On the K’Rang home world of G’Durin, Shadow Leader M’Trang conferred with his superiors. He stood at attention, resplendent in his maroon cape and glistening fur.
“Excellencies,” he began, “our agents in the human space have made contact with people so without honor that they will sell us any information we desire. They will condemn their own kind for some useless shiny rocks. They assure us they have access to anything we need.”
“We will be starting slowly with this source to test its veracity and ability to get us the information we need. We will carefully ask for information we already know and information we have no interest in to ensure we are not being lied to or that will give away our intentions.”
The High Nobles appeared to be concentrating on something before them just out of M’Trang’s eyesight as they sat behind the high bench. They seemed almost disinterested in his report. He was about to continue with his briefing when the Senior Elder looked up.
“Shadow Leader,” spoke the senior Elder in a gravelly, rheumy voice, “we do appreciate your efforts. It won’t be long before you will have a permanent home here on G’Durin. You should develop this source slowly. Make sure they are providing us valuable and correct information. Use information from our other sources to verify what they provide us. We have plans for the humans and this source can be very helpful in carrying them out. If at anytime you feel they are engaging in treachery, let them feel the power of your fang and claw.”
Sensing he had been dismissed, he said, “As you command, Excellency. They do not realize it, but they exist now only to serve the K’Rang Empire.”
He saluted, bowed, and backed out of their presence. Upon leaving the audience chamber and passing by the Imperial Guards at the entrance, he joined his two Shadow Warrior aides. They passed over his weapons, which were forbidden in the presence of the High Nobles.
He spoke to them as they left the Imperial Palace and he restored his weapons to their storage places in his cloak and uniform. “I have the authority to proceed. Put my plan into effect. Let us wring these humans dry.”
He thought back to the comment by the Elder about having a permanent home here on the home world. His heart swelled and his pace picked up at the possibility that he could have meant he might earn a title and entrance into the nobility. He paused in his stride as he also recalled that the main military cemetery was on G’Durin. M’Trang realized that the Elder’s comment was double-edged. The reward for success was obvious, as was the price of failure.
Kelly didn’t think he would get used to these eight-day weeks. It just seemed wrong. He had no problem with working six days instead of five as on Earth. On the Bolivar, there was no weekend. One just worked all the time. You were either on duty or not. Here on Armstrong, the eight-day week just threw him off. He was glad he would be leaving on patrol in a few weeks.
It was Saturday. He had spent the morning running through simulations with the bridge crew. They ran each watch in turn through the simulations, but he and the captain spent all morning in the simulator. Kelly was bushed. He had the reception with Admiral Craddock that night and he couldn’t ditch that. He hoped it wouldn’t be too boring. Even more so, he hoped he wouldn’t be too boring.
LCDR Timmons released the crew at noon. Kelly finished his paperwork and headed for his quarters to clean up and ready his mess dress uniform. He walked out of the building and went to the shuttle vehicle lot. The base had several lots with small six-person autonomous vehicles that were available for anyone needing transportation. As he came around the building he saw the lot and, fortunately, there was a shuttle waiting.
He approached the shuttle and was about to climb in when a voice shouted out, “What do you think you are doing, Ensign?”
Kelly turned and saw a Fleet Lieutenant walking his way. Kelly saluted and said, “I was going to take this shuttle to my quarters, sir.”
“No, you aren’t, Ensign. I’m using that shuttle. In just a few minutes I’ll be leaving in that shuttle.”
Kelly saw the LT’s name was Casimirski. He replied, “Sir, if there is no shuttle here, the central motor pool will send another. It should be here before you need it.”
“Maybe you didn’t understand me, Ensign. I said I’m taking that shuttle. If you need one, you can wait for it. I don’t intend to. Now run along.”
Kelly saluted again and walked away, thinking to himself that LT Casimirski was a first class asshole. He walked to the next closest lot, found another shuttle, and took it to his quarters. As he passed by the previous shuttle lot, the shuttle was still there waiting for LT Casimirski.
Kelly got to his quarters without further incident. He showered, shaved, and wrapped a towel around his waist. He took a few minutes to check his messages. There was nothing of any real interest in his queue. Kelly set an alarm and crashed for a couple of hours. Before he drifted off to sleep, he reminisced about his first day on the Bolivar.
