Wasp Hand

by Jonathan Moeller

  Cameron pressed the Tiger into service as a search-and-rescue shuttle, and they located the ejector pods from the Phalanxes that had been destroyed. Once the pilots and the crews had been rescued, March flew them back to the Roncesvalles. He received clearance to land at the previous pad he had used earlier, and once the medical teams hustled the pilots and crews out of the cargo hold, March and Adelaide found themselves sitting in the empty ready room again.

  He sat next to Adelaide at the table, drinking coffee.

  “Hell of a day,” said Adelaide in a quiet voice. “I know I keep saying that, but it’s true.”

  “It is,” said March. “Let’s not do that again.”

  She laughed and rested her head on his left shoulder. “I’m not going to argue.”

  “That can’t be comfortable,” said March. “My left shoulder is half metal.”

  He saw her smile. “Both your shoulders are kind of hard, Jack.”

  “Suppose so,” said March. He rested his left arm across her as gently as he could, and she leaned against him with a sigh. This was pleasant. It was such a simple thing, touching a woman. He had forgotten how pleasant it could be.

  “We make a good team, don’t we?” said Adelaide. “We do. We just saved fifteen million people.”

  “We did,” said March. “And we do make a good team.”

  The door hissed open, and Lord Admiral Theodoric Stormreel strode alone into the ready room.

  Adelaide straightened up.

  “I do hope my timing isn’t inconvenient,” said Stormreel in a dry voice.

  March snorted. “Admiral, you’ve been nothing but inconvenient since I’ve met you.”

  Stormreel blinked, and then let out a quiet laugh. “I shall not argue with that. But it was worth the inconvenience, was it not? The Wasps killed thousands aboard Vesper Station, and they would have killed fifteen million more on Vesper’s World, and God only knows how many in the resultant war. And all those lives were saved, all those potential wars stopped, because of what we did here today.”

  “I’m not going to argue,” said March. “We won.”

  “Yes,” said Stormreel. “The path to victory. Do you understand now, Captain March? The tactics, the strategies, even the most powerful weapons…they are but tools. It is the men who wield them who matter.” He inclined his head at Adelaide. “And the women as well.”

  She smiled. “But not in the Royal Calaskaran Navy.”

  “No,” said Stormreel. “But in the Silent Order, yes, for wars are fought in many different kinds of battles. You have my gratitude, both of you, and if necessary, you can call upon me for aid.” He offered a thin smile. “Needless to say, everything that happened here is classified at the highest level, and you will not discuss it with anyone save Censor himself.”

  “Of course not,” said March.

  “You are cleared to leave,” said Stormreel. “Good travels, both of you.”

  He gestured to the door, and March and Adelaide left the ready room.

  ###

  It took the Tiger ten days, and forty-six hyperspace jumps to make the long journey from Vesper’s World to Calaskar.

  The trip settled into the pleasant routine they had enjoyed during the trip from Rustbelt Station to the Vesper system. March spent the days piloting or performing maintenance on the ship’s various systems. There was a great deal of maintenance to be done. The Tiger had taken only minimal battle damage, but there had been a lot of wear and tear on the weapons, the shields, and the engines. Once they reached Calaskar Station, March would have to spend some money on replacement parts and upgrades.

  Adelaide, as before, spent her mornings exercising and then writing. Sometimes in the afternoons she helped him with the work or took over at the co-pilot’s station while March repaired one of the ship’s systems.

  Their nights, of course, they spent together in Adelaide’s cabin.

  It was as pleasant and as happy of a time as March had ever known.

  It was almost enough to make him forget what Stormreel and Caird had said.

  Because they were right, he knew.

  An emotional attachment was a liability for an Alpha Operative of the Silent Order. For that matter, trying to maintain a relationship with Adelaide would not be fair to her. How often could March come to Calaskar? One month out of every three, perhaps? Would she want to live like that, waiting on him as he disappeared for weeks at a time?

  Perhaps it would be better to end the relationship swiftly.

  He tried not to brood on the matter as they traveled deeper into the heart of the Kingdom of Calaskar, but as they drew closer to their destination, he could not push it from his mind.

  Ten days after leaving the Vesper system, their final hyperspace jump deposited them at the Calaskar system, a few hundred thousand kilometers from Calaskar Station itself.

  The station was huge, the largest space installation in Calaskaran space, with nine arrays of docking rings encircling a massive cylindrical central core. Two destroyers patrolled the station’s perimeter, along with a squadron of starfighters, and hundreds of freighters ranging from blockade runners to massive container ships moved back and forth, delivering and picking up cargo and passengers. No starships were allowed to land on Calaskar itself, and so all ships docked at Calaskar Station and then rode a cargo shuttle down to the surface.

  March had not been here for years. His work had always taken him to the Kingdom’s outer colonies and stations.

  But Adelaide’s life was on Calaskar.

