0300 Book 3 - 4. Chapter 4: Team Australia

Chapter 4: Team Australia

2009-02-07

It was too soon to bring the entire intelligence community together on the Charleston, so the update on the first Encyclopedia Rift, as people had begun calling it, was held by videoconference.

The principal briefer was a Lieutenant Commander who had managed to find a place as liaison between the Pan Asian and the Mujahedeen Teams. “We have conducted an initial examination of Australia and Africa and can interpret what we saw based on what we’ve learned of the Mujahedeen and the Pan-Asians.

“The Australians appear to be part of the Pan-Asian sphere of influence, but have some autonomy, apparently because they are important trade partners, especially for coal, and because the Pan-Asians don’t have the military forces to subjugate them. Also, we think, because the Australians are—feisty is the best word we’ve come up with.

“Africa, other than Egypt and the southern reaches of the Nile, which appear to be Mujahedeen territory, has devolved to a hunter-gatherer economy, with internecine warfare using a few antique rifles, as well as spears, blow-guns, and similar weapon.”

The briefing was short, but its impact was greater than I expected.

Every boy who attended Fleet School, Sydney, plus members of the staff—including me the year I was Commandant—as well as the crews of Fleet ships who visited Australia, were inducted into the Ancient and Royal Order of Kangaroos, and made “honorary” Aussies. The way Fleet rotated students, staff, and ships’ crews, this “secret” society included just about everyone currently on active duty, which meant nearly everyone in the task force. The report that the Australians on the Reverends’ world were feisty swept through the task force and sparked a rumor that we would be looking for allies there.

(I should point out that in our world, the role of the British Royal Family as heads of state, including the Commonwealth of which Australia was a member, had been eclipsed for a while by the role of the Prime Minister as head of government. That had changed in the mid-20^th century and the Royal Family was quite supportive of this program, and had lent their imprimatur to it. Queen Elizabeth was honorary Colonel-in-Chief, and the various seals on the certificate we each received included the coat of arms of the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.)

“What do you think, Kangaroo Daddy?” Danny said, and then giggled. He and I were cuddled together in a cool room under a warm comforter after some very heated sex. We had sat through the briefing about Australia and several hours of simulated fleet war games, and needed to unwind.

“I think I love you, Kangaroo Kid,” I said. I knew better than to say Joey, the Australian moniker for a young kangaroo. That was the nickname of Danny’s little friend at Cardiff, the one who had brought Danny the news that his other friend, Roo, had died. I did not want to waken those memories.

“I mean what everyone’s saying—that you’re going to send recruiting teams to F-U Australia!” Danny said.

I wasn’t ready to deal with this, so I shushed him with a kiss, which turned into serious cuddles, which turned into more heated sex.

It took less than a day for me to assemble the next meeting of the GWGs. Out of deference to my mess stewards, I held the meeting a couple of hours after lunch. It didn’t matter. George’s first question was were they going to get pizza.

“Maybe for supper,” I said. “First, however, I have an important announcement. We have finally developed our own technology for Faster Than Light communications.”

Eyes opened wide, and then narrowed when they saw the expression on my face.

“The rumor that we would be recruiting allies from F-U Australia spread throughout the task force faster than a Cherenkov radiation wave-front, heretofore the only thing known to travel faster than light in our Universe.

“And that’s given me a bit of a dilemma. I want neither to deny it nor encourage it. What do you think I should do?”

This wasn’t the first time I’d given these people a challenge that I felt was beyond my capabilities.

The team tossed around the idea, and came to a consensus. Cam presented it.

“We need to set up a Team Australia, to find out more about that nation and its people.

“In our universe, Australia was settled by British adventurers, people displaced by some of the climate anomalies of the 19^th century, and Irish fleeing from the potato famine.

“It’s likely, but not certain, that the history of F-U Australia is more similar to Corey’s world, in which many Australians are descended from transportees—undesirables and criminals from Britain.

“Either way, they’re probably going to be feisty.” Cam giggled. “We need to know more. At some point, we will need to put someone on the ground. But we’re a long way from that.”

