Chapter 1
Dean knew he was in trouble, everything he cared about hinged on the choice he made next. The woman who had just slipped her hotel keycard into his pocket and whispered a lewd suggestion into his ear was smiling at him invitingly as she strolled casually away. Her long sequined gown hung from her narrow shoulders in a low swoop that revealed most of her back. Her long, hair was pulled to the side, and her legs swished through the fabric as she walked.
Temptation to take advantage of his celebrity was always a constant. After being awarded the Planetary Medal of Honor, he spent nearly three months doing publicity events and attending lavish balls. He felt more like a fish out of water on his home planet during the media tour than he had felt on an alien world light years from earth. And at every turn there were land mines that needed to be tactfully avoided, from gifts that had to be declined, to intimate rendezvous that could not be kept. The brass had been very specific:
“Don't take anything,” they told him, “don’t do anything to embarrass yourself or more importantly EsDef. And whatever you do, keep your pants on.”
The Extra Solar Defense Force was in overdrive, with scientists pouring over the data in the Urgglatta ship’s memory banks, and engineers learning as much as they could from the ship itself. The last thing they wanted was for Dean to get into a sticky situation that would alter the extraordinarily high good will that EsDef was enjoying. Dean was the face of the service, the hero of the hour, and a good distraction from the enormous amount of information suddenly dumped into the lap of the space military responsible for keep the peace on 45 colonized worlds and over a hundred manned space stations spread across the galactic arm.
“Well?” the woman asked.
Dean found it hard to swallow. The woman was older than he was, and extraordinarily beautiful. Still, Dean knew she wasn’t interested in him as a person. He was a minor celebrity, and if he accepted her invitation he would be nothing more to her than a story that she would tell her famous friends, yet he still wanted to be with her. He felt both intimidated and tempted at the same time.
And then, like every other time he had been propositioned since returning to earth, Captain Esmerelda Dante’s face flashed in his mind. Her large brown eyes looking at him the way she had after their kiss on board the E.S.D.F. Valkyrie. He smiled, then pressed the tiny button on the slender fob he kept in his trouser pocket. Almost immediately, even before Dean could reply to the beautiful woman, Dean’s military escort hurried across the room and whispered urgently in his ear.
“You’re a lucky, bastard,” Sergeant Cromartie whispered.
“Now?” Dean said out loud.
“‘Fraid so, Captain,” the senior NCO said with a frown.
“Duty calls,” Dean said to the woman in his most serious tone, before turning and following Sergeant Cromartie out of the ballroom.
“I don’t know how you do it,” the Sergeant said. “I’d happily bed the rich and famous if I were in your shoes.”
Cromartie was a career man, with almost three decades of combat experience as a Demolitions Specialist with Off World Force Recon, the fighting branch of EsDef. After spending the last decade training new recruits, he had been picked to act as Dean’s escort along with another aging soldier named Nunes. Both men were serious about their job, but they weren’t really needed for security as much as to lend Dean a little more credence and to help out when he needed an excuse to get away from unwanted company in one of the many, highly publicized events he was required to attend.
“I have other priorities, Sergeant,” Dean said.
“Ah, the idealism of the young,” Cromartie said. “He thinks these dames will always be there for him, waiting to jump into his bed on a whim. But the Magical, Mystery Tour ends tomorrow, and then what? You’ll be yesterday’s news and the hot babes you’ve been teasing with all this “We are the wolf,” business won’t even remember your name.”
“That’s the way I want it,” Dean said, hoping he sounded convincing.
The truth was, Dean didn’t know what he wanted, other than to lead another platoon off world. He would have jumped at the chance to spend more time with Esma, but that wasn’t an option. And he had to admit the special attention was nice, even if it made him uncomfortable at times.
“Sir, you don’t really know what you want, if you’ll pardon my assumption,” Cromartie said.
“Give him a break,” Staff Sergeant Nunes said. “He’s in love, can’t you see that?”
“What’s love got to do with anything? The Captain captured an Urglatta ship that talks, and it says we’ll be under attack from an unknown race at any time. He should be taking advantage of the opportunities that he’s got before he’s stuck on a ship or a space base with nothing but muscle bound HAS grunts to keep him entertained.”
“We can’t all have an illustrious career as you, Sergeant,” Dean said with a grin.
“Hey, I ain’t saying I enjoyed it. But a few years in a space can will make you crazy, trust me.”
They made their way down to the basement where a dark SUV waited. The three men climbed inside and were taken to the airport. The cities and parties had all melded in Dean’s mind. He wanted nothing more than to be done with the publicity tour. His last stop was in Los Angeles, a morning talk show appearance, and then he would report to the EsDef training facility on Coronado for his next assignment.
Dean’s biggest fear wasn’t the questions being asked about hostile alien races, or the dangers facing humanity, it was being assigned to a training role rather than an active platoon. He had joined EsDef to be a Recon soldier, and he wanted nothing more than to lead men into action. But that decision was in the hands of his superiors and he had very little say in the matter. All he could do was follow orders and hope for the best.
