The strange man again inhaled deeply on the cigarette and took it out of his mouth. He exhaled with obvious enjoyment. He continued to regard her as the smoke drifted up past his face.
“I’m surprised,” he broke the silence. “I thought you would ask about your own condition, but you’ve surprised me on that one.” He regarded her for a few seconds and continued. “I hate to break the news to you, but you’re going to make it. Should be a complete recovery. Sorry, I did all I could.”
Sky frowned as she thought she heard wrong. “Isn’t that good news?”
“Depends on your view of the current state of the universe. My view of the universe is always negative so there you go.” He shrugged.
The man reached for a water container and held a straw to her mouth so she could drink. Sky took several short sips, then he place the container back on the tray beside the bed.
“Who are you?” Sky asked with a note of exasperation in her now lubricated voice.
The man stood a little straighter and bowed formally. “Joshua Windsor, doctor of medicine without portfolio. Currently serving as chief medical official on the good ship Predator.”
“Without portfolio?”
“My medical license was pulled a couple of years ago.” The man stated this with no trace of rancor or reluctance to discuss it. He seemed to regard it as a mild annoyance of no particular importance.
Sky searched her memory. “There is a Windsor family in medicine in the Empire. Have been for generations.”
“I belong to that particular clan although I am sure they would deny it even onto death. I’m the blackest of the black sheep of the family.” He smiled serenely. “An embarrassment to all.”
He turned to go. “You look like you’ll live so as much I’ve enjoyed this little tete-a-tete, I must move on to others. If you see any of the family back in the Empire, please give them my regards. Also, tell them I saved your life. It will really piss them off.”
“Thank you for the lifesaving part.”
Doc Windsor turned at the hatch and looked at her. He shrugged and gave her a slight smile. “Our captain would have been very disappointed in me if you had died, and I can’t have that. He is one of the few people who lets me be me.” With that, Windsor turned and was gone.
Skyler Mallory stayed aboard Predator for two days as repairs continued on the ships of the combined force. She received reports on all her ships. The light cruiser Hudson had to be abandoned, stripped of all useful equipment, and blown up. Mackenzie, Armstrong, and Coral were badly damaged but repair parties worked nonstop to make the ships as spaceworthy as possible. The lucky little Emerald was the only vessel on either side not to suffer any damage in the fighting.
Sky reviewed casualty lists. She started writing letters to families of those lost in Mackenzie. She wrote sitreps to naval headquarters. She visited the few crewmembers who were in Predator with her. One was Commander Lisa Cassidy. She had severe injuries to her body and head. It had been close, but she would make it. Sky heard from all patients, singing the praises of Doc Windsor. The unanimous conclusion was he was the finest doctor ever. Just before transfer to the Emerald for the trip back to Empire space, Raferty Hawkins stopped for a visit. He had visited several times over the last two days and had been strictly business each time, but now he stood beside her bed and smiled at her.
“Despite the circumstances, it was a pleasure working with you.” Then Rafe turned serious. “This war is going to be long and hard and you’ll be right in the middle of it after you recover. Try not to get killed.”
Sky quickly replied. “Staying alive is always number one on my daily list of things to do.”
Both broke out in wide smiles at the quick response using Rafe’s own words. Hawkins extended his hand and placed a long narrow box in Mallory’s hand. “This is a little memento of your adventure with us. I don’t know how it works in the Aurora Empire, but here warriors give weapons only to other warriors they hold in high esteem.”
He now shrugged. “I’m not one for long good byes so I will simply say fair winds and following seas, Captain.”
Sky placed the box on the bed beside her and extended her hand, “Also to you, Flag Captain.”
They shook hands, exchanged smiles, and he turned away. Sky’s gaze followed Hawkins out of the compartment. He did not pause nor did he look back for a final word. She regarded the departing man as he exited through the hatch. Pirates definitely did not go in for small talk. Her gaze now fell down to the box resting on the blanket beside her. Sky lifted the lid off and smiled again. Nestled inside was a dagger in a sheath. She did not need to pull the dagger free to know the word PREDATOR was inscribed on its blade. Her smile grew into a broad grin as she gingerly lifted out the new treasured keepsake.
