The sun had risen and was shining its feeble rays upon the landscape of the red planet. Like reflective liquid the sun’s light formed in pools on the barren landscape to the east bringing about the misconception of shallow bodies of water—a substance most lacking on Ar. It continued with its magical pretense of red steam rising in the air from the pools.
To the south between the prison and the employee’s city grew the trees which were the tell-tale sign of the toral. Those closer to the prison had been cut down to keep the beasts away.
The Galaef, with Ben next to him, stood in a regal manner on top of the prison wall watching Curt the Captain of the Guard who had formed his men into ranks and was ready to advance on the prison compound. Behind Curt was a row of officers—two commanders and seven lieutenants. The five hundred guards behind them, both men and women, were dressed in brilliant-red uniforms, and were wearing black boots, black belts on which their black holsters with phasors were attached, and black-billed caps. They all stood at attention holding long-range phasor rifles close to their sides.
They waited.
It was obvious Curt had received information that the warden had been killed resulting in a blood-bath and that the prisoners had revolted, but by the time he was ready to advance his men, the tower had been disintegrated, which would be a deterrent to any leader, and now the Galaef was standing on the wall in plain sight. Curt was smart enough to hold his men back.
“Are they a threat?” asked the Galaef indicating Curt and the five hundred guard who were standing at attention.
“Only if you’re worried about being blinded by their uniforms,” said Ben. “Other than that, the contact I’ve had with them tells me they are our allies. In fact, I’ve had personal and up-close conversations with the Captain of the guard and his girlfriend, a Lieutenant by the name of Sharpie,” Ben pointed at Curt standing at the front of the formation. “They found out you were a prisoner, and they were already formulating plans to get you out. And all the other guards I talked to hate Hurd as much as the rebels.”
“If that’s the case, then why are they working here.”
“It’s a matter of survival. It’s one of the better paying jobs, and if you ever got a good look at how the people in Newusa are living—in squalor and very little food, you’d understand.”
“That is unfortunate,” said the Galaef. “But in a way it’s good for us. It’ll make it easier to acquire a following—an army of sorts.”
“Now that we’ve taken over the prison and apparently the G15’s, we can start our plans to get you back on the throne, and put Thorne someplace where no one will ever see him again.”
“I like your eagerness,” said the Galaef.
Ben knew it wasn’t so much eagerness as it was his fear of what Thorne might do, and what many of the planets might do once they found out the throne had been usurped. “Part of it is the safety of two million inhabited planets—making sure Thorne doesn’t upset the balance,” said Ben, “and the other part is personal.”
The Galaef continued to stand in his regal manner. “By personal, do you mean revenge because of what Thorne did to you, or do you mean a particular red head on Galactus VII?”
“The latter,” said Ben without hesitation. He squeezed the grip on the phasor. “I don’t like her odds now that Thorne is taking over the palace. There is no way to know what he will do to the men and women who are loyal to you. He has proven that he has no regard for life.”
“Yes, it could be a problem.” He turned and looked down at the gates of the prison yard—two sets of double doors. He motioned to Lieutenant Lasitor. "You," commanded the Galaef.
"Yes, sir." The Lieutenant snapped to attention.
"Open the gates."
“Yes, sir,” said the Lieutenant.
“Better tell him to make it fast,” said Ben.
The Lieutenant heard Ben’s suggestion and answered before the Galaef had a chance to say anything. “Yes, sir,” he said as he continued to stand at attention.
“Now!” snapped Ben.
“Yes, sir,” said the Lieutenant. He hurried toward the elevator.
The Galaef gave Ben a sour look. “I never liked Thorne much,” he said.
And? thought Ben. He was wondering where the Galaef was going with that statement. He didn’t like Thorne either, that was a given, but the Galaef’s sudden change of subject meant he had something else in mind—probably another line of political nonsense. “Then why did you hire him?” he asked.
