Denver nodded, understandingly. “How can I refuse?”
[You are most gracious,] the Sky Marshal said. [I will remove my intrusive fleet from your system as soon as… Humanly, possible.]
The Sky Marshal began reaching out to cut the transmission.
“One moment,” Denver cut in, at the last second.
The Squlasher stopped. [Yes?]
Denver chewed over the question, but ultimately had to ask it.
“Why? Why help us?”
The orange-tinted Squlasher leaned forward on his war couch, resting a two-tentacled hand on his armored knee. His murky pool eyes glinted like starlight.
[I’ve been asked that before, ‘Ex’-Admiral. And my response remains respectfully the same. Call it a gesture of goodwill between soldiers, whether they be Human, Sktish, active or retired.]
Denver nodded, thoughtfully, and took a deep, clear breath.
“I can live with that.”
The Squlasher leader bowed his head again, then signaled to some crew out of view. [I will remain in contact, Admiral…?]
“Denver.”
The Squlasher bowed once more, tentacled hand curling respectively.
[Sky Marshal Vct’ash Glorran.]
The transmission cut into snowy white static.
Chapter 64
Nearly twelve hours later, and after some well-deserved sleep in the regenerator on Haven Alpha, Nathen felt much better. Though his physical wounds had been mended, it would take more time for his experience on the Orbit Angel to turn into a less painful memory. A lot had happened, and a great deal had been overcome. Nathen was actually a little surprised by this mission. The situation with the traitors had been a hard one for him. He’d dealt with their kind before, but not on a scale such as this. It had been very, very elaborate treachery, but no less deadly.
The arrival of the Sktish armada had been a shock to everyone, most of all the Yew. The survivors of the Human fleet had been amazed enough by the awe-inspiring Man-O-War, which practically dwarfed the starshield beneath its profile. But it had become an absolute shock to find out that the Sktish armada had obliterated the entire Yew reserve fleet, unprovoked, on the edge of the Haitus System, down to the last fighter before hyperspacing in themselves. For a while, no one had any idea of what to say. No one knew whether to point out that the Sktish weren't at war with the Yew or that they weren't under obligation to the Humans. It was Denver who eventually stepped in to handle the pleasantries, congratulating the Squlashers on their well-executed offensive, never once mentioning the fact that they weren't officially allies. And the Squlashers never mentioned it either, simply assisting in every way imaginable, from perimeter patrols to rescue teams and salvage operations. The word 'favor' might as well have not been in the Sktish vocabulary, because it was never uttered with so much as a hint of the expectancy of anything in return. Most of their Grade-B ships wouldn't even accept fuel, stating that would imply a payment for an action, even if unrequested. Most couldn't understand how an alien race could be so openly giving, but Nathen knew.
This, saving the Human system from almost certain destruction, was a gesture of goodwill on behalf of a desperate race.
Nathen sighed and straightened his new ESC jacket. His White Sun disguise, despite its tough material, had taken so many slashes and rips in the last few hours that there was no hope of patching it. But it didn’t matter. He wasn't going to be wearing that for some time.
Nathen waited at the door of his quarters and stretched slightly before opening it up, making sure that his Denchura was fastened securely under his arm. He quickly prepared himself for the secret debriefing being held in the hangar of Haven Alpha, meant only for a select few to attend. Even though Team Alpha had played a very vital role in the defense of the Orbit Angel, and the war movement altogether, not many would know the slightest bit of it. Already, files were being erased, footage altered, records removed. No sign of them, in armor or in disguise, would exist by the time they left. Nathen had told Denver already about the dangers of using his real name under any circumstance. Denver had silently agreed.
