UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

XLIII - INDEPENDENT EARTH

Ex-corporal and now Sergeant Sparrow had assigned himself to his commanding officer's staff, where he had assumed responsibility for Marco's personal security. He stood in an open hatch.

Marco took one last look around, slid past the foot-thick door, and heard it thud into place.

The officer's security detail consisted of Sparrow plus two of Goodear's scouts. The Naa were heavily armed and extremely alert. Fearing another mutiny, the noncom had requested a full squad. Marco had refused on the grounds that six guards plus a noncom was not only a waste of precious manpower but more than a little unseemly.

Sparrow knew that the assault force was close and took issue with the way that Marco continued to risk himself. "About time, sir. No sense getting your a*s blown off this early in the battle".

The Naa fought to conceal their grins. Marco was about to take Sparrow down a notch when a satellite guided missile hit the center of the parade ground. The explosion shook the walls. The first blow had been struck.

* * *

The Chameleon's bridge looked neat and orderly, even if some of the blood stains had proven difficult to remove.

Naval Captain Tyson Salom was furious. Rear Admiral Nathan Pius, with the emphasis on "Rear", had dropped out of hyper six hours ago, was still more than twelve hours out, and claimed to be in command. Hard, angular lines defined the shape of his face, and the expression was venomous. The holo shivered, then snapped into focus. "While your desire to support loyalist forces is commendable, Captain, it may or may not be in line with overall strategy".

"And which strategy would that be?" Salom demanded. "There is no effing strategy! Half the ships in orbit are controlled by mutineers, and my so-called peers spend most of their time squabbling over who has authority. The people on the ground need our help, and they need it now. The rebels control most of the planet, why have over the rest?"

Pius leaned so far forward that his eyes seemed to fill the holo tank. "You've been under a considerable strain, Captain, which is the only reason that I chose to ignore the tone of your comments and the absence of military courtesy. Here are my orders. Ignore them at your peril. You will take all necessary steps to preserve your vessel. You will use your fighters to protect your ship and for no other purpose. I hope I made myself clear. Questions?"

Salom struggled to control her voice. "Sir. Yes, sir! One question, sir!"

Pius allowed himself to lean back. Dominance had been established. He could afford to indulge her. "Yes? And what would that be?"

Salom smiled grimly. "Were you born an asshole? Or did you take classes?"

The admiral's eyeballs bulged, his mouth opened, and he sucked air. His comments, whatever they might have been, were lost when Salom terminated the transmission.

Chief Grinnell shook his head sadly. "He's gonna be pissed, Captain. Real pissed".

"Yeah", Salom replied, already sorry for what she had done. "I think you're right. That last part was over the line. Way over the line".

"So, what are you going to do?" Lieutenant Roman asked, her eyes big and round.

Salom stood and smiled. "You heard the Admiral, Lieutenant, I have orders to protect the ship. What if one of those mutie missiles goes haywire and heads into space? The ship would be in danger".

Grinnell shook his head. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but that's the lamest excuse I ever heard. Pius will use your head for a punchbag".

"Maybe", Salom admitted, "but I really don't have much of a choice, do I?"

The petty officer was silent for a moment and shook his head. "No, ma'am. I guess you don't".

"Right", Salom said crisply. "Notify the flight deck. I want six Daggers ten from now. The rest will remain with the ship".

Roman came to attention. "Ma'am! The lieutenant is flight ready and Dagger rated. Request permission to join".

Salom eyed the officer and shook her head. "Sorry, Roman, permission denied. Pius may not understand the full extent of the situation, but he's right about one thing: The Chameleon comes first. You're the only watch officer I have left. Keep her safe till I get back".

Salom left the bridge, and Roman watched her go. "She's one of a kind, Chief".

"Yes, ma'am", Grinnell agreed. "She sure as hell is".

* * *

Luton saw the faint blur of the African coast line, heard the tone, and felt his chair tilt to the right. The pilot was calm but grim. "Missile lock. Fire chaff-fire flares".

The onboard computer "heard" the commands and followed orders. The copilot verified that the countermeasures had been launched and bit his lip. The transport was large and difficult to maneuver. The tone warbled as the pilot jinked right, left, and right again.

Luton started to speak, realized it wouldn't do any good, and saw the world explode. At least one missile had penetrated the defensive measures and struck its target. The transport ceased to exist, as did an entire platoon of troops.

The officer swore a long series of oaths as the VR computer automatically dumped his virtual body into a second cockpit. The name "James, LT. j.g." appeared at the bottom of the frame.

The pilot flew by wire, "thought" the plane where she wanted it to go, and used her hands to "play" the cockpit. The drumsticks clicked, banged, and thudded off the canopy, the instrument panel, and the seat she sat on. Was she aware of his presence, and determined to ignore him? Or simply out of her mind?

Though not a pilot himself, Luton knew there were rules about what pilots could and couldn't do in the cockpit, and wondered where the sticks came in. If they came in.

Incensed by the pilot's lack of professionalism, and prepared to give the youngster a piece of his mind, Luton opened his mouth. He never got to speak.