“You know how sometimes a girlfriend can be a great companion to a man—caring, happy, helpful, and giving all the support she can? And then, one day they get married.—And the wife becomes a complete reversal of the girlfriend, making life a living hell for the man.
“Or in some cases,” added Ben, “the man is a great person, and then as soon as they get married he becomes mentally and physically abusive.”
“Exactly. And that’s what happened with Thorne. During the interviews he had all these great qualities—intelligent, good ideas on how to handle planetary upheavals, politically dignified with the right answers, pleasant to talk to, and many other qualities, and then when I hired him, his personality completely changed—solemn, angry, spiteful, and just all around, not a nice guy. I really started disliking him.”
“Then why didn’t you get rid of him?”
“He was competent, and he was doing a good job.”
Plus you didn’t want to look foolish for not choosing the right man the first time, thought Ben. Sometimes you politicians let appearances get in the way of correct actions. And this is the perfect example, now you have a second in command who is trying to kill you.
“But that’s not my point,” said the Galaef.
“No?”
“No. Even though I didn’t like him, and as I find out now that he didn’t like me, didn’t have a high opinion of me, and is now trying to take over as the Galaef, at least he said ‘sir,’ or ‘your majesty,’ or ‘sire’ when he was talking to me, showing me respect, especially in front of other people. Right up to the end he was showing me respect, but I haven’t seen that from you. And the fact is I would really appreciate it if you would throw in a ‘sir’ once in awhile.”
“Yes sir,” said Ben.
“Thank-you.”
“No problem.” Ben realized it was indeed more political nonsense. And he quickly let it pass. "You know," said Ben. "I think Thorne has taken the flagship and gone back to Galactus, otherwise I’m sure he would have completely destroyed this prison by now. In fact he probably left yesterday or the day before."
"Yes, I agree. And if that's the case, then that's good for us. We won’t have to worry about him finding out I’m still alive.”
“It might be that he doesn’t care. If he’s confident that he’s going to succeed, then he’s going to push ahead with his plan, and it doesn’t matter to him whether you’re dead or alive. And that makes me wonder what he thinks he has that will make him successful.”
The Galaef was hesitant to say anything, obviously not wanting to give away classified information. But after he thought for a few moments he finally said, “All he has is a piece of information. He found out that there is a special key which will allow him access to the internal workings of the Computer planet.”
Ben grimaced. “So if he has the key now, he has essentially won.”
“No,” said the Galaef. “He couldn’t have found it this fast.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Ben mused for a moment. “That’s good,” he said. “Now we have to find away back to Galactus VII and use everything in your power to bring him into custody.”
The Galaef smiled, which was rare for him. “We won’t have to get back to Galactus VII,” he said. “Once I get to a long-range communicator all his plans are going to fall apart. All I have to do is tell the computer aboard the Commander that Thorne is an usurper, and his ‘second in command’ status will be revoked, and then, even if
he has the key he will not be allowed to enter the computer.” The Galaef paused, then said, “The only problem after that will be retaking the Commander and the palace.
“Over the last four or five months he has brought in a lot of men, plus it appears he was able to bribe key personnel. I’m afraid it will be an all-out battle.”
The Galaef wasn’t helping put Ben’s mind at ease concerning Lyil. “Considering he will be looking at the Zi pits, I’m sure in his desperation he won’t just give up,” said Ben hoping the Galaef wouldn’t agree.
“That’s right.”
Ben saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. One of the G15’s rose from the landing pad and started toward the prison compound.
“Here they come,” said the Galaef.
“Yeah,” said Ben. “If it wasn’t for them—whoever they are, you’d still be in prison, and Hurd would be ordering my execution by now. Thorne would be taking over as Galaef, and the Galactic Federation would come crumbling down, because many of the planets would revolt.”
Just then the huge gates creaked and groaned as they slowly started to open.
