A Faded Star (9 page)

 “Ah, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know you wanted to use
this mat.” Her breath was coming hard, and sweat stood out on her skin.

 “I was just watching you, Miss Simmons. Do you ever
have anyone to practice with or do you just work the forms alone?”

 “I worked out with some of the Marines aboard the
Rampart, but they're all assigned to training on the surface until Rampart's
repairs are over.” She placed her hands on her knees and breathed hard for a
moment before smiling up at Patho.

 That explained why he had never seen her practicing
aboard the Rampart. The Marines had a separate fitness facility. “From your
style, I am not as advanced as you, but I would enjoy sparring with you if you
want.”

 “Sounds great, sir.”

 “While we are sparring, there's no need for rank. Call
me Aden.'

 Simmons smiled a smile that made her entire face light
up. “Okay, Aden. Do you want to start with the second form or do you want to
just jump into the heavy stuff?”

 Over the next hour, Aden got the best workout he had
had in weeks. As a bonus, he also learned a lot about Miss Simmons. Despite
being one of, if not the, smartest scientists of her generation, she also
followed a strict regimen of fitness and health activities.

 The pair walked out of the gym together and almost
flattened Kri coming in.

 “Oh, hi, Mister Patho, Marli,” Kri said. He paused, an
unreadable light coming into his eyes. “I was just getting started on my
workout. Are you both done?”

 “Yes, Hal,” Patho said. “Have a good workout.

 Kri nodded and entered the gym. Patho and Simmons
headed down the passageway talking and laughing. Simmons was hanging on Patho's
arm. They were headed for Patho's quarters.

 Kri watched them until they rounded the turn. Sighing,
he shook his head and muttered, “Well, I guess that was never going to happen
anyway.” Kri got a particularly vigorous workout done that day.

 Linis Hanlon looked over the master repair status
board at her office computer terminal while tapping notes into her data pad for
the coming day. The intervening three weeks had followed a routine sequence of
repair, test and certification of each damaged system on the Rampart. Stokes
was the commanding officer of the ship, but it was Hanlon who had to coordinate
all of the repair efforts and bring status reports to the commodore. She took
particular satisfaction in seeing the ship's systems coming back to life and
knew her efforts were yielding results. The yard was nearly a week ahead of the
original schedule.

 Hanlon had been surprised to learn that Patho and
Simmons had struck up a shipboard romance. Patho didn't seem the type to
attract Simmons. Linis chuckled silently to herself. She looked over her office
with a momentary sense of wistful longing. There were no options for her, of
course, with no peers or separate command structures on board aside from the
Marines. She suppressed a shudder. Just what she needed, some meat-headed
muscle freak who could barely restrain himself from pummeling everything that
made a loud bang in his presence.

 She put thoughts of physical comfort firmly out of her
mind. She began working through the day's priorities when she received a comm
request. Tapping the acceptance key on her console, she saw Commodore Stokes'
face. “Good morning, sir. I haven't yet compiled the day's work priorities.”

 “Never mind that, exec. I need you to come up to my
office. I need to apprise you of some new developments.” The comm screen
switched back to the standby logo.

 She considered the abruptness with which Stokes had
delivered his summons. “I guess he means now.” Linis put aside the tablet she
had been working on and stood taking a moment to make sure her uniform
appearance was acceptable. After a momentary straightening and dusting herself
off, she walked out the door.

 The door to Commodore Stokes' office opened when she
tapped the chime. “Come in, exec.” Stokes' voice said to her through the open
doorway. Hanlon stepped into the spacious and luxurious office. She was
surprised to see Admiral Vesper there as well.

 “Good morning, sirs.” She stood to attention and
waited for orders, but her eyes never stopped roaming the room, looking for
clues as to why she was there.

 As it turned out, she didn't have to wait for long.
“Sit down, commander, “ Stokes said. “Admiral Vesper and I have a briefing for
you. First, I am going to share everything we've learned about the alien
alliance. You may have heard rumors about the diplomatic situation. We'll go
into what kind of agreement they've been striking up with our diplomats. After
that, well, I don't want to ruin the surprise, but you are in for some
excellent news.”

 Linis sat down and waited attentively while Stokes got
his display ready for the briefing. “Before we begin, I want to say what a fine
job you have been doing here with Rampart's repairs, exec.”

 “Thank you, sir. I am eager to return to space.”

 “Your efforts have been credited directly with us
being so far ahead of schedule. I won't go into how many people have complained
about what a slave driver you've been.” Stokes favored her with one of his rare
smiles. “Your independence of thought and ability to organize chaotic
situations into understandable components is why you have been asked here
specifically.”