Epilogue
Captain Skyler Mallory transferred to the destroyer Emerald for the trip home. Her two supply ships had rejoined the squadron one day after the Nomad battle. Sky ordered them to transfer seventy-five percent of all supplies to the pirate force. She knew they would put the offering to good use.
The trip to the home systems went in a blur. Sky slept. She did limited physical exercises. She finished writing letters to the families of Mackenzie crewmembers who died in the Badlands. She read messages on the situation in the Empire. The enemy attacks had caught the Empire off guard. Ships losses were high and casualties were astronomical. The enemy seemed to have achieved all their objectives. The Borcanda shipyards were destroyed so Empire ship replacements and repairs had been set back for years. The resource-rich Sapphire system had fallen, and the military forces there wiped out. The OrCons had already moved in and began pulling out raw materials. Excandor, the largest naval base near the OrCon border, was taken almost intact and was now being used as a forward base for the OrCon fleet. The war was now in a short lull as the OrCons consolidated their gains and shifted around forces for continuing the offense. The Empire called up reserves and pulled forces from the far reaches of the Empire to protect vital areas.
Mackenzie limped home under reduced power and was now in space dock with swarms of workmen working on her. In a less desperate time, she might have been declared a total loss and junked for parts, or at least put at the bottom of the repair schedule. However, times were desperate and she was undergoing rapid repairs. She would get the most basic fixes and then be placed back into the Fleet. Sky hoped to return to her.
As Raferty Hawkins had predicted, Sky was responsible for the only victory achieved over OrCon forces in the opening phase of the war. Even she would admit, it was a small victory and had no impact on the larger conflict, but the Empire was desperate for victorious heroes. Accordingly, an awards ceremony was quickly organized on Zelenka at the Royal Palace. The Queen was out of the system touring near the front lines, but the new Prime Minister, Morgan Strickland, pinned the Order of Saint Andrew on Captain Skyler Mallory in front of an applauding crowd and the press. Strickland made appropriate remarks. Sky made appropriate comments. The press gladly aided in playing up this small bit of good news.
After the ceremony, Sky was obligated to linger as guests passed by to offer personal congratulations. She shook hands and exchanged greetings with several military people, peers of the realm, and other important individuals of the Empire hierarchy. Most of these people she knew, at least slightly. But then a trio of an older man, a woman of the same age, and a younger woman approached her. She felt she had seen the man somewhere but could not place him. The man extended his hand and smiled, “Doctor John Windsor.” He nodded to the woman on his left, “my wife, Doctor Evelyn Windsor, and my daughter, Doctor Josephine Windsor.”
Sky smiled at all three of them. Now it came to her where she had seen him. There had been stories in the press of John Windsor becoming the newly appointed Lord First Surgeon. He and his immediate family were making the rounds meeting all the movers and shakers. After all, Sky was a member of the peerage and of the upper house, and a highly decorated naval officer. As much as sh
e did not think in those terms, she was a mover and shaker. Sky shook hands with all three and exchanged greetings.
“I recently met another member of your distinguished family,” Sky remarked. “Joshua Windsor.”
The man leaned back as if he had encountered a bad smell. The older woman frowned and stared at her as if Sky had committed a social faux pas of the first order. Only the younger woman brightened. Sky now saw a marked resemblance between her and Joshua. She now addressed her, “He is your brother?”
“My twin brother. How is he?” She asked with genuine interest.
“He’s fine. One helluva doctor.”
“Would have been a great doctor here in civilization, but would rather do drugs and alcohol,” muttered his father. His face was a mask of disapproval. But Sky took note neither he nor his wife moved away. They couldn’t quite hide the fact they were interested in news of their son. Sky would accommodate them.
“Still does those things. Also smokes too many cigarettes and should shower more often. But he did save the lives of many of my crew. The crew of his ship swears by him.”
“He’s on a ship?” Josephine Windsor spoke with bit of wonder in her voice.