Ben deliberated, as he was still putting together all the facts and probabilities, then he said, “This is the way I see it. If Thorne gets the key before you get to a communicator, it’s possible he can get into the internal workings of the computer planet. And if he has a high-tech computer programmer with him, which is probable, then they can reprogram the computer giving him control of the Federation fleet, and then he will be unstoppable.”
“Yes, that’s one way to look at it, but I’m going to get to a communicator first. In fact, here comes one now.” The Galaef pointed at the approaching G15.
When the destroyer was fifty yards from the prison wall it came to a halt. Ben and the Galaef watched and listened as a voice amplifier, from the G15, boomed so loud it actually sent a slight tremor through the prison walls and walkway. "All occupants inside the guard's compound and living quarters must immediately vacate and fall into formation upon the grounds leaving all weapons behind. All guards now in formation must lay down their weapons. If this command is not being followed within ten seconds we will destroy the compound and the living quarters, and all those within."
It didn't take ten seconds.
The guards who still remained inside, along with the secretaries, the cooks, the waiters, the janitors and all the other personnel came running out of the buildings and came to order in formation. The assembled guard in front of the buildings, on Curt’s command, laid down their hand phasors and their rifles.
As this was being done the lieutenant returned from below and informed Ben and the Galaef it would take another twenty minutes for the gates to be completely opened. And then for some reason he gave them an aside of information. “For the first time in the history of this prison both sets of gates are being opened simultaneously. Even when we had to move in large equipment, the gates are far enough apart that only one set at a time would be opened.”
The Galaef wasn’t impressed. “Lieutenant,” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Go to the hospital and see to it that the wounded are cared for and that the dead are sent to the incinerator plant.”
“Yes, sir.” The Lieutenant hurried away.
The Galaef turned and stared down at the crystal pit. “I thought it was a regular mining operation,” he said. “I had no idea the crystals were being mined by prisoners.”
“Under horrible conditions,” added Ben. And then he made, what he thought was a reasonable suggestion. “I think the families of all the men and women who have been prisoners here should be given a Zen I crystal for all the pain, and suffering, and death they’ve experienced.”
The Galaef grumbled a bit and mumbled something that sounded like, "Yeah maybe." Then he said, “Let’s go below and meet with those in the G15. It’s time for me to use the communicator and to form a plan of action.” He walked toward the elevator.
Ben caught up as the guards were stepping out of the way. “Sir,” he said, “I believe you should let me approach the G15, just in case there’s something we don’t know. Even though it seems they are friendly, it’s possible they aren’t.”
“Yes,” interjected Frosty, “I believe that would be the best course of action.” Ben knew Frosty wasn’t being out of line by making that statement. It was the duty of the chief security officer to be near the Galaef for two reasons: first, to physically protect him; and second, to listen in on any conversations or communiqué. If it sounded like the Galaef could be putting himself in harm’s way which, then it was the chief security officer’s duty to interrupt the conversation and state his opinion
“Okay,” said the Galaef. “You commandeer the G15 and while you’re doing that I’ll check on the wounded, and then I’ll inspect the crystals to make sure everything is in order.” He stopped and turned to Frosty. “Have two of your men escort Ben to the G15, and wherever else he goes. And I want these two men permanently assigned to him as his bodyguards.”
“Yes, sir,” said Frosty. He called out two names of the elite guard, Shast and Higgins, and gave them their orders. “Until further notice you will be protecting Professor Ben Hillar with your lives. He has been appointed as second in command of the Galactic Federation.”
“Yes, sir,” said the two men.
Ben and the Galaef along with frosty and eight guards stepped into the elevator and descended. Ben stuck the phasor between his belt and his waist. He subconsciously felt for the sword on his left hip, but it wasn’t there. Even though the phasor was a more efficient weapon than a sword, Ben felt defenseless. It was all those years of practice and swording in the ring.
The elevator opened and they stepped out. The Galaef started for the hospital.