I nodded. “Good work, guys. Thank you. Cadet Ainsley, you’re Chief of Team Australia. You will also meet with the Flag Intel Team. Keep in touch with the Chiefs of Team Pan Asia and Team Mujahedeen, and that Lieutenant Commander who is liaison between Pan Asia and Mujahedeen. He’s stationed on Kyoto, so you’ll need to be able to shuttle to see him. Talk to Kevin or Casey about that. Contact the Fleet Mainframe—one of the guys will show you how—and get help putting together your team. You may have anyone in the Task Force except those with existing assignments on Intel or Ops teams. If you really need one of those, speak to his Team Chief. If the two of you can’t resolve a conflict, come to me. I don’t expect that to happen often, however.”

Noah Ainslie looked dazed, so I gestured for him to remain behind after the meeting was over.

“Cadet Ainslie? I need to raise my blood sugar a little bit after that meeting. Will you join me in the Flag Mess for coffee and a donut? Maybe you’d prefer chocolate?”

“No sir, coffee’s fine. My pa taught me to drink it early on, before he started forgetting about me.”

I caught the sidebands of that thought. Like most of the metas, Noah had memories of his very early childhood, and of bonding with his parents. Like most of the metas, about the time he was six years old, his parents started ignoring him, ultimately forgetting that he existed except when he was present.

After we were served, I asked, “Noah? You’ve been with us for only two days, and I’ve not had a chance to talk to you before this. The metas and the Charleston would overwhelm most people. You seem to be okay with that, though.”

“Yes, sir, but George and the others have made it a lot easier. It feels good to know that there are people who won’t forget me as soon as I leave the room.”

“Would you tell me where they found you?” I asked.

Noah giggled. “Oh, yes, sir. You see, Charleston’s not the first battleship I’ve been on.

“Eight years ago, my family traveled to Sidney. That’s where we had to go for any real shopping. The Enterprise was visiting, and they allowed the public to board her and look around. I sneaked away . . . I knew my parents wouldn’t care, that they wouldn’t miss me . . . and stowed away.

“No one on the Enterprise seemed surprised when they saw me. I found the Junior Mess, where there were people my age. One kid—Kenny—was rooming alone, and didn’t seem to mind if I slept in the top bunk. I went to classes with him, and stood watch with him. Nobody paid much attention to me, but at least I was learning something besides sheep-herding.

“We were in Bangladesh to rescue some people from coastal flooding when I got caught.

“I was in line for lunch in the Junior Mess when a couple of Ensigns cornered me. I knew something was wrong, ’cause they weren’t any older than I was. It was George and George . . . your George and George Fairburn, I mean. I thought they were teasing me, and got really angry before I felt . . .

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I promise,” I said.

“I felt like I was wrapped in a warm blanket. You see, our home was a sheep station, and the only heat was the kitchen stove. It got right cold at night in the wintertime, and we were nearly smothered in blankets and quilts at night. George and George made me feel like I was covered in blankets, and safe, if that makes sense.”

“It makes a great deal of sense,” I said.

“Anyway, they brought me here, and that was two days ago, and now I’m a Geek—even though I don’t have a gun. George . . . your George . . . says I’ll get one—and you made me head of Team Australia and I’m kinda scared, sir.”

“Noah, I shouldn’t have blind-sided you.”

“Gob-smacked me, sir,” he said.

I laughed, and Noah relaxed. Then I frowned, and he tensed, again.

“Relax, please,” I said. “I’ve got a long history of making mistakes. I have made another one. Probably more than one. I should have talked to you, first. I should have welcomed you to the GWGs the minute you arrived. I—”

Noah giggled. I was so astonished, I couldn’t speak. I felt—I think I felt Noah’s warm blanket. Before I could act, he had left his chair and was sitting in my lap, arms around my neck.

“No, sir!” he said. “George—your George—told me that you’d talk to me as soon as you had a chance.” He put his head on my shoulder and tightened his arms.

I returned the hug. “Did he also tell you to do this?” I asked.

“Um, hmm,” he murmured into my shoulder. “But he said it would take a while before we could be boyfriends.”

Scamp! I thought, and heard George’s giggle in reply.

I juggled the duty roster so that George was off duty that night. He knew I’d done it, but had mixed emotions about coming to bed with me.