The wardroom of the Galactic Republic Ship Simon Bolivar was a raucous place. It was filled with off duty officers from all over the ship. Considering that pilots were off duty anytime they weren’t flying or preparing to fly, it was mostly full of green flying suits. Most were congregated in one corner of the wardroom.
Kelly, the newest member of the 68th Fighter Squadron, was being initiated into the Fighting 68th. He stood in the corner of the room, surrounded by his new squadron mates, wearing a fuzzy red top hat. It had been described as the ancient ceremonial hat worn by all supplicants at the altar of the 68th. The Squadron Executive Officer, Major Aaron Brown, had the floor and was acting as master of ceremonies.
“We’d like to bring everyone’s attention to the presence of an outsider in our midst, begging entry into our august body. I present to the Fighting 68th a mediocre pilot, a so-so officer, and a miserable human being wishing to improve his lot in life by sharing the company of the finest, deadliest, craftiest, fighter pilots in the known universe.” A loud cheer erupted.
“I offer up for your consideration one 2LT Kelly Blake. LT Blake comes to us fresh out of fighter transition school, where he had the singular honor of never having lost an engagement. Now we all know how ineffective the cadre are as fighter pilots in transition school, but it is an achievement that may make him worthy to grace our presence. Pilots of the Fighting 68th, what say you?”
A resounding nay boomed through the wardroom, followed by gales of laughter.
“LT Blake, the Fighting 68th has spoken. Even though we don’t want you, all the other squadrons in Fighter Force voted before us and they don’t want you either. I guess we’re stuck with you. Members of the Fighting 68th, fill your glasses. Yes, I know its only water, iced tea, and soft drinks, but fill them anyway. Damn the Fleet regulations against alcohol on ships. Fill your glasses and toast our newest Squab, Kelly Blake.”
At that point every glass in the room was raised in the air and the contents thrown at LT Blake. Dripping from all manner of non-alcoholic drinks, Kelly had just been initiated into the Fighting 68th.
Every 68th officer in the room passed by, shook his hand, and welcomed him. The executive officer walked up to Kelly, shook his hand and slapped the 68th’s patch onto the adhesive strips on his shoulder.
“Welcome again, LT Blake. If your academic and training reports are halfway true, you will make a fine addition to the squadron. Did you really smoke MAJ San Giacamo in fighter training? He and I have been squadron mates and classmates many times.”
“Well, sir, I think I got lucky that day,” replied Kelly.
“Don’t BS me son, I’ve read your file. San Jack wrote up a special commendation for that maneuver you used on him. What impressed him most was that you did such a radical maneuver and were still within safety parameters. He tells me you used your landing thruster to slow you down and raise your fighter 25 meters above the flight plane, let San Jack’s fighter pass beneath you, and dropped back down on his tail. I would have loved to see his face when the damage sim showed he was smoked. How did you keep from blacking out from the G-forces?”
“I didn’t, sir. I programmed the flight computer to acquire and fire the moment I had dropped back down to the original flight plane. I went up. I went down. I passed out. The computer shot MAJ San Giacamo down. I came to, turned away and shot down his wingman. Easy.”
“Easy? That’s hilarious. Oh by the way, you have an appointment with the Squadron Commander, LTC Sam Matthews, at 0800. Be prompt. Here, let me introduce you to your Flight Leader, Captain Willis.”
CPT Willis was a pleasant looking woman. Not a beauty, but not ugly either. Kelly would fit in the same category. He was okay to look at, but not one to make women swoon at his passing.
CPT Willis walked over at MAJ. Brown’s introduction, shook Kelly’s hand, introduced herself as Janey, and walked him over to where the drinks were kept. She picked a towel off of an orderly’s arm and handed it to Kelly.
“Go ahead, take a moment and dry yourself off a bit. Those taking part in the initiation can get a bit over enthusiastic. I hope that is not your best uniform.”
Kelly dabbed ineffectually at his sodden uniform while CPT Willis continued.
“Welcome to the squadron. We have the new F-53 fighters. They are quite a bit faster and turn a bit tighter than the F-40s you trained on in fighter transition training. I think you’ll enjoy flying it. It has a computer on-board that you can customize to your personal preferences. It also uses artificial intelligence to be able to anticipate your requirements. Sometimes, if you aren’t forceful with them, they can be a bit too independent. You will be wingman for First Lieutenant Angie Shappelle. Here she is now. Angie, come over here and meet your new wingman.”
