Beyond Mars Crimson Fleet (22 page)

“The
Crazy Horse
and the
First Destroyer
Squadron
have a new mission. Over one
hundred thousand human beings from an outer colony have helped us
to achieve this day. Some of them now await us at Cramer’s World to
escort them to Valamars—our new home. We will not fail them,
because we have given them our pledge—our word of
honor.”

“So, again we sail. We will do our jobs—and if
necessary—whatever it takes to fulfill this pledge. But one day, we
will return to Earth, and not just clear our names! We will punish
all those who think life so cheap and valueless to commit such a
terrible and criminal act! I promise you all, they will be paid in
full measure for this!” Wakinyan’s words were filled the iron and
steel of his soul. “They will be paid!”

“One
final thing. Shortly, I will be getting a new ship. As this will
happen within the next few weeks, Commander Paladin and I have
promoted First Lieutenant James Randall to the rank of captain.
When I leave, he will take command of the
Crazy Horse
. I hope you will serve him
as well as you have served me. And as far as I am concerned, you
are by far the best crew—of any ship—in any fleet. And I am so very
proud of each and every one of you!”

Richard finally finished
uttering words that came from the honestly of his heart, “God bless
you all!”

For a
moment all was silent on the bridge, but a few eyes sprouted slow
tears while all crewmen bore a proud subdued grin. Then a few hands
started clapping

and then more, growing as it did. It seemed to reverberate
throughout the ship as every crewman did the same. The spirit of
the
Crazy Horse
was
very much alive

and they readily showed it.

After the commotion had subsided and the crew
prepared to get underway, Richard offered his hand to his friend,
the newly appointed Captain James Randall. Jim quickly took it and
shook it vigorously.

“Congratulations, Jim. It was long over due,”
Wakinyan used his friend’s own words.

“Mr. Deputy Commander, do you know what you are?”
Jim jokingly asked.

Richard smiled. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”

Randall returned his smile. “Is there any
valuable advice you would like to share with me on this
occasion?”

“Just two things: don’t let the bastards win—and
have no regrets—for it will be a good day!” Richard conceded.

* * * * *

Ten
minutes later, the
Crazy Horse
began moving away from the fleet under her own
power and approached an area to where seven ships, the remnants of
the
First Destroyer
Squadron
, were waiting. The squadron,
although under tow by some space tugboats, formed a classic “V”
formation with the
Nelson
, under command of Captain Yuri
Denko, in lead position.

The
squadron moved steadily away from an orbiting harbor that was on
the outer perimeter of the fleet. The metallic ball-like structure
with huge octagon docking bays still held other ships that were
being repaired or taking on supplies for their journey to Valamars.
But it was not to be for the
First
Destroyer Squadron
. Some crewmen aboard the
squadron’s ships watched silently from their duty stations as the
harbor faded in the distance. Their forlorn eyes were sunken in
sadness. All were fully aware of the mission they were going on—and
many wondered if it would be their last.

From the
bridge of the
Nelson
, Denko eyed the
Crazy Horse
pulling ahead of the squadron some distance away.
The captain’s face muscles were molded solidly in unhappiness and
discontent.

“Fullback to Right Guard. Fullback to Right Guard.
Do you copy, over?” Yuri transmitted.

“Right Guard to Fullback. We read you loud and
clear. Is your squadron ready, Yuri?” Wakinyan inquired.

Yuri was quick to answer. “As ready as we’ll
ever be, Commander. We only got Paladin’s orders about fifteen
minutes ago. However, the maneuvering watch has been set and we’re
preparing to get underway. I just hope we don’t bump into anything
bigger than a solar patrol. We could have some real problems if we
do.”

“Unfortunately, that is the risk we take,
Captain.” Wakinyan replied honestly.

Wakinyan then addressed
all ships of the squadron. “Deputy Commander Wakinyan to all ships
of the
First Destroyer
Squadron
, start your outboard engines when
ready!”

“Acknowledged Right Guard,” the
Nelson’s
second officer, Lieutenant
Wood, affirmed. “To all crewmen, prepare to start outboard engines
and caste off!” the lieutenant broadcasted throughout the ship as
did other captains and second officers within the
squadron.

The crews
of each ship stood by their
maneuvering
watch
duty stations and looked for any
dangerous situations both inside and outside each vessel that might
imperil them while getting underway. Although a normal routine, it
was at this time that most ships were vulnerable to individual
carelessness within, or floating objects like space debris outside.
From his or her vigil, every crewman was responsible to immediately
halt the procedure if something potentially dangerous was spotted
or detected.

“Helmsman, start all
outboard engines,” the lieutenant added to steering crewman on his
bridge.

“Starting outboard engines, aye,” the helmsman
responded to the order.

All of
the
Nelson’s
outboard engines then fired up into a low grumbling that at
first created a noticeable vibration. But the vibration quickly
settled into a quieter steady hum.

All outboard engines at
nominal power, Sir,” the helmsman reported back. “The ship is
underway at tow speed.”

“Helmsman, caste off all
lines from the tugs and move us into our formational slot
position,” Captain Denko chimed in.

“Aye, Sir,” the helmsman
acknowledged and then broke each magnetic tow line.

As rehearsed and performed
time after time, the eight Martian destroyers came carefully
together moving away from the fleet and formed a conical
configuration that clearly indicated their intentions of hyperspace
travel. All power to the outboard engines was carefully scrutinized
for fluctuations and re-adjusted to the margins dictated by
standard operating procedures. The maneuver was accomplished
flawlessly.

