Chapter 33: Building forces

The Masi'shen ship T'shu'sin-ula (Galaxy Discoverer) emerged from the far side of the moon in its parking orbit. The family members lounging in Jon'a-ren and Lyn'na-ra's ship's quarters gazed through the deck-to-ceiling view panel at the small blue and white planet in the far distance. Earth, they recognized, is a rare gem in the galaxy's collection of planets. Few could match its beauty; none could match its diverse climates and geography.

"In another week? Really, father?" Michael exclaimed. "That soon?"

Jon'a-ren sipped his steaming mug of tea and smiled at his son-in-law.

"Yes, that soon. You did say that there was a high degree of urgency to this matter ... yes?"

"Well, yes, I did. But ... so soon?"

"Michael, we Masi'shen are not without resources, and we can rally ourselves to a need, to a cause, as quickly as humans do! All we need is good reason!"

"Yes, but, very well. Two dozen are already aboard and ready, and more are being fabricated en route."

"The ship commander's message earlier this morning said they have twenty-six shuttles completed, and another six are in assembly in the ship's fabrication pod. They have materials and components for the others, as requested, to make a total of forty-eight. Combined with the four already in service here that came with this ship, you'll have your fleet of fifty-two shuttle craft by the end of next week."

"Amazing! Father, I only requested these a month ago, and it took three days for the Mas'shi-dul (ship's council) to approve our request!"

"I hope you are ready to receive these new craft as soon as the T'shu-gulara (Galaxy Transporter) arrives. Captain Kel'shurul informs me that they must return immediately after delivery. The ship is needed elsewhere."

"We'll be ready, father. The new crews have been hard at work in the simulators, and our four available shuttles have been flying 24/7 since we began the new program."

"Excellent! And as you know, we've finished the design work for the new parking tethers. Installation and testing will be finished in time for the T'shu-gulara's arrival. It's going to be very inconvenient, I know, for the crews to EVA to their craft until we can fabricate a proper orbital service hanger and crew quarters station for them."

"That's not so bad, father. Eight weeks assembly time and another two weeks fitting out? Not so bad. Everything else is coming on the transporter as indicated, yes?"

"Yes, along with an extra supply of fabricating materiel and components, just in case," Jon'a-ren added.

The ship's engineers and design team had quickly roughed out plans for a lunar orbital hanger to house fifty-two shuttle craft, with a repair and service bay that would hold up to a dozen at one time. Permanent living quarters for as many as four hundred personnel were included in the design. This would accommodate the normal crew complement per shuttle, and their family members, if desired. Plus accommodations for the duty-rotation service and support technicians. Design proposals were sent to M'shai'dur, the home world, for final review. The entire structure was prefabricated and loaded aboard the transport for delivery, with a task force of assembly techs.

"We need a new name," Michael said, nursing his second cup of black coffee. "It's not right to call them shuttles when they're far more than that. But I don't want to call them fighters, or attack craft, or interceptors, or"

"Call them interdictors, then," Jon'a-ren interrupted.

"Really? How so?"

"A fine old Earth word that I stumbled across during my readings. We've been working hard to acclimate ourselves to your world, your mother and I, and this word comes from your world's early ecclesiastical practices. You know it's meaning?"

"Roughly, yes: to prohibit, or forbid, something like that," Michael replied.

"Close enough, yes. Now, tell me, what is the mission for this fleet of interdictor craft that you and your team have put together?"

"Peacemaker craft, to enforce the peace, and to intercept transgressors."

"Exactly so we call them Interdictors because they forbid warring, and aggression, and they enforce the peace."

"Perfect. I'll drink to that!" Michael smiled.

"Please, my son! Not with that horrible black sludge in your cup. Spare me that!"

The need was obvious. For the Peacemaker mission to succeed, it had to expand. That would mean more transport for more teams, and that required more shuttles fitted with the new capabilities developed with the original four. Michael had hoped the shuttles could be expedited from the Masi'shen home world, and they were, but that left the problem of pilots and crew. Where to get trusted crew people in a hurry?

He remembered that horrible day of the Nez Percé border crossing. Then he recalled his old Desert Storm commanding officer and his leadership role with the Washington National Guard, the outfit where he'd 'rescued' Tib Tibbets and Chuck Briggs with their crewmen.