Angie Shappelle was a petite brunette about 5’ 6”. There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. Angie filled out her flight suit quite well. As she came closer he caught a faint whiff of oranges and some other spice he couldn’t identify. He remembered her from transition training, but hoped she wouldn’t remember him right away. In their last meeting, Angie came to a sticky end. Luckily, she didn’t make the connection.
“Glad to meet you, LT Blake. Here, give me that rag. You missed a spot or two.” Angie took the towel and wiped up some of the celebration.
“Tell me about yourself, Blake. If you're going to watch my six, I’d better know a bit about you.”
“Not much to say. I grew up on Earth in North America. My folks are exoatmospheric electronic engineers. They designed most of the long-range data router stations that make communications in the Galactic Republic possible. They pioneered many of the Faster-Than-Light communications protocols that give us our near instantaneous comms. I followed in their footsteps for a while. I went to college and got my EE degree, but it just didn’t seem what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I applied to the Academy and was accepted. I graduated high enough in my class to get my choice of assignments, and I picked Fighter Force. I like being in charge of my own destiny.”
“Well, just remember that as my wingman, you are in charge of my destiny, too.”
Kelly said, “Don’t worry, I’ll cover your six for you.”
“You will, will you? See you tomorrow.” With that she grinned, turned, and swished her hips as she walked away. It was a nice six to watch.
CPT Willis said, “Come over here and meet 1LT Kanakis. John, This is Kelly Blake. He will be Angie’s wingman. John here is my wingman.”
1LT Kanakis was a little shorter than Kelly, but was broader in the shoulders. Kelly suspected he was a body builder. The sleeves of his flight suit seemed unusually tight on his arms.
“It’s great to have you aboard, Kelly. I was starting to feel outnumbered by all these women.”
CPT Willis sniffed and said, “Is that testosterone I’m smelling? It smells kind of fruity, doesn’t it?”
1LT Kanakis grabbed his chest like he’d been shot through the heart. “Ow! Cut down in my prime. That’s gonna leave a mark.”
CPT Willis walked off laughing, leaving the two of them together.
“Kelly, you can take off that stupid hat now. Once you get soaked you passed the initiation. Of course, you have to keep it in your cabin and take care of it until the next squab is initiated. There is one other requirement. As the junior lieutenant in the squadron, you have to wear it at any Squadron dining-ins until you can pass it off to the next newbie. Of course, embarked on the Bolivar, we probably won’t have any dining-ins. Lack of dining space and alcohol keeps those events to a minimum.” John raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re coming into a good unit. The old man is probably the finest fighter pilot in the Fighter Force. He’s not a stickler for military discipline, but it’s best not to push too far in that direction.”
Kelly’s stomach rumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he came on board much earlier that day. He turned to LT Kanakis and said, “Hey John, I don’t mean to cut you off, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
LT Kanakis looked at Kelly like he was seeing him for the first time and said, “Oh I’m sorry, grab the ancient ceremonial hat and follow me.”
They walked out of the wardroom into the passageway and turned right. The next large compartment down the passageway was one of the six dining rooms on the Bolivar, and the one most often used by the Carrier Fighter Wing.
“If you are hungry, this is the best dining room on the Bolivar. Our mess crew runs this facility and they tend to be a bit more creative in their menu than the other dining rooms. Of course, the downside of this is that the senior officers of the ship tend to favor us with their presence a lot. If you are a lot hungry, go to the steam table. They usually have a couple of plates to choose from.”
Kelly went to the steam table as John had suggested and found fried chicken and something that looked like a giant snail. He erred on the side of familiarity, chose the chicken, added a side of potatoes, and some sort of greens. LT Kanakis chose the giant snail-looking thing, corn and sauteed mushrooms. They both got tea at the drink counter and found a table.
“Kelly, you’re going to love the F-53. These are the models with extendable wings for atmospheric flight, as well as space flight. We don’t get much practice at atmospheric flight, though. I did it once when we passed through an uninhabited system a few months back. It felt funny after having done so much flying in open space. It took me a while to remember how to allow for crosswinds and gusts on landing.”