“The pirate vessel Predator under the command of Raferty Hawkins in the Badlands. Not sure of how long he’s been on board, but at least a couple of years. The crew loves him. He also serves as head medical officer for Pirate Flotilla One.”
Sky wasn’t sure about the last statement but she thought it was probably true on an informal basis. The pirates did damn near everything on an informal basis. She was mildly surprised to find she was intent on defending Doc Windsor and presenting him in the best possible light.
“He serves a crew of pirates!” Evelyn Windsor didn’t bother to hide her contempt for her son’s career choice. “Still addicted and working with some of the worst criminals in the universe.”
“He has participated in several battles and saved many lives, mine included.” Sky’s voice was rimmed with frost. She didn’t dislike these people, but like all combat veterans, she had a certain disdain for those who have never been shot at in anger, especially when they criticized other combat veterans on a personal level. The simple fact was when she had looked around every battlefield in the Badlands, she had known Doc Windsor was there, but she hadn’t seen any of these people. In Skyler Mallory’s universe, you got points for being out there in harm’s way.
“Yes, well, we are certainly grateful for your recovery.” John Windsor didn’t sound grateful but it was to be expected. After all, Doc Windsor had predicted their reaction. “Do take care of yourself, Captain.” With that, he and his wife turned away and departed, but Josephine did not. She stepped forward and gripped Sky’s arm with her right hand.
“I’m so glad Josh has found a place. Is he happy?”
“I suspect he is as happy as he will ever allow himself to be.”
Josephine smiled at that, “That has always been true of Josh. If you get back to the Badlands and see him, give him my love.”
“Of course,” Sky replied, somewhat taken back, but very pleased by her reaction.
Josephine turned to go but said over her shoulder, “And tell him it wouldn’t kill him to send a message every now and then. He has the address.”
Sky smiled in response and nodded to her.
~ ~ ~
Fregattenkapitan Fritz Steiner was relieved of command of the destroyer Abendhimmel. But, much to his surprise, he was reassigned to the planning section of the fleet operations division at Rosstrappe. The assignment to fleet operations division was considered an appropriate follow-on billet for a successful ship commander who was on his way to bigger and better things. His performance evaluation was written by Admiral Beck himself. The eval praised his time in command of Abendhimmel and declared him “one of the best ship commanders in the fleet.” No mention was made of the informal board of inquiry. On Steiner’s first day in his new billet, he received a comm call from Light Admiral Dietrich. Over a secure channel, Steiner briefed him on recent events in the Badlands of which he had taken part. The Admiral listened intently.
~ ~ ~
Captain Sergei Korlov leaned back in his command seat as he watched Rosstrappe fade from the view of the rear camera. Not soon enough for him. His small group of surviving ships had spent only a week in that port undergoing needed repairs before striking for home, but it had been the longest week of his life. The smell of failure hung over his ships and crews like a rotting corpse. His people had done the necessary work to get their ships space worthy again, but it was as if they were automated machines carrying out programmed tasks. Talking was done only as required by the work. No encouragement or smiles were to be seen. Korlov had visited his other ships and the experience there was the same.
Even the thought of going home did not alleviate the pain of defeat or lighten the workload. Intelligence from home sources had been flowing into the ships over the last three days, and there had been resounding victories against the Zekes all along the common border. For those who kept score, and that included everyone, it became apparent very quickly that the only defeat had been suffered by this expedition to the Badlands. Nobody was under any illusion as to what waited for them at home. They would be outcasts, the squadron that didn’t quite measure up, and the epitome of what not to be. Everyone knew what lurked at home, but it was time to get there and get the process started. The crews worked many long hours, ate little, and slept fitfully. Nobody received liberty, and nobody wanted it. Nobody departed the ships except to visit the nearby yard facilities as required to further repairs.
