As Shawn approached the side of the table, Richard turned his head and regarded the exhausted pilot. He was still drenched in sweat, and his flight suit looked as if it had seen better days. “You look like hell, Kestrel.”
“It’s nothing compared to how I feel,” Shawn said tersely. “Would you mind if I got cleaned up before you grilled me for questions, Captain?”
Krif’s eyes shifted to Lieutenant Commander Roslyn Brunel, who was climbing another set of steps up to the raised deck. When she cleared the few paces to the table, she and Krif nodded silently at one another, and Shawn got the distinct impression that Krif almost smiled. Almost. It was then that the captain turned back toward Shawn.
“In fact I would mind, hotshot. Unless you’ve failed to notice, we have some unwanted guests out there.” Krif nodded his head toward the image.
Shawn gave the image a passing glance. “They seemed pretty helpful to me.”
Melissa, not sure she’d just heard Shawn correctly, turned to him in surprise, but the commander kept his eyes locked on Krif.
“That’s debatable,” Krif snorted as he began to manipulate the floating image of the carrier.
“Meaning?” Shawn asked.
“Do we know for a fact that they were assisting us?” Krif asked as the image changed from the carrier to the Kafaran destroyer. “For all we know, the Kafarans and the Meltranians could be at war with one another, and we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“The protection of Second Earth falls within the jurisdiction of the Unified Collaboration of Systems,” Melissa piped in. “If anything, they are the ones in the wrong place.”
“I’m not entirely convinced of that,” Richard replied. Before Melissa could ask him to explain his statement further he continued. “And, when you add the fact that William Graves is on that carrier over there and not this one, it lends itself to a very sticky situation.”
The mention of the admiral got the undivided attention of everyone gathered around the table. Admiral William Graves was alive. There was little doubt of that fact. However, that simple revelation was wrought with new questions that needed to be quickly answered. Graves was on a Kafaran carrier, and it looked for all intents like he had been issuing battle orders to the Kafarans during the skirmish with the Meltranians. How could he have been placed in such a position, and under what circumstances?
Every officer gathered around the holotable knew exactly what the next course of action needed to be, but it was Shawn who put a voice to it. “How do we get him over here?”
“An assault is out of the question,” Roslyn chimed in. “I’ve been down in the hangar since we got back. It’s a real mess down there. Three-quarters of our forces are out of commission.”
“If I thought it would make a difference, Commander Brunel, I’d order everything we had into space right now,” Krif cut in with razor sharpness. “However, our best sensor scans are showing that the Kafaran carrier only lost about half their fighters in the confrontation with the Meltranians, which means they currently outnumber us almost three to one.”
“And the Breckenridge?” Shawn asked.
Krif nodded slowly. “She’s still in once piece, but there were a number of casualties on board, not the least of which was the commanding officer and the ship’s exec. Her propulsion has been cut in half, and most of her secondary batteries are out. Considering the Kafaran destroyer is in the same state, I don’t think we can count on either of them coming back to fight anytime soon.”
“How close is our nearest support?” Shawn asked as he pondered the sensor readouts being displayed near the holographic image.
“We just received a coded message from the Duchess of York battle group,” Krif said glumly. “They’ve increased to flank speed, and will be at the nearest jump point in three hours, but that still puts them twenty hours away. By the time they get here, we could be staring down the barrels of a lot more Kafarans, to say nothing about any Meltranians that might pop in looking for their lost ship.”
Melissa spoke up, voicing her concern over the thought that most of them probably had at that moment. “We can’t withdraw, not without retrieving the admiral first. If we don’t get him aboard the Rhea now, we may never get another chance to do it. If they decide to move him further into Kafaran territory—”
“There’s no way the UCS Council will authorize an incursion into Kafaran space for his retrieval,” Shawn said as he finished her thought for her and looked to her sorrowfully. “And I highly doubt the OSI would be able to do anything about it, either.”
Though Melissa had her doubts over Shawn’s last statement, she decided to keep them to herself for the time being.
Before the assembled officers could contemplate further on their situation, a call to the captain rang out across CIC. It was from Lieutenant Clifton at communications.
“Captain, we have an incoming communication coming from the Kafaran carrier.”
“Maybe now we’ll get some answers,” Krif said defiantly as he folded his thick arms across his chest and moved toward the edge of the upper deck railing. From this position, he could easily survey the entirety of CIC, as well as being afforded an unobstructed view of the large screen on the forward bulkhead. “Open the channel, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
The screen wavered momentarily, then was filled with the image of William Graves. The admiral’s uniform was smudged, and he appeared to have suffered a cut to the lip during the battle. Nonetheless, he looked utterly capable of his command position.
“Well done out there, Captain Krif,” William offered.
Richard nodded silently, refusing to acknowledge the Kafarans’ support in the matter.
William smiled softly, and both Shawn and Melissa got the distinct impression that he could see them standing close behind Krif. “I assume, Richard, that you’ve contacted the Duchess of York for assistance, correct? It’s my understanding that they are two days distant at maximum speed.”
Krif neither confirmed nor denied the information. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss that over an open channel, sir. You should know that.”