It only took Nathen a moment to get from his quarters to the lower levels of the mobile headquarters, through the gear chamber and weapons room, and into the hangar. Nathen knew the debriefing meeting would be small, so he wasn't surprised to see it mainly just consisted of those who lived on board the mobile headquarters. Helen was standing in the center of the hangar, speaking with Trent and Kyler. Both men had almost fully recovered, but their near-death experiences were still taking their tolls. This was the closest an ESC had gotten to dying while in the alien armor, and Nathen had learned from Photo's report that the de-symbiosis had been... unpleasant. Both men wore long-sleeved jackets with upturned collars to hide their blistered, raw skin that clung to them like an infection. They still had the slight impression of the nano skin, indicated just how deeply the symbiosis had rooted itself during the worst of the danger so that its host might live. Still, they were both alive, and the Splinter armorer assured the commander that the Genesis armor would only get stronger.
Doc was standing nearby, hands in the pockets of his sleeveless army jacket, listening to Kyler wisecrack and flinching as Trent slapped his blistered shoulder. Both the medic and Helen had gone through the beginning stages of hearing reconstruction after the nasty encounter with the Banshee. Cray assured them that they would make full recoveries, and that they were lucky they had not suffered brain damage from the croak.
Phillip Norsehill was sitting on the wing of Hybrid One, talking with Red and Nikolai. Phillip had been found nearly unconscious in the core. Once the battle had ended, the technician had just let himself pass out from exhaustion. Fortunately a recovery team had discovered him, and the tech expert had been taken to the med ward and shipped back to Haven Alpha for a nice rest in the regenerator. He awoke several hours ago, much to his own surprise.
There wasn't a scratch to be found on Jonathan Harper. For someone who had been practically snapped in half on Cravac, it was almost a shock to see him untouched after the full scale battle on the Orbit Angel. But then again, Nathen wasn't surprised to see that someone who perfected his art by running through dark, tight corridors knifing men with guns could come out of the battle on top.
By far, Nathen had gotten the longest recovery treatment of the team. Between his bruises, cuts, slashes, lacerations, sprains, burns, bites, and even a few broken bones he hadn't known about, he'd spent half a day on his back just letting Doc and Cray find everything wrong with him. But, with Haven Alpha's medical marvels, he felt back to his old self. Every Alpha was back, practically at full strength. There was only one who didn't seem the same. Calico.
Nathen looked across the hangar toward the young girl. She was looking up and speaking to Gordon Bryor, who was listening with his hands clasped behind him. She looked about the same. Five foot five, blazing red hair, stiff militant stature. But somehow, Nathen knew he wasn't looking at the same girl. She'd changed from that nervous, worrying private he'd met at Port Ive into someone who held her head high and could look people in the eye without flinching. She'd grown.
The hangar door to the hastily repaired docking umbilical clanged open and Nathen saw a familiar face waiting on the other side.
“Superior on deck,” he spoke.
Calico and Gordon both looked up, closest to the door. Calico turned and offered the man a lax salute.
“Hello, Admiral,” she said, recognizing the man who'd recruited her.
“Ex Admiral,” Denver said, striding into the hangar with a nod to Gordon. “Former. Let's not forget the loopholes that allow me to commandeer our prototype Grade-B fleet for a 'test run'.”
Gordon’s face curved into a clever grin. “I'm glad our contingency plan worked, 'Former' Admiral. Without those ships on standby, the Yew would have just had their way with us.”
“They almost did anyway,” the older man said with a grin. He turned to the cluttered hangar. “Alright, let
's get this campfire going.”
The Alphas broke off their conversations and circled in, with the Hybrid pilots right behind them. Once everyone was gathered, Denver looked at them all in turn. After a moment, he took a deep breath.
“This mission was a complete disaster,” he said, sternly.
Nathen crossed his arms across his chest. Denver eyed the commander and went on.
“From the very beginning, everything went wrong. You were tricked by a traitorous faction, led astray while deep in enemy territory, nearly stranded on a planet where you would have suffocated, and tipped the enemy to your whereabouts without even knowing you were being tracked.”
The other Alphas bristled like a pack of growling dogs. Some looked a bit taken aback by Denver's harshness, but the ex-admiral wasn't finished.
“You returned to friendly space under shadow of threat and you put at risk not only the station, but the entire mobilization effort! Then the Yew followed you here with the help of the Rapture Brigade and nearly killed everyone. Our brand new prototype Grade-B fleet was mostly destroyed. Much of the Grade-C fleet here was damaged heavily. Many lives were lost at the hands of Yew invaders as they came in under your watch!”