Korlov had left his ship the first day to pay a courtesy call on Admiral Beck. He was brought to the same briefing room recently visited by Captain Fritz Steiner of Abendhimmel. In addition to the Admiral, he meet two captains named Morstein and Bergman who were the chief of staff and the operations officer respectively. Somewhat surprising, Admiral Dietrich was also present. Korlov had had several communiques with the Admiral while both forces were returning to Rosstrappe. The senior Goth officer had supplied any and all assistance Korlov needed and had resupplied his ships. Korlov liked Admiral Dietrich and found he had wished Dietrich had been in command of the Goth escort. He was positive there would have been no free fire zone at Ulatar if that officer had been in charge. Korlov and the four Goth officers discussed the repair challenges and Admiral Beck promised “round the clock” support from his space dock facilities to ensure the Orion ships got out of the yards in minimum time. Finally, the Admiral turned to the recent campaign.
“It was bad luck the pirates ended up supporting the Zekes. If Hawkins had not warned the Zekes at Potenka, the campaign would have ended there with your force achieving a resounding victory.”
Korlov nodded but his following words removed any doubt it was in agreement. “I suspect Captain Hawkins rarely relies on luck to be in the right place at the right time. I believe he and his pirates took the spy ship shadowing the Zekes just prior to our attack. The timing suggests they knew the attack was coming. Removing the spy ship allowed the Zekes to prepare for that attack without our knowledge. The opening action against the Zekes was also the turning point in the campaign. After that we were always one step behind trying to catch up while our combined enemies held the initiative.”
Heads nodded around the table but all stopped in mid nod when Korlov added, “Of course the attack on the pirate camp at Ulatar cemented their alliance and made it more than one of mere convenience.” He now stared directly at Admiral Beck. “There was no need for that attack, and I fear the repercussions will be felt for some time to come. Raferty Hawkins does not strike me as a man to let this pass without an appropriate response. Maybe even a series of responses against both you and us.”
Admiral Beck stared Korlov in the eye. “Yes, in hindsight that attack was a mistake, but it was based on the best intel we had at that time.”
The two captains on either side of the admiral also looked directly at Korlov a
s their commander spoke. Admiral Beck was a practiced speaker when dealing with people “from the outside,” but nobody was fooled, least of all Captain Korlov. In his periphery view, Korlov could see Admiral Dietrich was looking down at the table. Yes, Korlov liked Dietrich.
The atmosphere was becoming decidedly oppressive in the ornate room, so Korlov begged pressing business in preparations to return home and, after an exchange of handshakes, he departed. He felt the Goths were as happy to see him leave as he was to go. He was a walking reminder of events they would want to leave in the recent past. He greatly doubted the pirates would allow that to happen. It was his only visit to the base below his orbiting ships.
Now he was watching the spaceport shrink into the darkness behind him. He turned away from his screen before Rosstrappe disappeared completely and put the base and its owners out of his mind. He now dwelled on Admiral Herman Stavka. He still believed the Admiral had not been the right commander for this mission, but he had been a decent man. Korlov regretted his death from a personal point of view, but he felt the Admiral probably would not have wanted to return home under these circumstances. The history of the Confederation Navy had more than its share of disgraced commanders killing themselves. Korlov did not know if Admiral Stavka would do such an act, but he did not rule it out. In any event, the resulting disgrace from this mission would have forced Stavka into a quiet retirement at best, or being officially reprimanded and then retired on a reduced pension at worst. Korlov knew it would have been done quietly. Nobody would want to detract from the victorious atmosphere at home.
Korlov found himself mentally reviewing the after-action reports he had already sent to higher headquarters while at Rosstrappe. Along with the ships’ data streams, the navy hierarchy would have as complete a view of the mission as was likely to be achieved. He had been entirely truthful in his assessments, but he had not condemned his late commander. The rich tradition of laying the fault for failure on a dead man did not sit well with him, especially if it was unwarranted. Admiral Stavka’s one mistake had been to accept the Goth’s Ulatar assessment at face value, and then opening fire on that settlement without proper target identification. He had also been a victim of bad luck. If only Raferty Hawkins had not been at Potenka. If only ... Korlov frowned one last time, physically forcing himself not to follow that line of thinking. “If only” was a concept for historians, songwriters, and forlorn lovers. Commanders must deal with reality not the fantasy of “if only.” He would not indulge himself.
Allies of Convenience: Pirates of the Badlands Series Book 1 Page 32