by Gun Brooke
“What do you mean, real one?” Standing up, Dael paced back and forth a few times. “I find a little intimidation goes a long way.”
“Yes. Back on Oconodos, where your crew would return to their family and go on with their lives at the end of the day. Here, they need another type of commander. Someone stern and tough enough for them to trust and depend upon, but also…someone with compassion and a sense of humor.”
“I can’t believe you. You, who scare the living daylights out of bulky admirals twice your size with a mere glance, advocate compassion and humor?” Dael huffed and turned to stare at the view screen showing the distant star systems.
“Dael. Listen. You asked me along for this mission, and I came for two reasons. The first is obvious. I’m a selfish old woman who saw a chance to live out my days with my beloved granddaughter. But I also figured I could be of value one last time. You carry a great burden, Dael. You need someone who knows what that means.”
Turning slowly, Dael looked at her nania and saw the woman she remembered from when she was a young girl. Not very tall, but with an amazing force shining through her eyes, sparkling intellect, and something more, something—yes, humor. “You’re right. Of course you are.” Dael chuckled and covered her eyes briefly with one hand.
“Of course. Will you let us watch the video transmission of the CAG’s daring rescue? It’ll be good for morale.”
“Oh, you fraud.” Dael shook her head. “You want to watch it because you were just such a daredevil once.”
“Not sure what you mean. I’m on my way to weave some baskets or whatever, so I suggest you return to your bridge.” Helden glared at her caregiver, a young woman. “Let’s go. And no, I don’t need to be driven. I can manage the chair myself.”
“Don’t let her shake you off.” Dael smiled at the woman. “I’ve had to chase her more than once.”
“Yes, Admiral. I brought a mobility pad for that very reason. It attaches in the back for me to stand on. That way, the fleet admiral can drive me to the common room.”
Helden’s features softened. “That I don’t mind.”
Dael realized the caregiver and her grandmother had everything under control. Before she left, she kissed Helden’s cheek and confirmed they were still on for lunch.
Walking at a much slower pace back to the bridge, Dael thought about her nania’s words of caution. She had been so busy preparing for the goal of this mission the last few years, not even once questioning her role. Perhaps Nania was right? Being a regular admiral, functioning as she’d done on Oconodos and on the shorter missions in well-known space, might not cut it. To her crew, on all five ships, she was more than their commanding officer. How the hell could she find the right tone to assume the role of…of leader, as well?
*
The infirmary was almost empty, unless you counted the crowd surrounding the bed. As Spinner approached, she recognized Gazer’s wife, a chubby, freckled blonde who couldn’t be described as anything but cute. She seemed surgically attached to her husband’s left arm. His right arm was tightly wound around a little boy—Spinner knew he’d just turned four—who in turn seemed rather pleased with all the attention. The rest of the pilots that weren’t on duty at the moment flocked around them, smiling broadly and, no doubt, teasing Gazer until he was ready to airlock them.
“CAG!” One of the female pilots jumped up from the foot of Gazer’s gurney. “What a brilliant move!” She gazed adoringly at her, clearly in awe. Her bright voice made the others take note of Spinner’s presence and saluted her.
“As you were.” Spinner frowned and returned the salute hastily. “Gazer, you look too happy and fit to be slouching around like this.” She stood at the foot of his gurney now, hands on her hips.
“Commander!” Gazer’s wife untangled from his arm and rushed toward Spinner. To her dismay, the young woman hugged her closely. “Oh, I can never thank you enough. You put your life on the line, and that type of flying was so daring and like nothing I’ve ever seen, and I’m sure nobody else has ever pulled off anything like it, and—”
“Sweetie, please. Give the CAG some breathing room. She’s not used to your abundance of words.” Gazer grinned at Spinner over his wife’s head. “CAG, this is my wife. And this guy is my son.”
To Spinner’s relief, Gazer’s feisty wife let go of her and returned to her husband’s side. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Spinner said and nodded politely toward the young woman.
