“I have another favor to ask you.” Horatio said in a hesitant rough voice, his eyes on his wife.
Kelsoe glanced at Shadina, and then back at Horatio. “It is already done.” She murmured. “Your wife will be fine.” She gave a little laugh. “More than fine, actually.”
The gruff man looked away, but couldn’t hide the tear he was wiping from his eye. “Speaking of fine, you don’t look so well yourself.” He rumbled, studying the young woman carefully.
“Oh, it’s nothing really. I…”
“Bullshit!” Mia announced in a hard uncompromising voice as she stepped onto the command deck and stopped, her hands on her hips glaring at Kelsoe. “My daughter was dead for almost fifteen minutes before I reconnected a blood supply to her brain to keep it alive. She was in a coma for weeks while she was being rebuilt.”
Horation blinked while Sahdina turned pale. “Daughter?” He asked in disbelief.
Mia sighed. “When my personality matrix was constructed, Aarlan Smith programmed me with everything they could dig out of his own memory about his wife, Lydia Smith, and that included her almost overwhelming love for her unborn daughter Kelsoe. I am a ninety three percent accurate reconstruction of the personality of Kelsoe’s mother, so for all practical purposes, Kelsoe is my daughter. Even my holographic image is that of Lady Lydia Smith, taken when she first became aware of her pregnancy with Kelsoe.” Mia looked at the deck, and there was pain in her voice. “It was the image that Aarlan liked above all others.”
“I never knew.” Kelsoe whispered.
“You weren’t supposed to.” Mia replied.
Kelsoe took a deep breath. “If you two would please come this way. A suite in Officer’s Country has been prepared for you, and I believe that Donovan and your grandchildren are anxiously waiting there to see you.” Turning for the door, Kelsoe wobbled slightly and Mia caught her arm in a firm grip.
“You are pushing yourself.” The AI hissed in exasperation. “You’ve only been up for a couple of weeks.”
Kelsoe sighed. “I’ll just see Horatio and Sahdina to their quarters and then go back to bed.”
“You will have a good meal before you sleep. You burned a lot of calories in Physical Therapy, and you need to replace them.” Mia reminded her. “I will have G’Fleuf check that you do.” The voice of the AI threatened gently.
Kelsoe laughed as she replied. “G’Fleuf likes his own room in my suite, and he should get along fine with my new bodyguard.” She cocked her head to her side. “You might consider installing holo-emitters in the suite so that you could visit without being simply a disconnected voice.”
“Thank you for the invitation.” Mia replied. “I’ll think about it.”
Listening to the conversation, Horatio chuckled as he assisted Sahdina to her feet. He frowned when he recalled what Kelsoe had said about his wife, but he told himself that he must have been mistaken, and that she must have been referring to the medical facilities available there in their new home.
Dashtra was on her feet in a heartbeat when Kelsoe staggered through the door to her suite, taking the young woman firmly by the arm. “You’re going to kill yourself again.” She growled in her deep voice as she helped Kelsoe out of her uniform and into her faded blue bathrobe. “No PT tomorrow.”
“But…”
“No!!” Dastra reiterated. “Period.”
“Bully.”
The big woman smiled down at the smaller. “That’s what I get paid for.” Dashtra grinned. “I’ve ordered dinner for us.” She said, waving to two covered settings on the kitchen table. “You have a nice steak, and I want you to eat it all if you have to sit there for an hour. The plate will keep it warm. Eat your salad too.” Her eyes glowed with anticipation as she stared down at her own steak. “You eat better than us lowly Lieutenants.”
Kelsoe chewed slowly. “It’s one of the perks of working for me.” She took a sip of her rich red wine, and sighed with pleasure.
Kelsoe was sipping her mug of hot klah, curled up in her overstuffed chair and wrapped in her robe when Dashtra interrupted her reverie. At eight thirty in the morning, the corpsman was already showered and dressed in her crisp Fleet blacks. “Fleet Captain Horatio Smith to see you, Kelsoe. Shall I send him away?”
“No.” Kelsoe set down her cup. “I know what he’s going to say.” She smiled thinly. “Please stay; you may find this…interesting.”
“As you wish.” She keyed the door open and Horatio stepped in, giving the tall woman a curious look.
Kelsoe smiled. “Good morning, Uncle Horatio.” She raised an eyebrow. “I can call you Uncle, can’t I?”
Horatio laughed. “Your father called me Uncle, so there is no reason you shouldn’t.”
“Thank you.” She nodded to the other woman. “This is my personal guard and Physical Trainer, Second Lieutenant Dashtra Varoshi.”