They had escaped the party where Dean was the guest of honor, earlier than they planned. Most of the guests were already drunk and Dean didn't think he would be missed, but that left the trio with a couple of hours to kill before their flight. In the airport they were allowed to wait in a VIP lounge. It was little more than a bar, with dim lighting and comfortable chairs. There were other shadowy patrons, but Dean and his escort found an empty table and settled in. Their flight was at midnight, carrying them across the country where Dean had to be in a television studio at 0500 hours for an interview. He could snatch a few hours sleep on the plane, but until then he did his best to relax in the airport lounge.
“I hate these places,” Cromartie said.
“You hate everything,” Nunes said. “And you complain more than any woman I ever met.”
“I have high standards, nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re a diva,” the Staff Sergeant said with a smirk. “Now pipe down and get us some drinks.”
“Best thing about this gig,” Cromartie said, heaving himself up from the table. “Free drinks at the airport.”
“Pretty soon you’ll be slinging drinks and wishing you were back on a ship off world.”
“Not me,” Cromartie said. “I’m not going back up in this lifetime.”
The grizzled, but extremely fit sergeant ambled to the bar, where Dean could see him flirting with the woman serving drinks. Dean enjoyed the familiar banter between the two experienced NCO’s. He had learned the value of keeping his thoughts to himself, even though it was a lonely way to live his life. Still, his men looked to him to be the voice of calm confidence in any situation, and that included his escorts. Both men deferred to Dean because of his rank, and while they had become friends, he still held himself in reserve just in case he was called upon to make a life or death decision that would effect the two men.
They drank beers, while Dean sipped a non-alcoholi
c fruit juice. He didn’t mind drinking a little, but he didn’t want to be overtired for his final interview. Imposing a strict code of discipline on himself was one of the ways he kept himself in shape as he was taken from interviews to parties, from public appearances to official dinners, all as part of his media tour for EsDef.
They were called to the plane early and allowed to settle into the first class cabin that had sleep pods. Dean sealed himself into the egg shaped booth and promptly went to sleep, ignoring the sounds just outside the thin walls as other passengers boarded the plane and the attendants made their rounds. He felt the plane begin to move, when it taxied out to the run way, and then again as the plane took off. Otherwise he slept through the entire trip and didn’t wake up again until the plane touched down on the west coast.
Chapter 2
“You’re a hero,” the attractive newscaster said with a smile, eliciting a polite round of applause from the studio audience.
Dean had seen the enthusiasm for his celebrity wane as the media tour progressed. When he first came to earth the crowds that flocked to see him were huge and rowdy, but they thinned as the days turned to weeks. He was less of a celebrity than an oddity. The world knew only the sanitized version of the events that happened on the Urgglatta ship, Berg 78615.
“Not a hero, just an officer doing his duty,” Dean said.
“Well, I think most people would call you a hero. You saved earth from a runaway Urgglatta ship and warned us of this potential threat called the Kroll Empire. It sounds very scary. What can you tell us of the Kroll race, Captain?”
“Very little actually,” Dean said.
“Don’t be coy, commander,” the newscaster said, playing to her audience. “Surely you know something.”
“I know what you already know,” Dean explained. “The Kroll are a race we have yet to encounter, but according to the Urgglatta they are militaristic and have invaded the Urgglatta home world.”
“The Urgglatta are a wonderfully strange race. They look like cows, don’t you think, Captain?”
The interview went down hill from there. Dean didn’t think any less of the newscaster or her show, it was an entertainment program, not a hard news channel, but he didn’t enjoy the way the media insisted on downplaying the threat. He understood that maintaining order and not scaring people was an important part of reporting this very frightening news. And he also knew that the report was unverified, although Dean felt that the Urgglatta ship and the information it contained was a strong indication of the validity of the story. Yet it seemed more like the latest celebrity rumor than the possibility that the human race might soon be in a war for their lives.
When Dean’s segment was finished, he washed off the makeup, changed from his dress uniform into utility fatigues and met up with his escort. Nunes and Cromartie had watched the interview, but they were serious about their job. Keeping Dean safe was their priority and while he wasn’t considered to be in danger, it wouldn’t be surprising if someone tried to take a shot at the EsDef hero of the hour. They escorted him out of the studio and across the street to a reception where Dean was scheduled to meet and greet local VIP’s.
It was less of a party than a chance for Dean to alleviate the fears of those fortunate enough to rank an invitation. Dean spent nearly half an hour shaking hands, before a short panel discussion was to begin. Cromartie and Nunes stood like suspicious sentinels on either side of the room. They weren’t the only personal protection agents on hand either, but they were the only ones in military dress with side arms visible. They also didn’t wear the iconic dark sunglasses that the other protection agents wore. Dean could see them scanning the room constantly for any sign of trouble.
Dean joined representatives of Homeland Security, and EsDef public relations on the stage with a bank of windows behind them. The room was large and bright, with rows of padded chairs for spectators and reporters, although the latter section was mostly empty. The world had heard Dean’s story, and no one asked him to recount it during the discussion. Instead, the audience wanted to know the economic consequences of a war off world, and when civilians would have access to the data acquired when the Urgglatta ship was captured.