“These F-53s are great. The flight computer gives you so much added flexibility. The computer can take over some of the routine tasks, leaving you free to concentrate on critical tasks like combat, landings, and takeoffs. Mine has quite a personality. I call mine Ben. You can make yours anything you want-male, female, or machine voice. It’s just like having a copilot along with you. On long patrols, you can even turn over the flight controls to it and catch some sleep. Ben even watches my six for me. The sensor array gives him a much better view of the surroundings than me.”
“So, John, how are things here on the Bolivar? I’ve studied the schematics of the Lincoln class carriers, so I should be able to find my way around okay. How do the wing and the ship’s company get along? Are there any local customs I should know about? We learned Fleet protocols at the Academy, so you don’t need to cover the obvious things, but ship customs, taboos, and faux pas to avoid.”
“Well, there are two flag officers onboard the Bolivar. One flag officer is often one too many, but we get to live with two. The Battle Fleet Commander is Admiral Haddock-Halloway and the Fleet Air Commander is General Bugarov. I think we got both because this is the latest Lincoln class carrier and it was designed with an expanded flag country as a battle fleet flagship.”
“Admiral Haddock-Halloway is all right. He runs a taut ship and doesn’t tolerate any of the usual ships’ company versus fighter wing stuff. The general, on the other hand, is a piece of work. First off, she hates lieutenants. Speak to her only when spoken to and above all never contradict her. She thinks she's some sort of re-born Napoleon and her tactics are just as old. She keeps setting up these Fleet Fighter Force exercises that emulate Cannae, Hastings, and Pearl Harbor more than they do realistic scenarios. I don’t think she has ever had an original tactical concept pass between her ears.”
“She’s a stickler for military discipline. If you are the first to see her enter a fighter wing compartment, call the area to attention, unless the admiral or ship’s captain is already in the compartment. She even insists that ship’s company do the same. They hate it. The ship’s captain particularly hates it. He has instructed bridge personnel not to recognize her when she comes onto the bridge. She tried to dress him down for this and he reminded her that she was on his ship and if she had a problem with it to take it to the admiral. I heard a rumor that she did and was told that normal courtesies would be extended to her, but the captain was in charge of the ship and all personnel embarked upon her. She should concentrate on fleet fighter matters and leave the captain to run his ship as he saw fit.”
“She did not take that well. So she took it out on the carrier fighter wing, attempting to enforce her sense of military decorum on us. I think the ship’s company feels sorry for us. Things always tend to go a little wrong during her ceremonies. The lights will flicker on the flight deck or the public address system will go out. One time general quarters were called during the middle of a parade. Another time the ventilators on the flight deck kept switching on and off, causing the flags to blow one way then the next. She never did figure out that the airflow kept the flags blowing in her face. I think the captain figured out what was going on and put a stop to it, but occasionally something strange will still happen. You want to try some of my Super Cargo?”
Kelly looked at the giant snail thing he was eating and figured that must be what he was referring to. “Is that what that thing is called?”
“Sure, they taste better than they look. They grow these things on Rosencrantz in the Deneb system. They are quite a delicacy. They taste a little bit like Conch from Earth. Has a very buttery taste.”
“That’s okay. I think I’ll pass on the slug for the time being. I’ve traveled a lot with my folks and eaten a lot stranger food. I just wanted chicken tonight. So, tell me about CPT Willis. What is she like?”
“Janey, actually, you’d better not call her that unless you’d like to have your posterior handed back to you in pieces, is all right. She’s a pretty good pilot, is fair in her dealings with the flight, and she can be really funny after she’s had a few drinks. She’s only been a captain for a few months, so she isn’t too much of a stickler for military courtesies, but she is still a captain. We use our first names on the radio when we fly in formation. She calls us by our first names and we call her boss.”
“If you have any romantic notions toward her, forget it. I think she and a Major in the 73rd Fighter Squadron have a thing going.”
“No, I just want to know that she can handle her fighter.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s damn good. She can fly circles around most of the pilots in the squadron. She might even give you a run for your money. Did you really smoke everyone you flew against in transition school?”
“Well, yeah I did, almost. I flew a few of them to a draw. I tended not to fly how people expected. It also helped that I was able to reprogram the flight computer. I could make the fighter do things that weren’t quite expected. They would come after me thinking they were going to make an easy kill. Next thing they knew, I was behind them and their damage sim was lighting up. I probably got lucky in my first few engagements, but by that time I had analyzed their tactics against others and me. I was able to adjust to give them a run for their money. The more of them I flew against, the better I got.”