Horatio frowned slightly at the inclusion of the other woman in their private conversation, and then he shrugged. “That was quite the little trick you played on my wife and I yesterday, little Kelsoe.”
“I thought you might like it.” The young woman replied, her eyes sparkling. “Welcome to my small and very exclusive family.” Kelsoe counted on her fingers. “To my best count there are seven of us now who are infected with the Vector.” She didn’t need to turn to know that Dashtra’s eyes were widening.
“Seven?” Horatio asked. “I only count six, including you.”
Kelsoe snickered. “I thought Admiral Bacheva might understand things better if she was a member of our group.”
The older man rubbed his chin. “I’ve known Simona since she was in pigtails. I agree on that point. Did you ask her first before you dropped it on her?”
“I was long gone and lightyears away when she found out, if she found out. The Vector can be almost quiescent and undetectable, until needed. Besides,” She smiled, “I absolutely hate long explanations.”
“It takes some getting used to.” Horatio looked at her with serious eyes. How will I ever tell her?”
Kelsoe gave him an impish grin. “Tell her the same way I told Admiral Bacheva.”
Horatio though about it for a moment or two, and frowned. “Sahdina looks better this morning that she did before she ever came down with the cancer. At this rate she will look thirty years old in a matter of months.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Perhaps if you asked nicely the Vector would do the same for you.”
“What do you mean, do the same for you?”
Kelsoe gave him a winsome smile. “You touched your grandson, didn’t you?”
The older man frowned. “Yes?”
“When I infected Séamas and Donovan I recommended that at the first possible opportunity you be infected also. I’m sure that one or the other accomplished that task. The one that didn’t get to you was to infect Jasmina.”
“That was a terrible thing to do without asking.” Horatio growled, taking a step forward, his face like thunder. He blinked when he bumped into a stone-faced Dashtra who suddenly seemed to be standing between him and Kelsoe.
The older man seemed to deflate. “Sorry. I’m too used to intimidating people, I guess.” His face became thoughtful. “I could end up looking as young as my son.” He said in a stunned voice. “But I worry about what payment this Abreeza Vector will demand of our race.”
“If it hadn’t been for the Vector I would be dead, Uncle, your grandson would be dead, your wife would be dead soon, and your son would be a lifelong cripple.”
Horatio wouldn’t be deterred. “What happened to the race that created the Vector in the first place?”
Kelsoe sagged. “As far as I’ve can find out, they seem to have vanished. Mia thinks they may have evolved themselves right out of this plane of existence.” She nibbled an unchewed spot on one fingernail. “My father thought that they may have left the Abreeza Vector as a sort of calling card, although I think that there is more to it than that.”
Horatio gave her a hard
look, and swallowed. “Thank you.” He finally admitted. “Thank you for giving me my family back, and if there is a debt incurred, I will gladly pay it.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now that we have the sticky emotional stuff out of the way, how do you plan on rescuing the rest of the Smith clan?”
“I’m working on it.” Kelsoe replied after a moment’s hesitation.
Horatio nodded. “You have no idea, do you?”
Kelsoe sighed. “Not yet, no.” She admitted.
When Horatio gave her a wide smile, she suddenly smelled a setup. “I was going through some older communiques from Admiral Bacheva.” He began. “I have an idea.”
Kelsoe bit her lip. “Why don’t we get my staff together before you begin? You, Donovan, Captain Descartes and Lieutenant Rehn.” She pursed her lips. “Lieutenant Varoshi also, I think.”
Dashtra cleared her throat. “You might consider inviting the captains of the Grazer and Sword of the Primus.”
Kelsoe reddened. “I’d forgotten those two. We’ll meet in the conference room in thirty minutes.”
“An hour.” Dashtra corrected. “You need to shower, change and have a good breakfast first.”
Kelsoe let out a resigned sigh, gave the woman a speculative look and then a slow mischievous smile.
Dashtra frowned for a moment before a look of horror spread across her face and whitened her cheeks. “You wouldn’t dare!” She growled.
“I’m sure that Admiral Bacheva would have said exactly the same thing,” Kelsoe returned, “had she known.”
Fleet Captain Horatio Smith was chairing the meeting, and making the quick introductions. “Primus Smith.” He nodded to Kelsoe, and then began to work his way around the table. “Captain Bente Velo, of the Sword of the Primus, Lieutenant Entela Dosti, Commander of the Grazer.” Kelsoe studied her staff with interest. Bente was a tall thin man with dark brown hair, and hazel eyes while Entela was more Kelsoe’s size, but sported a head full of red curls. Her skin was fair, and a small constellation of freckles ran across the bridge of her nose. Horatio nodded to Captain Descartes and Lieutenant Rehn. “For you that might not know him,” he smiled, “the young man temporarily confined to a hoverchair is my son, Commander Donovan Smith.” He gave Kelsoe a wink. “Do you have anything to say, Primus?”
