Chapter 25
Dawson was getting restless. He had spent three days reviewing the tactical information about the Powel. He now knew more than he had ever expected about the current state of the art of Fleet weapons and capabilities. He had also reviewed the file of every crew member and made a list of those he thought might be trouble later on. He was big on making contingency plans. When he was ready, he’d hand the list over to Lieutenant Madison and have her keep an eye on the suspect crew. He’d also had to endure three more of the most uncomfortable backups he’d ever experienced. He was getting more used to them now, but it still made him shiver when he thought about them.
The Powel was due to arrive at Mars in twenty minutes, the ship would go into heavy deceleration to bring them into a geosyncronous orbit over the UMG capital city of Olympia. From her prior discussions with Jeff Hughes and Sam Storm’s younger version they knew that was where Terra would be heading as soon as she landed,. They had been accelerating since the halfway point of their journey in order to keep their lead at twelve hours, and unfortunately that entailed a large burn at the end to stop. They would have to burn at seven g’s for fifteen minutes to adequately kill their velocity so they could go into Mars orbit.
“All hands, please take restraint chairs and prepare for deceleration in two minutes,” the voice of the Nav officer came over the intercom.
Dawson was in his quarters and decided that he had better head for the bridge. He quickly left his room, jumped into the main lift column, said “Bridge,” and was whisked upward. The iris door to the bridge opened at his approach and he came up right in time for the one minute warning.
“Agent Dawson,” the Captain said, acknowledging his presence as she noted his arrival.
Dawson nodded and moved towards one of the extra restraint chars at the back of the bridge. He sat down and took a grip on the arm rests.
“Propulsion systems status?” the Captain requested.
“Propulsion is green,” a voice came over the intercom.
“Nav, burn on zero,” Captain Whetherstone ordered.
“Aye, Sir. Burning in thirty seconds,” the Nav officer replied. The Nav officer commenced the countdown at twenty seconds, and Dawson held on.
It was only yesterday that they had flipped directions and begun deceleration. Dawson wished that the Captain had told him of the necessity of this larger burn when they had started out, but it was apparently standard Fleet procedure.
If one had to be somewhere quickly, they could do it two ways. The first was to have a constant thrust and at the halfway point flip around and start decelerating and come to a stop when you reached your destination. The second was to accelerate longer at a lower level and at the end decelerate quickly. The second put more stress on the engines, but he had been informed that this maneuver was well within tolerances. It was all about cumulative thrust or delta-V. There was a difference between what one needed to orbit Earth, and what one needed to orbit Mars, but those differences were small compared to the delta-V needed to make a straight shot between the two.
As the countdown ended, the engines kicked in at about six times their previous level and Dawson now felt as if he weighed a half-ton…which he did. It was as if he had five other people sitting on his shoulders. The restraint chair and fog system were helping to keep him from moving too much because a sudden movement could cause him to damage his muscles or bones easily. A fall, even from his chair, would break his bones as if they were dry kindling. It was uncomfortable, almost as much as the backup machine.
The fog was also squeezing his lower extremities to keep the blood from rushing towards the floor and out of his head. It was a common technique that had been used by jet fighter pilots three-hundred plus years ago. Even with the extra help from the fog Dawson could still see just a slight bit of tunnel vision as some of the blood in his head headed south.
The Nav officer counted down the minutes, and as she reached ten, Dawson thought he was going to lose it. He hated being held so immobile for so long; it unnerved him. He tried to take his mind off his plight by studying the others he could still see down the tunnel to see what their reactions were. They were all calm, composed, and obviously used to this kind of maneuver. They looked somewhat uncomfortable but nothing to indicate that they were about to crack up. Dawson envied and despised them at the same time, hoping that eventually he would be able to treat such a maneuver with similar disdain. The minutes slowly ticked away and finally Nav returned them to their previous one point two gee deceleration. They would keep on for another five minutes, and then they would be at their desired orbit after a few maneuvering thrusts.
“Captain, I’ve got an incoming transmission from the UMG President herself,” the Com Officer reported.
“Patch it through to the forward projector,” Captain Whetherstone instructed.
Dawson, now freed of the awful deceleration, inched forward in his seat as the forward section of the bridge where before there had been a forward view from the ship was now a very high resolution 3-D Fog simulation of the UMG president Ariel Stoneman herself. She looked slightly nervous.
“President Stoneman, it’s an unexpected honor. I’m Captain Whetherstone at your service,” the Captain addressed her diplomatically.
“Captain, good. I was actually calling to inquire as to what brings you here at such a clip. Since you appeared on our screens yesterday, we noticed you were moving quite quickly for the Earth-Mars transfer, and I wondered if your business here might require UMG help.”
Dawson wasn’t sure if Stoneman could see him in the back of the bridge or if she only saw the Captain, but he highly doubted she wanted to be of help. Mars was known for public resentment of the Fleet presence. Damon Harding had warned him about her. She would be looking for Terra Gates and would do almost anything to stop her. He was sure that this was the true reason for her call.
