Osopa sat stiffly, his stony-faced mask hiding whatever he might have been feeling. He stared at the table before him for long seconds before speaking.
“No doubt your rescue site needs security officers. If the Earthers aren’t convinced they have no choice but to evacuate, there will be resistance, possibly armed. Desperate men are dangerous men. They could represent a dire threat to my clan.”
He looked at Tina. He reached to cover her hand with his. “We’ll all go to Earth. We’re clan, and we’ll stay together.”
Despite the impassive front he put on, Tina intuited the incredible effort it took Osopa to join in their plan. Her heart hurt at the enormity of the sacrifice he and Tukui were making on her behalf.
She bowed her head so they couldn’t see the tears welling. Would they resent her for wrenching them from their lives? Could she make it up to them?
Her voice small, she said, “Thank you.” It sounded so inadequate.
Chapter Sixteen
Weapons Commander Lidon pressed his thumb to the identity scanner, approving the document on his computer. When it beeped, he dipped his head. Osopa’s new orders had gone through. “Congratulations. You’re now site security leader in the same location where your clanmates are stationed. You’ll report directly to the East WDC site commander, Security Head Osopa.”
“Thank you, sir.” Osopa bowed.
“You’ve been an excellent fleet officer. Once this emergency is over, you may return to our service with no loss in rank and possibly your choice of posts. I hope the fleet is so lucky as to win you back.”
“It’s been an honor to be your second, Weapons Commander.” Now dismiss me before I trash your office. An office on board the transport that smelled of Earther, where the lights were too bright, the air too warm, and the chairs too damned small to sit on.
Osopa was sure he behaved no different than he usually would while on duty. He didn’t display his feelings over this unwanted change of career. No matter how temporary the detour might be, it was putting the brakes on his rise through the ranks. He kept that to himself, because it was the right path to take. Tina needed him, and she was his primary duty.
She’s more than my duty. She’s my world. My place is with her and the rest of my clan. His heart was assured on that account. He just wished he could convince his ambitions.
Lidon must have sensed his ambivalence towards his new job. “Keep in mind, young Nobek, that courage is measured by more than how many enemies a warrior defeats. Acts of bravery are to be found every day in every place. Dismissed.”
Osopa puzzled over his soon-to-be-former superior’s words as he took his leave. Was there a hidden message in them? Some scrap of advice? Maybe Lidon sent off everyone who left his charge with the same ambiguous statement, letting them think he’d gifted them with some pearl of mysterious wisdom they had to puzzle out.
Bullshit to ponder. Better that than dwelling on how Osopa had just jettisoned his career.
* * * *
One month later
Tukui checked his holoscreen monitors and nodded with satisfaction. His teams were on schedule, no problems to report. It was especially gratifying that Team Four had convinced the group they’d stumbled across to come in after only a couple hours of negotiation. The situation of the four women caring for thirty children since Armageddon, running low on supplies and food, was desperate. Yet most Earther survivors were stubborn about being helped despite how awful their circumstances had devolved into. Their former government’s propaganda machine had instilled in them a fear of Kalquorians that was hard to overcome.
A month of being in charge of coordinating four rescue and recovery squads to population centers on the outskirts of what had been the eastern portion of Washington, D.C., had taught Tukui plenty about the power of disinformation and indoctrination. He counted himself lucky that Tina had been relatively unaffected when it came to the rampant Earther terror of Kalquorians.
Two of his squads were in the process of investigating Earther sightings in derelict buildings. Another was continuing negotiations with a group they’d been trying to lure to safety for the past few weeks. And now Dramok Ebond’s signal flashed—the women and thirty children had boarded his team’s shuttle and would be within the guarded perimeter of East WDC Site within minutes.
Tukui tapped out the information on his computer so the relevant departments would be ready to swoop in and take care of the site’s new charges as fast as possible. Medical teams would greet them first, taking care of any injuries and illnesses. Caregivers would be right behind them. The children were presumed orphans, their parents never having claimed them from the daycare facility where they’d been left the morning of Armageddon.
The cafeteria would ready hot meals. The hospitality crew would prep quarters. Even Tina and Yorso would play a part, bringing welcome kits of toiletries, plus toys and activity bags to help the children feel better about the confusing circumstances.
With immediate tasks accomplished and a few minutes to relax—as long as no emergencies arose—Tukui took a moment to study his environment.
The rescue coordination center shared its space with the security hub. It was housed in the first floor of a hospital, taking up what had been four full departments. The smell of antiseptic still lingered. Tukui also fancied he could detect the odor of burnt buildings, the prevailing scent outside the hospital. He tried to suppress the notion the site was inundated by the stench of scorched bodies. The dead, all of which had been removed from the immediate site, had mostly been suicides that had occurred in the immediate aftermath of Armageddon. There had been no burn or radiation victims this far from the vast crater that had replaced Washington, D.C.
Renovations to the area where Tukui spent his workdays had resulted in two long computer banks, each manned by two hundred team coordinators. Each coordinator oversaw four rescue and recovery teams. Holoscreen maps hovered over the rows of computers and the men working at them. East WDC was the largest of three rescue sites operating in the sprawling outskirts of what had been the seat of Earth’s government and religious center. The majority of the population had been killed in the explosion, but the Galactic Council of Planet’s united forces estimated hundreds of thousands of people remained in the area.
They had an estimated nine months—a year, if they were lucky—to evacuate the survivors. Containment crews hoped to buy them more time, but nothing was assured. Extra help was on the way from the member planets of the Galactic Council, but it would be an uphill battle. Tukui had no doubt transports would be lifting off Earth up to the last possible second.
Admiral Jes, in command of the Kalquorian branch of the Galactic Council-led rescue, had made his goal clear: “Not a single surviving Earther will be left to die with this planet. I’ll run every man under my command to his last drop of energy to succeed.” He was a tough Dramok, as hard on himself as those under his command. It was said he slept no more than three hours at a stretch.
Tukui peered down the length of the vast room to the security section that made up the other half of the site’s hub. It wasn’t difficult to find Osopa. He was always at the center of whatever latest crisis was going on. His officers swirled around him like frantic orbiting planets, bringing the latest reports, getting the latest orders. From the instant Osopa reported to duty until the door to the clan’s quarters closed behind him at the end of the day, he was swarmed by those he commanded, looking for his guidance in a constantly shifting arena of trouble and threat.