The Reign: Destiny - The Life Of Travis Rand

by Lance Berry

  Of course, as flagship, the Horizon was to dock first. Travis and Lieutenant Arroyo maintained a strict coordination between their helm and navigation consoles as he moved the Heavy Cruiser cautiously into synchronous rotation with the facility. It took nearly two minutes for Travis to be absolutely certain the ship was at the proper distance and speed before moving in for final linkup, but Christenson didn’t seem to mind at all…at least, the Captain made no verbal admonishment. At last, the linkup was complete and the Shipyard’s docking clamps on Tier One firmly locked into place. Travis and Arroyo shared a relieved, satisfied nod and Christenson congratulated them on a job well done before announcing that the change to second shift could finally take place. As was the case when Travis initially took charge of the helm earlier that day, he updated the officer who relieved him on the status of helm functions before stepping off the bridge.

  Travis shared a lift with the majority of bridge officers he had served with for the mission, Christenson and Mara among them. A lieutenant had been left in charge of the bridge. There was no talking on the ride down, and Travis noticed that once off the bridge, Christenson and Mara immediately took to holding hands…or rather, she interlocked her fingers with his. The captain seemed distracted, lost in thought, and it was only his wife’s touch which briefly brought him out of his reverie. He looked at her and smiled, but the smile did not fully touch his eyes. Soon enough, the lift slowed and the doors opened on deck twelve. Most of the officers got off, but Christenson and Mara stayed on, the doors closing on the couple before the lift headed on its way once more.

  “So how do you like helm?” Arroyo asked Travis almost immediately once they were out of the Christensons’ company. Travis shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s not really that different from my job as helmsman aboard the Archimedes, but for some reason I’m feeling this added sense of… responsibility, I guess…even more so than aboard any other ship. I guess it’s because this is the flagship now. Really the big time.”

  “I know,” Arroyo said as she gestured emphatically with her arms. “And it’s serving with David Christenson, too. My god, I’ve admired him since I was in training in La Jolla.”

  “You were in California? I was near El Cajon. I’m surprised we never ran into each other on leave.”

  Arroyo flashed him a knowing smile. “Well…there’s no reason we can’t run into each other now.”

  Sex with Lisbet Arroyo was…interesting, for Travis. She was a beautiful woman, and he was stunned that her uniform had managed to hide how busty she truly was. He wasn’t too crazy about the fact that she wanted to call him “David” during intercourse and for him to pretend that she was Mara Christenson. Travis had always liked focusing on whomever he was with, and appreciated the reciprocation. In this instance, as they neared climax and he kept repeating his executive officer’s name, he found himself thinking more and more about the real Mara and what it would be like to actually be with her. For the first time in his life, he was glad when the sex was over, and equally relieved that Arroyo chose to go back to her own quarters when it was done. He leaned back against the wall as he sat up in bed, and realized that it had been a mistake to immediately take up with someone whom he’d be seeing every day aboard ship, and worse still, that now he found it hard to get thoughts of Mara Christenson out of his head…that way would only lead to trouble.

  He threw the bedcovers off and headed for the shower. He let the warm water run over him for a good while before actually touching soap to his body, as thoughts of Mara being in the shower with him swirled around his head. He finally managed to push the images to the back of his mind and washed himself. Afterward, he changed to civilian clothes and put his poster of Earth on the wall directly beside his bed. He stepped back to admire it and smiled in satisfaction.

  Travis decided to head to Down Time to get a quick meal before going back to his quarters for a nap. He entered to find the place almost deserted, and had mixed emotions upon seeing Mara sitting alone at the bar, a drink in hand. He tried to turn his gaze away from her, and his eyes fell upon the captain’s table at the rear of the mess. David Christenson and Tanner Matthews sat on opposite sides of the table, deep in discussion. Even from across the room, Travis could tell Matthews’ eyes were red and swollen from crying, and a look of anguish was upon his face. The security chief’s voice rose in volume a couple of times, but Travis couldn’t fully make out what he said. The captain, for his part, listened closely and patiently, only speaking when necessary. Finally, Matthews slammed his fist down on the table and covered his face in shame, apparently on the verge of breaking down once more. Christenson got up and moved to his side of the table. He wrapped one arm around Matthews and drew him close, speaking to him in a low, comforting manner. Matthews nodded a few times, wiped his eyes, and Christenson released him. They then began to talk calmly, quietly, and Travis sensed some type of turning point had been reached.