Denver lifted a hand and waved it at the ESCs. “This was supposed to be your first mission back on duty! The whole future of the war hinged on your actions this past week! And yet everything was a disaster! This mission was long, painful, unnecessarily complicated, bloody, unscripted, and reckless! Your sole mission objective was to ensure the survival of the war effort... and by God, you succeeded.”
Everyone stared at the admiral in confusion. Nathen smiled, cockily. Denver eyed everyone again, then he, too, smiled.
“Well done,” the older man said, unable to hide his approval. “No one else could have possibly pulled this off. You've completely amazed me. We would all be dead right now if not for the people in this hangar right now. Good job, people. Damn good job.”
The room stood tense in confusion for another moment. Then everyone broke into relaxed chuckles and back slaps as congratulations on the admiral's approval passed around. Calico blinked, still looking confused.
“I don't understand,” she said, turning from Nathen to Denver. “If everything was such a disaster... how can this be a success?”
Denver raised an eyebrow at Nathen. “Commander?”
Nathen stepped in and explained. “Trast, there's no such thing as a perfect mission. There's no such thing as a perfect commando. What makes us what we are, is our ability to overcome disaster, in whatever form it takes. To be imperfect, and win anyway. That's why we are Humanity's best. We're not the Elite Stellar Commandos because we always get everything perfect. We're the Elite because we can beat imperfection.”
Calico looked at the floor, a look of realization coming over her. And Nathen knew then, that's what had changed. She'd already figured that out for herself. She just hadn't found the words. Somewhere in the last stretches of that battle, she'd let go of her need for perfection. To be 'good enough'. She really was an Alpha at heart. She'd just needed the trigger. Denver was smirking smugly off to the side, watching Nathen watch Calico. The commander grinned to himself.
You saw this, didn't you? He thought toward Denver. Somewhere in this scared, haunted girl you saw an Elite Stellar Commando. You crafty old man.
Nathen looked over the rest of the team, catching their attention.
“We've all done our race proud today, but I think one of us really deserves some congratulations in particular. Elite Stellar Commandos, Team Alpha Speaker! Calico Trast!”
Calico's posture jolted in surprise as a hearty cheer went up, on her behalf. One by one, the other members stepped forward.
“Who never backed down from a fight,” Helen said, proudly.
“Who nevah got intimidated,” Kyler added.
“Who hit the ground running,” Trent said, smartly.
“Who found family in the elite,” Doc commented, smiling.
“Who stuck to her guts,” Jonathan added, eyes approving.
“Who showed her smarts,” Phillip chuckled.
“And who single-handedly carried our banner the last step when we could not carry on,” Nathen concluded with his own praise, bracing his arms on the shoulders of his teammates, completing the huddle. “And who completes an otherwise incomplete team. Welcome, Calico Trast. The Alpha we've been looking for.”
For several heartbeats Calico couldn't say anything, despite her open mouth. Finally, with strong hands clapped on her shoulders, she reached up embarrassed, fingers toying with her hair.
“Oh geeze, I'm blushing,” she muttered, both elated and abashed. “I don't know what to say, guys.”
“Ya ain't gotta say enythin',” Kyler said, thumping her on the back and nearly knocking her down.
Calico laughed light heartedly and looked up at Nathen. “So, what now?”
Nathen gave her one last smile. “Now, we go to war. Show those fearsome foes our newest Alpha.” He stuck his hand out in a powerful handshake. “What do you say to that... Scout.”
Calico froze upon hearing her old childhood nickname, uttered so many times by her dead brothers. But then a light flickered in her eyes as she realized... here, they weren't really dead at all. She reached her hand out and grabbed her commander's handshake, gripping it hard.
“Game on,” she said, quoting her commander's own words.
Nathen gripped back, then let go and stepped away.
“Alright Alphas,” he said out loud. “That's a wrap. Go get some rest before we head out within the hour! Tomorrow, we’re going to war!”