She shifted her gaze to the little boy, knowing full well every single one of her pilots was watching her curiously. The child had his father’s flaming red hair and his mother’s freckles. His upturned nose made him very cute. He was about the same age as Liny when she began to change. Spinner swallowed and meticulously schooled her features. She had known that plenty of children all ages would be aboard the five vessels. Normally she avoided interacting with them, but here she couldn’t. “Hello, there.” Stretching her tense lips into what she hoped was a kind smile, Spinner saw the little boy nod shyly back.
“You my daddy’s CAG? His wingman?” The boy asked.
“I sure am.”
“Then I like you.”
Spinner heard shuffling feet and muted chuckles around her. Glaring at her pilots, she silenced them instantly. Turning back to the child, she suddenly found it a little easier to smile. “Thank you. Take care of your dad now.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy answered, and pressed his little hand to his chin in a funny left-handed salute.
Spinner squeezed Gazer’s foot. “Now that I see you’re alert and talking, I’ll let you enjoy your entourage. Let me know when you’re cleared for duty.”
“Aye, CAG.” Gazer met her gaze firmly. “And thank you, sir. It’s not enough, but thank you.”
“You can thank me by getting a clean bill of health and regaining your flight status.” Spinner said good-bye to Gazer’s family and then left the infirmary with a sigh of relief. She disliked hospitals of any kind. She hated being caught off guard by old emotions that had been laid to rest a long time ago, or so she thought. The idea of getting through the unimaginable hurt once again made her stomach tremble. She refused. She damn well refused to be turned into that open-sore fragile person she’d been so many years ago.
Hurrying toward her office, a room she hadn’t quite had time to claim as her workspace, she decided to work off the anguish. Nothing like boring administrative CAG duties to clog her mind.
Chapter Five
Dael had grudgingly allowed Spinner’s stunt to be aired on the ship-wide broadcasting system. It was ridiculous how much this clearly meant to her crew, but perhaps they saw it as indicative of how the adventure, their mission, would unfold. She gave in to the temptation to review Spinner’s rescue one more time and was amazed at the skill required to line up two assault craft like that and not kill Gazer in the process. One slip and Spinner’s wingman would have been crushed and sucked out of his space suit.
The lunch with Helden in the mess hall had attracted some attention. A lot of crewmembers knew very well who Helden Caydoc was, and more than one respectful, close-to-adoring look had been sent their way.
“You have a fan club,” Dael said as she cut her grandmother’s vegetables.
“I know,” her nania replied calmly. “I feel like a star.”
Snorting, Dael shook her head. “And so you should. You’re the highest-ranking officer they’ve ever met, most of them. The fact that you’re something of a legend helps too.”
“Legend.” Snorting in a ladylike manner, Helden regarded her plate with a disdainful expression. “A legend who has to be spoon-fed.”
“Ah, come on, Nania. I cut up your vegetables. Nobody would dare try to feed you.” Dael dreaded that day—if it ever came. Someone was bound to lose a finger.
“So, if I’m a legend and your Spinner is an action star, I’d say you’re off to a good start on your mission.”
“What do you mean?” Dael poured some more water for both of them.
“People need heroes.” Looking thoughtful, Helden chewed on a piece of balavia root. “They need role models and something to aspire to. You know that.”
“Yes, and when it comes to you, I have no problem with it. Regarding Spinner—I’m not so sure.” She really wasn’t. As far as courage, skill, and ingenuity, Spinner was amazing, no doubt about it. Dael could well see how Spinner would inspire the junior officers and crewmen, but as to risk assessment and following regulations, the woman was a menace.
“You admire her though.” Helden smiled. “Don’t even try to deny it, Dael. She exasperates you, but from where I’m sitting, she reminds me of someone you loved. Someone who possessed the same energy and guts.”
