All That Glitters Ch. 19

All That Glitters -- Ch 19

What's falling apart?

Its all going to hell, but not for Liramor-23.

By popular request, the somewhat oversized glossary has been removed and will only be included in every fifth chapter. It will be posted in chapter twenty, and then in chapter twenty-five.

There is little attempt to explain the back story, so it is necessary to read previous chapters to fully understand where we are.

As before, I claim sole responsibility for the story line. This story is a fantasy, with no basis in reality. Any similarity that you may perceive to current events, people, or situations real or imaginary is completely unintended. Look no further than the story line for its intent and purpose.

A big shout out to SaddleRidder for all the help she has provided in editing. With her guidance, I'm making fewer and fewer errors, but she still finds them. If you find any errors still left in this chapter, they are mine.

Please rate and comment. But keep your comments respectful. If you rant and rave or are disrespectful in your commentary, it will be deleted.

Discussion:

I have had a lot of readers investing time to tell me what I already know, to wit, that I am bending known science facts to make my story a reality in my, and your, mind. Pay attention dear readers, this is a Sci-Fi adventure series, which means that the storyline will not always follow science norms.

While I try to stay true to known science facts, we currently do not have gravity plates that provide artificial gravity on space vessels. Nor do we currently have the ability to exceed the speed of light. Nor do we have jump technology that will allow a vessel to instantly jump impressive amount of distances in a single bound. But in my series, set far into the future, these things are standard fare and, quite frankly, we can not have a viable interstellar empire without these technologies.

Sometimes, for the sake of the story, it is necessary for the reader to suspend belief in what is for belief in what is written. Why so many of you seem to have a problem with this is beyond me as so many people in real life are ready to suspend belief in science where vaccines are concerned, or where religion comes into conflict with the reality of evolution.

This series was written from the perspective of a pleasant read for Sci-Fi aficionados and not for the real science nerds. Not that I mind science nerds, we have our place. Take your time to read the series as a Sci-Fi adventure and enjoy, or not, the storyline as it is written.

As with all true Sci-Fi adventure stories, the plot is not about technology, but about people. What makes it Sci-Fi is the inclusion of scientific absurdities interacting with people. What makes it an adventure is the conflict between some of the people. Fortunately, the majority of readers get it.

'Nuff said...enjoy.

Temporary Brig, Liramor-23 Mining Platform, Piscium System, 106 Light Years from Terra

Jason Hert was an officer wanna-be who never became one but not for lack of trying. His actions on and off the ships, had led to his being busted on numerous occasions, forcing him to climb back to the maximum rank he had ever attained, that of Petty Officer First Class. In over eighteen years as a navy rating, first with the failed CP Navy, then as a pirate rating, he had never made it to a higher rank. Because of this, he was advised that with his record and limited capabilities, he would never be an officer.

It was not his fault, he was certain, it was circumstances that got in his way. First, he failed the advancement tests to allow him to proceed to the next levels, through no fault of his own. Then, he never did well on the annual personal assessments usually falling just short of gaining the necessary scores to allow him to proceed to courses that would allow for advancement. He watched enviously as others got the opportunity to advance and he didn't.

Ratings could take courses, at their own expense, anytime they wished. If they succeeded, they would be reimbursed for the cost. Of course, through no fault of his own, Hert never completed a course he paid for. So, he stopped paying for courses and waited to earn them, which never seemed to happen.

But Jason knew he was officer material, even if his superiors advised him that he would never be one. Now, he and his fellow ratings were languishing in the makeshift brig of the mining platform those very superiors had tried to take and failed. The same superiors that told him that HE was a failure.

In this boring and tightly controlled space, he had the opportunity to prove himself to his fellow inmates. Hert had been going around to all the ratings, informing them that they had to escape. If they remained in the brig, they would eventually be charged and found guilty of the assault on Liramor-23. When, and not if, they were found guilty, they would be executed. They had to escape or die.