“You’re doing just fine, Uncle Horatio.” Kelsoe murmured to scattered titters and one or two raised eyebrows. The entire table knew, with that one sentence, that Fleet Captain Horatio Smith was her uncle, and they were on a first name friendship.
Horatio gave her a long look, and then nodded at her pronouncement. “Kelsoe and I were discussing the situation concerning the remainder of the Smith family.” He took a breath. “When she was on Wecarro, Kelsoe dropped off an emergency replicator, which will save innumerable lives among the Smiths by providing clean water and nutritious food. That situation is only a temporary fix, however, and we need to get the rest of the family to safety just as soon as possible. A communique from Admiral Simona Bacheva has given me an idea.” He chuckled. “The Vonuborg Armada, who came to conquer us are going to be the saviors of the Smith family.” You could have heard a pin drop in the room, and all the staff members were leaning forward expectantly. “You all know that the good Admiral Bacheva has been conducting hit and run raids on the Armada to keep them slowed down. It seems that one of Task Force Seven’s successes was the crippling of a huge Vonuborg troop transport. Open to space, the ship is a dead hulk but would provide ample room for the entire Smith clan, if we could get it here, park it in a canyon or crater and make repairs.” He smiled grimly. “The Admiral estimates the ship was carrying close to five thousand troops, and was nearly four miles long.”
“But, how would we get the Smith family from Wecarro to here?” Captain Descartes asked in a soft voice. “The transport is, as you said, a hulk.”
It was Lieutenant Rehn who gave the dry answer. “We have the Troop Transport Terranen here on Charybdis that will handle two thousand people.” His hard face wasn’t quite smiling. “This,” he glanced around, “residence will handle an extra thousand Marines, at least temporarily if some of the navy personnel will move back to their own ships.”
Horatio smiled. “Very good. That thought had occurred to me also. While the Terranen heads to Wecarro we can fetch the Vonuborg hulk with the destroyers and tow it here. We should be able to seal it and get power restored, if not drive systems back up before the refugees arrive. The Vonuborg breathe the same air as we do so that won’t be a problem, and water is water.” He scowled. “Food may be an issue, though.”
Justus Rehn turned a thoughtful look to Kelsoe. “I seem to remember that your ship’s AI has a way with other computers.” His eyes sparkled. “Perhaps it could simply reprogram the Vonuborg food replicators.”
Kelsoe smiled. “Her name is Mia, and I’m sure that she would look on it as a challenge.” Leaning back, she gave the hard-faced Marine a level look. “This salvage operation will be a job for the Marines, Lieutenant. It will be grisly business cleaning out that transport, and for all I know there may still be living troops aboard, but it will be worse if the Empire slaughters all the Smiths. We have a small window of opportunity here. The Fleet will be busy elsewhere, and won’t be available to stop the transport from picking up our people.” She chewed her lip, and hesitated at sending people in harm’s way. “Perhaps we should send the Frigate Grazer along with the Transport Terrannen…just in case.” She didn’t say it aloud, but she planned to send the Wyvern along with the transport as well, with her in it. “What are we looking at for a time frame, Fleet Captain Smith?” She already had an idea, but wanted to hear Horatio’s spin on the whole thing.
His jaws tightened. “We should leave in no more than two weeks. We don’t want our destroyers anywhere near a major Fleet action. They wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Bente Velo raised his voice. “Lieutenant Dosti and I were in the first action against the Armada. Their weapons are…terrifying. With one good shot from a cruiser they vaporized the Destroyer Hammer, despite her shields. If it hadn’t been for our guardian angel crippling the Vonuborg flagship and destroying the fuel ships, things might have turned out very differently.” He looked across the table at Kelsoe, and slowly every other head swiveled her way.
Kelsoe glared at the young destroyer captain. “Since you were so good to bring it up, Captain.” Her voice had a glacial bite to it, and Bente winced. “Perhaps you would be so good as to tell them the full story.”
Bente was blushing furiously, but he finally took a deep breath and straightened his back. “It all began some time ago, when Task Force Seven was conducting exercises in the Delta Alpha quadrant when we received a distress call from a transport in trouble, informing us that there had been a crash and a thousand Marines were still alive, all lured into the Wrecker’s Moon.” He looked down at the table, but all other heads were turned in Kelsoe’s direction. “Since we were close, the Admiral had the Task Force accelerate to flank speed and close with this moon.” He chuckled dryly while beside him Entella was stifling her laughter.