“I don’t know what you’re going on about.” Dael shoved her fork into a rather dull-looking piece of synthetic golo meat. In fact, she knew exactly who her nania referring to.
“So I imagined your rapt attention every time I told you the stories about your father’s daredevil assignments? How he bent the rules, defied every protocol, and saved the day?” Helden tilted her head and regarded her with affection. “I don’t think so.”
“Commander Seclan has none of my father’s traits or qualities.” Aghast and not a little affronted, Dael let go of her utensils and instead grabbed her napkin. “Father was…special. One of a kind.”
“As I would imagine this Spinner of yours is.”
Glancing up at her nania, Dael knew her eyes must be what she’d heard others refer to as icy white. That seemed to happen when she was furious. “Let’s just establish this once and for all.” She enunciated each word clearly. “Spinner is not ‘mine’ in any other aspect than the fact she’s my subordinate. We have no personal relations or similarities. None.”
“Oh, my. You’ve got that look your father used to give me when he insisted that I was meddling.” Nania looked unaffected, but something cautious in her features mellowed Dael’s temper.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, Nania.”
“And I shouldn’t have teased you. You have enough on your plate as it is.” Helden gestured emphatically with her one good hand.
“Don’t even think of changing. I’m going to trust you to keep me levelheaded, with my feet firmly on the deck plates.” Suddenly it was easy to smile again. “You are an unbearable tease though.”
“A trait I’ve honed for decades.” Helden looked pleased. “I found it unexpectedly useful when I headed up dangerous missions or had to suffer through endless negotiations.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.” Shaking her head, Dael returned her focus to what was left of her meal and then waved Helden’s caregiver over. Her nania looked fatigued now, even if the old woman would never confess to being tired. “Assist the admiral with the rest of her meal. I’m due back on the bridge.”
“Yes, sir.” The young woman nodded respectfully and took a seat next to Helden.
Dael kissed her nania’s cheek and left the officers’ mess hall. As she strode back through the corridors, she thought of Helden’s observation. Could she be right? Was part of Dael’s annoyance with Spinner because of the memory of her father? It was a farfetched theory and too quasi-psychological for her taste.
She would handle Spinner like any other subordinate and keep the chain of command as intact and indisputable as always. It was how she conducted herself as a senior officer and always had. Anything else would be unprofessional.
*
**Aniwyn Seclan**
**Commander and CAG**
**Day 2**
**Advance mission**
**Personal log**
I can’t go anywhere without crewmembers stopping me. Whether it is in the corridors, the mess hall, or even the damn gym, people want to chat about Gazer’s daring rescue. I try to suggest they go talk to him, but apparently it’s my rescue effort that interests them. For the love of the Celestial Lords, it was Gazer who hung on the outside of the assault craft. I was just steering it back to the Espies Major. He’s the gutsy one—I’m just the one who keeps ticking off the admiral.
Oh yes, Admiral Caydoc. She has a way of looking at me along that perfect nose of hers, as if I were some slimy bug residing in her salad. The way she purses her lips and squints makes me feel she’s thinking of how to demote me without breaking the rules. She’s all about the rules; well, except for wearing the fucking harness on the bridge. Perhaps she has extra gravity soles on her boots. I just can’t imagine seeing her blond perfectness fall on her ass and be at all human like the rest of us.
I wonder why she allowed the video recording of the rescue to air on the newscast. Was it to put me on the spot and make me look like a reckless idiot? Or does she think the crew needs some sort of hero? She sure picked the wrong one. I’m the CAG. I work hard for the pilots and that’s it. If anyone knew the truth about me, they’d realize how hilariously stupid it is to refer to me as a role model or hero. If I were, if that was in my persona whatsoever, Paddic would still be alive.
I’m not going to let her get to me. I’m not even sure why this is an issue to begin with. I’ve met superior officers sterner and more hard-nosed than Caydoc, and it’s never bothered me. The best course of action is to just do the job. Focus on performing my duties and never, ever let it get personal.