The leadership, those Senior Petty Officers and Chief Petty Officers locked up in this brig with him, had advised all not to get involved in the escape attempt, stating that the lesser ratings, if found guilty, would not likely be executed. But, if they got involved in an escape attempt, their likelihood of death would increase. Hert ignored them. This leadership had already failed the rank and file of their fleet, why should he listen to them?

So Hert made his plans, hiding them from the senior ratings, and prepared for the day that their jailers made a mistake. That day came ten days after they had been captured.

To give them something to do, the captured personnel were allowed to cook their own meals. But one of the cooking surfaces conveniently broke down and had to be replaced. These cooking surfaces were large, and quite heavy. Hert advised his fellow prisoners that their captors would have to bring in something that could move the heavy replacement part in, and the broken one out. That would be their opportunity to move against their jailers.

An hour before the next meal, when cooking would begin, the hatch opened and a single person in a maintenance suit walked in with the 200kg replacement unit. The maintenance man moved over to where the other units were and prepared to replace the broken unit.

When he turned his back, Hert sent out a piercing whistle. Immediately, his fellow inmates moved in on the kitchen area to attack the lone worker. They never even got close to him.

Through the open hatch, and two other hatches that opened, several people in EVA Combat Suits came into the door and fired their pulse rifles over the prisoner's heads. The resulting shock wave knocked out half of the attacking force.

That did not deter the prisoners, who changed direction and attacked the guards in the hatches. The guards fired, again knocking down half of the attacking force. But the remainder made it to the guards at the hatches, only to find that they did not have the numbers or strength to take out guards in combat suits. They were quickly incapacitated. Some were injured. A few were killed. Jason Hert, erstwhile officer wanna-be, suddenly found himself without an attack force, standing alone in front of the guards.

A very petite, and very beautiful Asian woman walked through a hatch and into the open space between the guards and the inmates.

"On the ground, NOW!" she shouted. Every man there immediately dropped to the ground, except Hert. "Who is this?" the woman demanded.

"Prisoner Jason Hert, ma'am," one of the guards said.

"What are you, prisoner Hert?" she asked of him.

"No-one that you can control," he snarled in return and jumped at her. He suddenly found himself on the ground looking up at the woman, his arm in a rather painful arm bar. He was surprised at how fast he had been put to the ground.

"Take him," she ordered. Immediately, two guards came over and cuffed Hert, pulling him aside.

"Those of you on the ground closest to your wounded compatriots, move forward and check them out. Let us know if any are still unconscious, or otherwise require medical assistance," the woman ordered. The prisoners scurried to comply. Those that were now conscious were pulled back into the group. The remainder were left in place.

The woman snapped her fingers and medics came rushing in to check out those still incapacitated or injured. The more severely injured were quickly taken away.

The man who had started it all, the maintenance worker carrying the cooking surface, placed the new device down and took away the defective item.

Three more women walked into the brig area. They were all in uniform. One, a white-blond haired Navy Commander with the braid of an aide-de-camp, the second, dirty-blond Captain with a braid indicating she was a civilian liaison, and finally, a brunette Commodore. Every prisoner there knew who she was without having to be told.

"This is your one and only chance at being naughty," Fiona Marsh told the prisoners, talking at them as if they had been misbehaving children, further humiliating the pirates. "I will not accept another such occurrence. Some of you here today will be found guilty of offences that will incur the death penalty. But most of you will not. You will be found guilty and placed into prison and eventually released. IF you behave. The faster you learn this, the better your lives will be.

"Should any of you attempt this kind of attack again, there will be no mercy shown to you, you could be severely injured or even killed," Fiona informed them rather bluntly.

"We have gone out of our way to make things reasonably pleasant for you, considering your circumstances. You are pirates that were part of an attack force on this platform. An attack that caused considerable destruction, severe injury, and loss of life to the staff and workers that live here.

"Should these attempts at stupidity continue to occur, you will be stripped of all privileges and treated like the vicious animals that most of those who work here are convinced you are." She looked around the room and dared anyone to speak. No one did.