  He thought on that as he spoke with station control, received a docking port, and maneuvered the Tiger towards it. An encrypted message came through as he finished the docking procedure.

  “Looks like I’m supposed to call Censor as soon as possible,” said March. It must have been urgent. Usually, Censor called him.

  “Not surprised,” said Adelaide. “I think we sort of made a mess out there. Or cleaned one up.”

  “There’s a restaurant with private booths not far from here,” said March as he put the ship’s systems on standby. “I’ll make the call quick, and then we’ll decide what to do next.”

  “Sounds good,” said Adelaide, giving him a sunny smile.

  Together they left the ship and walked through the bustling cargo corridors of Calaskar Station. From there they made their way to one of the commercial concourses of the station. It was clean and well-lit, two levels of balconies lined with shops and businesses. Screens hung on the walls at regular intervals, and they usually displayed documentaries about the history of Calaskar, informational videos, or religious programs.

  Today, though, they showed news.

  “Guess word got here before we did,” said Adelaide.

  TOTAL VICTORY IN VESPER SYSTEM said the screens, and March stopped with Adelaide to watch some of the reports. According to the official news, the Eumenidae had launched an invasion of Vesper’s World. An advance element of the Seventh Fleet, under the command of Lord Admiral Theodoric Stormreel, had surprised and destroyed the Eumenidae invasion force despite being outnumbered nearly six to one. The reports showed images of the catastrophic destruction the Eumenidae had brought to the Fourth Terran Empire. The King had ordered services of thanksgiving to be held in every church in the Kingdom.

  “Suppose it’s true enough,” said Adelaide.

  “Better that no one knows the truth,” said March, thinking of the relics locked on the ship. “Maybe…”

  His phone chimed. So did Adelaide’s.

  Adelaide frowned and slid out her phone, and her eyes went wide.

  “Jack,” she said. “I think you should check your phone.”

  March did as she said and looked at his phone’s screen. It had connected to the local network on Calaskar Station, which meant he could get messages forwarded through the planetary network. A message from Lord Admiral Stormreel had just come in. It was only three words long.

  WITH MY GRATITUDE.

  Accompanying the message was a b
ank transfer for a quarter of a million credits.

  Adelaide looked at him, eyes wide. March glanced at her phone and saw that she had gotten an identical message and bank transfer.

  “Guess it’s good to save a Lord Admiral’s life,” said Adelaide. “And he’s a Stormreel. The family’s loaded.”

  “That’s going to pay for a lot of repairs on the Tiger,” said March.

  “And you’ll have enough left after to buy me a nice dinner,” said Adelaide.

  “Yes,” said March, thinking of the hard thing he was going to have to do. Better to get it over with sooner rather than later.

  After he called Censor, he decided.

  They walked the rest of the way to the restaurant. Adelaide’s phone kept buzzing with new messages. She had been gone from Calaskar for months, and so the mail had piled up. March was amused to see that twice she was recognized by viewers of her videos, and she stopped long enough to shake hands.

  She had a full life before she met him. That would help her to move on.

  The restaurant was crowded, so Adelaide waited on a bench outside while March paid for a private booth. He went alone into the booth, activated the sound suppressor set into the wall, pulled out his phone, and called Censor.

  Thirty seconds later the call connected, routed through the Tiger’s communications equipment and the planetary network.

  “Captain March,” said the familiar dry voice of the head of the Silent Order.

  “Sir,” said March.

  “You have been,” said Censor, “really rather busy, haven’t you?”

  “I think that might be an understatement, sir,” said March.

  “I am very eager to hear the details,” said Censor.

  For the next half-hour, March talked and told Censor about Rustbelt Station, the Firestone, the death of Simon Lorre, the quantum beacon, and the victory at Vesper’s World. His throat started to hurt about twenty minutes in, and he wished he had thought to order some water or coffee.

  “Captain March,” said Censor once he had finished. “I do not often say this to anyone, but I extend to you my unqualified congratulations. Lorre has long been a thorn in our side, and his death alone is victory enough. Denying the Machinists the use of twenty additional quantum inducers is an even larger victory, as was preserving Adelaide Taren’s life. But Vesper’s World was a tremendous success. I thought it possible that you would need to work with the Lord Admiral when I gave him that blanket order, but I did not think it likely. I have already read the Lord Admiral’s report, and he had nothing but praise for you and Dr. Taren. You have exceeded our expectations in every respect, and not only did you help preserve the lives of the fifteen million colonists on Vesper’s World, but you also saved the lives of millions more who would have died in the resultant war with the Eumenidae.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said March. “What about the relics? They can’t stay on the Tiger.”

  “No, they cannot,” said Censor. “A team from the Ministry of Defense will be arriving at the Tiger in three hours. Meet them there and hand over the relics, and they will convey the devices to the Project Exorcism facility.” The dry voice got even drier. “Since the Lord Admiral saw fit to inform you of its existence.”

  “I’ll be there,” said March. “Frankly, I’ll be glad to get rid of the damned things.”