“I’ll have to get you to teach me a few of your tricks. Now we’d better get you out of here and get you some rack time if you're going to see the old man in the morning. Come on.”
They left the dining room and moved down the passageway to the cabin shared by four junior officers. The layout was Spartan, with twin bunks on either side of the room. Two small side-by-side desks on the far bulkhead separated the bunks. Four wardrobes divided off the center of the room. The wardrobes had hanging storage above and drawers below. There wasn’t much storage, but he didn’t have much to store. Kelly felt it would be enough. The other two officers weren’t present. John said, “You get the top bunk. When you outrank someone in the room, you can have the bottom bunk. Watch your head on the piping and electrical races in the overhead.”
Kelly smiled and returned to the present. He looked around at his much more spacious quarters here on Antares Base and dropped off to sleep.
When the alarm went off, Kelly got up to prepare for the reception. He checked his terminal and there was a message from his parents waiting for him.
Andrew Blake’s face appeared in a video file when he clicked on the message. It was a middle aged version of Kelly’s own face staring back at him. “Son, how are you doing? We just found out what happened to you in the Fighter Force. Your mother is sick about it. I’ve met old Bugger Off and I know what you must have gone through. She’s an idiot. We got your message that you transferred to the Scout Force. Admiral Craddock is a good egg. You should do a lot better under him than you did with Bugger Off.”
“Your mom and I just got back from Aldebaran. We’ve been working on something for the Galactic Republic. You should hear something in the news in a month or so. We can’t say anything just yet. Just know that it will cause some big changes.”
Kelly wondered what his folks were working on now. Knowing his dad’s predilection for understatement, this would be something astounding. Considering all the areas his dad was involved in, it could be anything.
“Son, we are going to be on Armstrong in a couple of months. Your mother and I would love to see you. Let us know what your schedule will be. We are flexible and will be there for a few months. Now here’s your mother.”
Moira Blake appeared. “Son, send us a video. We want to see what you look like in your Fleet uniform. Between your school and travels and our travels, we hardly get to see each other. We are really looking forward to seeing you when we get to Armstrong. We’re going to be there for a while, so there should be lots of opportunities to meet up with you. I am very much looking forward to seeing you. Take care of yourself.”
Kelly prepared his uniform and put it on. The Scout Force mess dress uniform wasn’t bad. The chief had done a good job finding a well-tailored replacement for the baggy thing that General Bugarov had arranged for him. The pants were white with a black stripe up the leg. The waist length white dinner jacket had black piping along the collar. His Gold Fighter Wings sat above his single row of miniature medals.
His single gold stripe, signifying his rank, looked lonely on his sleeve. He would be glad to add the half stripe of a Lieutenant, Junior Grade in three months. As he looked in the mirror, he thought the uniform looked pretty good on him. He didn’t care for the low quarter dress shoes. He missed his calf-length Fighter Force boots.
Kelly made a quick video to his folks. He told them what he thought his schedule would be for the next few months. He left out that he would be starting a month-long patrol at the beginning of next month. If they were to be here for a few months, they would have plenty of time to get together after his patrol was completed. He did a fashion show walk around the room so his mom could see his uniform, signed off, sent the video, then left for the reception.
Admiral Craddock’s quarters were not ostentatious. It was a larger than normal house by base standards, but unlike all of the other admirals on base, it was a single-story house. What it lacked in grandeur, it made up for in features and landscaping. The house’s exterior, walls and walkways were built in a blue stone from the local quarry. The grounds were magnificent, with plants of all types and coloration tastefully blended into a pleasing bouquet. Whoever did their gardening was an artist.
As he got out of the shuttle, he pushed the transportation complete button and it went on its way. He walked up to the front door, rang the bell, and waited. An attractive woman in her early-fifties answered the door.
“Hello, Ensign, come in. I'm Amy Craddock. Tom is in the back mixing drinks. Let me take your hat.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Kelly Blake.”
She took his hat and hung it on a hook on an antique hall mirror. It had to be several hundred years old. It was in marvelous shape, and Kelly could see the frame was made of real wood, some sort of dark grainy wood. The finish was so well done that Kelly felt he was looking down through the grain of the wood. He looked into the parlor and saw several other antiques tastefully blended in with the more modern furniture that obviously was Fleet issue. Kelly resolved not to sit on any of the antiques.
