used them for entertainment rather like pyrotechnics,” Marilla reported, “But, the mechanisms that they used were large and cumbersome and could only be operated from the largest of the Star-Destroyers. The Bardomil currently do not have a ship of sufficient size to carry such equipment and the
Vasco Da Gama
data indicates no vessels of any significant size were in the immediate vicinity of the Artreaus yellow dwarf at the time of the solar eruption.”

“So, we have a mystery on our hands?” Lokkrien asked.

“It would appear so, sir,” Marilla responded, “I paid a visit to Professor Xanfar, our foremost authority on Lissian radiation, and asked if it were possible to make something smaller that would emit Lissian. Her answer was non-committal; however, she did indicate that it was not beyond the realms of possibility for someone to construct something that could deliver a short-duration high-intensity pulse.”

“What might this contraption look like Technician Thapes?” Lokkrien asked.

“Professor Xanfar indicated that such a mechanism could be as small as thirty centimetres in diameter and still deliver enough Lissian radiation to cause a major solar flare,” Marilla replied, “shape and composition are still unknown, sir.”

“With those dimensions, our scanners would never see it, sir,” Sownus commented, “Unless they were deliberately looking for something of that size.”

“Well, so far we’ve got a very nice theory, Technician,” Lokkrien said pensively, “Do you have any physical evidence that I can hang my hat on here?”

“I believe that we may have, sir,” Marilla replied setting down a new folio sheet on the projector.

The image that appeared showed a Bardomil M-Cruiser amongst some turning and tumbling rocks being attacked by the unmistakable darting shapes of Alliance Eagles.

“This, sir, is the enhanced data from ‘The Clements Incident’ on the edge of the Nezadir galaxy,” Marilla began as the M-Cruiser tried to make a slow and ponderous turn whilst being harried by the smaller and more agile Eagle fighters.

“The long range data from the Magellan indicates that this solitary M-Cruiser was picking up, apparently examining and then discarding rocks close in dimension to the suggestion of Professor Xanfar,” Marilla said knowing that the link was going to be tenuous at best.

“Are you suggesting that this M-Cruiser was launching this weapon?” Lokkrien asked.

“It is a possible explanation for an otherwise inexplicable incident,” Marilla winced inside as she knew it was the best answer that she could give.

On the image, the final run by the Eagle that would destroy the M-Cruiser was just beginning. As the four explosions from the rapid-fire pulsar-cannons blossomed from the top of the M-Cruiser, Marilla slowed the image down.

“I’m magnifying the M-Cruiser’s forward air lock, sir,” Marilla manipulated the image to focus on the rectangular door-like structure, “the crew have just ejected this particular structure,” she indicated a small rock-like image that seemed to drift forwards.

“Slowing down the image, sir,” Marilla manipulated the scene once more, “the structure is drifting forward,” she commented, “the M-Cruiser starts to explode,” she indicated as a bright flash began to impinge upon the image, “and, here, the structure seems to move to the right under its own propulsion,” Marilla commentated as the structure moved rapidly to the right for a few frames before being swallowed up in the flash of the explosion.

“Is that it, Technician Thapes?” Lokkrien asked calmly.

“Yes, sir, that is the extent of our data, but we have…” Marilla began to explain anxiously.

“No, Technician,” Lokkrien held up his hand to stop Marilla, “I believe I’ve seen enough, thank you for your time, dismissed,” Lokkrien ordered.

Stopping the projector, Marilla recovered her folio sheets and saluted the Second Admiral before scampering rapidly to the doorway. Passing through the force-shielding, Marilla cursed herself for not having more convincing evidence. Stamping her foot in frustration, she set off, leaden-footed to the Intelligence Offices where she suspected that she would be back monitoring signal traffic in a few more hours. The big chance had come and gone, Marilla thought, and fought back the urge to weep. It was going to be a long walk back to the Intelligence Offices for Marilla Thapes.

And, a very quick return to obscurity.

