UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

XX - PLANET EARTH

It was dark, and the lights of Los Angeles looked like gems scattered on black velvet. Thousands of grav platforms, robolifts and aircars crisscrossed the local sky grid.

No one paid any particular attention to the unmarked personnel carrier that rode a priority vector in from the east, dropped out of traffic, and landed on a high rise. Three men exited the aircraft. It was gone moments later.

John Usmos shivered in the early morning air. His fatigues had the word "Prisoner" stenciled on the back, his hands were cuffed in front of him, and chains rattled at his feet. His excort consisted of two MPs, neither of whom was much of a conversationalist. The first, an individual whom John had christened "Dickhead", motioned toward a sudden rectangle of light. "Put your a*s in gear, John - we haven't got all day".

No "sir", no "please", just "put your a*s in gear". But that's how it was for prisoners, especially those who were or had been officers.

John eyed Dickhead's shock baton, knew the Marine would love to use it, and bit the inside of his cheek. The MP grinned. "That's right, s**t-for-brains, one wrong move and I'll fry your a*s. Let's go".

The ex-officer shuffled across the roof. A civilian waited to greet them. Light illuminated the right half of her face. She had short-cropped blonde hair, a jeweled temple jack, and long, well-tailored legs. If the woman was curious regarding John's restraints, she gave no sign of it. "This way, gentlemen... Watch your step".

There was a coaming, meant to keep rainwater out, and John struggled to cross it. d**k head grinned happily.

The elevator fell, and fell, and fell. The indicator lights remained dark, but John knew they were below ground level. Way below ground level. But why? The MPs were unable or unwilling to answer his questions. He could ask Miss. Legs, but why bother? The ride would be over soon, and so would the mystery.

The platform coasted to a gentle stop. The doors opened, and Dickhead prodded him in the back. "Move it, s**t-for-brains".

John stepped out, followed Miss. Legs out of the elevator lobby, and paused at the top of a short flight of stairs. The room was enormous. John saw columns, plus hundreds, perhaps thousands of consoles, all configured in clusters of twelve. Of equal interest were the people who sat, stood, or moved around them. Some were dressed in Marine, Navy, or Legion uniforms. Others, at least half, wore civilian clothes. And there were robots, all sorts of robots, who walked, crawled, and in some cases flew from place to place. John watched a message ripple across an enormous reader board, listened to the steady murmur of radio traffic, and felt a heady sense of purpose.

Dickhead was especially impressed. "Wow! What is this place?"

Miss. Legs smiled coldly. "This is the Global Operations Center, or GOC. Please follow me".

John tried to keep up with the civilian but soon fell behind. The leg shackles made it difficult for him to walk. A woman stared, and he winked in response. As the ex-legionnaire moved out from behind one of the thick support columns, the center of the room was revealed.

A metal railing surrounded a large open space. A replica of Earth floated at its center. John thought it was solid until a crane-mounted mounted chair burst through the continent of Africa. It carried a man, and not just any man, but Colonel Luton Arthur. He swooped in for a landing. John arrived five seconds later. Miss. Legs handled the introduction. "Colonel Luton... Captain Usmos".

Luton offered his hand, and the younger officer was forced to extend both of his. The colonel's grip felt like steel.

Luton turned to the MPs. "Remove this officer's manacles and cuff yourselves together".

The military policemen looked at each other, and Dickhead reached for his sidearm. He stopped when Staff Sergeant Gaius Vista inserted the barrel of a 9mm handgun into his right ear home. "Sir! Yes, sir!"

John waited for the restraints to fall away, rubbed his wrists, and looked Dickhead in the eye. "One more thing, Corporal..."

The MP found it hard to swallow. His Adam's apple bobbled up and down. "Sir?"

John kneed the Marine in the groin, hammered the back of his head, then kicked him in the ribs. It took too legionnaires to carry him away. People looked and returned to their work. Luton stood at parade rest. The sarcasm was obvious. "Very impressive".

"He had it coming".

"He had it coming, sir".

John came to attention. "He had it coming, sir!"

Luton took two steps forward and stopped no more than an inch away. "Listen, and listen good. You are here for two reasons: Your mother is governor... And your mother is governor. I think you're a low-life, scum-sucking, no-good piece of s**t. Maybe, just maybe, you can change my opinion. If you demonstrate some leadership, if you maintain discipline, and if you control your temper. Do you read me?"

"Sir! Yes, sir!"

"Good. You will serve as my XO. In that capacity, you will do exactly as I tell you, or Sergeant Vista will blow your worthless brains out. Your mother will be pissed, but I can survive that. Understood?"

"Sir! Yes, sir!"

Luton took a step backward and nodded. "Excellent. Welcome to the team, Major. See that holo?"

John noted the promotion and looked at the planet that loomed above. It was hard to miss. "Yes, sir".

"That's our planet, son. Or it will be by the time tomorrow. Draw some gear and report to me. We've got work to do".

* * *

Sandral Usmos turned her back to the wall screen. Though she had been unable to hear what two officers had said to each other, there was little need to. She could imagine the interchange. John had been disrespectful, and Luton had dressed him down. A good thing, as long as it stayed within certain limits. "So", she said, addressing her companions, "is everything ready?"