  Travis decided to brave a conversation with the commander, and walked over to join her at the bar. “Mind if I sit with you?” She turned to look at him and for a moment he had the feeling she was about to rebuff him. But instead she gestured to the chair beside her, and he sat down and ordered a soda from the bartender on duty. “How can I help you, Lieutenant-Commander?” Mara asked him. Travis felt a part of him twitch as an entirely inappropriate answer came to mind. He forced the thought away and nodded toward Christenson and Matthews. “What’s going on?”

  She glanced over at her husband, then back at Travis. She regarded the younger officer a moment, then chose to answer his question. “Tanner and his squad managed to bring back three Calvorian prisoners, including the ship’s captain. But he’s taking the loss of his people in the transport accident hard. David’s trying to console him.”

  Travis briefly scanned the proceedings over at the table. “Seems to be going okay.”

  “I guess,” Mara replied somewhat somberly. “It’s a hard thing, being a captain, Travis. Especially captain of a Heavy Cruiser, where you don’t get to go into armed combat off-ship anymore. When David was still a member of England’s military division, he was a part of Her Majesty’s Royal Star Force. Did you know that?”

  “No,” Travis said in amazement. The RSF was the carry-over from the days when England had assigned pilots to Her Majesty’s Royal Air Force. Like the RAF of old, the more modern RSF was comprised of elite pilots– the absolute best within England and, some said, on the whole planet.

  “When David was in the RSF, he was the flight commander before being promoted to captain and moving on to take charge of the Victory,” Mara explained. “As flight commander, he still got to lead his pilots directly into battle and share the risk with them. He hasn’t quite gotten used to just sending his troops out and not being there with them…in his eyes, for them. He and Tanner are alike in that they’re both the type of leader that takes the death of any soldier on their watch personally, whether that death was the result of their own order or not. Tanner’s also fairly new to the upper echelons of HC command, and isn’t quite used to this part of it yet. Since he doesn’t follow the principles of the Nondenominational Church, it’s a type of therapy, I guess you could say, for him and David to help each other through this.”

  “Looks to me like David–I mean, the Captain–is doing most of the helping.”

  Mara looked over at the table once more before looking back at Travis. “David’s the stronger of the two, emotionally. Mentally. And in willpower. It takes a uniquely strong individual to be captain of a Heavy Cruiser, and David’s one of the strongest men I’ve ever met.”

  Travis nodded in agreement and took a drink of his soda. He was aware of Mara watching him, but tried not to notice. “What do you want to do with yourself, Travis? What do you want out of your career?”

  Travis finished his soda and set it down. He considered his answer carefully, while trying not to get lost in the beautiful woman’s warm brown eyes. “I’ve always wanted nothing more than to take the fight to th
e enemy. As a captain, I think I could do far more good in that direction.”

  Mara arched an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “Do you really think you have what it takes to be a captain?”

  “Not yet,” he answered truthfully. “But I’m on my way. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot by watching your husband. And I don’t mean to sound kiss-ass when I say that, I mean it sincerely.”

  Mara nibbled a corner of her mouth in consideration. “Interesting,” she said finally, and turned to look back at the table, where her husband and Matthews were getting to their feet. She stood and turned to Travis. “Looks like the pow-wow’s over. Nice talking with you, Travis,” she said and offered her hand. Travis tried not to seem overly enthusiastic as he accepted her soft, slender hand in his and shook it. “Good talking with you too, Commander.” Mara nodded, downed the last of her beer and left the empty mug on the counter as she headed over to rejoin her husband. Travis watched her sashay away, and swore to himself that would be the last illegitimate thought he would ever have of her.