The team wandered off, jostling their newest member between them. Calico looked back at Nathen, but then she was hustled out of the hangar with the hearty laughter of her comrades. When they had gone off through the weapons room, Red spoke up from the side.
“That was fun to watch,” the pilot said, ruffling his gingered head with a sniff. “Say, how come I never got the fluffy good feelings initiation like that?”
Laughter bubbled out of his three co-pilots, with a chorus of pitying 'oww's and 'aww's. Rathe, Leonard and Nikolai all crowded in, gently petting and babying their friend reassuringly, who smiled and punched them in the ribs for their teasing. Before it could turn into a slugmatch, Gordon waved at them.
“You're all dismissed,” he said, shaking his head. “Off duty until I call you.”
The pilots straightened and saluted their captain, then jogged out of the hangar, taking jabs at each other with fists and words. Then it was just Nathen, Denver, and Gordon left in the empty, equipment-strewn hangar of Haven Alpha. Denver took a deep breath and checked his chrono.
“I should be going,” he said, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe how fast time was moving. “There's a heck of a lot of official paperwork that needs doing. I forgot half of any war is fought behind a desk writing reports.”
“Mmm, yes,” Gordon said, turning his nose up slightly at the thought, scratching at his dark beard. “Thank you for saving me from that personal little Hell.”
Denver smiled, scoffing. Everyone was in a joking mood, it seemed. “I really meant what I said, by the way,” the admiral said, addressing both Nathen and Gordon. “We'd all be dead if it weren't for your efforts. And while I regret it came at the cost of so many lives, honestly, I don't think we could be in a better position.”
Nathen arched an eyebrow, arms crossed. “How so?”
“Well, it’s messy now, but once the situation gets cleaned up, it’s going to make a niiice little picture,” Denver said, smiling. “The Yew lost their foothold in the Menturion System; that alone should take a lot of pressure off us until they get it back. Because they need it now, since they failed here. We've wiped out an entire fleet of Alliance space craft. We weeded out a nasty little surprise with the Rapture Brigade, and dealt with them. But by far, our greatest victory here today was the arrival of the Sktish armada. That, gentlemen, is the ray of sunshine in any sto
rm cloud.”
Gordon nodded, understanding Denver's meaning. “Do you think the Sktish will really ally with us, then? Officially?”
“I think they want that,” Denver said, eyes looking off, thoughtfully. “But I think they're a bit proud to ask outright. And they've made a risky gamble. Turning against the Yew, unprovoked. Essentially declaring war.”
“They're just as desperate as we are,” Nathen concluded.
“Right,” Denver said, starting to back toward the door. “And the Yew would have helped them... if they became a vassal race. This might seem like a rash decision on the Squlasher's part, but I view it a little differently. The Yew Alliance attacked us out of hate, and they bred hate in us. The Sktish helped us out of goodwill. What do you think will happen?”
Nathen grinned at Gordon. “I think they'll make fine allies.”
Gordon chuckled as he approached the hangar door. “Let's not hope too soon. Not everything happens all at once.” The ESC commander paused. “But then, who knows. Perhaps a few anonymous ops will help take some pressure off our squishy friends.”
Nathen chuckled. There may be a few War Hive garrisons near the Sktish front that become mysteriously leveled in the near future. Denver offered one last salute before backing out the door.
“Farewell, Commander.”
Nathen waved, too lax to salute, and watched the doors close on his commander. When he was gone, Gordon turned and walked with Nathen in the other direction.
“This could open new avenues to us,” he said. “But likely not for a while. Haven Alpha will be limping until we can purify her of that virus completely.”
Nathen made a comforting face. “It’s always good to purge the poison before worrying about the sword.”
Something flashed in the back of Nathen’s mind.
His eyes flickered to his left. He frowned.
“I'll be along shortly,” Nathen said, waving the captain ahead of him. “I'm just going to give the hangar one last check before we lift off.”
Gordon nodded. “Very well. We should be underway within an hour. Denver will make sure it’s a quiet departure.”
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 70