Toman had always tried to convince his compatriots that these effects made him look wise and respected. They always responded that he just looked haggard.
“I have two children, Kaethan and Serina,” Toman admitted. “Is it that obvious?”
“In some things. Your concern for that little girl was certainly an indication, but it was more your manners that was the giveaway.”
“My manners,” Toman repeated, wanting to understand. “My aversion to foul language, you mean?”
“No. No. It was the manner in which you scolded me in front of the little girl. Your tone of voice and method. I do, however, believe that the use of foul language, as you call it, is healthy and can make your rhetoric much more effective.” Dahlia punctuated her sentence by poking the air with her finger.
“My old commander would certainly agree with you.”
“Meaning that you don’t?”
Colonel Ishida hesitated before continuing this conversation. The last thing that he wanted to do right now was to enter into a debate about the usefulness of swear words.
“It’s been a long time . . . since I thought a problem could be improved by cursing at it. I now wonder if ever there was.”
Ishida was pleasantly surprised as Dahlia didn’t bother replying to his disagreement, seeming more intent on navigating her wide girth down the aisle. Toman followed, carrying her heavy suitcase as carefully as possible. Even at his age, Ishida was still almost as strong as he ever was. Toman maintained a strict workout schedule to maintain his physique. Fifty push-ups and stomach crunches every night before he went to bed, along with a variety of other simple exercises. His only failing had been giving up his long distance running, for which he had many excuses in the injuries that his body had endured over the years.
As the colonel exited the door and walked onto the downward ramp, he took a moment to step aside and appreciate the tangerine sunrise that was climbing above the line of massive hangars to the east. The starport’s huge expanse of steel and polymer reinforced concrete was wet with a recent rain shower, reflecting the sky in many puddles. Dark clouds to the south and west looked threatening.
“Just my luck it would be raining today,” Dahlia lamented as she pondered down the steps.
“This time of year it rains every day down here,” Ishida told her.
Whatever weather that was threatening from the north could not be seen, however, since the awesome mass of the shuttle towered over them like an old-time zeppelin, squat and flat on its bottom and rear. It stretched almost three hundred meters from fore to aft, and rose over fifty meters above the pavement. The four fusion jets positioned at its corners wouldn’t be able to budge the giant transport if it weren’t for the powerful counter-grav reactors that reduced their load. Their passenger compartment was only a small attachment on its underside, near its front. It looked as if it was only added as an afterthought, conveniently placed next to one of the shuttle’s huge landing shocks, whose side their ramp was built into.
A brightly colored bus was waiting at the base of the ramp. Painted on its side, in large letters, were the words WELCOME TO STARVEIL. Large men were taking people’s luggage and helping the arrivals onboard.
“You’ve been to Delas before?” Dahlia guessed.
“My son and daughter live here.”
“Your wife?”
“Widow.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. How very sad. It doesn’t seem right that a soldier would lose his wife and not the other way around.”
Toman didn’t quite know how to respond to that statement, so instead he remained quiet. He had the strange impression that he should apologize for some reason, but he couldn’t figure out why.
As they reached the pavement, he looked down towards the rear end of the cargo shuttle where its massive cargo ramp was still descending slowly, preparing to offload. The 50,000 ton shuttle would be transferring cargo between Delas’ three starports and her mothership well into the next day before the Argonne Isabelle departed back to Angelrath. Ten or eleven days later another freighter would be arriving. Delas was a quickly growing colony, and its needs were many.
“Are you visiting your children?” Dahlia asked him.
“That, and other things.”
Dahlia’s luggage was taken from him then and stashed into the bus’s undercarriage.
“I’m sorry I have to leave you now, Dahlia.” Toman bowed to her slightly. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“You’re not coming on the bus?”
“No. I have traveling companions to attend to. A car will be coming for me later.”
The cargo ramp finally hit the pavement with a resounding thunk, despite the slow speed it was descending.
“Traveling companions?”