Ben stood looking at the corpses. There was blood running red on the frosty ground. Arms and legs lie crooked in unnatural positions. He thought about the warden’s paranoia. “There’s the real crime,” he said to no one in particular. Although he knew his two guards could hear him. “I bet they didn’t wake up this morning thinking, ‘today I’m going to die.’ No. They were thinking about another horrendous day in the pits, and hoping the rebels would overthrow Hurd—real soon. They were men and women with thoughts and hopes, but they won’t be thinking anymore.”
Ben turned and moved past the gates, which were still opening. He stepped onto the artificial pavement on the outside of the prison compound and continued, until he was forty meters from the G15. The silver disc stood sparkling in the dim, morning sunlight reflecting red beams from the atmosphere in all directions—camouflaged beauty for a deadly machine.
A doorway opened and a ramp slid to the pavement.
Ben watched as a woman with a man following disembarked. He noticed that the woman was nearly as tall as himself. She had blond hair and a slim, but pleasing figure. Her most striking characteristic, however, was her presence—her manner of bearing, and there was no doubt she was in charge.
She strutted down the ramp.
As soon as she was close enough, Ben recognized her—Dahms, he thought, somehow in charge of taking over the G15’s. And then he recognized Sam who was right behind her.
They stepped off the ramp. “Hello, Ben,” said Dahms. “I’m glad to see you’re still alive. And I truly mean that.”
“Me too,” replied Ben.
“I don’t think we would have made it through the run without your help.” It appeared she wanted to pat Ben on the back and give him a hug, but after a few moments she turned her attention to the gates. "Have all the Thorne supporters been subdued?"
"As far as we know.”
"And the Galaef? We saw him standing on the wall. Is he okay?"
"He’s fine," answered Ben.
"Thank the Lord," said Sam.
“Yeah,” agreed Ben. “Sometime you’ll have to tell me how you took command of the G15’s. You came to our rescue just in time."
“Sure,” said Dahms. She
pushed her hair out of her face. “Where's the Galaef?"
"He's probably in the crystal packing plant by now. You know how he feels about those crystals.” It was true that the crystals were essential for space flight—without them hyperspace was impossible. It was like the need for gasoline in combustion engines. The scientists were able to produce artificial Zen I in the laboratories, but they weren’t as efficient, and because of that, normal space reentry was more dangerous. Ben understood the Galaef’s concern with the crystals even though it seemed he was a little too obsessed. Ben pointed toward the prison wall. “It’s at the far end of the pit. Go through the gates and turn right."
“I have to talk to him,” she said and started to walk away.
“Just a moment,” said Ben.
Dahms turned and faced him. “What?”
“The Galaef told me to commandeer the G 15’s.”
“They’re all yours.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“While I’m out of the ship?”
“Yeah.”
“Gaal.”
“Alight.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope, that’s it.”
Dahms strode toward the gates.
“I see she’s still taking charge and ordering people around.”
Sam pulled on his red, handlebar mustache. “Not all the time,” he said coming to her defense. “But right now that doesn’t matter. I’m looking for my sister.”
“Viella?”
“Yes.”
“The last time I saw her she was headed for the hospital. I’m sure she’s helping Dr. Streum and the other nurses with the wounded.”
“Is she okay?”
“She has a welt across her back from a whip, but it’s not bad and other than that she’s fine.”
“A welt!”
Ben could see anger forming on his lips. “Yes, but don’t be concerned—the man who hit her with the whip is no longer among the living. He was thrown into the pit. It’s actually quite a long fall.” Ben paused, then said, “When the two of you have more time, she can tell you about it, but for right now I need information.” He looked into the distance at the G 15 resting easily on the raised landing platform. “Are both G 15’s operational?”
"That one was damaged in the take over," said Sam following Ben’s gaze.
"How badly?" Ben couldn't see anything wrong, but of course it was at least a mile away and most if not all the damage was probably on the inside.
"Brale says if the parts are available, it should be space worthy in three or four days, but he’s skeptical about finding the parts on Ar."
“That’s not good. Who’s Brale?”