I sent him the warm blanket feeling I’d learned from Noah, and George relaxed.

“George, you did good,” I said. “Noah is quite a kid, and he’s going to be a big help. But, there are more than 30 metas, some of them we’ve known a lot longer than Noah. Why are you so anxious that he and I get close.” I couldn’t say boyfriends. Don’t know why, just couldn’t.

George got serious, suddenly. He stood straight, almost at attention. He lost the smile that had come when I sent him the warm blanket. He looked straight into my eyes.

“ ’Cause you look a lot like his daddy,” George said. “He doesn’t remember, yet, ’cause it’s been a long time, but he will, and when he does, he’s going to feel really bad unless you’re ready to hold him and give him daddy cuddles.

“Uh, you don’t have to do boyfriend stuff, though, and maybe you shouldn’t at first . . . he’s maybe not ready for that.”

I was gob-smacked. But only for a second. I reached for George and pulled him into a tight hug. “George, my son, I am so proud of you! Are you sure you’re just fourteen?”

George’s answer was smothered a little bit because I’d pressed his head into my shoulder.

“Daddy! I’m a meta. I’m real smart.

“Besides, I’ve got the best teacher in the whole universe!”

2009-02-11 USF Charleston and Task Force Rift:
Intel Team Briefing

Somehow, Admiral Davis had pierced the veil. He knew who I was, and he flew himself (and a contingent of Marines) to the Charleston to confront me. The visit was both interesting and productive, especially after he asked to meet with all the boys. He threw out a couple of problems, like what should we do about the Reverends, and let the boys run with them.

After the meeting, Danny and George escorted Admiral Davis to the flight deck. They reported that he had hugged them before he entered the shuttle. I knew he was a good guy. Still, he’d left me with another problem: What would happen when people found out there was a kid who looked like he was eighteen years old, who was a commodore, and was commanding half the Home Fleet? And what would people think when they found out that the Flag Team were even younger . . . some as young as eight? I decided to test the second question on the members of the task force.

The next briefing had enough general information to be carried by video link to all the ships in Task Force Rift. It was time to get the men of the task force accustomed to youngsters from their own ranks holding responsible positions. They had all seen enough of “Artie’s Army” to know that this war was one that involved children.

It was to be Marty’s debut as briefer for the Flag Intel Team.

Marty stood at the front of the auditorium, and pushed the button to lower the lectern to kid-height. The resulting buzz of conversation stopped when he pushed another button to put up a map of the North American continent. It was overlaid with symbols for rail lines. Parallel to the rail lines, were symbols in red for wire. There were other wire lines in three other colors and more in black.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I am Ensign Marty MacLauchlan, Chief of Sigint and Elint on the Flag Intel Team.” He paused for the whispers to die. “You know that the U-Cal Army in Exile includes children as young as twelve. For years, you have worked with Fleet Cadets as young as six. For the record, I am twelve and received my initial training at Fleet School Australia.

“This map is not complete,” Marty said. “We’re still working on it, but we wanted you all to know what we had so far.

“We have confirmed that the Reverends are using telegraphy—simple, old-fashioned Morse code. What we didn’t realize until recently was that there are at least four separate telegraph systems: one used by the Reverends—that’s red—one by a group who call one another “Sheriff”—that’s blue—one by the Army that’s in green, and one in yellow by a group we’ve not yet identified. We haven’t been able to assign ownership of the ones in black, but we’re working on that. The biggest concern is that the signals of the fourth group—yellow—are encrypted—and we haven’t been able to break the code.”

I knew better than to ask if they had ideas or speculations about who the fourth group was, but Cam anticipated the question and stepped to the second lectern.

“We’re trying to identify the fourth group, someone other than the groups we know of and who might want to keep themselves or their activities secret from the others. We’ve talked to Art—to Colonel Stewart and some of his soldiers,” Cam said. “None of them had any memories that helped. We need more.”

Cam had reminded us of something we all knew but were reluctant to talk about. We need humint. And the only way to do that is to send one of the U-Cal boys back.

My stomach turned cold. I could not countenance sending Artie back to his world, nor could I think of sending one of his boys back. The risk was too great—not just to them, but to us. If one of the original U-Cal boys were captured and interrogated, the enemy would learn too much about us.

