The Exxar Chronicles: Book 01 - The Erayan

by Neal Jones

  "Make sure to state in your announcement that all complaints are to be made directly to you, and remind the PMA that this is first and foremost a military outpost. As commanding officer, I have the final say in all matters which occur under my roof – military and civilian."

  "Yes, sir." Then, as an afterthought, Zar added, "Welcome aboard, sir."

  ( 2 )

  When Gabriel finally arrived at the command deck, as the doors opened and he caught his first glimpse of the station's center of operations and control, he couldn’t help but be amazed at its sheer size. It was easily twice the size of the Dauntless bridge, with three levels. The rear was the uppermost level, and contained two primary workstations: sciences and tactical. Lieutenant Grynel Sikandra, Exxar-One's chief tactical officer, was the first to notice Gabriel's rank, and she shot to her feet as she snapped to attention and fired off a salute.

  "Commodore on deck! All hands to attention!"

  The two dozen officers who were quietly working at their various posts suddenly jerked to their feet and came to attention.

  "Carry on," Gabriel said, descending the pair of steps to the second level.

  This was dominated by the large, round ops table, around which eight could comfortably sit with plenty of elbow room. The surface was smooth, polished ebony, and the commodore quickly turned away from his reflection to walk down to the first level. Communications and engineering were the only stations here, their C-shaped control consoles situated to either side of the forward viewscreen. It, too, was twice the size of the Dauntless' and currently displayed an empty field of stars. The calming effect of the image belied the tension and conflict on the station. Along the perimeter of C&C, lining the side and rear walls, were several banks of consoles, most of them backup and miscellaneous subsystem stations. After lingering for what seemed a reasonable amount of time, Gabriel finally turned to face the set of doors which bore the label "Command Officer's Ready Room".

  He didn't sound the door chime, but instead walked in as though the office was his. Which, in fact, it was. Major Saveck didn't seem at all startled or caught off guard by Gabriel's entrance. He stood, calmly placing his hands behind his back and waited for his commanding officer to speak.

  "You are my subordinate, major. You will accord me the respect that is due my rank and position." Gabriel's tone simmered with a fresh surge of anger. Not being present to greet him at the docking port was one thing, but refusing to salute when he entered the room was a direct slap in the face. It was time for the commodore to draw the line, and Saveck had damn well better salute or he would spend the rest of his assignment on Exxar-One in the brig.

  But the major wasn't giving in. A long silence ensued as the pair sized each other up. Kralin Saveck was exactly as Gabriel remembered, including the scar. He was almost as muscular as Zamora though not quite as tall, and his white hair was cut shorter than it was when he was a prisoner aboard the Tokyo. A single, thin braid fell from one side and just barely touched his shoulder. The black uniform matched the deep red hue of the Chrisarii's skin, and Gabriel had a sudden flash of memory

  (a knife thrust through that uniform, Chrisarii blood is dark green and gushing)

  and he blinked, erasing the image, as he casually folded his hands behind his back to wipe away the cold sweat which now greased his palms.

  When Saveck had first received the communiqué from Admiral Piller, he hadn't fully recognized Commodore Gabriel, although there was definitely something familiar about the face. It was only after reviewing the personnel file which accompanied Piller's memo that Saveck remembered where he'd last seen Gabriel. The Tokyo's first officer had made occasional visits to the cargo bay, never staying more than a few minutes, and never speaking directly to the prisoners. At one point, as he passed Saveck's cell, the commander paused and just stared for a few moments, as a visitor to the zoo would stare at a horribly disfigured and deadly beast. There was nothing but hatred in the human's eyes, and Saveck refused to lower his head like a coward. He met Gabriel's gaze with an equal measure of his own revulsion and fury.