“He’s the whiz-kid who keeps the G15’s operational.”
“Is he still aboard?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“Two of our own and five of the men who were operating the G15’s when we went aboard. Plus two in the brig.”
“Can the five be trusted?”
“We trust them,” said Sam. “But just on the off chance that they’re part of the overthrow—we don’t let them have weapons.”
“And what are your two men doing now?”
“They’re keeping the rapid-fire phasors trained on the guard.” He pointed at Curt and his men.
Ben looked at Curt, Sharpie and the other officers standing in front of the formation. Everyone was still standing at attention. “It’s not necessary,” said Ben. “Come on.” He started toward the guard. He was anxious to have the preparations made and to get the hell off Ar and back to Galactus. He came to a stop in front of Curt.
“Hello, Sharpie,” said Ben as he looked behind Curt at the row of officers.
She didn’t answer, but continued to stand at attention.
“Hello, Curt. You can have your men stand at ease.”
No one moved, so Ben said, “The Galaef has appointed me second in command. So if I tell you to be at-ease, you can follow my orders.”
“Second in command of what?” asked Sam.
“The Galactic Empire. I’m sure he was in a state of confusion when he did it, but thus far, he hasn’t rescinded it.”
“That’s quite a promotion, sir,” said Sharpie as she stood at ease. “Now, instead of taking orders, you’ll be giving them.”
“Yeah,” said Ben, “and my first order is don’t call me, ‘sir.’” And then he motioned to Curt. “Have one of the officers take over the head of the formation. I want you and Sharpie to make an accounting of all the personnel. I want the names of everyone dead, alive, or wounded including the prisoners, the guards, the men aboard the G15, and all the other personnel in the compound.”
“Yes, s . . . Okay Ben,” said Curt.
“Make it quick. I have some other business to attend to, then I’ll be sending for you in about twenty minutes.”
“Right.” Sharpie and Curt headed for the officer’s quarters.
“Second in command of the Galactic Federation. Damn,” said Sam.
“That’s what I said,” said Ben. “Damn!” He motioned toward the prison. “Let’s go.”
They walked through the open gateway and into the prison yard—a place with a lot of bad memories.
As he quickly looked around the compound the doors to the elevator, at the far end of the yard, opened and a man stepped out. He didn't hesitate. He immediately walked toward Ben and Sam.
He was a man of medium height and build, but he walked with an air of dignity and purpose. Ben noticed his clothes were too neat and perfect for the crystal pits. On his head sat a black hat with a small dome and a thick, three-inch brim completely encircling it.
"Sir," he said when he stopped in front of Ben, "my name is Jacob. Before this morning's incident I was the warden's chief manservant. The fact that he was killed while I was in his employee will certainly not look good on my next job application."
"It goes good with me," replied Ben. “I’m sure I can write you a great recommendation.”
Jacob ignored Ben’s statement. "Sir, I have been informed that you are now second in command of the Galactic Empire—a recent promotion, and that you will soon be forming an army to go against the horrific Hurd of Newusa. Sir, I am well schooled in swording, situ, hat, karate, and phasor shooting, and since I am now unemployed I would like to join your army."
Ben shook his head and then nodded. "Before I say 'yes,'" he answered, "I'm curious. How could you already know I'm second in command, and what makes you think I will be forming an army?"
"Sir, I have a very reliable source. You may know him. He tends to draw out the s's on the endsss of hisss wordsss."
There was a look of recognition on Ben's face as he realized the source. "I understand," said Ben. "You're Roqford's mental friend."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Jacob," said Ben, "If an army is formed, you can count yourself in. Any friend of Roqford's . . .you know."
"Yes, sir. And thank you, sir." Jacob stepped off to the side to await further instructions.
“Let’s check the hospital,” said Ben. Even with the equipment and drugs available it was probable that Dr. Struem could and would have to work a miracle, because that’s what would be needed to bring Keegan back from the almost dead.