Fiona nodded to her left and several people came in with boxes of food, placing them just inside the door. One of the prisoners stepped forward, a Chief Petty Officer by his insignia.

"Thank-you for your consideration, Commodore Marsh. Please excuse the rather rash members of our group who do not yet understand what is going to happen to them. They were led by one who would not be deterred and could not be convinced to stand down for the benefit of all of us," he told her.

Fiona nodded once to him. "Three of you have died senselessly this day. I do not want to see any further injuries or death on my platform, especially where you lot are concerned. Do not tempt my anger any further."

Marsh turned and left with her entourage. The guards folded back through the hatches, which closed behind them. The prisoners were left trying to figure out what had happened. It dawned on them that this was the second time this group had underestimated the command structure of Liramor-23.

Conference Room One, Liramor-23

"Well," Capt. Dostier began, "that went better than it could have. We were lucky that prisoner Hert was an idiot and couldn't convince more of his compatriots to join him. At least none of our people were injured or killed."

"No one should have been killed at all," Fiona snapped, angry at yet more stupidity on the part of these men. At least it was the prisoners who were on the receiving end of these injuries, this time. But it was time to get them off Liramor-23.

"We need the Dewfall in system. She has the prisoner facilities that we do not have. The prisoners have skilled people amongst them. It will not take much tinkering on their part to figure out how to escape if they really want to," she warned her assembled staff.

The prisoners were being held in a make-shift brig in one of the smaller construction bays, the main brig being filled, but they could not continue to keep them in there for much longer. The NS Dewfall was often used by the JAG of Sector Forty-Two and sometimes even by the navy's senior JAG, Admiral James Hannison.

"I'll send out a note to FAdm Thenton on tomorrow's FTL comms probe and request the NS Dewfall or another ship with the capacity to hold the prisoners be sent to us," Fiona said. "Let's hope that they will stay calm for a few more days until we can get them off Liramor-23. I don't want to subject the workers and staff of Liramor-23 to any other incidents from this lot.

"Make sure to keep up the inspections of that bay to reduce further attempts at escape," Fiona finished.

Capital City Space Port, Terra

Senator Wasim Andjuran had finally bowed to the inevitable and decided to leave Terra. He and three of his senior aides walked into the space port's customs at the last possible minute, sure that his title as Senator of Anuura would wash over any tensions from the custom's people at his tardiness.

They were travelling light, with only some carry-on luggage for each man, plus a sealed diplomatic bag, so that mollified any upset the customs agents had. They quickly got through the customs process and then slipped into the VIP waiting room. They were travelling in business class, away from the riff-raff, lessening their exposure somewhat.

A few minutes later, first class passengers were allowed to board the flight, followed not long after by the business class. The riff-raff had begun boarding by a separate entrance and would not see any of those on the upper deck.

Twenty minutes after it had begun, the boarding process was finished, and the vessel began its flight preparations. Andjuran would not fully relax until they arrived on Anuura, but he felt some of the tensions leave him as the spacecraft began its flight. With Anuura fifty-six light years from Terra, it would be a two jump flight, but the fast ships would make planetfall within two and a half hours. Andjuran was pleased. He could wait that long to be back in control again.

Johal Compound, Terra

The man banged on the gate to the Johal Compound in the late morning, shouting loudly to be let in. A small board in the gate at eye level for a short person opened and a female voice asked what he wanted.

"I demand to see Senator Andjuran," he shouted.

"The senator is not in residence," the disembodied voice returned. "He has not been in residence for several weeks now. Please go to his senate office and ask after him there," the voice said, the plate starting to close.

The man would have none of this and began kicking the gate. "You will open this gate now and allow me entrance or I will make my own entrance into the compound!" the man shouted.

The gate suddenly opened, and the man found himself staring down the point of a long blade held by a guard. A woman behind the guard spoke. From the voice, it was the same woman who had spoken through the gate.