 Linis barely stifled a laugh. Her organization had felt
rushed and confused the entire time Rampart has been in the yards being
repaired. “Thank you, sir.” Her eyes shone with mischief, and she continued, “I
take it I am here to be flogged for working the yard crew so hard, then?”

 Admiral Vesper choked on the water he was drinking
before laughing. “You have an irreverent streak, Commander.”

 “I suppose I do, sir,” Hanlon said. She winked at the
venerable admiral conspiratorially and said, “It helps when I'm taking the
strap to yet another slow worker to crack a joke just before I whack 'em.”
Hanlon demonstrated by snapping an invisible whip above her head. Vesper just
shook his head while chuckling to himself. She did have the good sense not to
add a sound effect to her pantomime.

 Stokes cleared his throat. “The diplomats have worked
out a non-aggression treaty and pact of mutual aid with the alien alliance.”

 “Can you tell me a bit about the alliance. I've only
heard some of the rumors and none of the facts,” Hanlon said.

 “The alliance is more than five thousand years old and
consists of five different species. They've coexisted peacefully among
themselves, sharing economic, scientific and social developments to the
betterment of their commingled society. The alliance hasn't been challenged
militarily since its earliest days. The diplomats were a bit vague, but I think
it's mostly because so much time has passed. My impression from the meeting
minutes was that they originally formed the alliance to fend off an aggressive
species but haven't been concerned with military development since then.

 “The race we've been calling crabs, they do have a
name, but it's unpronounceable, began making incursions into alliance space
about two years ago. The crabs haven't communicated other than to warn the
alliance that all resources and useful materials in any system they enter is
now their property and for any alliance ships not wanting to be destroyed to
depart the system at their best speed.

 “As a result of their stagnant military development,
the alliance is ill prepared to defend themselves against a hostile and
aggressive invader. Their fleet consists of ships that are hastily built and
make poor use of their technology. This leads us to you, Commander.”

 Hanlon sat forward in her chair, waiting eagerly to
hear what the Commodore said next. Her mind was racing at the possibilities.

 Stokes continued, “The alliance has asked for, and
will receive as a part of the preliminary agreement, an expeditionary force of
humans to act as military advisers and strategic experts. We are also obligated
as a part of this agreement to assist in maximizing the military effectiveness
of the alliance's current offensive and defensive technology. When the
admiralty was discussing possible leaders for this expedition, Admiral Drogue
was the obvious choice. He has, after contemplation, selected you as his
executive officer. The assignment carries a promotion to captain.” Stokes
looked at Admiral Vesper, who gave him a slight smile and a nod. “What do you say,
Miss Hanlon?”

 Hanlon was stunned. Admiral William Drogue had retired
immediately upon the surrender of the Karn nation. The man had been the
mastermind behind the entire war effort against the Karn. “I remember his
retirement speech. I didn't think there was anything that would get him back
into uniform after his remarks that day.”

 Vesper nodded and said, “I didn't think so, either,
but he's agreed to command this expeditionary force. I suspect he intends to
rely quite heavily on you, Miss Hanlon.”

 Stokes said, “I know you've been expecting to join the
Rampart on her trip to Buckman's star. I don't think I have to tell you what a
great opportunity this is. Admiral Drogue is the finest military commander from
the Ebrim-Karn war. His experience should be invaluable to the alliance.”

 “Sirs, I expect this question has already been asked.
How much do we trust this alien alliance? We only know what they've told us.
There's no assurance they won't take our knowledge and turn it against us.”

 Vesper nodded. “This question has, indeed, been asked.
Admiral Drogue brought it up in about the same amount of time. The answer we
have come up with is that the alliance already seems overwhelmed with the
crabs. They won't want to go picking fights with us as well.”

 Stokes said, “If we can make allies of them, we stand
to gain access to some pretty advanced technology as well. We will be
soliciting volunteers to join the expeditionary force next week. The plan is to
have a force sufficient to provide crews for a dozen or so of their capital
ships. The overall duty is to drill the alliance force into something more
military and to make suggestions on weapons and defensive advancements based on
their current tech.”

 “I understand, sir,” Hanlon said. “I have some other
questions as well.”

 “Proceed, Captain,” Vesper said.

 “Who will be replacing me as executive officer on the
Rampart?”

 “As to that, Captain, you will be relieved of your
position as executive officer this afternoon. Mister Kri has been at the
advance command school for the last two weeks. Your turnover will cover the
remaining repair time in the shipyard, and you should ship out to the alliance
forward command base about the same time Rampart leaves for Buckman's star.”