Mrs. Craddock led Kelly into the rest of the house. The other rooms were just as tastefully decorated as the parlor. Admiral Craddock was in the back tending bar. He had a number of Scout Force and Base officers and their escorts bellied up to the bar. He was regaling them with a story about his last tour in Fleet HQ on Earth.
“So there I was, the newest officer in the office and my boss, Admiral Gutierrez, had just chosen me to brief a Galactic Republic Senator on something I knew nothing about. I had five minutes to prepare. I asked Admiral Gutierrez if he had any advice for me. The admiral looked over at me and said, 'Yes, when there is nothing else you can do, polish your shoes.'”
The group broke into laughter. Admiral Craddock looked up and saw Kelly.
“Kelly, come in let me introduce you to everyone. All, this is Kelly Blake. He is the Exec of the Vigilant. He works for Ed Timmons.”
He pointed at a Fleet Commander wearing Base Ops insignia and said, “This is CMDR Okanma. He runs the base infrastructure maintenance activity. If I hadn’t stolen you away, you would have been working for him.”
CMDR Okanma shook Kelly’s hand and said, “Miyushi, meet Ensign Blake. Ensign, this is my wife, Miyushi.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you both,” said Kelly as he shook their hands.
The admiral introduced Kelly to a well-dressed female civilian. “This is my daughter, Candy. Candy has just graduated from the Winston Churchill School of Law, passed the GR bar exam, and is taking a few weeks off before she reports into the Baines, Baines, and Enfield law firm here on Armstrong. We are very proud of her. Of course, the first thing she will probably do as a lawyer is sue the base for something we did wrong. Her specialty is contract law.”
Candy Craddock was stunning. She was about 5’ 8” and had long red hair. Her fair skin was almost transparent and lacked the freckles one normally associated with redheads. Her ringless fingers were long and graceful, with moderately long painted nails. The dress, of a green iridescent material, looked like it had been custom tailored to fit her every curve. The effect was breathtaking. A slit up each side showed most of two very shapely legs. A look in her eyes told Kelly that she was more than a little interested in him. Kelly would have to play this situation very carefully.
She extended her hand to Kelly, gave him a firm handshake, and said, “So very glad to meet you, Ensign Blake.”
“I’m very glad to meet you also, Miss Craddock.”
“Please call me Candy.”
“In that case, please call me Kelly.”
The admiral stepped in to continue the introductions. “Kelly, meet LCDR Davis and LT Bell, the CO and Exec of the Vehement. It’s the Scout ship in the dock next to the Vigilant. They should be through refit in three months or so.”
LCDR Davis asked Kelly to talk with him later about how the refit of the Vigilant was going. LT Bell asked to be in on that conversation, too.
Admiral Craddock then introduced Kelly to two Fleet Lieutenants. “Kelly, these two fellows are Kim Dae Wo and Al Bentine. They are being assigned here to work on my staff. Kim will be in operations and Bentine will handle officer personnel assignments. Ah, I see my wife motioning me into the kitchen. Why don’t you all get acquainted, while I go help Amy.”
Kelly said to both lieutenants, “Very nice to meet you. Have you just arrived on Antares Base also?”
LT Bentine said, “We got in this Wednesday. We just found out our assignments today. Neither of us came in specifically assigned to Scout Force, but we are glad to be here. I, for one, prefer working for the operational forces over support functions.”
LT Bentine saw CMDR Okanma look up at his comment. He quickly said, “Sir, not that there is anything wrong with working for the support services, but I want to get back out in space on a ship and hope to maybe command a Scout ship some day.”
CMDR Okanma just chuckled.
Candy Craddock looked over at him. “Dad left before fixing you a drink. What would you like?”
“I haven’t had time for a drink since I got here and I was on a dry Fleet carrier for six months before that. Are there any local specialties I should try?”
With a beguiling smile, she said, “Local specialties…let me see.” She bent down, giving Kelly a wonderful view of her cleavage. “How about a local wine? They make a marvelous Vidal Blanc to the southwest of here, and Dad has one in here chilled. I’ll have a glass with you.”
She opened the bottle, poured two glasses of a lovely amber liquid, and handed one to Kelly. She put a stopper on the bottle and replaced it in the fridge beneath the bar. This gave Kelly that lovely view of her cleavage again. He averted his eyes just before she straightened back up.