"General Mikelsen, sir this is Michael Hawthorne calling. How are you today, sir?"

"I'd be a helluva lot better if you'd knock off that 'general' and 'sir' crap, son. So, how are things with President Stinson's 'most wanted enemy' these days? And how can I help. I'm sure this isn't just a social call, since you've broken into my secure line ... again?"

"Sorry, Gen ... er, Buzz. But you're right about me and mine being on the President's hit list. I don't want his hired guns listening to what I'm going to ask, and what I truly hope you're about to provide."

"Okay. We can talk freely. My technicians tell me that the NSA isn't likely to be monitoring this in real time, even though they've got all the encryption keys and I've no doubt they're recording it. I'll probably be gone from here, or dead before they get around to listening to it. So shoot. What's on your wish list?"

"You. And maybe a couple hundred good guys and gals. And their families, if they're willing to relocate. We've got housing with a view that's out of this world, really and truly, out of this world, Buzz."

"Uh huh. That's pretty much the whole contingent here!"

"So? What has Homeland Security got you guys doing down there besides keeping you on short leashes and all bottled up?"

"That's pretty much it, son. They sure as hell don't trust us with much more than kicking in doors and rousting people for saying the wrong things in public or on the internet. Everything else they've assigned to their 'trusted forces' in the regular army, or their homeland goons."

"So, I get the feeling that you and your people aren't too happy with that?"

"You can take that feeling and compare it to a carbuncle on your ass. How would you feel if you had to roust your neighbors late at night and shove them onto buses for a one-way trip to a holding camp in the desert?"

"Holy crap! It's gotten that bad over there?" Michael exclaimed.

"No. It's worse, actually. But bitching about it solves nothing. So getting back to your question, how soon do you want us, and how are you going to get us out of here?"

"Hmm. Logistics, and right under the noses of your minders. You guys don't have control over Camp Murray any longer, do you?"

"Hell no, not since that day you swooped in and snatched the helicopter crew away from the feds. I damn near got myself shot over that, you know? If it hadn't been for Sadie ... Governor Sandra McConklin ... threatening to raise up a bloody revolt in my defense, I'd be sitting in Gitmo or buried under the asphalt there."

"Sorry to hear that! I should have anticipated the blow-back that you guys would get from that."

"No point in feeling sorry. If you really want to make it up to me, just figure a way to get us the hell out of here without anybody shooting at us, okay?"

"You got it. Have you got a number? A guesstimate of how many troops and family are involved?"

"Right at five hundred seventy-four bodies. My clerk just handed me the breakdown sheet. That's two hundred thirty-eight Guardsmen, and the rest, spouses and dependents. Oh, it also includes one broken-down General, his wife, and her sister. You want us in the package?"

"I wouldn't consider this deal without you, Buzz. Who do you think is going to ride herd on all those people once we've got you aboard? Oh! I should mention. Those we select for 'active' crew will be pulling lunar orbit quarters while training and conducting ops. The rest will be housed at our Geneva properties. I expect there'll be a lot of rotation, so everybody will get a their share of space duty."

"You sure know how to catch an old man's interest, don't you? Well, to put my mind at ease, just how the hell do we pull off this 'Great Escape?'"

"How's this for starters. Let's get a bunch of them straggling across the border north of you into Canada. I want as many as can slip away to rendezvous at Penticton. And please don't let them all use the same crossing. Spread it out. Some go into Vancouver, then head east. Others go into eastern Washington and up the Okanogan. Do it over the next week or ten days until you've got your numbers down to the normal duty roster there at Camp Murray. That should move the biggest number, all the spouses, dependents, and off-duty guard. Right?"

"Sounds good, so far," Mikelsen agreed. "So what do we do for the bunch of us stuck here on duty?"

"Easy. At the end of the day, don't go home. Hang out or hide out in one of the larger buildings that's not under the DHS or RA eyeball. After dark, we'll pull another swoop and snatch. I've got four shuttles available right now. We can take a total of, oh, if we squeeze you folks in tight and none of you are too chubby, we can fit 30 or so per craft. Will that work?"

"Oh, hell yes! That's sweet. We've got two hundred or so on duty on normal weekdays, but only half that on weekends. So, why don't we figure on getting half of the normal duty people across the border by car on Saturday. Then