Chapter 16

Planet Earth

The music was loud in the school assembly hall that now doubled as a dance floor for the evening’s entertainment. The flashing strobe lights in the heavy darkness seemed to accentuate the sweaty faces of the dancers as they writhed and gyrated to what was, according to the cool kids at the school, the popular music of the day. The illicit consumption of alcohol at the local bars and hostelries, the ones that didn’t question how old their patrons were, added to the beaming flushed faces and the enthusiasm of the dancing. But, as was traditional, the segregation of the genders was scrupulously upheld. The young ladies, dressed to look older than they actually were, congregated on one side of the room; whilst the young men, full of bravado and cheap spirits were rigidly corralled by convention on the other.

The bravest of the young men had already made their moves on the prettier of the young women; running the gauntlet of rejection and public humiliation to claim their prize or make a hasty exit with even redder faces. Meanwhile, the more cautious and reserved held firmly to their own stag-groups discussing matters far more important whilst furtively glancing at potential dance partners as they attempted to summon up the courage to make an approach. The less attractive young women, the wallflowers, would smile shyly at their potential beau’s trying to hide their growing desperation, hoping that someone would at least ask them to dance just once.

The more adventurous and amorous pairings were already quietly cloistered in the darkened recesses of the assembly hall, where the flashing lights hardly ever shone. Already, the teachers, who doubled as chaperones for the night; were ferreting out kissing and groping couples and they were being reluctantly dragged, with much protest, back onto the dance floor. The ever-vigilant adults hovered and prowled the margins of the dance floor seeking out the hormonally-charged teenage miscreants in an endeavour to maintain at least a semblance of decorum.

In this furnace-hot atmosphere of sweat, cheap perfume, after shave, alcohol and desperation, a steely-eyed sober yet boiling angry Billy Caudwell slipped un-noticed into the cauldron. Scanning the room quickly, he found the source of his rage standing amongst a group of older friends next to the door to the senior study room.

“Emma, a word,” Billy smiled with wicked insincerity as he gently took hold of the provocatively-dressed young woman’s elbow and jostled her efficiently into the open study room, pushing the door closed behind them.

The loud THUD-THUD-THUD of the heavy drum-beat music was instantly muffled as Emma was firmly ushered into the brightly lit lounge from the darkened, flashing dance floor.

“Billy!” the outraged Emma Wallace protested, “What’s going on here!?” she demanded as she was guided gently to one of the study tables.

“I could ask you exactly the same question,” Billy said with icy calm, “Where were you when I turned up at your door to pick you up?”

In the well-furnished, but deserted study room, Emma suddenly felt the stifling tension in the air generated by the angry Billy sweep over her like tidal wave. Caught unawares, she had not expected to be challenged about ditching Billy without telling him, and going out to the dance with someone else. She had expected Billy, like all of the others she considered to be wimps and mummy’s boys, to simply slink away and whine to his mother and his other little loser friends. In that split-second of surprise, Emma suddenly realised that this particular mummy’s boy was not going to slink away. Deep in the recesses of Emma’s mind, the primal animal knew that this young man was different. He was going to stand up to her until he got the truth. As that realisation dawned in her mind, the germ of an idea was planted that, perhaps, she had made a colossal mistake.

Looking into the grey-blue eyes of the angry young man in front of her, she saw the hurt and the icy anger, but, most unnervingly she saw a hard-edged ruthlessness that she had never seen in him before. Instinctively, she knew that she could never sweet talk and patronise her way out of the situation. She knew that she had to bluster and attack, hoping that he would cave in as all the other men she knew had done when a woman raised her voice in scorn.

“Where was I!? Where was I!?” Emma snapped, “YOU are NOT my father, I don’t have to explain anything to you Billy Caudwell. I’ve got my own life!”

“Spare me the modern, independent woman speech,” Billy cut her short, “It doesn’t justify plain old-fashioned bad manners, dear!”