“Didn’t you catch the wreckers?” Horatio asked in a severe voice.
“Oh we caught the wreckers and destroyed their base, but we found out that the entire call for assistance was a trap. An invisible spacecraft began to shoot at us…with paint filled marker missiles. Soon the entire Task Force looked like a flying circus, and Admiral Bacheva was absolutely livid. We managed to get a few faint glimpses of the ship on our scanners as it departed and, of course, we gave chase—right into the teeth of the approaching Vonuborg Armada. Since we were looking harder we saw the enemy first and our Task Force managed to get off the first few shots before the Armada unlimbered its big guns. Their first volley obliterated one of our destroyers, a light cruiser and damaged the Frigate Grazer and my own destroyer. I don’t know what our guardian angel did then, but the Armada exploded, blowing a hole in the side of the flagship I could park a destroyer in while damaging a heavy cruiser
and snapping a Vonuborg destroyer in half like a toothpick. At the same time their fuel ships blew up, seriously damaging the entire Vonuborg supply Fleet. Still outnumbered fifteen to one, our Task Force withdrew, but my destroyer and the Grazer were too badly damaged to keep up. Again, our guardian angel took out a Vonuborg frigate that was snapping at our heels, and towed the frigate to the rendezvous point, with us following along as best we could. It wasn’t until much later that we discovered exactly who our guardian angel really was.” He gave the furiously blushing Primus a small smile.
There was silence around the table, and then Horatio stood up. “Since we are putting things on the table, perhaps I should tell the rest of the story. Our good Primus might…omit a few details.” He gave Kelsoe a warm look. “Some of my information is second hand, so please be patient.” Kelsoe knew instantly that he was getting information from his son, and vowed to have words with that young man, just as soon as she had the time. “After the engagement with the Vonuborg, Kelsoe headed for Wecarro, by herself, to use the DNA encoded FTL Transceiver located in the Royal Residence. Her intention was to recall the Fleet that had conveniently been sent to the other side of the Empire. Sneaking into the residence in the guise of a maid, she discovered that the residence was empty and said Transceiver not just gone, but torn out. She was captured and interrogated by the very same Empire agent who entrapped all the rest of the Smith family. Kelsoe managed to escape his clutches, however, and turned the table on him, gathering much information along the way.” He glared around the table. “While the Primus Aarlan Theodosius Smith was away, there has been a coup-de-ta, ladies and gentlemen, and it is uncertain whether the rest of the Imperial Fleet is aware of it, supports it or is opposed to it. Task Force Seven certainly was unaware that anything was amiss. The death of Aarlan and his wife and nearly that of his daughter were engineered by agents of the Empire, as was the convenient arrival of the Vonuborg Armada, timed to occur while the Fleet was away on exercises. Every member of the Smith family has been either executed or exiled to Isla del Diablo.” There was a shocked buzz of voices around the table. “I see you’ve heard of the place.” He growled in a harsh voice. “Kelsoe came to the island bearing gifts.” His smile was cold. “Jochim Howarth, the agent who sent us there, was the naked and bound gift.” Captain Rehn gave her a feral grin, and his eyes were bright. “Unfortunately, after several days on our tropical paradise Mister Howarth decided to swim to the mainland.” His smile never reached his eyes. “He never made it.” He waited a moment for the buzz of talk and laughter to die down. “Kelsoe had no option now but to try a daring raid on Fleet Headquarters itself, to use their FTL Transceiver. My son was assisting her.” He shot Donovan a sad look. “The two succeeded in breaking in and sending the message, however the alarms went off before they had a chance to make good their escape.” Kelsoe saw him swallow, but he continued in a calm voice. “My son lost his legs and almost his life before he was dragged to safety by Kelsoe.” He turned to regard her with steady unblinking grey eyes. “Kelsoe died of her wounds.” The faces in the room went pale. “She was legally dead for almost fifteen minutes before the medical facilities in her ship could restore blood circulation to her brain. She was in a coma for several weeks while her heart, lung, intestines, kidney and hip were repaired or replaced.” He looked slowly around the table. “She woke up two and a half weeks ago.” There was awe in the other faces, and maybe a little fear. “If you thought to question the right of this young woman to be called Primus, think again.” His smile softened a trifle. “I may, however, be a little prejudiced.” There were titters of laughter from the others in the room. “Kelsoe has personally saved three members of my own family.” The silence in the room stretched.
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