“Well, thank you for your offer, President Stoneman. But I assure you that we have all that we need; however, if that changes, we will of course contact the UMG. Right now we simply want to put into orbit and top-off our main fuel tanks.”
“Certainly. And might I inquire as to whether or not your carrying any non-military passengers for which Mars is the final destination?” the President asked.
She was looking for Terra Gates; Dawson was now sure of it.
“No we aren’t carrying anyone of the sort, and if we were, we would certainly contact your customs department before any such persons were ferried to the surface. On that you have my word,” the Captain answered convincingly.
The President gave a smile and then continued, “Well, it always pays for us to contact the Fleet vessels that come through Mars. Its good to know who’s out there protecting you. Thank you for your time, and please enjoy your stay here.”
“Thank you. It’s always good to meet the woman in charge,” the Captain concluded. At this Ariel gave a genuine smile.
“Yes, it is. Good day Captain,” the President said and then disappeared.
Once the connection was down, Captain Whetherstone swiveled about in her chair to face Dawson. “I assume they are looking for Terra Gates.”
“Yes, I’m sure she is. We can’t let her do anything to jeopardize our mission, of which Miss Gates is a very important piece. I believe that she knows approximately when Miss Gates left Earth and is frantically trying to determine what ship she is taking to Mars. There are only five that left around our departure time bound for Mars and of those only two are arriving before the vote over which President Stoneman is concerned. We are the first of those two and the Fed-Ex Express vessel is the second,” Dawson informed her.
“What does this vote concern?”
“It would serve to keep Terra Gates from being able to fully utilize her shares to control the UMG and would firmly put Stoneman in charge. I believe that Miss Gates’ sudden restoration, far ahead of schedule, has made Stoneman nervous that she will show up and
vote this measure down. I’ve been warned that she may be willing to resort to violence to keep Terra away,” Dawson explained. It was pretty much verbatim from what Harding had explained to him. Martian politics was not his forte.
“Do we need to do anything about this?” the Captain asked.
“Yes, I believe that we should dispatch the Marines to protect the three of them from any harm so that they can continue to lead us to our objective. I should have some more intelligence in a few hours and will be able to give you specifics. Until then, I suggest we refuel and make sure we’re ready to move at a moment’s notice.”
“I’ll let Lieutenant Madison know we’re going to need them. They’ll be ready to move in less than an hour should it become necessary. Keep me informed of anything that comes up, please,” the Captain requested. “Nav, bring us in for refueling at the Fleet depot.”
As they finished their final minute of deceleration and orbit adjustments so they would rendezvous with the Fleet supply depot at the Phobos Spaceport, the engines switched off and that all too familiar sensation of simulated gravity returned.
Dawson headed down to the Marine Barracks, to check with Lieutenant Madison. As he was about to arrive at the Barracks he saw all the Marines hustle into the lift column and head down to what Dawson guessed would be the EVA shed. He quickly instructed the lift tube to follow them.
When he touched down and entered the EVA shed, the place was a fury of activity. The Marines were pulling their exosuits off the wall hangers. They didn’t even pay any attention to him at first. A Marine would run a hand down the center of the suit and it would open like a zipper, even though there were none. They would then just step into the suit, and it would seal up over them very rapidly.
The only one left unsuited was Lieutenant Madison herself who had noticed his presence and came over to him. “Agent Dawson, can you brief us as to what our mission might be? Any advance warning could help us formulate some contingency plans.”
“Well, the three people we’re following are Terra Gates, Jeff Hughes and Gregory Hillman. We suspect that Terra Gates will be targeted by the UMG President to either kill her or to simply hold her and prevent her from attending a vote that is scheduled approximately thirteen hours from now. We don’t want her hurt, so we want you to follow her undetected and make sure no harm comes to her.”
“Where will this vote be taking place?” Madison asked.
“According to my sources, it will be in the UMG Boardroom. I’ll transfer the coordinates over to you. I’d like an advance team of two to scout it out, undetected of course, and to make sure there are no traps. Then I’d like the remainder to follow the three of them when they arrive until they make it to the Boardroom as at least Gates undoubtedly will. Their ship will arrive in eleven hours and forty-seven minutes. I’ll have more details for you in a few hours. When we dock at the UMG Depot for refueling, will you be able to send two Marines down to the surface without being detected?”
“Yes, Agent Dawson, no one will ever know we’re there. Corporal Hawkings, Corporal Day,” she called. “You will be the advance team. Once we have data-fusion on the op and are docked at the Fleet depot, you will proceed to scout the scene of the Board meeting and neutralize any threats. Deadly force is authorized only if all else fails. Maintain complete stealth. Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the two echoed.
“Agent Dawson, don’t worry. UMG instrumentation isn’t good enough at present to detect our suits when they are totally stealthed.”
“Good,” Dawson said. “Then I’ll be in contact in a few hours with more details.” Madison nodded and Dawson left the EVA shed and headed back for his quarters. Hopefully the Express would come back in range shortly, and he’d have his inside sources again. Surely Terra must know that Stoneman would be after her. But he’d just have to wait and see what they were up to.