67731

“HOW LONG WILL Joe have to remain in the bacterium?” Reynard asks.

“Calthos physiology is unknown to me. The healing solution wasn’t designed for his anatomy. It will heal him, but in three times the amount of an Osirian,” JC says.

“As long as it heals him.”

JC places her gloved hand on Reynard’s shoulder. “You need to let me check you. Brief vacuum exposure causes epidemic damage.”

“It wasn’t the instant flash freezing I expected.”

“Another of your Osirian entertainment vids not understanding how space works.”

“We had limited understanding of our own environment. Amye and Michelle?”

“I have Amye sedated. She collapsed on the bridge after she fired at Ki-Ton. She has some strange brain fluctuations. Every time I scan, there is…something, then instantly normal. The princess might need a surgeon if the bacterium doesn’t restore her nose.”

“Why go after Michelle again?” Reynard ponders.

“Ki-Ton stated he wants to destroy your reputation before he terminated you.”

“I don’t have a reputation except to allow those under my command to be needlessly killed.”

“Those two cadets did not die—”

“I wasn’t seeking to be coddled. When the Sandmen dipped into my mind, they attempted to force what guilt I felt to consume me. They failed.”

“The Sisterhood has exercises to teach the mind to deflect telepathic thought. I’ll show you.”

“The Sandmen aren’t telepathic. They enter the mind. They live in the memories.”

“To what purpose?”

“We figure it out and we’d be on the path to defeat them.” Reynard asks JC one of the questions bothering him since the crash, “Ki-Ton’s people knew about them. How did you open the storage container?”

“The vision flashed before I entered the vault.”

“You said if you went inside you’d die.”

JC checks the life reading of the sleeping princess. “I said by going inside I would perpetuate events leading to my death.”

“So does getting out of bed. What good’s a clairvoyant vision if it doesn’t reveal useful information?”

“I have no explanation.” She pockets her scanner. “You need to meet with our new cadet. She’s in a hurry to test her fighter.”

“I kind of glazed over our latest addition.”

“She designed some fighter. You’ll have to get the details from Australia. She spent most of our layover speaking with Maxtin.”

“No doubt clearing up the mess we created.”

“The Admiral doesn’t blame us. He desires our assistance, now more than ever.”

“He puts a lot of faith into such an unprofitable group.”

“Maxtin’s black box projects,” JC offers. “Doesn’t the Calthos teach to use knowledge to your advantage? Disinformation about us being undependable only causes our enemies to underestimate us.”

“You make good arguments. I see why so many value an advisory telepath.”

“I’m glad you respect my advice, because you haven’t dealt with Amye,” JC reminds him.

“You want me to kick her off the Dragon, too?”

“You already feel responsible for her since you rescued her, and she’s talented.” JC loads a syringe gun. “You need to speak to her when I wake her up. She should have never taken Michelle to Taygete III.”

“I’ll do my captainly duty.”

“You want me to stay?” JC says.

“Disciplinary issues are a confidential matter.” Sometimes I do try and be the captain.

She hands the syringe to Reynard. “Press it into her neck. She’ll be awake in a minute.”

Reynard waits for JC to exit before rousing Amye. “Are you okay?”

“My head.” Amye bolts up. “Where’s Michelle?”

Reynard places the empty syringe on the counter. “I got her back. Ki-Ton’s space dust. Thanks to you.”

“Michelle needs protecting.”

“Damn it, Amye, why in the smerth’n hell did you take her off the Dragon?”

Amye chews her bottom lip. “Is that what she said?”

“She’s out cold. JC wants the nose healed before she wakes her.”

“Michelle just needed some time off the ship. We keep her cooped up, and she might try and escape,” Amye lies. Her head swims. She was blacked out in the bar. On the bridge. Another blackout.

“Next time, you consult with me.”

“I’ve been training. I felt a connection. I’m sorry, William.”

“As long as I’m pissed at you. The drinking and you assaulted Doug—physically. Not your emotional barbs. I could care less about those, but we need to be a team. You put me in a spot where Michelle’s life was in unnecessary danger.”

“William, I think I need help. I’m so confused about my sister,” Amye admits.

“You should have visited the doctor while we were in UCP space instead of gallivanting with Michelle.”

“I make no excuse. I’m a screwup. I’ve been so ever since I was fourteen.”

“The woman I know isn’t a screwup. You’re a valued member of this crew, and I’m proud of you. I want you working by my side,” Reynard says.

She hugs him.

••••••

“HOW PARANOID DO you have to be not to let any outside technicians repair your ship?” Chelsie asks.

“Paranoia involves a deeper understanding of what’s going on.” Reynard strolls onto his bridge. He detects the remaining hint of fresh paint and carpet shampoo.

Chelsie snaps to attention.

“Relax and drop the formality on this ship,” Reynard says.

“Sir?”

“I need to record a speech every time we get a shiny cadet on this ship.”

“Respect of command is drilled until it reaches natural instinct,” Australia explains.

“We don’t stand on ceremony, Cadet.”

“Even Lance units have a chain of command,” Chelsie points out.

“Then I order you to relax.” Reynard slides into his chair. He inspects the status readouts. “Merden V?”

“It’s a system at the edge of Tri-Star Federation space and in the area we have determined the Throgen Empire now claims. No known tactical or strategic value. Surface consists of salinized water.”

The comm chirps, “Scott to bridge.”