 “Hal?” Linis was a bit mystified at the idea. Kri had
always been a bit unsure of himself and often needed guidance when given the
latitude to make decisions for himself.

 “Yes, Captain. Hal.” Stokes confirmed. “You think,
perhaps I can't polish him into a fine executive officer?”

 “Of course not, sir. I just wasn't sure he was ready.
I mean no offense and I certainly don't mean to second guess your decision,
sir.”

 “Go ahead, Linis, let me hear it.”

 “Well, he needs guidance, and he loses perspective so
easily in dynamic situations, sir. I'm concerned he may need another year or
two to season himself for a position like executive officer.”

 “You're correct, Miss Hanlon, and your insight only
proves you are ready for such a large and important independent command like
the expeditionary force. Let me worry about Mister Kri's deficiencies. The
Rampart will be all right.”

 “Why not advance Aden Patho to the executive officer
position? He is more than qualified and has demonstrated an uncanny ability to
utilize the new drone system. I have also found him to be a highly capable
officer despite the fact that most of his peers seem to view him with varying
degrees of suspicion.”

 Stokes and Vesper exchanged an unreadable look. It was
the Admiral who responded. “Your evaluation of Lieutenant Commander Patho is
spot on, Captain. He is a highly capable officer. The admiralty discussed
promoting him but, ultimately, decided we need his expertise in the position
where he's currently assigned.”

 “Of course, sir,” Hanlon grinned. “I suppose it will
be hard to stop trying to give you advice.”

 “Your observations are always welcome, Miss Hanlon.
Your promotion and change of command ceremony is at sixteen hundred. I'll see
you there.”

 Linis recognized the dismissal when she heard it. She
stood to attention and then strode out of the commodore's office.

 Stokes turned to Admiral Vesper. “She took that far
better than I thought she would. I half expected her to refuse promotion to
stay aboard the Rampart.”

 “That woman is an adventurer of the highest order,”
Vesper said, his voice carried a note of wistfulness. “If I were twenty years
younger, I would go myself. Unfortunately, I'm needed here far too much to go.
There are only seven admirals, and we need all of them here to maintain chain
of command for the Lashmere system. Bringing Admiral Drogue out of retirement
is the best we can do to ensure the success of the expeditionary force. Miss
Hanlon will have to make do.”

 Stokes nodded. “I know how you feel, sir. I would be
tempted to give up the Rampart myself to go.”

 “That was never an option, Franklin. The Rampart is
going to have a very different assignment shortly. Investigating the source of
the origin signal is of paramount importance.”

 “Do you think we can trust them, Admiral?”

 “Admiral Drogue has been given some specific orders
regarding how much tactical know-how the alliance is to be offered. One thing
we will not be sharing under any circumstances is our weapons technology. The
crab ships seem especially vulnerable to our energy weapons from what the alliance
delegation has been asking for. We have, thus far, refused to enlighten them.
We may be able to trade for some pretty advanced scientific and medical
technologies for it, eventually. Once they have proved themselves as reliable
allies and not simply partners against a common aggressor.”

 “I'm glad to hear it, admiral.”

 “I'd better go prepare for the ceremony. I will see
you there, Commodore.”

 “Yes, sir,” Stokes said. He stood, shook the admiral's
hand and saw him to the door. After the admiral had left, Stokes stood staring
off into space for a moment. “I sure hope Drogue doesn't get her killed,” he
said to the empty room.

 The boarding concourse looked out at Rampart. Her
starboard side was still split open from the damage to the mid ships weapons bay.
Repair crews swarmed over the hull and were passing through the boarding tubes
in an endless stream. The entire crew, short minimum watch stations personnel,
were in their dress uniforms in formation on the concourse. At the front of the
formation, officers and department heads stood at attention. Admiral Vesper,
Commodore Stokes, Captain Hanlon, Commander Kri and Admiral Drogue were
assembled on a raised platform.

 Commodore Stokes stood and motioned Hanlon to stand.
“I first want to congratulate you on your promotion to Captain, Miss Hanlon.”
Stokes turned and looked over the assembled officers and men. “Attention to
orders. By order of the Lashmere Space Navy admiralty, you are hereby relieved
of the position of executive officer aboard the Lashmere Space Navy Ship
Rampart. You are hereby directed to assume the station of executive officer of
the alliance expeditionary force under the command of Admiral Drogue. Specifics
on your assignment are in your mission packet.” Stokes formally handed over the
thick paper envelope to Captain Hanlon.

 Hanlon took the packet and saluted sharply. “Thank
you, sir.”