“Not going to happen, Twitch. We’ll get through this.”
“Fantastic!” Twitch snapped. “So when will you be severing your spine? We’ll make a great pair.”
“Look,” Molon said, ignoring her jibe. “John has some connections on Furi. It’s a TL13 world. No doubt there will be some gadgets we can pick up there to get you moving about again.”
“And then what? You sell Star Wolf and play nursemaid the rest of my life?”
“No, then we head spinward. John says the Sarren system, Orke sector is a TL15 world with the best docs in the Theocracy. I’m not ditching you, partner. We’re in this together.”
Twitch’s face twisted into a teeth-bared grimace.
“Get…out!” she ordered, flushing a deep crimson.
“Twitch,” Molon pleaded.
“Seriously, Lobo,” she said, her voice dropping into her normal, matter-of-fact tone. “Get out and leave me alone. You too, John. Bob is here if I need anything, but right now I just need you two to leave me alone.”
“Fine,” Molon answered. “Be mad at me if you have to, but I’m not giving up on you. We will find a way.”
No answer came. Molon motioned for John to follow him and he turned to leave sickbay.
Once they were out in the corridor on the way to the bridge, John reached out a hand to stop Molon.
“She’s upset,” John said. “She is in denial and it will take some time for her to accept her situation. I’ve brought patients through things like this before. Give her time.”
“I know her better than anyone, John. Being a pilot is all she’s ever known. She was gifted. There aren’t a handful of pilots in all of Humaniti like Twitch. It’s not just what she does, it’s who she is. How does one accept no longer being who you are anymore?”
“Time, patience, and prayer, Molon.”
“Time I’ve got,” Molon replied, shaking his head. “You might have to pony up the other two, Doc.”
“Gladly.”
The preparations for exiting voidspace were already underway when Molon and John entered the bridge. Angel was there as well, working alongside Mel to punch in the access codes which would stand down Furi’s gravatic mines that secured the voidspace gate from Hatacks.
They transitioned into the Furi system with Furi’s main sequence yellow dwarf star in full view and its secondary orange dwarf sun glimmering far off in the distance. Furi’s main world hovered like a bright turquoise marble. Nearly ninety percent water, the population of the small chain of islands comprising the world’s land masses numbered only sixty-thousand. It was this world’s amazing oceans that had brought it so much wealth, thanks to the number of rare minerals which were found in abundance in those blue-green waters.
There were ten inhabited bodies in the Furi system, but this mainworld was the anchor. Its orbital highport was one of the most advanced in this sector, with a fully equipped Theocracy consulate station that housed diplomats from the other Humaniti factions.
Behind them, the huge Theocracy battleship, Revelation, along with a fleet of smaller vessels accompanying it, dropped out of voidspace and into the Furi system. Communication had been impossible during the transition through voidspace, but Mel’s console lit up with a hail as soon as the Theocracy assault fleet entered the system.
“Put it on screen, Mel,” Molon said.
A wizened officer bearing admiral’s bars on his collar appeared on the screen.
“Captain Hawkins, I am Admiral Wentzler, commanding officer of the TBS Revelation. I see you made it safely.”
“Thanks to your timely arrival we were given that chance, admiral,” Molon replied, “and the entry codes provided by your Angelicum operative. We are grateful.”
“You’re welcome, captain. Glad to be of service. I assume you have taken good care of our Angelicum ally?”
Angel stepped toward the captain’s chair so she would come into view of the communications camera.
“I’m here, James. I have been well cared for.”
“Good to hear, Angel. Captain, if you would be so kind as to bring your vessel to dock at Furi’s highport, I would like to meet with you and your command officers in person. As would someone else who has taken a deep interest in you and your crew.”
Someone else? Molon had been in and out of Theocracy space the last few months. He had also been resupplying at Furi when he had got the mission for John’s rescue. As far as he could recall, however, there had been no cause or opportunity for anyone to take an interest in him or his ship. Star Wolf was merely one of dozens of freelance vessels that passed through Furi every week.