Reynard accepts the transmission. “What’s wrong, Chief?”

“You should report to the cargo bay. If convenient, bring your first officer.”

Why did Scott refer to Australia as First Officer?

Upon glancing at her he notes Australia wonders the same thing.

“He is not fond of the cadet’s designs,” she attempts to answer the unspoken question.

“Scott’s never one for forgoing his thoughts.”

Australia follows Reynard down the corridor.

“Before their planet was devastated by Mokarran, Hardarens had little interaction with off-worlders. They have an innate passion. As a people they have focused their appetite on revenge. He may simply be deflecting her attention from the task we must pursue.”

“Dealing with the Sandmen and locating more of the Hex Darmight.” Reynard brushes his fingers over the dangling feather of the dream catcher as he passes his quarters.

“Since your return, Samantha remains scared. I am researching the history of Sandmen through myth, but if the feline is to be our guide I need direction on the next fragment’s location,” Australia reports.

They step into the lift.

“I would be neglectful in my duties if I did not mention the other pressing issue. You placed Princess Aurora in a near-death situation.”

“Had Ki-Ton escaped, she would be dead. There were only three choices in the matter: let Ki-Ton escape and she would die, try and stop him—fail and she would die, attempt to stop him and succeed and she lives. I don’t know why people get so upset. I succeeded, and she’s alive. All that matters.”

“One day your impulsiveness, Commander, is going to get us all killed.”

“At least we will all die trying to succeed instead of dying passively,” he says.

Australia lacks a response.

Reynard catches his remark, not intending it as a personal barb.

“I’m sorry—I forgot. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

“It was my people’s devotion to passiveness which allowed them to be conquered and decimated by the Tibbar,” she says.

“One day, under the protection of the UCP, your people will be able to return to their way of life.”

“It is a nice thought, but in the past few years I have crossed the known galaxy and have never run into another of my species. I fear the rumor that the Tibbar eat their slaves once they have lost their usefulness is true.”

“I wish I knew what to say to ease your pain. My home world’s only lost to me by time. Nothing I do will ever return yours to the way you remember it, but as soon as we find any of your species, we’ll return them to the safety of the UCP Riftgate. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Commander Reynard. I know you are a man of your word. You gave it to Princess Michelle, and you were willing to die to keep it.”

••••••

THE LIFT DOORS open. The Blackweb Hypershuttle and the fighter designed by Senior Cadet Denis now rest in the cargo hold.

“Commander Reynard, I wish to lodge a formal complaint against Lieutenant Beers.”

Reynard hates to ask in front of Australia. I knew one day he’d push too hard on a woman who was immune to his charms. Maybe he should stay with girls who have toes instead of hooves. “Protest away.”

“He is attempting to destroy my fighter. He demands modifications which will hamper maneuverability and thrust.”

Reynard understands the formal request for the first officer. Her complaint could reach his permanent file since they are both in the UCP. “Scott is more than just a weapons designer. He’s been in combat. His expertise should be welcome.” That sounds captainly.

“I was left uninhibited with my designs at the Academy,” Chelsie reports.

“If they allowed you to build the craft, your blueprints are sound, but most of the approving engineers haven’t seen combat either. Your extra thrust does nothing if you don’t properly shield your intake manifolds.” Scott remains official in his remarks.

“If you want us to field-test this fighter, you’re going to have to defer to Scott’s judgment.”

Chelsie huffs. “I don’t want my fighter design replicated and sold as a Tri-vects original.”

“I’m not here to steal a design. I’m here to make it fly,” Scott says.

“What is our mission?” Reynard should have asked.

“Commander, the significance of this mission tests the cadet’s fighter and reveals why Throgen activity has spiked on a world too far away to house supplies for any Throgen strategic location. Militarily speaking, a waste of resources.”

“We know a microscopic fraction of Throgen tactics.”

“Nothing locally asserts the reason for fighter patrols. Limited landmass prevents a base construction, and the solar system has a wider interstellar gap than most celestial bodies. If I were an Osirian, I would deem the planet as worthless,” says Australia.

“With six orbiting globes without so much as a notable crawfish life-form.”

“Throgen has an interest, so it has hidden value. We are to determine what it is.”

“Maxtin’s not ready to entangle the UCP with the Empire, so why?” Reynard asks.

“My fighter. Combat testing is the next step,” Chelsie says.

“This fighter’s not combat ready. The design is sound, but those nuances I discussed with you about Mecats apply here as well,” Scott hints at Reynard.

“We’re not in a military command structure on this ship, so, Chelsie, I’ll give you a choice. Allow the modifications Scott suggests, or we return you to UCP space untested,” Reynard says.

“There is no choice, then.”

“Throgen ships, if encountered, will engage, and pilots need a fully functioning battle-ready fighter,” Australia adds.

“A pilot with more than a level two rating.” Scott’s release of Chelsie’s rating is a further jab at her lack of experience.

A kindredness overtakes Reynard. Despite his much higher rating, he too has limited time in the combat chair.

“Commander, her design has surface fighting potential, but it won’t outmaneuver a Tri-wing in space combat,” Scott adds.

“You’ve made your point, Scott. The cadet wants to be a command officer, and I placed the ball in her court,” offers Reynard.

“The options you gave me are not acceptable,” Chelsie huffs.

“Welcome to being in command. Every day you have to make choices—many you don’t like, and some lead those under your command to their death.”

Divider_Flat_fmt