  Later on that evening, Ben called Travis and asked him to come over to the captain’s quarters, and to bring his Unicard with him. Ben wouldn’t give him an answer as to why–one of the things that always irked Travis to some degree, was that Ben was always able to rouse his interest without fail by dodging his questions, although it usually turned out to be with good reason. Travis did as asked and headed over at the appointed time. When he rang the buzzer, the door slid open automatically and he stepped in.

  “Reporting as asked, Cap-“ Travis began, but stopped abruptly. The room David Christenson shared with his wife was double the size of the standard quarters, and with the exception of the head and recycle dumpchute, contained double of everything: closets, desks, vid-coms as well. Even the bed was a larger size. A large framed painting of a quaint sea-side town hung on one wall, the name “Blackpool” set into the plaque at the frame’s bottom. The vid-coms were currently scrunched together on one table placed in a corner, and the other table was set in the center of the room. The senior staff–Christenson, Mara, Jamie, Ben and Matthews–all wore civilian clothes and were seated around the table. Mara’s hair was pulled back into a fairly long ponytail, which only drew attention to her eyes and slender neck. Jamie wore an almost criminally revealing tank-top. Travis found himself working overtime to focus on what else was going on in the room. Christenson held a deck of cards in his hand, and a pitcher was set on a folded towel on the bed, with plastic cups beside it.

  “I see our young Mister Rand was nice enough to bring his Unicreds with him as you prescribed, Doctor,” the captain said in a devilish manner. “Yes, yes…there is a pigeon born every minute,” Ben said with a meaningful smile at Travis.

  “What’s going on?” Travis asked cautiously.

  “What’s it look like? We’re about to play cards, Travis,” Christenson said in that mischievous brogue of his. “We figured you might wish to donate to our retirement funds, is all.”

  A smile crept onto Travis’ lips. “And what game will you be losing to me in tonight?”

  There were several amused laughs around the table, and Ben waved Travis over to sit in an empty chair beside him. “C’mere, my boy…I do believe I want you on my team.”

  As Travis took his appointed seat, he looked at the captain. “What did I do to deserve this?”

  Christenson shuffled the cards in a masterful way which would have made the most seasoned dealer in Vegas blush with envy as he answered, “You performed very well today under pressure, and Ben speaks very highly of you. I’ve come to seriously value the good Doctor’s opinion, so I thought we’d see what you can do when the pressure’s really on.” He finished shuffling and passed the cards across the table to Jamie, who was seated on Ben’s other side–apparently on the same team as the doctor and Travis. She cut the cards and passed them back across to Mara, who then started to deal as her husband continued, “The missus and me with Tanner, versus the good Doctor and the two waifs. We’ll start off with four solid rounds of poker. Jokers and twos are wild and a nine turns out to be the queen mother. Next up will be blackjack, where twenty takes the pot, but twenty-one doubles the prize. We’ll round it out with three card poker, where the dollar amount matches the doubles you’re dealt.” He leaned forward, fixing Travis in his sights as he said somewhat more seriously, “This is all about teamwork, Travis. It’s up to each one of you to help your team win the pot, because you’re all splitting it evenly. Each game starts with a forty credit ante. Think you have enough service credits to play?”

  Travis was surprised at the amount of credits to start, but he felt privileged to have been asked here, and he didn’t want to back down. “I’ve got it, sir,” he replied, pleased that he had managed not to flinch under the captain’s withering gaze. Matthews slapped his hands together and rubbed them eagerly. “Then let’s get playing, folks–the night is young!”

  The games didn’t end until about five hours later, with Travis’ team nearly a hundred and eighty credits in the hole. As the chime for third shift was ending, the officers said their goodnights and started heading for their rooms. Travis apologized to Ben and Jamie for letting them down, but Ben wouldn’t hear of it–in his opinion, they had all played equally bad, and Jamie agreed. She even gave Travis a kiss on the cheek to show him there were no hard feelings, which he appreciated. Matthews had long gone, and Travis stood in the Christensons’ open doorway as he watched Ben and Jamie leave.