  “I imagine so,” said Censor. “I will have a new assignment for you soon enough, so I suggest you remain on Calaskar Station for the next few days. Likely your ship needs maintenance and repair anyway.”

  “It does, sir,” said March. “Sir, I…”

  He hesitated, unsure of what to say next.

  “Hesitation is unlike you, Captain March,” said Censor.

  “I’ve initiated a romantic relationship with Dr. Taren,” said March.

  There was a long, long pause.

  That was unlike Censor. March waited for the rebuke, for the lecture that a personal entanglement was a liability for an operative of the Silent Order. He expected a dressing down.

  “Very well,” said Censor. “I expect to have your next assignment in the next seven to ten days. Do as you see fit until then.”

  “Sir?” said March.

  “Have I been unclear, Captain March?” said the dry voice.

  “No, sir,” said March, confused.

  “Excellent,” said Censor. “Once again, my congratulations on a stunningly successful operation, Captain. Make sure you are at the Tiger in three hours.”

  The call ended.

  March blinked at his phone a few times.

  Then he stood and went to break up with Adelaide Taren.

  She sat on a bench near the balcony railing overlooking the crowds on the concourse below, thumbing through the messages on her phone. Her head came up as he approached, and she grinned.

  “Hey, guess what?” she said. “I got a message from the Ministry of Defense. They want me to make a documentary about the battle.”

  “Really,” said March. “You’ll have to edit it a bit.”

  “A lot,” said Adelaide, “but I can make sure the crew of Vesper’s Station and the fighter pilots who were killed get the recognition they deserve. Did our mutual employer say what we need to do next?”

  “Yeah,” said March.

  He sat next to her on the bench, trying to put his thoughts in order, trying to decide how to tell her what he had to tell her.

  “What is it?” said Adelaide.

  “Adelaide,” said March. “I…”

  He saw her get it.

  Her face seemed to crumple, just a little, and some of the vitality drained out of her eyes. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, and then nodded to herself. As if bracing herself for a blow.

  “Jack,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “Oh, Jack.” She swallowed. “I…”

  March took a deep breath, Stormreel’s and Caird’s logic grim in his mind. They were right. They…

  The words evaporated on his tongue, and suddenly he felt like a monstrous fool.

  To hell with it all.

  He had taken so many risks in his life. Why not one more?

  “Let’s go camping,” said March.

  Adelaide blinked. “What?”

  “Back on Rustbelt Station,” said March. “You said if we lived through this you would take me camping in the Malborix Woods. Well, we lived through it all. Wasn’t expecting it, to be honest, but we did.”

  “Seriously?” said Adelaide, smiling.

  “Yeah,” said March. “I’ll have another job in a week, and I’ll have to go. But if you want to wait for me, I’ll come back for you.” He took her left hand with his right. “If you wait for me, I’ll always come back.”

  Adelaide grinned, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard. That drew a few startled looks from people walking past (public displays of affection were not very Calaskaran), but right now March didn’t care, and he doubted Adelaide did either.

  “Okay,” said Adelaide when they broke apart. “The university can wait a few days. Let’s go camping.”

  ###

  A day later, March found himself in a cabin in the Malborix Woods on Calaskar.

  It looked suitably rustic. It had three rooms, a living room with a large fireplace, a bedroom, and a small bathroom. There was a rug spread on the plank floor, and Adelaide went to the fireplace at once, stacking the wood and starting the fire.

  “Running water but no electricity,” said March. Based on Adelaide’s stories of her childhood, he had expected to spend the next week sleeping in a tent.

  “That’s the point,” said Adelaide, holding her hands before the flames as the fire caught. “Get away from it all for a few days.”

  “Makes sense,” said March. He didn’t see the point of camping, but he was glad to spend time with her. “Cold in here, so it’s good to have a fire. I’ll put the suitcases away.”

  He walked into the bedroom, put the suitcases at the foot of the bed, and stopped long enough to use the ba
throom. The running water did work, he was pleased to see.

  March walked back into the living room and froze.

  Adelaide lay naked on her left side in front of the fireplace, her back to the flames. Her head was propped up on her left hand, and her clothes rested in a neat stack next to the carpet. The firelight danced across the smooth skin of her legs and hip, and she grinned at him, her eyes glinting.

  “Bet it will be warmer over here,” Adelaide said.

  She was right.

  An hour later, March still didn’t understand camping, but he was beginning to see the appeal.

  THE END

  JACK MARCH WILL RETURN

  Thank you for reading SILENT ORDER: WASP HAND!

  Look for more adventures from Jack March in 2018.

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  Other books by the author

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  MAZAEL CRAVENLOCK is a wandering knight, fearless in battle and masterful with a sword.

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  The Dominiar Order and the Justiciar Order were once noble and respected, dedicated to fighting the powers of dark magic. Now they are corrupt and cynical, and scheme only for power and glory. They will kill anyone who stands in their way.