William looked pensive for a moment. “Of course, Captain. I keep forgetting that I’ve been privy to a considerable amount of information that you very likely don’t have.”
“I’m sure you have, Admiral.” Richard tried to keep all emotion out of his tone.
“I think, Captain, that it’s time for a full debriefing on the matter. I’m quite sure it’s time to put to rest some of your misgivings. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Krif nodded. “We were just talking about the same thing, Admiral.”
“Yes, Richard. I’m certain you were,” Graves said as he nodded thoughtfully. He briefly turned and nodded off to the side of the screen before looking back at Krif. “I’ve secured a shuttle that will take us over the Rhea at 1800 hours. Will that be acceptable?”
“Us?” both Krif and Melissa said in unison.
Just then, a Kafaran stepped into the camera’s field of view and stood proudly behind William. Even without seeing one in over half a decade, the sight instantly brought a collective gasp from the entire compartment.
A row of eyes—the larger, primary ones situated on the outside of a pair of smaller ones—stared back, unblinking, at the Rhea’s officers. The Kafaran’s flattened brow, the center of which contained two small receptors embedded into a raised lump, seemed to furrow under the scrutiny. A cluster of spikelike teeth in the center of the creature’s jaw grated almost imperceptibly against one another as it surveyed the humans. A moment later, its dense, mottled-brown exoskeletal structure swelled as it took a breath.
“As best a human can pronounce,” William began, “this is Savath. He is the Thaulan of this battle group. The closest approximation I can come up with would be the rank of Fleet Commodore.”
Still in partial shock, the crew of the Rhea remained motionless. Most had only seen a Kafaran in one of the many historical recordings
from the Galactic War. Those records, most of which were near-unwatchable, were recovered from Unified colony worlds where Kafaran shock troopers had landed during the war and decimated the populations.
“Commodore Savath and a handful of aides will be accompanying me in the shuttle,” William said authoritatively. “He will be able to better explain to you the severity of the situation.”
“He’ll be able to explain?” Krif exclaimed. “Don’t tell me that thing knows our language.”
Shawn watched as the admiral’s gaze turned into a steady glare.
“With the help of some of their linguistic technicians, I’ve compiled a rudimentary database of the Kafaran language. You should be able to upload it into the Rhea’s computer banks, thereby making normal conversation with the Kafaran possible.”
Melissa’s eyes went wide. That information alone was reason enough to get her father back onboard the Rhea. With a deeper understanding into the Kafaran language, it could help numerous ongoing covert OSI operations in and near Kafaran space.
Krif’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Now wait just a moment, Admiral! I’m not about to let you bring that…thing on to this ship.”
Savath seemed unfazed by the remark, but William’s eyes lit with a fire that Shawn instantly recognized from past encounters. Shawn shifted his weight backward, half-expecting Graves to leap through the screen and put his considerably meaty hands around Dick’s throat.
“Let me be perfectly clear on this, Captain Krif,” William began in a low, threating tone. “You will afford Commodore Savath and his staff full diplomatic courtesies in this matter. If I find that you have shirked your responsibilities in any way, I will personally make sure that you regret it. Believe me on this Krif, I’m coming back with far more authority than when I left.”
Krif’s jaw clenched as he measured the weight of the Admiral’s words. “Yes, sir.”
Although it was impossible to tell for certain, Shawn had the distinct impression that the corners of Savath’s mouth twitched upwards into a sneer. If that were the case, maybe the Kafarans weren’t so bad after all—at least this one, anyway.
“We will be departing the Saa’krular at exactly 1745 hours under fighter escort, Captain. I expect you to be ready for us when we arrive at 1800. I also expect Lieutenant Commander Kestrel to be there as well.”
“We’ll be ready, sir,” Krif managed to say through clenched teeth.
“Good. Until then, Captain.” With that, Graves closed the channel.
Save for the occasional audio report sent in from one of the ship’s various departments, the CIC was strangely silent for several moments. Shawn was the first to speak.
“Well, someone better call down to the galley and get the shellfish off the menu.”
Down at the sensor consoles, both Lieutenant Vincent Garcia and Specialist Fredericks stifled their laughter while Krif turned slowly to scowl at Shawn.
“I’m serious,” Shawn said as he held his hands up. “Unless you want an intergalactic incident on your hands, Dick.”
“You can’t stop them from coming,” Melissa said softly. “The best any of us can do is to make it as seamless as possible.”
“How do we do that?” Roslyn asked as she ran both hands through her thick, black hair. “I mean, it’s not like anyone has ever hosted a Kafaran diplomat before.”
Melissa’s hands wrung nervously together as she spoke. “Well, we’ll have to limit access to anything sensitive. That means we’ll have to move all the Maelstroms and their support equipment out of the landing bay. We’ll also need to post Marines in all the secure areas of the ship: computer control, propulsion, CIC, the bridge…places like that.”
“This is not a diplomatic situation,” Krif said as he turned to face the two women. “Despite what Admiral Graves has requested, this is a major security breach, not to mention a severe breach of protocol with regards to our relations with the Kafarans. Regardless of his rank, he has absolutely zero ability to order us to receive these Kafarans with anything more than suspicion, his authority be damned.”