They walked through the double front doors of the hospital. The waiting room was full of wounded men sitting in chairs, standing and leaning against the walls, and lying on the floor. Lieutenant Lasitor and a nurse were running around checking on them, obviously trying to decide who Dr. Sreum would attend to next. Ben saw Samsung standing at the front counter talking to a nurse.
Sam saw him too. “Samsung," he said with surprise. He stepped forward and bowed. After Samsung returned the bow, Sam said, "Damn, it's good to see you. I didn't know what became of you after that night in the tunnel."
"It's good to see you too. I am glad you are well."
“How’s Keegan?” asked Ben.
“The doctor is still operating and so far
the nurses have nothing to report.”
Without further conversation Ben, with his two body guards following, strode across the floor, opened the door, and walked into the hallway. Wounded men were lining the walls, some were standing, but most were sitting with their backs to the wall or lying on the floor. Many had bandages. Nurses were scurrying about with a spray can—probably an ointment containing SR. They also had gauze and cotton bandages. They were spraying artificial, bloody wounds, then bandaging with cotton and gauze.
Ben and his two guards had to step over legs as they walked down the hall toward the surgery room. They passed a door when a man from inside let out a scream. Another man was sitting on the floor muttering and staring into space. The side of his skull was charred and smelled like burning hair and flesh.
A nurse, with a sour look, hurried out of the room across the hall and stooped down in front of the man. “Oh, Lord,” she said. She sprayed the man’s head, then looked up at Ben. “Would you mind?” she asked. She pointed at the room across the hall. “I need to lay him in bed.”
Ben kneeled to the side of the man and put an arm behind his back and grunted as he carefully lifted the man to his feet. Then he followed the nurse and walked him into the room. There were eight beds, and seven of them were occupied. Ben walked him to the empty bed and laid him down.
“Thank-you,” said the nurse.
“Glad I could help.” He left the room and made his way to the surgical center. He opened the door and looked in.
Dr. Streum looked up momentarily, then looked down and continued with his work. “We won’t know anything for a couple of days,” he said. “So you might as well go about your business.”
Keegan was lying on the table with his abdomen cut open. A nurse patted the sweat on Dr. Streum’s forehead as he sutured a broken blood vessel. Ben noticed several other blood vessels clamped off, which would be sutured in order of importance. On a tray next to Dr. Streum, amongst all the scalpels and other surgical instruments, was a bottle of SR. Dr. Streum waited for the nurse to stop patting his forehead, then he reached over and soaked a cotton swab with the SR, which he applied to the sutured vessel.
Knowing it would be useless to wait around Ben shut the door and started down the hall.. If they were to leave Ar within the next day or two, he might never find out if Keegan survived the surgery. Maybe he would call to enquire once Thorne was captured.
When he opened the door to the waiting room he saw Viella on the other this side of the counter talking to Sam and Samsung.
Ben crossed the waiting room, stepping over and around the wounded, and headed for the door. He looked over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said.
Sam and Samsung started to follow.
“You too,” said Ben looking at Viella. He stopped and waited for her.
“But they need me here.”
“They have enough nurses,” said Ben, “and I need you for something else.”
Sam was quick to mumble an explanation. “Better do as he says. When the Galaef’s not around, he’s in charge.”
Viella raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” she said. She removed the blood smattered smock and laid it on the counter, then followed Ben, Samsung, and Sam out the door. They headed across the compound and stopped in front of the gates.
By that time several other prisoners, whom Ben no longer called prisoners, but revolutionaries, had walked to the gates and were looking out the opening. Even with the gates open he knew they wouldn't be going anywhere—too far of a distance to the nearest city, which was Employee's City, and too many toral.
"Ben," said Viella, "here comes the Galaef."
The Galaef with Dahms at his side had just left the packing plant. Frosty and the elite guard were behind and to both sides. The Galaef was striding fast, and the others almost had to trot to keep up.