**End recording**
Spinner rested her hands on her knees for a moment and then pushed against them as she stood. Why had she conceded to herself that she was in danger of letting this get personal? Yes, the admiral was overwhelmingly striking, but she wasn’t more beautiful than many of the women who’d crossed Spinner’s path in the past. Was it even personal in that manner? Annoyed at how quickly her vow not to let this get to her was crumbling, within a couple of minutes, for heaven’s sake, she refused to even consider any other reason for this frustration.
Checking the time, Spinner realized she had to run back to the bridge—again—to avoid missing the all-important launch of the first space buoy. These relays with multiple backup systems were crucial to the Advance fleet and what was going to save the Oconodians and let them follow when the time was right.
Fastening her uniform jacket, Spinner thought of the brilliance behind the space buoys: General Korrian Heigel, the engineer who built the Advance ships as well as designed the Exodus fleet. She was a legend not only to the military, but also to most of the Oconodians, and even if she was officially retired, she was still active when it came to the Exodus project. Spinner doubted they’d be able to find a new homeworld fast enough for Korrian and her wife to be able to join the Exodus fleet when that day came. It was probably too far in the future.
She hurried through the corridors, and one way her newfound fame worked splendidly was that most people respectfully stepped out of her way.
The bridge buzzed with enough excitement for Spinner to sneak in without Caydoc nailing her for being almost late. She took her station, once again exasperated that she felt like a silly schoolgirl who actually cared about not being scolded by the teacher. Muttering to herself, she logged in and made sure her station was operational and ready.
“All right, people. This is it. The first of the buoys that will keep us connected to Oconodos.” Caydoc suddenly stood in the middle, commanding everyone’s attention. “I cannot stress enough how vital each and every deployment of this piece of technology is. Without it, we cannot communicate, and our people cannot follow in our path. We have rehearsed this in simulations and in the field, many times. Look sharp. Do your job just like you trained. Let’s go.”
Caydoc strode one lap around the bridge before she once again stood in the center, of course not sitting down. “Ops. Report.”
“Buoy One is ready and active, sir.”
“Excellent. Engineering?”
“Ready to launch, sir,” a female voice said via the communication system. “We have tested the wavelength relays, signal emitters, and the force fields. Everything is functioning perfectly.”
“That’s what I li
ke to hear.” Caydoc paused and studied the ceiling for a few moments. “Deploy Buoy One.”
“Aye, sir.” The engineering chief spoke smartly, and a faint hum sounded as the buoy shot through the chute and into open space. The engineer guided it to a few klicks on their port side. “It’s in place, sir. When you activate its sensors from the bridge, a singularity will pull the buoy through to hyperspace.”
Spinner stood closer to her console. This was where her expertise might be needed. If for some reason the singularity didn’t pull the buoy into hyperspace, she would have to steer it from her workstation and guide it. They needed to have the buoy well tucked into hyperspace, a sub-layer of space where the white noise wouldn’t hinder communication.
“All right.” Caydoc turned to the bridge-crew engineers. “Time to open that singularity.”
The young man and woman looked pale and focused as their hands flew across the computer console. After a few moments, the woman turned to Caydoc, her jaws clenching. “The singularity is open as much as possible, but the buoy isn’t moving, sir.”
“Commander Seclan?”
“On it, sir.” Spinner had already spotted the issue. She hoped she could rectify it, or they’d waste a buoy on the second day. She punched in commands that made it possible for her to control the buoy. Slowly and carefully, using only her index fingertip, she maneuvered the miniscule stick. Immediately the buoy shifted and began to emerge. “On the largest view screen,” Spinner ordered. “I need a better view of what I’m doing.”
The image of the slowly disappearing piece of technology filled the largest screen. Tapping the stick, or rather caressing it, Spinner coaxed the buoy into hyperspace until it was no longer visible.
“Run a diagnostic,” Caydoc said.