She reached over and clinked glasses with him. “Here’s to a safe patrol.”
Her comment caught Kelly a little unawares. It must have shown on his face.
“Don’t worry, Kelly. I don’t know Scout Force’s patrol schedule, but if you are about to come out of refit, you are obviously about to go out on patrol. It’s just how things are done.”
Kelly relaxed. The other guests had moved over to the den and were looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at a storm coming over the mountains to the east, leaving Kelly alone with Candy.
“We seem to have been abandoned.”
She leaned over the bar, holding her glass in both hands, and asked, “Do you mind?” Her eyes locked with his.
“Of course not. How could I mind them leaving me alone with such pleasant company?”
Candy gave him a blinding smile in response.
“Tell me, Candy, who does the gardening for your folks? I was awestruck by the way the grounds look.”
“We don’t have a gardener. Mom keeps up the grounds. She has a real green thumb. She could plant a burnt stick and get it to flower.”
“Well, I’m impressed. Are they local plants or were they brought in?”
“Come on. I’ll walk you around and give you the tour.”
The two walked out the front door and over to a large planting bed. The flowers were arrayed with short ones in front and larger plants in the center. The effect was like a layer cake. Reds and crimsons were on top, blues through the center, and whites along the base. A sweet scent filled the air, mixed with the smell of the approaching rainstorm.
“These white plants are alabaster stars. They come from the southern hemisphere here on Armstrong. The blues are Antarean asters. They grow on Plymouth Island to the southeast of here, near where this wine comes from. The red and crimson flowers come from a Blood Bush native to the polar region and a parasitic plant called the Strangler Vine, native to this region. It grows on low-lying bushes and sucks them dry of nutrients. It eventually kills its host plant, thereby causing its own death, but not before it releases its spores. It’s beautiful, but so tragic.”
“Wow, that is tragic, but you're right, they are beautiful.”
They walked along together, enjoying the garden and each other’s company until the rumble of distant thunder caused them to look up at the approaching clouds. They walked back to the front door, where Candy put her hand on the handle and stopped. She looked at Kelly and said, “I wonder.”
Kelly looked at her and asked, “What do you wonder?”
“I wonder if you might be brave enough to date the admiral’s daughter?”
Kelly paused for a moment and said, “I’m brave enough, but I’m not looking for anything serious at this time. My present is too uncertain. As you said earlier, it is only a matter of time before I go out on patrol or a deployment. I could be gone a few weeks or a few months. I have no way of knowing. I’m afraid we couldn’t be much more than friends. There is one other thing. Although I’m no lady’s man, there are at least two other young women interested in me.”
She smiled that dazzling smile again, “That works for me. I could always use more friends. I’m not looking for a monogamous relationship right now, either. I just spent six tough years in school and I want to party a bit before I settle down.”
“Okay, Candy, I’d be honored to be your friend. Let’s get inside before this storm catches us out here.”
They rejoined the party. A large relish and canape spread had been set up on a buffet table in the den. Everyone was eating, drinking, and watching the approaching lightning storm. Candy took his glass to the bar to refill it. Kelly made a mental note to slow down his drinking. This local Vidal Blanc appeared to have higher alcohol content than he was used to. It wouldn’t do to get smashed at his admiral’s house.
Mrs. Craddock came over. “Are you enjoying yourself, Kelly?”
“Yes, ma’am, Candy was showing me your plantings. They are magnificent. I was impressed with them when I drove up. I asked who your gardener was. Candy told me you tended them. They really are remarkable.”
“I’ve always liked gardening. I’ve made sure we had a garden everywhere we’ve been assigned. I really like using the local plants. They are so much hardier and vibrant than plants brought in from Earth.”
Candy walked up and handed him his refilled wine glass.
Mrs. Craddock saw that and said, “I should warn you about the local wine. It's a good bit stronger than Earth wines.”
“Mom, I was trying to ply him with liquor and you spoiled it for me. Kelly here has agreed to be my friend. I hinted that he could be more than a friend, but he was a gentleman about it and pointed out that his patrol and deployment schedule might not allow for him to get more serious with me.”
Mrs. Craddock got a little goggle-eyed over her daughter’s last announcement, looked at Kelly, and said, “You’ll have to excuse my daughter, Kelly. We didn’t beat her enough when she was young.”