The Galaef stopped in front of Ben. "This woman is second in command of the revolutionary underground, and she wants our help to overthrow Hurd's government." He paused, "But you know it's against Federation policy for me to become involved in planetary disputes."
"On the other hand," growled Ben, without hesitating, "Hurd was partly responsible for your capture and imprisonment. I believe that supercedes Federation policy in this case and gives you the right to squash Hurd like the bug that he is. Besides, we need to get into Newusa for supplies and parts to repair the damaged G15. And since Hurd is a part of Thorne’s usurpation, I don’t think he will welcome us in."
Ben noticed a look on the Galaef’s face which told him the Galaef just had an idea—almost the same look a used car salesman gets when he thinks he has suckered a lame-brain into paying big bucks for a lemon.
"Well," said the Galaef, "I was thinking we could help the revolution for a small fee. Say, a reduction in the price of the Zen I crystals."
"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Dahms. "I know all about the so-called 'great debates of Ar,' and I know that somehow you convinced the council to charge a lower price than what the crystals are worth. If anything we should raise the fee, considering you're already getting them for practically nothing."
It was apparent the Galaef didn't like hearing that. "On the other hand," he said, "we do need parts and supplies, and we do have a common interest in our dislike for Hurd. So, I guess we should leave things as they are, and we'll help you for free."
Dahms stuck out her hand and the Galaef shook it. "Alright," she said, "let's make war plans."
"Right." The Galaef looked at Ben. "What I need now is a staff of higher echelon personnel—officers who understand the strategies of war. I'll leave it up to you to organize the staff, and let there be no doubt about it: I am authorizing them a commission in the Federation Fleet. After we have put down Thorne's rebellion, if they decide to stay on as officers they will have the option to do so. This will be my reward for those who help us."
"Looks like there's going to be a lot of changes in the fleet's chain of command," said Ben.
"That's right," retorted the Galaef. "So organize the staff, and we'll meet in the conference room aboard the G15 in half an hour."
"I’m assuming that includes the prison guards," said Ben.
"The prison guards?" The tone of Dahms’ voice made it apparent she was against using them for the upcoming battle.
"They're on our side," replied Ben.
"That's absurd. The men and women of the guard work for Hurd in a prison that's cruel and inhumane. Everyone knows that most of the prisoners are usually dead within three months of working long hours in the bitter cold with very little to eat."
"It may look that way to you and the others on the outside," replied Ben, "but I've been here long enough to have gotten to know a number of them, and from what I've seen, they want to get rid of Hurd as much as you."
The inflection in Dahms' voice indicated she wasn't convinced. "Since I don't know any of them, I can't refute what you're saying. So let me just say: be very careful who you choose."
The Galaef said, "If you know any of them well enough to trust them, then I will trust your judgment. As a matter of fact, while you're putting the staff together I'm going to talk to the Captain of the guard." He looked at the uniformed man at the head of the formation, then said, “That’s not the man I saw before.”
“No,” said Ben. “I sent the Captain and a lieutenant to put together a complete list of all prison personnel, dead or alive, including the guards, the prisoners, the workers, and even the men aboard the G15. I’m going to have Frosty check the list for anyone who might be a Thorne supporter. I want him to interview anyone he deems suspicious.”
With a nod from his head Ben indicated the direction. “I’m assuming they’re using a computer to compile most of the list.” Ben started through the open gates. “I’ll show you,” he said. They’re in the officer’s quarters.”
The Galaef and the entire entourage followed Ben through the gates. He pointed at a building closest to the prison wall, but a hundred meters from it. “I’m assuming we’ll
be checking out the long range communicator soon.”
“Very soon,” said the Galaef as he turned and started for the officer’s quarters.
Ben watched him walk away, then he turned to Samsung. "If you’re willing to accept it, I’m appointing you a Lieutenant’s commission in the Galactic Federation."
Samsung replied by saying he would be honored to help the Galaef.