  There was no forcefield between them now, yet their expressions were the same as then, and Saveck waited to see what his commanding officer would do next. The major intended to make life for Commodore Gabriel as difficult as possible, with the hope that he would pressure his superiors in CMC, who in turn would pressure the Military Council on Saveck's homeworld to assign another liaison officer to Exxar-One. Thus far, his plan appeared to be working. Gabriel was trying to decide which battle was more important – the acts of insubordination from his first officer, or the open conflict between the station's military personnel. He appeared to finally come to a decision and took a step forward. Saveck's entire body tensed, his hands turning into fists, as he prepared to deflect any attack which the commodore would initiate.

  Gabriel smiled, but his eyes remained cold. "We're going to be working together for quite awhile, major. You can show me all the disrespect you want, but I'm not requesting another liaison officer. You and I are stuck here together, and neither of our governments are going to honor our transfer requests." He walked around the desk, and Saveck moved out of his way. "Nor am I going to allow this station to become a new battleground for an old war." He locked his gaze with the Chrisarii's. "Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes."

  "Good." The commodore thrust out his hand and waited.

  There was a spark of uncertainty in the major's eyes, for now he was caught off guard by the gesture. He finally acquiesced and shook Gabriel's hand, but only for a moment. He then walked around the desk to stand where the commodore had been only minutes before. Gabriel swept his gaze over the mounds of paperwork and compads which littered his desk like debris from a battlefield. When he looked at Saveck, his expression was stoic and calm. He was ready to get started on the business of running the station.

  "Major, Krael Zar has informed me of the numerous fights which have broken out amongst the station's crew during their off-duty hours. He also informed me that you and Colonel Bryant have not bothered to make any attempt to quell this conflict."

  "That is not true," Saveck interjected. "I have met with the colonel, and we have discussed the situation at great length. Three days ago, we issued a warning to all military personnel. If there is any more fighting, the persons involved will spend two weeks in the brig."

  Gabriel nodded. "Zar and I had a conference in his office before I came here. He showed me the announcement, but don't you think that ultimatum should have come after the first fight, not the fifth?"

  Saveck gave the slightest of shrugs, and Gabriel almost couldn't suppress another eruption of anger. As the station's two most senior officers until Gabriel's arrival, Saveck and Bryant should have set the example. Instead, they were content to sit back and let the crew behave like undisciplined children. The fact that it was now up to Gabriel and Saveck to set the example was an irony not lost on the commodore, and he swallowed the bitter taste, suddenly wishing that he had a bottle of scotch in his desk drawer.

  "Is there anything else I need to know, major, before I start sifting through this mess?" He passed a hand over the paper forest on his desktop.

  "That stack of pads are several crew evaluations which have come due in the last couple weeks. The department heads are waiting for your signature on their reports. That pile of papers is several communiqués from CMC, not the least of which is an announcement of an upcoming visit from President Enkaro and Vice President Brouchard. Ambassadors Zar and Vorik will also be arriving in time for the change of command ceremony. This pile is the various reports of the repairs which have been completed since the last Haal'Chai attack. You'll be receiving a new batch of reports after today's attack, and I can already tell you that the damage to our deflector array will take at least two days to fully repair. I've told Commander Garrett to assign as many personnel as necessary to have the station up to specs in time for the president's visit. I haven't yet delved into that pile." He pointed to a sh
ort stack that perched on a corner like a rockslide about to let loose. "Unless there's anything else you require of me, I'd like permission to leave."

  "Permission granted."

  "Goodnight, commodore."

  After Saveck left, Gabriel plopped into his chair and took a deep breath, scrubbing his hands over his face. He sat back and exhaled slowly, swiveling to face the viewport. In the distance, two cargo transports held position, waiting for docking clearance. They were only specks on the horizon, two copper colored stones among a field of pearls. Gabriel gritted his teeth and turned to his desk, sifting through the pile of communiqués from CMC. The news that the president of the Federation, Skaela Enkaro, and his staff would be visiting gave the commodore a whole new set of knots in his stomach.