“Set all
matrix jump points,” Wakinyan ordained the navigators of the
destroyers to coordinate their hyperspace entry and exit points
with the data being transmitted by the
Crazy Horse
. “Activate main drives and
ready jump engines,” Wakinyan followed up with the next expected
command.

Within
two minutes, the main engines of all ships within the squadron came
to life and stabilized. The vessels then reported back to
the
Crazy Horse
that they were “good to go” and standing by.

“All ships advance to quarter speed,” was Wakinyan’s
reply.

The main ion engines burned brightly on each
destroyer and began propelling the warships forward at a faster
pace. After advancing to quarter throttle, Lieutenant Wood noticed
a pronounced frown on his captain’s face. Deviating momentarily
from his duties, the officer approached his superior.

“Captain, is there something wrong?” the junior
officer asked.

Yuri just sat in his command chair with a look of
total disgust. “You’ve never been to Cramer’s World, have you?”

“No, Sir, I haven’t,” the young officer
admitted.

“Well, other than being a forward supply base for
Earth, the entire human population of the planet is nothing more
than a bunch of genetic freaks,” Yuri explained. “They’re all
mutants. Officially, it was due to a magnetic abnormality that
radically changed the field of the planet, exposing them to high
radiation levels penetrating through ozone layer—but I don’t
believe that at all. I think it was the result of some virus or
bacteria—and maybe it’s still communicable. That’s what we’re
risking our lives for.”

Denko’s
explanation astonished the lieutenant, which gave way to a sudden
fear that their mutation was really caused by some communicable
disease. It temporary engulfed the man. Both officers then turned
and gazed at the
Crazy Horse
in front of them.

“Advanced
to flank speed,” came the second to the final command from
the
Crazy Horse
.

“Go to flank and prepare to
jump into hyperspace,” Denko ordered.

The Martian destroyer squadron held their formation
as they accelerated rapidly away. Every helmsman readied their
magnetic drives and then waited for the concluding order of the
procedure to be issued.

“Jump!” Wakinyan’s voice decreed
over every receiver of the
First Destroyer
Squadron
.

Within seconds, the small task force of Martian
ships disappeared into the swirling energy fields of dimensional
time, destination: Cramer’s World.

* * * * *

Chapter 13:
Conspiracy

As
the
Crazy Horse
and
seven other Martian warships made their jump into hyperspace,
Captain Winslow sat brooding in the
Mariner’s
command chair. An angry pout
contorted his redden face, while thoughts of humiliation and
betrayal by Paladin absorbed his mind. Wakinyan’s appointment to
deputy fleet commander infuriated Winslow. He like many other
officers disliked and avoided Wakinyan, who he saw as undisciplined
and unfit to wear even captain’s bars. Furthermore, Winslow
considered himself as not only the right choice, but deserving of
the rank because he had earned it.

Winslow
had served the old man with unquestionable loyalty for many years.
He had even humbled himself before other officers and crewmen,
never complaining even when his orders were openly
counter-commanded, or whenever Paladin took demeaning tones to him.
As far as Winslow was concerned, he had been cheated out of both
rightfully commanding the
Mariner
and a promotion that he thought should have been
his.

Seething in silence,
Winslow continued to welter in his resentment and self-pity. He was
so engrossed with his emotions that he did not hear the
communication’s crewman call to him. The woman tried several times
to catch his attention, but his mind was too preoccupied in his
troubles.

“Captain,
there’s an incoming communication from Captain Khalid aboard
the
Mir
for you,
Sir!” the woman announced again and again. But Winslow still sat
unhearing.

“CAPTAIN!” she yelled out
loudly.

He finally awoke from his
stupor. “WHAT?” he questioned with restrained
irritation.

“Incoming
message, Sir, from Captain Khalid aboard the
Mir
.” she replied somewhat
meekly.

“Put it on,” Winslow said
annoyed.

“Sir, he said it’s
personal,” the woman added.

“Very well,” he replied
letting his anger sub-side, “I’ll take in my quarters.” Winslow
then turned to a lieutenant standing near another console, “Mister
Evans, you have the command.

Winslow rose from the
command chair and exited the bridge. His stride was slow, as he
shuffled down several corridors before coming to his cabin. Finally
entering his own personal domain, he commanded his computer
on.

The machine’s voice was
that of a woman of enticing qualities. Yet, it spoke directly as in
a male manner, “You have two stored messages and one incoming
call.”

“Answer call,” he
ordered.

In an instant, the viewing
monitor came on and displayed the smiling face of Captain Khalid.
He was a man of dark tan complexion and just slightly older than
Winslow. However, Khalid’s hair was total gray. Perhaps, it was
brought on prematurely from years of playing at political complots
within the Martian fleet.

“Good morning, John,”
Khalid was bright and cheerful. “How is everything?”

“Omar, since when have you and me been on
friendly terms?” Winslow challenged.

“I thought now might be a
good time to make a fresh start,” Khalid explained. “After all, we
have so many things to look forward to. Just think, we’re off to a
new world, we don’t have to worry about the Earth ever again—and
Wakinyan has been promoted to deputy fleet commander.”

Winslow’s eyes narrowed in
hatred, which was picked-up immediately by Khalid. Omar was gleeful
to Winslow’s reaction and knew the time was right.

“Something bothering you, John? You seem a little upset,” the
captain of the
Mir
toyed.