"Good," said Ben. He looked at Viella and her brother Sam. "We've been through a lot together," he said, "and as an archaehistorian maybe someday I'll write a book about it," he paused, "but for right now there's still a lot ahead of us. I can see battles coming and a lot of men and women being killed." He waited for any questions they might want to ask or any comments they might want to make, but they stood waiting for him to make his point. "You need to keep that in mind when deciding if you want to accept the same offer I just made Samsung. You can be lieutenants in the Galaef's Federation Fleet. Someday it might actually mean something important, but right now it just means you're going to have to fight a war and maybe get killed."
"I say 'yes,'" said Sam quickly. “This is a war we’ve waited for a long time.”
Viella was hesitant. She looked embarrassed. "I'm not sure I'm right for the job. I want to say yes," she started, "but am I qualified and will I . . . ?"
"You'll do fine," interrupted Ben. "I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think so. So, just say yes."
"Well, okay then, yes."
"Good," said Ben. "The first thing we have to do is figure out who else is going to be on the staff."
Doesn't sound too difficult, came a response.
Hello Roqford, Ben greeted him. I see you're listening in on my conversations again. How would you like to be a General in the Galaef's army? he asked.
Roqford gave a mental yawn. Okay, came his reply. A prisoner one minute and a General the next - happensss everyday.
And then Ben heard a kind of snickering wisping sound and realized it was the first time he had ever heard Roqford laugh. Right now was the time for laughing, however; especially for Roqford considering he had been a prisoner for more than three years, and now he was free.
Viella touched Ben on the arm. "Is something wrong?" she asked. There was a concerned look on her face.
"Not at all," said Ben. "I was just talking to my inside source."
"What?"
"I'll tell you later. But right now I need to know if you know of anyone else who would make a good officer?"
Sam didn't have to think about it. "Dahms, Gaal, and Xygliper."
“Xygliper?”
"Yes. He placed eighth in the Galactic Games in archery.
"Oh, yeah. I remember him," said Ben. “I met him up close and personal a few times at the Federation games. He’s an outstanding archer and all round athlete. It will be good to have him aboard. Maybe some time in the near future we’ll sit down together and exchange stories about how we got mixed up in this revolution.
"Okay," said Ben, "who else?"
Sam thought for a moment. "There are two of the crew members aboard the G15 who performed with intelligence and quickness when the situation called for it. Their names are Zorn and Brale."
“They already have a commission,” said Ben, “but we can raise their rank if necessary and add them to the staff.
“Anyone else?” asked Ben.
Sam and Viella remained silent.
"Alright," said Ben to Sam, "you inform them to meet us in the conference room on board the G15 in twenty minutes." He turned to Viella, "And I'll leave it to you to inform Tillo and Sweyn of their new positions on the staff. Also, I want Curt the Captain of the guard and Lieutenant Sharpie at the meeting.”
"Yes sir," responded Viella.
Sam had already walked away to locate his newly appointed officers.
Viella touched Ben on the arm. "What about the bodies?" she asked. She pointed at the corpses in the yard and the warden’s dead body on the wall.
"It looks like Lieutenant Lasitor hasn’t had time to take care of them," said Ben. “Organize a group of prisoners to put the corpses in boxes, then have them hauled to the incineration plant.
"Oh, one more thing, Viella, at the moment I can't get through to Roqford."
"Roqford?"
"The large cat," said Ben.
"Yes, I know who he is, everyone in the prison knows who he is, but what about him?"
"Tell him what time the meeting is scheduled."
Viella looked surprised, and then asked, "How do I tell him?"
"Just talk to him. He'll understand."
“Okay,” she said as she walked away.
Ben motioned to Jacob who was not standing far away. "You'll be one of the lieutenants," he said.
Jacob removed his hat, slightly bowed, and nodded his head. “Thank-you, sir. It’s more than I could have hoped for.”
Ben noticed Em standing next to the wall. He walked over with Jacob and his two body guards following. "Come on Em," he said. "Let's get aboard the destroyer and get ready for the meeting."
*