by J Palliser
He turned and moved back to the table, watching as the pilots that were now most likely under his command again filed out of the briefing room. He could see that their morale was low. The Knights were a very tight squadron, perhaps more so than other active fighter groups, because they were often handed the impossible assignments. Aiden was the anchor that kept them all together. Some of the pilots had been with Aiden for a number of years. Ares had known Aiden since just after the Battle of Siria. They had flown against the Executioner together. Even after he had left to take command of a Destroyer and then various other ships, Aiden had remained with the squadron in spirit.
They would find their Commander-no, their friend-and bring him home safely. There was no alternative as far as he was concerned.
***
Ares's meeting with Admiral Raeder was easier than he thought it would be. He was sure that he would have to talk the Admiral into letting him run off with the squadron to find Aiden. Possibly yell a little. Maybe even beg.
He entered the Admiral's office sketched a short salute and sat in the chair offered by the Admiral. Before he even had a chance to speak, Raeder handed him a data-card. "Colonel Crane, these are your new orders. Your current mission of escort duty has been given over to another unit. Your new mission is to locate and liberate Commander Hunt. This data-card transfers to you command of Knight Squadron; it also permits you to operate outside the normal channels of command. I find that any of Hunts group works best that way anyway. You will have your own ships at your disposal as well as a fully armed Maxim class shuttle. I've been told that Mira Kitt will offer the Raven. I must insist that you check in with me semi-regularly, but besides that you have free reign. Do you have any questions?"
Ares sat in stunned silence for a moment. When he finally found his voice, all he could think to ask was "Why?"
"Why what, Colonel Crane?" Raeder asked.
"I mean why, sir." He cleared his throat. "What I mean, Admiral, is that I was prepared for a fight. And here you just hand me orders telling me to do exactly what I wanted to do in the first place. I don't understand."
"It's very simple, Colonel. Whether he realizes it or not, Commander Hunt is a vital part of the Reich. Next to Johann Badum, Gisela Deja, and Jac Dujac, he's one of the biggest living heroes we have. If he was to be captured and killed by the Empire, morale would be depleted, questions will arise. Not to mention we'll lose an efficient and capable officer."
"There is also the security issue. As a General, he's privy to all kinds of information on fleet strength, maneuvers, etc. We cannot have that information fall into enemy hands if it can be avoided." He leaned in closer to Ares. "The orders that you hold in your hands come directly from the Reich Ministry."
Ares gave a soft whistle. "Maybe it's a good thing that Aiden isn't here; this would go to his head. Thank you for your help, Admiral." Ares rose to his feet in preparation to leave the office.
"Before you go, Colonel, understand this. Although you have the full support of the Ministry, you won't be given any capital ships. It's not publicly known, but the recent battles with Seris Petrevus and various other warlords have depleted the military in personnel as well as hardware. We cannot afford to send any of our fleets wandering out into space looking for one Commander. You are on your own this time, Ares. You will have to find your own resources without drawing on Reich assets."
Aiden shrugged slightly. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time. But I do have some ideas already on how to go about that. I would still like to thank you for your help, Admiral. We won't let you down."
"I know you won't, Colonel." Raeder leaned forward to emphasize his point. "Remember, the Commander's disappearance must remain within your group in order to maintain operational security."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
Ares saluted and left.
After leaving Admiral Raeder, Ares headed through the maze of corridors that led to his small office. Once there he would prepare for the upcoming mission briefing.
Just before turning the corner that would take him to his small office, he glanced down a short hallway to his left. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that the door at the end of it led to Aiden's office.
He stood and stared down the corridor for a moment, somehow unable to pass it by. Memories flooded into his mind of the adventures that he and Aiden had had together, both in good times and bad, and of the stories that Jarro had told not three days earlier at the birthday party.
He managed to tear his eyes off the door and continue to his own office, but his mood had turned even more somber.
Ares had just sat down at his desk when he heard a commotion outside in the hallway. Moments later, a furious Jarro Fenn burst through the door. Hanson followed him at a more measured pace, but was just as visibly upset.
"What in the name of God is this I hear about Aiden being ambushed?" He slammed his fists down on Ares's desk as if to underscore the question.
The change in Jarro's personality didn't take Ares by surprise. He had seen this side of him before. It was the Jarro that sat in the cockpit of a Valkyrie and methodically killed Khawarijs. It was the Jarro that was an expert shot with a pulse pistol. It was the Jarro that hid just beneath all of the jokes and juvenile behavior.