Dean let the other representatives do most of the talking. He knew that keeping his mouth shut was the safest way to stay out trouble. Eventually, he was asked a direct question and stood up, taking the microphone handed to him by the discussion moderator, a strange looking man with a dark tan, thick, wavy hair, and teeth so white they didn’t seem real.
“Yes,” Dean said, “I do think the threat is credible. But like my colleagues have said, I believe it will be possible to keep the Kroll Empire at bay. We have time, and new resources. Speaking for Off World Force Recon, we are ready for the fight and will-“
From the back of the room a man in suddenly stood up. He was struggled to stand up because he was missing one leg and had a short barreled machine gun in his hand. Dean froze for a second as he saw the man rise. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Cromartie and Nunes drawing their side arms, but their fire lanes were almost instantly cut off by the other security professionals who were racing to cover their clients in case the gunman was aiming for them.
Dean saw the barrel rise up in what seemed liked slow motion. It was tracking toward him and there was no cover on the raised platform he and the other representatives were seated on. Luckily Dean was already on his feet and moved quickly to his left, away from the other men seated on the platform. The gunshots were deafening and followed instantly by the sound of shattered glass. Dean had to dive off the platform to avoid the wild spray from the gunman. Dean hit the floor like a baseball player sliding into home, letting his momentum carry him across the well polished floor. In his mind he knew that he would be the most vulnerable scrambling back to his feet, but he didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere to hide in the large room and Dean wasn’t armed.
The gunshots from EsDef issue sidearms popped, their reports a comforting contrast to the machine gun fire that continued to spew bullets into the reception room. Luckily for Dean, and the other attendees, the bullets were angling up into the ceiling of the room as the gunman was knocked back by fire from both Cromartie and Nunes. Dean scrambled to his feet, his eyes sweeping across the room, ignoring the screams of panic from the attendees and the shouts from their personal protection agents. He was looking for more threats, but the gunman seemed to be alone.
Cromartie was the first person to reach Dean, taking a position in front of the Recon Captain, but not bothering with trying to move him out of the room. It was quickly becoming clear that the threat had been dealt with.
“We’re clear,” Cromartie said as Nunes reached his side.
They both still had their weapons drawn and held close to their chests, as they surveyed the room. People were running for the exits and Dean’s own pulse was pounding in his ears. He felt shaky and nervous, almost as if he’d drank too much coffee.
“I concur,” Nunes said. “We’ll stay here.”
After a few moments the other EsDef representatives, all members of the Operators & Administrators branch that specialized in piloting drone craft or managing the vast resources of EsDef, joined Dean in the corner of the room where his escorts could offer them some protection. They asked questions, each one obviously shaken up by the attack. Dean was on edge as well, but he didn’t want his fears to show. He was Recon, the first in the fight, the tip of the spear. Facing danger was what they were trained to do, he just wished he had a weapon and a target so he could release his tension and strike back at the murderous bastard who had tried to kill him.
Chapter 3
Dean wasn’t sure what was worse, the after effects of the attack slowly draining away or the boredom of waiting for the local police to clear the scene so he could leave. The gunman, an extremist and anti expansionist, had hidden the weapon in his prosthetic leg. How he had managed to get the weapon out of the fake leg without the spectators around him noticing was a mystery
, even Cromartie and Nunes hadn’t seen the man moving strangely in the back of the room. The only warning of his murderous intentions had been his shaky rise to a standing position. His awkward balance on one leg had also made his aim sporadic. Still, if Dean hadn’t reacted instantly he would most likely have been gunned down before the terrorist was stopped.
None of the other speakers or spectators were wounded by gun fire. There were injuries mostly due to the shattered glass and panicked retreat out of the building, but no one was seriously hurt. Dean was grateful for that. He had protected himself and in doing so he had left everyone else to fend for themselves. If the gunman had shot someone Dean knew it would have been hard to live with.
After being questioned by the police, and finally cleared to leave, Dean walked with his escorts out to an alley that the police had cordoned off. The media tour was over, and Dean would be getting his new assignment soon, he only hoped that by surviving the attack he wouldn’t suddenly be the subject of renewed interest that required him to continue the rounds of interviews and public appearances. He wanted to disappear back into the ranks of EsDef, and he needed to get back in shape, after months of travel and tasks that kept him from maintaining top physical conditioning.
“What now?” Cromartie asked as they headed out to the SUV that was waiting to take them wherever they wanted to go in the city.
“I’m headed to San Diego,” Dean said. “What about you, Staff Sergeant?”
“Next assignment isn’t for three more days. I was thinking of hanging out in L.A. unless you would like me to accompany you,” Nunes said.
“Not at all. Our media tour is complete and you are relieved of all duties. Where can we drop you?”
“Anywhere near sand and surf,” Nunes said. “You joining Cro?”
“Nope, I’m hoping a jet to Edmond Oklahoma. I got family there.”
“It’s been a pleasure working with you gentlemen,” Dean said. “I appreciate all your help, especially today.”
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