"There are only guards and women in this compound," the woman said with a snarl. "You will leave this compound and not return. If you do, you will be arrested. If you attempt gain access to this compound and succeed, you will be killed for entering the woman's wing without permission. Is this clear," the woman asked forcefully.

"Seek the senator elsewhere. He is not here. We are not appraised of his movements and have no idea where he might be if he is not in residence at the Senate," the woman finished stepping back along with the guard. The gate closed with the guard watching it carefully, his weapon in hand until the gate lumbered into its locked position. Once more the access panel opened, and the woman's eyes were there.

"All who wish to do pray at the temple have access. That is part of the charter for this compound. But be warned, we accept no threats to the temple or the temple workers." And with that, the access panel shut.

The man was debating the best way get into the compound when he received a message from his controller. A report had come in that Andjuran and a small entourage had been seen boarding a fast ship commercial spaceliner to Anuura.

The man wanted to teach these people a lesson, and 'cleanse' the compound of the women, but doing so would bring unnecessary attention to what was going on here. Better for the syndicate that nothing happens to these women. Better for the syndicate perhaps, but not for his own feelings of animosity towards the bitches that had denied him entry.

Andjuran had fled to Anuura and was beyond their reach, for now. But there still might be ways the syndicate could leave a message to the senator...

**************

Hanalei Anar quietly opened her message app and sent out a prepared e-mail to the planet's distribution system. She included one of her interplanetary licenses for Anuura, setting the message into the field for her home planet.

The e-mail appeared to be an innocuous message to her mother, but there was something else hidden within it. That was a message to her mother telling her that she had discovered late in the afternoon that Andjuran had fled to Anuura and would be there for some time. She also informed her mother that the senator had fled to the home planet to escape the revenge of his 'associates' who were not pleased with recent events, though she personally was not appraised of what those events might be.

Hanalei closed the hidden portion of her message and then added a smaller portion to the 'front' page, sending her heartfelt well wishes and Andanii's blessings to her intended, wherever he might be. She hoped her mother would send that to her intended's family who might get the entire message back to him.

She was glad that she had purchased those e-mail message licenses so many months ago, but she had only a couple left now. With the senator off planet, it was time to make another trip to Denders Resort and pick up some more e-mail licences.

Grand Temple of Andanii, Aereet City, Capital of the District of Andanii, Planet Anuura, Caiden System, Fifty-Six Light Years from Terra

Senator Wasim Andjuran was once again ensconced in the quarters of the Chief Cleric of the Church of Andanii. He was not happy to be here, preferring to be back on Terra and working out of his senate office or even the Johal Compound. That will happen again, he was sure but, for now, he would have to remain on Anuura to protect himself from possible retaliation by the pirate syndicates until he could think of something that would let him back into their fold.

Twice now, they had failed to take Liramor-23 from the hands of his two nemeses, Fiona Marsh and Henadi Noor. The first time, it had almost cost him his life. He was sure there would be no 'almost' this time. The syndicates would have a contract out on him that would be large enough to attract every killer in known space. He had his men already looking for that on the Anuura Planetary Web, or the APW as it was known locally. Only they were looking at the dark web portion to see what was happening. So far, there was nothing. As far as he knew, the pirate syndicates did not have people on Anuura. It would not likely remain that way. Regardless, there were other syndicates the pirates could use.

Andjuran was preparing sermons for this week's temple sessions. He would have to re-establish himself as the Chief Cleric if he wanted his people's support. He had a lot of work to do, and little time to do it. Best to get busy.

Vilumas City, Liramor Prime, Liramor System, Thirty Light Years from Terra

Luc Branchette entered the nondescript building and spoke to the man in charge of the office he was trying to get employment in. He offered his credentials as Marc Ouellette, a new computer programmer graduate. The interview process was intense and included showing his capabilities on computers and with the LPW (Liramor Prime Web). He made certain that he displayed enough talent to show that he was more than capable, but not enough talent to arouse suspicion. After all, he was just a mid-level capable recent graduate.