"How did you find out about this?" Ares asked quietly.
Jarro's fury rose another notch when he didn't get an answer to his question. His usually merry voice came out in a low growl, and he leaned menacingly over Ares's desk. "I'm warning you, Ares. I've known Aiden longer than you have and I want to know why you didn't contact us about this."
"Major Fenn, you are at attention!" Ares used all of the force at his command to make the statement an order. He watched as Jarro slowly began to get himself under control and stand at attention. He saw Hanson come to attention out of the corner of his eye. "I've asked you a question, Major. Answer it."
Jarro spoke through clenched teeth while staring at an imaginary spot on the wall just over Ares's left shoulder. "We came by to say good bye to the Commander before leaving Daraa and met Captain Stevens near the briefing room. He told us that Commander Hunt wasn't on base. I pressed the issue and managed to find out that Commander Hunt was missing and presumed ambushed."
Jarro's fists opened and closed as he spoke and Ares knew that he was nearing the end of his tether. He also couldn't help but notice that Jarro was wearing his side arm. "Jarro, I want you to know that I would have told you and Hanson what had happened, but I couldn't. You, better than anyone, understand the need for operational security. I don't want whoever has Aiden knowing when and where we are coming after them. If that were to happen, we may never find him. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir. Permission to speak freely, Colonel."
"Granted."
Jarro's body slackened and he looked Ares in the eyes for the first time since he had come to attention. "Hanson and I would like to go with you."
"Impossible. Admiral Raeder has made it very clear to me that we cannot use any other assets than those assigned to Knight Squadron."
"What if I can convince the Admiral to transfer us to your unit?"
Ares pulled at his earlobe again. He was surprised to find that it had become raw from all of the pulling on it he had done over the last few hours, so he stopped. "Jarro, if you can get yourselves transferred to this unit, we would be more than happy to include you."
Jarro stood at attention again. His hand came up into a crisp salute and he held it until Ares stood and returned it. "Permission to leave, sir?"
"Dismissed."
He turned and left, Hanson following silently in his wake. Ares let out a long breath and sagged into his chair. He felt lucky to still be in one piece. He had no doubt that if he had refused the offer of help, Jarro would have blown a power coupling. He hoped that the Admiral would permit them to help, but wasn't holding his breath. His luck just wasn't that good today.
12
XI
S
ir?" The young Ensign snapped to attention before Admiral Samra's desk and saluted smartly. "We have received a signal from Prefect Tanweer. She has requested that the prisoner be brought to the palace for interrogation."
"Very good, Ensign Abbas. We will be going planet-side shortly. Have my shuttle prepared and make the arrangements." He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.
The Abraxas had been in orbit around Artemis III for the last twenty hours or so, and with each passing hour, Samra had tried to keep his temper under control. He had contacted Tanweer upon their arrival and she had asked that he wait on the ship until she called for him to come down to the surface with Hunt. The Prefect wanted her prisoner to make an impression at the party that she was holding that evening. Samra had been enraged at having to sit in orbit, waiting for an invitation, but he had managed to get over it.
Samra turned to his keypad and punched in a number. "Lieutenant Hashir."
"Hashir here, sir." The disembodied voice came out of the comm unit in a low grumble.
"You've had nearly twenty-four hours. How is the prisoner doing?"
"Better, Admiral."
"Good. Get him ready to leave. I'm assigning you and your squad to the garrison as his guard. You will be responsible for him on the planet. We'll be heading down in an hour."
"Yes, sir."
"And Hashir, make sure and clean him up. I want him presentable. Prefect Tanweer has waited a long time for this and I want it to be a very special moment for her."
"Yes, sir." Hashir repeated and Samra ended the transmission.
Picking up the stone carving from his desk, Samra traced the pattern that had been left on it by Aiden's dried blood and smiled. "Yes, this will be a very special moment indeed."
***
As Jarro Fenn approached the anteroom to Admiral Raeder's office, he was still showing signs of agitation from his confrontation with Ares. As usual, he was followed closely by Hanson. He was taller than Jarro by a handful of centimeters and a couple of years older, but they had been serving together on and off for a number of years, and Hanson knew Jarro better than anyone else. He could see that his friend was so determined to help Aiden that he didn't care how many bridges he had to vaporize to do it.
Hanson put a steady hand on Jarro's shoulder. "Calm down, will you! The only place we're going to get transferred to is a garbage freighter if you charge in there and start yelling at the Admiral like you did Ares."