“Captain,” Melissa began hesitantly, “I don’t think my father—”
“Your father is not in control of this situation, Miss Graves, and he is certainly not in a position to make decisions as to what happens on my ship. You want Marines to be posted in the secure areas? You want to move our classified fighters off the landing deck? Well, at least I can agree with you one hundred percent there. As for treating this like any run-of-the-mill diplomatic situation, I vehemently refuse to accept that. This is an unheard-of precedent, and I will not overlook the opportunity we’ve been presented with.”
The blood in Shawn’s veins suddenly went cold as he realized the implications of Krif’s words. “Krif, you can’t do that!”
Melissa looked to Shawn with confusion. “Can’t do what, Shawn?”
“You bet your sweet bottom I can, hotshot! I have no doubt that Sector Command will back me up one hundred percent, not to mention the OSI Director and the Unified Council.”
At the mention of the Director, Melissa turned to face Krif. “What are you going to do?”
Richard stepped closer to her, unfolding his arms and placing his hands on his hips. “I’m going to do what any competent commanding officer would do in my position: I’m going to safeguard the lives and property under my command from subversion.”
“And that means what, exactly?”
“It means, Miss Graves, that I am going to arrest anyone who lands in my hangar. That goes for Sector Command admirals and Kafaran commodores alike.”
Melissa looked incredulous as she mimicked Shawn’s words. “You can’t do that!”
“Oh, but I can, and I will. Admiral Graves is clearly under the influence of the Kafarans, and I don’t intend to allow a known enemy diplomatic access to this ship so it can return to its own kind and let them know our weaknesses. It’s obvious to me that Graves has already provided them classified information. Since we have no formal diplomatic ties with the Kafarans as set up under Title Ten of Unified law, then Section thirty-two Alpha of the Sector Command Code of Conduct gives me the right to detain all officers who are suspected or confirmed to be traitors to the Unified Collaboration of Systems.
Shawn had brief revelation of what Roslyn had told him about Krif having a possible card up his sleeve. This was surely it.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Melissa reached out and neatly slapped Krif across his face. Her eyes burned into the captain furiously. “My father is not a traitor. I will see you hanged for this, Captain.”
Krif’s only reaction to her outburst was a crooked smile. “Thank you for that, Miss Graves.” He raised a hand, then flicked his fingers in Melissa’s direction. Two armed security personnel appeared behind her, their respective sidearms drawn and pointed into her back. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to arrest you since you came on board. Striking a Sector Command officer is punishable by forty-eight hours in the brig, if I recall my regulations correctly. That should keep you out of my hair long enough to detain the Admiral and his…guest.”
Shawn didn’t speak. He quickly put himself between Melissa and Krif, not sure of what he was going to do when he got there.
“Unless you want to accompany your girlfriend, Kestrel, I’d suggest you back away from me right now.”
Shawn never broke eye contract with the captain, but found himself stepping backward nonetheless. As long as he was free to roam the ship, there would be time to plan later.
“You’re smarter than you look,” Krif chuckled, and then looked to the Marines. “Take her to the brig. Now.”
“How dare you, Krif! I’m in operational command of this mission!” she spat. “When the OSI director learns what you’ve done—”
“You’ve been relieved of your duties, pending a formal investigation by Sector Command security.”
The two men placed their hands tightly around Melissa’s forearms as soon as they were within reach.
&nbs
p; “On what charge, Captain?” she cried.
“Possible coercion by enemy agents, least of all the nature of your relationship with a known traitor to the UCS. Namely, your father.”
The armed guards led her from the CIC without further protest from either her or Shawn. Krif then turned to Lieutenant Clifton. “Call down to security. I want a squad of Marines assembled on the hangar deck in ten minutes, fully armed. And get a sniper up in the overhead.” He then pivoted to face Shawn. “You and I are going to be there, as well. I think it’s time we welcomed home our long-lost admiral, don’t you, Lieutenant Commander?”
Shawn tightened his jaw, knowing that sooner or later the clenched fist at his side was going to become a close acquaintance of Richard Krif’s face.
…to be continued.
Thank you for taking the time to enjoy
SECOND EARTH
…the third exhilarating tale in the ongoing
KESTREL SAGA.
Please take a few moments to place a review on Amazon.com
Coming this Spring:
ORIGINS
A new series of novels based on the
KESTREL SAGA
Look for
ORIGINS - TRAITOR WINDS
On Amazon.com in March 2014.
&
IN THE PRESENCE
OF MY
ENEMIES
Book 4 in the ongoing KESTREL SAGA
On Amazon.com in June 2014.
Stephen Andrew Fender was born in Los Angeles, California. The son of a second generation deputy sheriff, he spent several hours each week after school (both grade and middle) at the local library. In high school, he was highly active in art, sometimes taking as many as three art classes per year. During his junior year he enrolled in journalism, where he produced a number of articles for the Opinion page.
After high school, Stephen joined the US Navy as a computer technology specialist, working on the west coast with an anti-submarine and scouting squadron, and later on the east coast onboard a guided missile cruiser as part of the Enterprise battle group, where he wrote his first science fiction novel while on deployment to the Persian Gulf.
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