Marty continued the briefing. “What we thought to be labor camps are exactly that, and are operated by Sheriffs.

“Some of Colonel Stewart’s boys had heard of ‘Sheriffs’ Ranches, and there was a tradition in our world of such facilities for both orphans and juveniles charged with petit crimes,” Marty concluded.

Marty looked at Cam who added, “We do not think these camps are operated for the welfare of the boys we see working there. They live in barracks; they eat in mess halls; they work the fields. The crops are cotton, wheat, and beans for the most part.”

Kevin had taken Marty’s place, and picked up the briefing. “We’re learning more about the extent of the Reverends’ territory. In addition to the North American continent, it appears to include most of Europe east of the Urals.”

That was a surprise to everyone: neither Artie nor any of his boys had known this. To this point, everyone had assumed that Europe was autonomous.

“We have learned that the Scudder’s televisor messages are recorded and sent to Europe, probably by ship, where they are broadcast, about three weeks after the original messages. The central site for the microwave signal in Europe is Paris. Not surprisingly, the central transmitter is the Eifel Tower.

“We’ve also confirmed that the central signal in the North American continent comes from Lynchburg.”

There were a few questions either from the men in the auditorium, or from others in the Task Force. None, however, about the age of the briefers. I wasn’t sure that was because my people were being circumspect, or were still in shock.

After the briefing, the kids on the team assembled in the Flag Conference Room where I was waiting. Each one got a hug as he came in.

“Good work,” I said. “I saw the memo about extending intercepts to the microwave network, and understand that it was a coordinated effort among the entire team that selected the best places for the hardware to be installed.”

Then, I surprised Marty when I added, “I understand you have a plan to be able to interrupt the broadcast?”

Marty looked at Kevin who looked at Casey who looked at George.

“Okay, okay!” George said. “Put me on the spot!” We knew he was kidding when he grinned, fiddled with his iPad, and put a diagram on the screen.

“We’ve installed remote activators in breakers at some of the microwave towers,” George said. “We can trip the breakers, and interrupt the signal. If the cover plates are removed, they’ll self-destruct. We can also destroy them remotely. We tested some—it will look like a simple electrical short.”

I knew there was more. George didn’t disappoint me.

“If we need to, we can break the microwave connection between Lynchburg and the outlying towns and villages, and between Paris and the rest of Europe. The local broadcasts would become a blank carrier wave on which we could heterodyne our signal.

“We talked with Fleet Comm-Electronics-Nanotech about building some receivers that we could install on selected microwave towers to inject our own message. The consensus was that the size and power requirements to inject into the Reverends’ antiquated system would be prohibitive, but that we could do the same thing from two satellites in synchronous orbit. We can cut their signal, and broadcast our own programming directly to the televisors.

“Um, the satellites are already in place,” George concluded. He looked at me, and raised his eyebrows, something I think he’d learned from me.

“Don’t know what to say, except good work,” I said. “And, let’s have a plan before we actually do any intercepts, okay?”

Captain Moultrie was waiting in my Ready Room.

“Thank you for giving me a heads up on the briefers,” he said, and then chuckled. “I think I understand, now, what Admiral Davis told me about you. You’re no older than they are, are you?”

I dropped the veil before I answered. “I’m the eldest; Kevin’s next. Danny and George are six years younger than I am.

“Captain, you have the right to answer this question frankly: do you have any problem with my age? Any problem whatsoever?”

“Sir, after Admiral Davis sort-of asked me to keep an eye on you, I looked at your service record—the part that I was allowed to see. I was impressed, then, and continue to be impressed by what you’ve done in the past few weeks.

“I have no problem serving under you and I would be happy to make that clear to anyone—anyone—who would question your authority or capabilities.

“I do have one question, though.

“You’ve recruited my son, Andy and his boyfriend Daffyd. Are they like you?”

“Yes, Captain.” I explained a little about the metas. “Andy and Daffyd are both meta-human; they’re also telepathic. Like all my boys, they know better than to read someone’s mind without permission.”

Captain Moultrie smiled at that. “And since they’ve never asked me, I can be sure my thoughts are still my own?”

“Exactly that, Captain.”