Candy and her Mom both broke out laughing at that.
Admiral Craddock walked over, “Now, what’s so funny over here?”
Mrs. Craddock spoke up. “It appears that Ensign Blake here and your daughter are friends.”
“Well, Candy is of age. Kelly comes from a good family. Why shouldn’t they be friends?”
Candy said, “Kelly is the first of your officers I’ve met that isn’t so afraid of you that they wouldn’t have anything to do with me. It is a refreshing change.”
Admiral Craddock put his arm round Kelly’s shoulder and told him, “Kelly, it is perfectly all right for you to see my daughter. Not that she would require my consent anyway. She is a bit willful. I don’t know where she gets it from.”
Kelly replied, “Thank you, sir. I consider it an honor to be her friend.”
Admiral Craddock, his wife, and Candy replied in unison, “As well you should.” All three broke into peels of laughter. Kelly noticed that Candy had an honest, throaty laugh. The admiral then said, “Now, let’s rejoin our other guests.”
Kelly trailed along behind, chuckling to himself.
The storm arrived with a fantastic display of pyrotechnics. At times the lightning strikes were so close that they were both blinding and deafening at the same time. One particularly close strike caused Candy to jump into his arms. He had to admit she felt awfully good against him. She was a little slow in disengaging, so he assumed he felt pretty good to her, too.
The storm blew on and the night progressed. About 2200, CMDR Okanma and his wife expressed their gratitude to their hosts, said farewell and left for their quarters. This started the exodus. The unofficial protocol for one of these receptions was to not be the last person to leave. This sometimes made for a bit of creative jockeying around the front door. Admiral Craddock asked Kelly to hold on for a bit, making him the last to depart.
Mrs. Craddock and Candy moved the party detritus into the kitchen. The admiral motioned for Kelly to follow him into his study and Kelly tagged along. He waved Kelly to a large wingback chair in front of the fireplace and walked out of the room. Kelly perused the decorations and awards on the walls. He also checked to make sure the chair wasn’t an antique. The admiral came back a few minutes later with the unfinished bottle of Vidal Blanc and a wineglass. He closed the door behind him, poured wine into his glass and offered the rest to Kelly. Kelly topped off his glass and waited.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you in here to have a father-suitor chat. I want to talk to you about your parents. Do you know they are going to be here in a few weeks?”
“Yes, sir, I got a message from them just before I came here tonight. They said they were coming here for a few months to work on a project for Fleet. They didn’t say what it was.”
“Your folks have worked magic again. They've come up with a way to have almost instantaneous travel anywhere in GR space. We’re going to test it here.”
“Scientists and science fiction authors for centuries have predicted that almost instantaneous travel from point to point was possible. Your folks have figured out how to make it work. It's based loosely on their FTL communications technology, but transmits solid objects, not digital signals. The strategic value of such a system is enormous, but the impact on the Galactic Republic will be almost inconceivable. A series of these set up near the frontier and we no longer have to maintain multiple battle fleets at the far reaches of Republic space. They can be kept at fleet bases outside the reach of K’Rang forces, but almost instantly available in an emergency. Logistics and distance are no longer a limiting factor.”
Kelly was impressed. He had lost track of his parents’ work since he left for the academy. “How does it work, sir?”
“I don’t know the technical details, but the system will consist of a series of transporter gates, essentially giant rings. The production models will be enormous, large enough for two carriers to pass through at the same time. A ship enters at one gate, programs in its travel to another destination gate, and the ship comes out light years away in a matter of seconds. The only limiting factor is that there has to be a gate where you want to go. You can’t use this to go where there isn’t a gate. I'm very much looking forward to your parents' arrival.”
“I am too, sir. I haven’t seen them since my graduation from the Academy.”
Kelly drank his wine at the same pace as the Admiral. When they had both finished, he thanked him and bid farewell. Mrs. Craddock walked him to the door and handed him his hat. Candy walked him out to an awaiting shuttle.
Kelly thanked her for the guided tour and a very pleasant evening. As he climbed into the shuttle, she leaned in and gave him a kiss. She tasted pleasantly of strawberries.
“Don’t be a stranger. I want the opportunity to give those other two girls some competition.”
On that she closed his door, turned, and did a sultry walk back to the house. Kelly’s eyes followed her all the way inside. He punched in his destination and thought about Candy all the way back to the Q.