  Enkaro was the incumbent, having won the election of '68 by a landslide. Although the former president had successfully navigated the Federation through its conflict with the Chrisarii, she was publicly scorned by the voters for having declared war in the first place. It didn't it seem to matter that it was the Chrisarii who had thrown the first punch, that they had been the instigators of the most costly war that this quadrant had ever seen. Although President Phrast had insisted that her term of office would be devoted entirely to ending the war and bringing peace to the quadrant, the Federation people were not happy that she had taken her whole term to do it. Now, Skaela Enkaro was hoping to win by another landslide and he was using the newly operational Exxar-One as one of his talking points.

  So far, if the polls were as accurate as the top analysts and the media claimed, the president's strategy was working. He was up twenty percent, and as soon as the entire Federation witnessed Gabriel, Saveck and Enkaro standing behind the podium on Exxar-One's quarterdeck, his popularity was sure to go up another twenty.

  But, of course, there was the Haal'Chai to contend with, along with their supporters among the Federation's population. Many activist groups publicly decried the "peace treaty", staging protests on the lawn of the Presidential Dome on Galadreon-253, as well as other key military and civilian locations throughout the Federation. In fact, Gabriel was surprised that no such protestations had taken place here since the station had come on line. Yes, there had been many riots when the news of plans for the station's construction first broke and numerous acts of sabotage during construction, but in the last six weeks the Haal'Chai had been the only apparent problem, the only fly in this particular ointment.

  As Krael Zar had stated, not even one bombing – suicide or otherwise.

  And this made Gabriel extremely uneasy, because what better time to strike than when the Federation president – and most of his staff – were here, congratulating themselves on their latest triumph. The commodore suddenly felt ill, and he closed his hands, resting his head on his fists. He desperately wanted a drink, and he wondered if it was too late to hand in his resignation. Maybe Jason was right. Four years wasn't so bad, especially if the time was served on Galadreon. The military penal system wouldn't mistreat an ex-soldier who gave up his rank and commission so that he wouldn't have to serve beside animals like the Chrisarii. Gabriel stood and glanced at his chrono. It was almost eighteen hundred hours. He cast one last glance at his desktop and decided the mess could wait until tomorrow. He sighed as he shut off the light and walked out of his office.

  ( 3 )

  Benjamin Rosenberg entered his quarters and called out, "Jen, I'm home." It was after twenty-one hundred so Emalie was in bed, asleep. Ben peeked in on her, brushing his lips against her forehead, and then picked up her stuffed frog from the floor and tucked it back beneath her arm. He walked into the kitchen, removing his uniform jacket and draped it on the back of a chair. Jennifer glanced up from her seat on the other side of the table where she was reading a compad.

  "You said you would be home by seven."

  "I'm sorry. I lost track of the time." His face was flushed, and his eyes were beaming. "Jen, I know that you're not happy with this assignment, but the medical sector here is far beyond my expectations! Whoever designed this station deserves a medal of honor. You should see the laboratories, the equipment, the size of my ER – even the infirmary is three times what I expected."

  Jennifer attempted a smile, but it was weak. "Your dinner's in the stove."

  She stood and started for the door, but her husband snagged her arm. "Jennifer –"

  "If you tell me one more time that you're sorry, that you had no choice but to take this posting, I'm going to deck you." She jerked her elbow out his grasp, and for the first time in their marriage he seemed genuinely afraid of her.

  She marched into the living room, and Ben considered letting the matter go. He opened the stove and peeked under the cover of the dish. A burren stew, his favorite. He glanced at the door, then back at the stew, then at the door once more. With a frustrated sigh, he followed his wife. She was standing at the viewport, her arms crossed over her chest, her every muscle tense and strained. He wanted to walk up next to her, to comfort her, but she would just push him away.

  "Jen," he said softly, earnestly, "I know that I made a promise, and I'm sorry that I broke it. I've tried to make you understand why, but you've stopped listening. If home means that much to you, then go back to Earth. Take Emalie with you." He waited for her to respond, but she said nothing, so he turned to go back into the kitchen.

  "That's not what I want," Jennifer said, turning to face her husband.

