In the Service of Absolution, Part 3

It took about fifteen minutes for everyone to gather in crew’s mess. A very brief announcement was made ship-wide that DSF personnel would be boarding the ship, that they were not to be interfered with in any way, and that the crew was required to assemble on the mess deck immediately. No one seemed quite sure what was going on.

Michaels was the last to enter, covered head to toe in a blue-green powder except around his face where he had been wearing goggles and a respirator. “Did I miss anything?” he asked while trying to catch his breath.

“Have a seat, Michaels. We’re just getting started,” Captain Lawrence replied. Michaels found an open seat and plopped down, generating a small dust cloud as he did. It was rare to have the whole crew assembled in one place, even for meals. Typically those not on watch or working would eat as a group, and the rest would grab a meal when they had free time. Not only was the whole crew together now, but they had been joined by a squad of DSF marines, as well as what appeared to be some fleet support personnel.

The marines were dressed in regulation, charcoal, combat fatigues and most had a standard issue sidearm strapped to their leg. In contrast, the only unifying thing about the fleet personnel was that they were all dirty and had obviously just been pulled from other repair duties. They wore various sets of coveralls, and though they all appeared to be military issue, there was very little uniform about them, and each had different pouches and hand tools hanging from sundry straps.

The captain started off, “All right, here’s the deal. Our services have been ‘requested’ by DSF High Command and, with conditions, I have agreed to their request. With that in mind, work crews have already begun to convert Cargo Bay 1 into living quarters and a staging area for the fine gentlemen you see around the room. Additionally, as soon as we are done here, all crew not on watch or needed elsewhere will begin an immediate offload of all cargo. We need to run as fast and as light as possible, and that cargo will just slow us down.”

As soon as the cargo offload was mentioned, the entire crew flew into an uproar. Everyone began shouting and cursing. Several crew members began demanding to know what was going on, while other expressed their concerns about pay. Mykar, being the most politically minded of the bunch, began a rant about the military seizing the property of private citizens and how he’d been warning people about this for years.

“If you give me a sec…No, I’ll explain everything…Of course not…Oh for fuck’s sake, Mykar…” Lawrence did his best to answer to answer the barrage of questions being launched at him, but he was being quickly overwhelmed.

A baritone voice bellowed over the cacophony, “QUIET, ALL OF YOU!” Instantly the multitude of voices died. The voice belonged to the older officer standing next to Lawrence. “Your captain is trying to speak. I suggest you all shut up and listen to what he has to say.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Folks, this is Colonel Marks. He’s in charge of the whole operation. Next to him is Lieutenant Ramirez. The lieutenant, Staff Sergeant Ellsworth, and their team will be joining us for the foreseeable future.”

Hunter, the only one who hadn’t joined in the earlier shouting fest, finally spoke up, “So what exactly did you sign us up for? I didn’t exactly sign onto this ship to start working for some idiot in a DSF uniform.”

“Well, first things first; you’re not the only one who feels that way. I don’t run my ship where I do, the way I do because I like taking orders. But the reality is that things aren’t going so good out there. And while our normal attitude of live and let live with regards to the DSF might buy us a little extra time, in the end we’ll meet our fate, same as the rest. This isn’t about our politics or our past; it’s about survival. Now the honest truth is that even with our help there’s a good chance that humanity isn’t going to make it out of this, but if there is even the slightest chance that what we do will help our species survive, then we’ve got to try. As to answering your question, the short of it is raiding the enemy supply lines. I’ll let the captain explain the details.”

Lieutenant Ramirez took a single step forward. He was a couple inches shy of six feet tall, with close cut black hair and the lean build that comes from several years of hard living, most of it spent at the front and under fire. “Thank you, Captain. The mission is straightforward. We will intercept enemy cargo vessels, board them using the docking collar that we are installing on your ship, eliminate the crew and any other resistance we might encounter, and then our pilots will return the captured ship to our lines.”

Michaels raised his hand, releasing another dust cloud. “Uh, this might not be my area of expertise, but don’t supply ships normally travel in convoys? I mean, I’m pretty sure ours do. My uncle use to run supply convoys back in the day.”

Ramirez let out a slight sigh of irritation. “The enemy is so absolutely confident in their superiority that they are running supply ships alone and unguarded. Their arrogance is going to cost them.”

Now this is by no means a war winning strategy. The enemy will adapt quickly and begin running convoys, at which point we will be back to where we started. The hope is that with their supply lines in disarray, we can throw them off balance long enough for our fleet to regroup and at least man a proper defense, maybe even take a couple of offensive actions if we are truly lucky.”

Mykar finally spoke up. “So let me get this straight. We’re going out there and risking our necks, attacking supply ships belonging to an enemy that, last time I checked, hadn’t done a damn bit of harm to us. And all because some shithead in a shiny uniform asked really nicely? Are you out of your mind?! I didn’t sign up for this shit!”

“Well thank you for sharing your… insightful opinion.” Captain Lawrence stared at Mykar with a cold glare. “If that’s how you feel about this, then let me be equally blunt. If you want to get off this ship, then pack your bags and get OFF! I’m the captain and what I say goes. If you don’t like it, you can leave this ship, or you can go to hell. But understand, if you’re getting off, then you getting off here. We’re not making any port stops once we’re through here and if you want my humble opinion, given that the Actium is heading back to the front lines and that they’re much less likely to drop you off then we are, you’re considerably safer here, if you can keep your mouth in check.”

The crew all stared in stunned silence at the captain. While it was not uncommon to get a stern reprimand from him, none of the crew could ever remember such unadulterated fury behind his words. Even at his worst, Lawrence was normally the epitome of self-control and discipline. The silence hung around the room for an uncomfortable length of time.

Finally the captain spoke again, and though he had regained his composure it was apparent that his sudden outburst had shaken him as well, “We’ll be working round the clock to get the upgrades completed in time. Give the DSF crews whatever assistance they need. If you have any additional maintenance you need to get done, now is the time. We’ve got almost a month’s worth of overhaul to do, and only a few days to do it. Any questions? No? Good, now get to it.”

The crew quickly made their exits, already trying to make up mental lists of what they needed to get done with the little time they had. Lieutenant Ramirez stepped into a corner with his colonel and looked as though he were receiving last minute instructions. Their conversation ended abruptly with the lieutenant snapping a salute, which was immediately returned by the colonel.

As Ramirez walked toward the hatch, Lawrence stopped him a moment. “Lieutenant, I need to make one thing very clear about this mission. I don’t care if you’re taking orders from God Almighty, there is no one who outranks me on this ship. Try going over my head, even once, and I will throw you out the nearest airlock. If you can’t live with that, I suggest you get off my ship right now.”

“My job, sir, is to get the job done. If that means I have to ride along on your little boat and listen to your bullshit rules, then so be it.”

Ramirez brushed Lawrence aside and continued toward the hatch. Just before he passed through, he turned back and quipped, “Do me a favor, though, and remember what side you’re really on.”

In the Service of Absolution Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 / Part 5