  “Travis, come in a moment,” the captain called to him.

  Travis went back inside, the door sliding shut behind him. The captain and Mara were setting the tables and vid-coms back in place as he spoke to the junior officer. “What did you learn tonight?”

  Travis’ brow furrowed in mild puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

  Christenson finished setting the second vid-com in place. As Mara checked its wiring, he turned to Travis. “What tactical skills did you learn from playing? I was watching you the entire time, you know. Tell me what you saw, and I’ll let you know if you got it right.”

  Travis tilted his head quizzically, then sat down in one of the remaining chairs…the other officers had taken the chairs they’d brought with them back to their quarters. “Well…I know that Tanner’s got a bad poker face. After a while, I could tell that his eyes widen slightly when he’s got a good hand. Jamie tries to pick the odds of playing a hand using total logic instead of going with her gut. Ben jokes a little too much, especially if he’s got a bad hand, trying to cover up. Out of all of us, I’d actually say your wife’s got the best face for the game. I never saw her flinch once.”

  “Why, thank you,” Mara chimed in from across the room. “And you wanted to throw him out an airlock over that story from our college days,” she said playfully with a faux accusatory glance at her husband.

  Christenson chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Travis. “And what about me, Travis? How did I play the game?”

  Travis considered it a long moment, replaying the evening in his mind before answering. “You kept a good face on, too…I think that you studied your cards more intently when you had a good hand, like you were trying to figure out when exactly to play your holds.”

  A slight smile bisected Christenson’s face and he nodded approvingly. “Very good. Very, very good. So you see, you’ve learned something about tactics tonight, and how to observe the movements of your opponent. What gives him or her away. Do you know what I saw when I was watching you?”

  Travis shook his head.

  “Strength. Courage. A willingness to not say die or surrender, even when you knew you didn’t have a prayer in hell. Sometimes, that’s what you need to be a good captain.” He stood up and patted Travis on the shoulder. “The night’s late, my friend…good thing we’re all on second shift tomorrow, eh?”

  Travis smiled just slightly and nodded. “Yes, sir, it is.” He stood and headed for the door as he said, “Thanks for letting me join in. It was worth t
he price of admission.”

  As the door opened, Christenson called after Travis. He turned around as the captain said, “I understand you practiced a form of martial art back at Sanderson. It’s called ‘Jeet Kune Do’?”

  “Yes, sir,” Travis said proudly. “It was invented by a man from the old 20th, named Bruce Lee. He was the greatest fighter who ever lived.”

  “You used that to beat that Calvorian on Argones IV, right?” Mara asked. Travis nodded.

  “I do a little kickboxing, now and again,” the captain said. “Perhaps you could show me some of your martial art, and we could trade ideas sometime.”

  Travis’ smile grew wider. “I’d like that, sir.”

  Christenson nodded. “We’ll schedule some time this week, then. Good night, Travis.”

  “Good night, sir. Ma’am.” With that, Travis stepped out of their quarters, allowing the doors to close as Mara went to her husband. Travis’ boots clacked on the deck plates as he walked back to his quarters, but he didn’t hear them at all. In his mind, he was walking on air.

  As the weeks passed into months, Travis’ first year aboard the Horizon went exceedingly well. David Christenson took a shine to him and became a type of mentor in the field of tactical strategy. At first through the card games and later in hand-to-hand combat and other methods, Christenson would demonstrate strategic options, coordination, mapping out attack plans and how to decide one’s victory before ever entering the arena of combat. They spent many late nights discussing the promise and flaws of Tsun Tzu’s Art of War, and how those writings fit into 22nd Century combat. Travis was a quick study and soon became David’s peer on many levels.

  Travis also came to find that Jamie Hughes was from New York and had in fact been born in one of the underground command compounds not far from where Travis had been found as a baby. They developed a close platonic relationship based mainly on shared territorial heritage and respect for each others’ accomplishments.