"We don't have time to be calm. Aiden needs us!" He shrugged Hanson's hand off his shoulder and leaned over the desk of the Admiral's aide. "I need to see him. Now!"
Hanson saw the Ensign retreat half a meter from Jarro. "I'm afraid without an appointment you will have to-"
"Wrong answer!" Jarro marched towards the door leading to Raeder's office, but was barred by the aide.
"You can't just barge in there!" she protested.
"Get out of my way." His tone was suddenly quiet, but somehow it was more menacing than his yelling had been. The aide was about to protest when the door behind her opened to reveal the Admiral himself.
"Come in, Major, before Ensign Yar is forced to call security and have you removed."
The two pilots entered the office, and Hanson closed the door behind them. He turned and stood at attention before the desk of Admiral Raeder, beside and a little behind Jarro.
"Please tell me what was so important that you felt compelled to threaten my secretary."
Jarro spoke first, his voice strained in an attempt to remain composed. "Admiral, Major John and I would like to request an immediate transfer to Knight Squadron."
"And you are making this request because..."
"I think you know why, Admiral," Hanson added, unsure what Jarro was likely to say in his current frame of mind.
"Yes, I most certainly do. I won't ask how you two have come by this knowledge because, quite frankly, I am not sure I want to know." He was silent for a moment, looking at the pilots. He reached out and picked up his smart-pad. He punched a couple of keys before looking back up at the two men. "Request for a transfer approved."
"But, Admiral, I must insist that you reconsider our... approved?" Jarro said and looked over his shoulder at Hanson, who just shrugged.
"Yes, Major. Both of you join your new squadron. I'll see that the orders are processed and sent to the executive officer."
Jarro just stood there, dumbfounded. The silence was actually quite refreshing.
"Thank you, Admiral," Hanson said. He saluted and started to drag Jarro from the room. The younger pilot stumbled along after him, still in shock.
Raeder made a wheezing noise, the equivalent of a sigh of acquiescence. The situation was getting out of hand. At this rate, most of the Reich would know about Hunts' disappearance in a matter of hours. And if too many people found out, there would be nothing he could do to help Aiden. He needed someone to help stem the flow of information.
He shook his head and reached for his comm. "Yar, please contact General Marcks's office. I need to speak with him as soon as it's convenient."
13
XII
Hashir stepped past his two troopers and down into the detention cell. He stood for a few moments and studied the prisoner who lay sleeping on the bunk.
For the last twenty-four hours he had patiently tended the man, checking his breathing, keeping the bandages wet with the healing antibiotics, and keeping him sedated. Now the time had come to wake him, and Hashir wasn't looking forward to it. There was something about the young pilot that made him uncomfortable.
Maybe it's the way that he looks at me... almost as if he can see right through me.
He shook his head, unsure of the real answer to his feelings of discomfort. There was something else. Not necessarily about the man himself, but the way his words and actions made Hashir reconsider his own.
The Lieutenant wasn't from the same mold as Samra and many of the other officers in Khawarij service. He didn't enjoy inflicting pain as they did. As the commander of his own squad of troopers, however, he didn't have the luxury of rethinking his actions. But he was appalled by what he had seen the Admiral do to Hunt.
Before he had given his life over to the Empire, Hashir had been a doctor in a community in a far corner of the galaxy. When that settlement had disbanded, he had roamed for a while before being accepted at the Khawarij Academy on Daraa. He had hoped to become a medic or doctor on a capital ship, but that had not been an option, and he had been coerced into accepting a commission. From that time on, he had never gone back to medicine.
Until now. And it looked like he was going to be playing doctor for the next few days, keeping Hunt alive so that Tanweer and Samra could have their fun, then kill him.
He knelt by the bunk and reached out to wake Aiden. "Hunt." He shook the man's shoulder. "Hunt. Wake up!"
"Huh? What?" Aiden opened his eyes and looked groggily up at Hashir. "Oh. It's you." He rolled over and tried to haul himself upright, then had to close his eyes and lie back down. He rubbed his hands over his face, then tried to open his eyes against the glare of the cell's glow panels.
Hashir lifted Aiden's chin, checking the partially healed cut over his right eye, then the eye itself. "How do you feel?"
"Like a Destroyer fell on me."
"You look like it. How's the eyesight?"
Aiden blinked and looked around the room. "A little blurry, but it'll do." He met Hashir's frowning gaze squarely. "I could target with it."
"You need to remember something, Hunt." The Lieutenant ran a hand across the pilot's ribs and stomach. "You are the target here. How's the gut?"