“Well, admiral,” Molon said with a sigh, “unfortunately my command officers will be unavailable. My XO was badly injured during our escape from Revenge and my chief medical officer has a number of things to check on for her while we have access to Furi’s TL13 medical facilities. My chief engineer has his hands full with repairs and provisioning. My security chief has to cover for my XO’s duties for the time being, so I am afraid I am the only one free to attend.”
“I understand, captain,” Wentzler replied, his smile undaunted by Molon’s partial refusal. “However, I would urge you to at least bring your CMO with you. I will radio ahead and have Furi Research Hospital’s chief of surgery clear his calendar and take an STS as soon as possible to the highport to meet with us. We will put all of Furi’s medical resources at Dr. Salzmann’s disposal to aid your XO, but we need to talk first.”
Molon bit back the snappish response forming in his mouth. How did so many people he had never met know so much about what was going on aboard his ship? This was the first time he had ever spoken to Wentzler, yet this man knew John was acting as Star Wolf’s CMO. Was his ship just rife with spies or was there something else going on? Still, he was in no position to press the matter at the moment.
“As you wish, admiral. Where should we meet? Furi’s highport is one of the biggest I have seen. Given your cryptic reference to your mystery associate, one of the local pubs probably won’t suffice for this meeting?”
Wentzler laughed and gave the comm camera at his end a knowing wink.
“Very intuitive, captain. We will meet at the inter-faction embassy complex. Angel, if you would direct the captain and the doctor to Abbot’s private sanctuary, we can talk there.”
“Yes, James. And by your leave, I have another guest that I am sure Abbot will be very pleased to see again.”
The wizened admiral’s left eyebrow raised and he leaned closer to the camera.
“Really? Who might that be?”
The Malak agent smiled sweetly.
“You will see. Believe me, it will be a joyful reunion.”
“Fair enough,” Wentzler said, nodding to Angel before turning his gaze toward Molon. “I look forward to meeting you face to face, Captain Hawkins. We will see you soon. Wentzler out.”
The comm link dropped to be replaced by the blank screen-wall of the bridge once again. Molon scratched the fur on the side of his neck as he turned to face Angel and John.
“Well, you two,” Molon said, his muzzle wrinkling into a half snarl. “I suppose your surprise guest is former High Abbot Nichols?”
“Of course,” Angel replied. “Who else?”
“And I also suppose you have no intention of telling me who this ‘Abbot’ is Wentzler mentioned before we are face to face?”
“I’m sorry, Molon,” Angel answered. “That information is not mine to share.”
Molon was getting a little tired of feeling like the least informed person on his own ship.
“Very well, then. Grab the geezer and meet me at the starboard primary airlock middle deck.”
Molon turned to the helmsman’s station currently manned by Lt. JG Zach Zarizzo.
“Z-Man, put us into an open docking bay starboard primary. Mel will get clearance from highport control for an available bay. And son, don’t scratch the paint.”
“Aye sir. Gentle as a lamb.”
Molon turned to head for the elevator, wondering if he had exhausted his quota of unpleasant surprises for the month, or if this Abbot was going to be the grand finale. As if the situation with Twitch wasn’t enough to worry about, now he had to meet some mystery guest. At least in Theocracy space, dealing with Theocracy military leaders, getting double-crossed wasn’t a major concern. No way he’d walk into a blind alley like this on a PI or Dawnstar station, but at least with these knee-benders, whatever surprises were ahead were unlikely to be lethal ones.
Thirty-Two – On Your Marque
Molon twiddled his fingers and tapped the ground with his foot as he gazed around the personal retreat of the mysteriously dubbed Abbot. While more than adequate in size to accommodate a large delegation if necessary, the austerity of the furnishings and decorations were more reminiscent of a remote monastery than someone rating a private sanctuary within an inter-factional embassy complex.
