Starfist: Wings of Hell by David Sherman & Dan Cragg Read Free Book Online Page A

senior Confederation military representative here. Old ‘Blankie,’ as I call him, has been here so long we think he’ll take out citizenship.” He chuckled. “And then, of course, he’ll arrange for you to go down the chain of command to, er, to whomever it is you’re delivering your message at Camp Ellis. That’s right outside the town of Bronnoysund. Delightful little place.”
    “To Thirty-fourth Fleet Initial Strike Team, actually. I believe Brigadier Theodosius Sturgeon still commands? His Marines assisted my government some years ago, J.B. We are eternally grateful to them for their help at that time. The current Chairman of our Ruling Council, Miss Hway Kuetgens, has commissioned me to deliver a message to them. She was a young woman when the Marines were on our world. Upon her grandmother’s death she succeeded to the head of the state of Morgenluft and now she is the Chairman of our Ruling Council.”
    “I do know something of your world’s recent history. The Marines broke the power of the oligarchs, didn’t they, and essentially established a democracy in its stead, if memory serves. The chairman is now elected by all the people in the different states that compose your government instead of being appointed from among the oligarchs, who are also elected to their terms. Right?”
    “Yes, oligarchs to a six-year term, the chairman to eight years. Miss Kuetgens has two years left on her term of office. Before she retires—she can’t be reelected—she wants this private message delivered. Will you make the arrangements for me to meet with that admiral, J.B.?”
    “Of course! And Sonia, when your mission is over, perhaps you would like to participate in some of our wonderful winter sport activities. We have beautiful lodges in the mountains. It would be a shame for you to have come all this way and not to experience some of our hospitality.”
    “Why, thank you, J.B., I may take you up on that very kind offer.” And she smiled again, implying that she probably would.

    Christian Mirelles, the first secretary to the Confederation ambassador to Thorsfinni’s World, was a gracious gentleman of the old school who greeted Sonia with the utmost cordiality before sending her, reluctantly, on her way.
    But Rear Admiral Blankenboort was a different person entirely. If he had as many credits in the bank as he did barnacles on his reputation he’d be a millionaire. “A freaking ‘special envoy,’ Billy,” he remarked to Captain Billy Reems, his executive officer. “Why in the freaking freak is she coming freaking down here ?” He slapped the printout of the message from the Confederation ambassador in New Oslo that Reems had just passed to him. Although marked “Eyes Only,” as depot exec, Reems had already read it.
    “The ambassador didn’t say, sir, but note he ‘requests’ you extend to her the ‘utmost courtesy and assistance in the rapid dispatch of her mission,’ whatever that mission might be.”
    “Damn!” The admiral put a hand wearily to his forehead. “With all the freaking problems I’ve got running this freaking dump, what the frigging else do we need besides a surprise visit from some frigging diplomatic skirt? Fuck.” He shifted an unlit Clinton from the right to the left side of his mouth. He frowned, removed the cigar, and with a stubby forefinger fished from inside his cheek a wad of masticated tobacco, which he flicked onto the floor. He wiped his finger on his trousers. “All right, we’ll meet her at the port, bring her here, take her to the mess for drinks, coffee, whatever, and send her on her frigging way as freaking soon as we freaking can. And,” he said, waggling his freshly moistened finger at his XO, “I’m going to find out what the skirt wants with us, Billy, ’cause ol’ Blankie Blankenboort never draws a blank.”
    Actually, Admiral Blankenboort enjoyed the various nicknames his men had invented for him over the years, among them “Barnacle