  "Then why all the grief?" Ben snapped. "For god sakes, Jen, it's only going to be three years, five at the most. After that, I promise I'll take that posting at the Academy."

  "Why can't you do it now?? There's plenty of resources there that will help you in your research, certainly more than what you have here! What in god's name does this outpost have that the headquarters of EarthCorps Naval Command doesn't?"

  "Freedom!" The word exploded from the doctor's lips, and he took a moment to regain his temper. "When I last spoke with Admiral Larsen, and I specifically requested whether or not the board would allow me time and resources to pursue my research, he suddenly seemed reluctant to give an answer. When I pressed him, he finally admitted that the decision from Medical's board of directors was that my research would take a back seat to my responsibilities as a professor." It was hard to keep the bitterness from his tone as he added, "In other words, if I took the position that they were offering, I would have to give up my research altogether."

  "You don't know that for sure," Jennifer replied. "You could have met with the board again, explained to them once more how important this is to you."

  Ben shook his head. "It wouldn't have made a difference. The current brass at EarthCorps Medical aren't concerned with research, especially with a disease like Iverson's. They believe that the civilian establishments are more suited to medical research. The academy is only interested in churning out ship's surgeons."

  Jennifer finally began to understand, but she refused to give her husband the satisfaction. "And you're saying that you have more freedom with your staff and resources here?"

  "Exactly. Back home I'd have three or more admirals breathing down my neck about every little thing. Out here, I have a whole medical sector under my command, and I can assign certain personnel certain tasks without having to worry about explaining myself to the brass. Not only that, the labs and the equipment here are state-of-the-art. This starbase has facilities that are comparable to those back home." He dared to close the distance between them. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this, Jen! I've been waiting for an opportunity like this ever since I signed up for the academy! When I promised you that I would take an Earthside posting, it was before I thought this one was possible. If Doctor McCarthy hadn't changed his mind, we would be back home, and I'd be happy being a professor."

  Jennifer smiled wearily. "No, you wouldn't. You'd be as restless as ever, always complaining about work, about your students, and spending all hours of the night in some lab somewhere on campus, sitting in front of a microscope and
taking notes." She reached out and took his hand in hers. "Go eat your supper. I'm going to bed." She kissed him, but it was a quick peck, and when he squeezed her hand and tried to pull her back for another kiss, she pulled away.

  Ben sighed again as he returned to the kitchen and pulled the stew from the oven. He filled a bowl, sat in the chair his wife had vacated, and picked up the pad she had been reading. It was a current list of civilian job openings available on the station. Most of them were part time positions for many of the businesses on the promenade, and Ben felt one more stab of anger and regret. It didn't help that Jennifer had a point, that her argument was valid. Their tenth anniversary was in three weeks, and Ben had promised his wife since the day they were married that he would eventually accept a permanent Earthside posting so they could settle and raise a family.

  Emalie had been a happy accident, and when she was born five years ago, during her father's posting to Lyden-four, Jennifer reminded her husband of his promise. He reassured her once more that he would accept a permanent posting once his rank and years of service permitted him that luxury. He just hadn't expected it to be so damn soon! Two years ago, after arriving in Titan City on Mars, he had been told by Admiral Larsen that when his current posting was up, there would be a professorship position open at EarthCorps Medical. Ben hadn't immediately shared this news with his wife, and when she found out through one of his colleagues by accident, she was not happy with his deception. That had been the first pothole on this rocky road which they had been traveling since, and the detour took a sharp right turn when Ben had reneged on his promise after discovering the Exxar-One CMO's position was unexpectedly available once more.

  The problem was that he had not been able make as much headway in his research on Lyden-four as he had first anticipated when accepting that assignment. The Inaer systems were one of the Federation's key sectors for civilian medical research, and it was also at the crossroads of more than a dozen space lanes, making it a center for trade and commerce. Forty percent of the medical supplies for the colonies and outposts in the Inaer sector were manufactured and shipped from Lyden-four, so when Ben had received word that his request to serve a term there had been granted, he had been more than ecstatic.