Molon, John, Angel, and former High Abbot Nichols sat in hard chairs around a large conference table. Strewn about the room were a few other smaller tables and chairs, all of which looked equally devoid of comfort, save for a pair of leather, thickly cushioned reading chairs along the far wall next to a huge bookcase filled with actual paper volumes. Molon had seen holovids of paper books, but it had been centuries since digital media replaced physical printing. A collection of physically printed books this size would be more valuable than the entire Furi highport if they were actual historical relics and not fabricated replicas.
The impressive personal library notwithstanding, Molon highly doubted that, whoever Abbot was, he would be the current high abbot of the Unified Church of the Faithful, Zestri Mariz. Molon had seen more than a few holovids of Mariz: the man’s flamboyant, expensively attired persona was responsible, to a large degree, for Molon’s current skepticism toward the leading of the Faithful. That guy was a showman with far more flash than faith about him. He reminded Molon much more of a used ship dealer than a clergyman. There was no way this spartan sanctuary belonged to him.
John, Angel, and Falcion Nichols sat calmly and patiently, chatting about some matter of theology or other, while Molon was making a concerted effort to ignore them. Enduring their philosophical pondering would only serve to make this wait even longer than it already was.
Molon was not blessed with a great deal of patience on the best of days. He understood that docking a huge battleship, and making whatever arrangements needed to be made following the incursion into Dawnstar space to affect Star Wolf’s rescue, would doubtless take some time. It was just hard to sit here like ticketholders waiting for a live show to start when Twitch was lying paralyzed and fuming in Star Wolf’s sick bay. On top of that, he had a thousand things to oversee himself, especially with taking on more crew and outfitting for their next trek to the Sarren system for whatever hope there might be in getting Twitch put back together again.
Before he had worked himself into a deeper lather over the delays, the doors opposite where they were sitting opened. In walked Admiral Wentzler. Molon did a double-take at who was with him. It was Prince Enoch Halberan, son of the former emperor, and leader of the Theocracy of the Faithful. Molon caught his jaw before it hit the floor and quickly composed himself. He noticed John’s shock matched his own as the doctor sat unmoving, staring at Enoch.
Angel and Abbot Nichols, however, seemed utterly unfazed. Abbot Nichols, exhibiting a spryness belying his years of hard captivity on Ratuen, nearly flew across the room and threw his arms around Prince Halberan.
“Enoch, my dearest boy,” Nichols said, tears welling in his eyes. “I never thought I would lay these old eyes on your shining face again this side of heaven.”
Enoch’s own eyes overflowed with tears as he embraced the elderly cleric. He lifted the old man off the ground in an embrace as the prince struggled to choke back his emotions and find his voice again.
“Falcion…But how?” Enoch asked. “We thought you dead at the hands of CADS agents. Where have you been?”
Enoch set the aged abbot back on his feet and the old man took the prince’s hands in his own.
“That, my boy,” Nichols replied, “is a long and painful story for another time. Know that the Lion would not let those Razers take my life until I had fulfilled His purpose. But now, you have much to attend to with my rescuers. We have all the time in the galaxy to catch up. I plan to stay with you if you will permit it. The Lion has given me much that you need to hear.”
“Yes, of course you will stay with me,” Enoch answered. “It is true that I have things to attend to, but I haven’t seen you in nearly eight years. We have so much to discuss. I need your wisdom now more than ever.”
“They need you as well,” Nichols answered, shaking his head and dropping Enoch’s hands as he motioned toward Molon and John. “The guiding of the Spirit has shown me that you will need them too before all is done with this infernal Shattering. If you will trust me, my dear boy, I will take a rest and enjoy the lovely tea your staff has provided while you attend to matters of state. After they have been taken care of, you and I will have time to catch up.”
Without waiting for an answer, Abbot Nichols returned to the table where they all had been sitting, picked up his cup of tea, and tottered off to one of two comfortably-padded reading chairs on the far side of the sanctuary. He set his cup down on a small table between the chairs and began perusing the large bookshelf along the wall on that side of the room.