“They were too big to fit in the passenger compartment.”
The sudden thunderous clanging of metal on metal made all heads turn as a monstrous form emerged from the rear of the cargo shuttle. The dark shape rose thirty meters from the base of its enormous treads, to the top of its massive main turret, barely fitting inside the cargo hold. Plates of dull black armor gave it an ominous air that matched the thunderclouds that flashed lightning kilometers away behind it. Its main cannon extended out well past the forward glacis of the juggernaut, always remaining perfectly level with the ground as the machine descended the ramp. The landing shocks on the cargo shuttle groaned and shrieked, and the ground beneath them shook violently as the war machine finally rolled out onto the pavement. Even after it had cleared the shuttle and stopped, a noticeable vibration remained, as if the tarmac was straining with all its might to support the monster that had just set foot upon it.
Bristling with secondary turrets and weapon ports, the war machine looked to be a battleship on tracks, though no one could mistake it for being seaworthy. It was a dreadnought whose design had been condensed to its most lethal form. Losing its displacement and elegance, it gained terrible focus in all things that its enemies feared most: firepower, maneuverability, and speed. No christened name could be seen inscribed on its bow, but upon the rear portion of its side hull, the designation “DBC-0039DN” was emblazoned in tall, silver letters.
“A Bolo,” Dahlia said in awe. “You are with the Dinochrome Brigade?”
“Very good. Your son would be proud of you.”
Dahlia actually blushed at that.
“You have another one?” Dahlia then asked Toman, smiling.
“We require two trips.”
“Ah,” she said. Then she leaned forward as if to whisper something. Toman complied by leaning forward also. “Should I be worried about anything?”
“Not any more.” Toman said with a smile, backing away again.
Dahlia laughed lightly, though she still looked concerned. A moment later she extended her hand.
“Thank you for your help, Toman. I’ll try to watch my language while I’m here.”
Toman took her hand and held it tightly for a moment, then released it.
“Maybe you’ll find some other way of being effective.”
“We’ll see. Good-bye, Toman.”
“Good-bye, Dahlia.”
The colonel stood waiting for a couple minutes still, until he confirmed that Dahlia had found a seat and was settled in. With a short wave he then turned away and headed for the Bolo that waited patiently for him, next to the ramp. A pack of tractors that had been waiting for the Bolo to clear the ramp now were invading the cargo hold to ferry its remaining contents to several flatbed trucks nearby.
After he had escaped earshot from the passengers, Ishida removed his fieldcomm from his belt and activated it. It was already set at Brigade battle channels.
“How are you doing, Chains?” He called.
“Fully operational, Commander,” replied a baritone voice from his earphone.
“How ’bout you, Quarter?”
“Waiting the return of the shuttle, Commander,” replied a charming voice with a distinct British accent.
“That might be a couple hours, Quarter. Hold tight. Until then, though, I want both of you to probe every wavelength and log every emitter that you can around this planet. Find out what their defenses are like, and where they’ve broken down.”
“This may cause alarms to be triggered,” said Chains.
“Good,” replied Toman cheerfully. “I hope that it does. As always, route all complaints to me.”
“Yes, Commander. Shall we remain at Low Alert Status?”
“For now. No point in distracting you if their security array is operating correctly. Oh, by the way, keep tied into its frequency. I want you two watching things.”
“We will, Commander,” Chains replied. “The Starveil tower is requesting that I proceed to their military hangar area. Do you wish to enter first?”
“Yeah, open up. I need to log a report and make some calls.”
“Opening hatch. Will Kaethan be visiting us, again? I would look forward to seeing how your son has grown.”
Memories of Kaethan’s visit to the 39th Lancers temporary headquarters on Point Hermes flooded him with conflicting emotions. It had been twelve years ago, when Kaethan was fourteen, just after his mother had died. His sister Serina had just become eighteen and she wasn’t sure that she could take care of him. It was a difficult time, and Toman decided not to reflect on it at all.