Enoch wiped his eyes, swallowed hard, and turned to face Molon.
“I cannot express my gratitude for what you have done in returning Falcion to us, Captain Hawkins. He was my mentor as I sought my own theological training, and a dear friend to me after my parents were killed. Often I have longed for his counsel once again, and against all odds you have returned him to me. This is a debt I can never repay.”
Before Molon could answer, John appeared at his side and replied to Prince Halberan’s gratitude.
“Your grace, it was the Lion’s guiding hand that led us to Abbot Nichols. In truth, we might never have recognized him or been able to bring him out of his catatonic state were it not for Shamira.”
John motioned toward Angel, who joined the standing circle. Both Wentzler and Enoch nodded to the Angelicum agent.
“James,” Angel said, nodding toward Admiral Wentzler before turning and nodding at Prince Enoch Halberan, “Abbot, or I suppose at least while we are here I can call you Enoch, it is good to see you both again. It has been a long time.”
Enoch smiled.
“Your work within GalSec has been invaluable, agent Angel,” Enoch replied. “When we received your communique a few months back that GalSec had commandeered a PI cruiser and sent Simmons and Russel here to Orenc sector, I knew that was something I needed to be closer to personally. We left for Furi as soon as we got your message, hoping to be closer to hand once their exact plans were revealed. Thankfully it took Simmons and Russel longer to get to Orenc from Corialis than it took us from Haven.”
“While I am of course glad to see you again,” Angel replied, “I must say personally endangering yourself on the assault force into Hatacks was an unnecessary risk. Surely your Angelicum advisors cautioned against such recklessness?”
“Yes, they did,” Enoch acknowledged with a nod, “and I proceeded to ignore them. I had such a strong leading from the Spirit that these events were a critical turning point in this war, I wasn’t about to sit back on Haven and wait weeks to hear how it turned out.”
“In all fairness,” Admiral Wentzler interjected, “I reminded him he could wait safely here on Furi and know in a few days how it all turned out. But he didn’t pay me any more heed than he did his Angelicum advisors. When the prince gets his mind set on something, there’s not a lot in the galaxy that will change it.”
Molon had grown tired of being a spectator to this conversation. He was eager to get on with his own work and free John to manage what accommodations here he could for Twitch. He was flattered to
have the chance to meet with Prince Enoch Halberan in person, but it was time to move this meeting forward and get back to Star Wolf.
“I suppose now I understand all the secrecy behind the call sign Abbot,” Molon said. “Broadcasting that Prince Enoch Halberan is gallivanting around the galaxy on a battleship instead of safely sequestered somewhere would prove too tempting a target if the wrong ears got wind of it.”
“I suppose you are right,” Enoch replied. “Still, as much as I value the advice of my counselors, I must ultimately follow the guidance of the Spirit. The Father guides and directs the Lion, but it is the job of the Spirit to direct the hearts of men.”
Molon shook his head. He’d had enough of this Faithful talk from Angel and John the past few days. He bit back a sarcastic response and chose discretion instead.
“If you say so, your grace. Unfortunately I’m afraid I have no frame of reference from which to relate.”
Enoch smiled at Molon. It was not a condescending smile, but rather the prince exuded a genuine warmth and gentleness that put Molon’s heart at ease. It was a different feeling compared to the mind-games he had felt from Mel on occasion. This was not manipulative, but a genuine sense of peace that calmed Molon’s inner fire and gave him a feeling that everything would be all right.
“I fully understand, Captain Hawkins. That is precisely why the Father and the Lion have put Dr. Salzmann in your path. It was no accident he came into your crew, and although he may not know it yet, it is no frivolous decision he will make to stay. There are great things ahead for Star Wolf and her crew. This is just the beginning.”
A bit of Molon’s resentment returned, welling up inside him. He hated people he had never met acting like they knew everything about him and his crew. Who was Enoch Halberan to tell him things about his ship and his people that even he didn’t know for certain?
Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy) Page 46