by C. R. Daems
RED ANGEL: BOOK IV
The Red Admiral
By
C. R. Daems
Red Angel: Book IV: The Red Admiral
Copyright © 2018 by C. R. Daems
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from C. R. Daems.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9983251-4-9
ISBN-10: 0-9983251-4-7
Check out all my novels at:
crdaems.com & talonnovels.com
CHAPTER ONE
Star System: Eastar - A New Beginning
CHAPTER TWO
Star System: Eastar - Getting adjusted
CHAPTER THREE
Star System: Eastar - When Is an Anomaly Not an Anomaly
CHAPTER FOUR
Star System: Eastar - Chasing Ghosts
CHAPTER FIVE
Star System: Eastar - A Disturbing Pattern
CHAPTER SIX
Star System: Eastar - Seeking Answers
CHAPTER SEVEN
Star System: Stone Ring – Adopted Sister
CHAPTER EIGHT
Star System: Sudan - Games
CHAPTER NINE
Star System: Zaspa – Old Friends
CHAPTER TEN
Star Systems: Amend – Smooth Sailing
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Star Systems: Oxax – Homecoming
CHAPTER TWELVE
Star System: Undisclosed - Selections
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Star Systems: Fire Rock
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Star System: Oasis – A Reminder
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Star Systems: Westar
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Systems: Shadows Rest
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Star System: Undisclosed - Inside Information
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Star System: Safe Harbor
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Star System: Undisclosed - Excuses
CHAPTER TWENTY
Star System: Truth Star
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Star System: Black Water – Too Much Excitement
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Star System: Holy Star
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Star System: Undisclosed - Choices
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Star System: New Zheng
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Star System: Eastar – Home at Last
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Star System: Eastar – Bread Crumbs
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Star System: Sudan – Insights
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Star System: Undisclosed – Decision Time
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Star System: Eastar – Waiting Results
CHAPTER THIRTY
Star System: Eastar – One in the Hand or Two in the Bush
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Star System: Undisclosed – Job Training
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Star System: Eastar – The Fourth Option
CHAPTER THIRTY- THREE
Star System: Undisclosed – Concerns
CHAPTER THIRTY- FOUR
Star System: Eastar – Repercussions
CHAPTER THIRTY- FIVE
Star System: Eastar – More Repercussions
CHAPTER THIRTY- SIX
Star System: Eastar – More repercussions
CHAPTER THIRTY- SEVEN
Star System: Eastar – More Bread Crumbs
CHAPTER THIRTY- EIGHT
Star System: Undisclosed – Frustration
CHAPTER THIRTY- NINE
Star System: Eastar – Complications
CHAPTER FORTY
Star System: Fire Rock – Default Options
CHAPTER FORTY- ONE
Star System: Fire Rock – Good News, Bad News
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Star System: Eastar – A New Adversary
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Star System: Eastar – The Search Continues
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Star System: Eastar – The Lists
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Star System: Eastar – Reasonable Proof
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Star System: Eastar – Time for Some Action
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Star System: Truth Star – Demolition Act I
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Star System: Black Water – Demolition Act II
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Star System: Undisclosed – Rage
CHAPTER FIFTY
Star System: Holy Star – The Demolition Continues
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Star System: Oxax – A New Complication
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Star System: Shadows Rest – The Den of Thieves
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Star System: Zaspa – The Circle of Truth
UNITED ALLIANCE OF STARS
SPACE MAP
CHAPTER ONE
Star System: Eastar - A New Beginning
I stood staring at the fourteen uniforms hanging in my closet. They had never been worn. They were a gift from my mother and had arrived a few days ago from the tailor. Naval uniforms didn't come off the rack for a fifty-kilogram, one-hundred-sixty-three-centimeter frame. The uniforms looked picture-perfect with all the appropriate ribbons and rank insignia—for a fifty-year-old officer.
"I can't wear these," I whined, feeling like a child staring into her mother's closet—or like someone trying to decide what to wear to a masquerade party. The uniforms were for a woman officer, one with much more experience than I had. I wanted to bang my head against the wall in the hope I was having a nightmare and would wake up. I would look passable in a lieutenant's uniform—or in a stretch as a young lieutenant commander—but these damn uniforms had rear admiral braid and insignia. I'm going to be the focus of everyone's attention, I lamented. Not in admiration or even normal curiosity, but with incomprehensible disbelief or as a bizarre prank while others would inevitably speculate on how I managed to achieve my meteoric rise in rank. I could just imagine the wild theories.
I sighed, staring at the uniforms while trying to decide which would be the least conspicuous. I would have preferred the summer khaki uniform, but it was early spring. I finally settled on the dress blues and donned them reluctantly.
When I exited my room on the second floor, I froze at the stairs, imagining they led to a guillotine where crowds waited to watch and cheer my long-overdue fate. I smiled, deciding that image was a bit over the top…but not by much. Today I would officially begin my new duties as the Director of the Navy Intelligence Agency's (NIA) fifteen stations, my new Eastar station chief was due to arrive, and I had to select an aide-de-camp I wasn't sure I needed or wanted. He'll probably be older and have more time in service than me. I cringed at the thought.
"Daughter, breakfast is getting cold," Alexa said, standing at the bottom of the steps smiling.
"See, Mother, even you think this is funny!" I half shouted. "I feel like it's Halloween and I'm getting ready to go out for trick-or-treat."
"Whether that is true or not, no one laughs at a rear admiral unless they want to wash their career down the proverbial toilet. Come down to breakfast. Your security detail will be here soon."
"Yes, Mother," I said and thumped my way down the stairs with th
eir navy-blue runner and past the many pictures of navy cruisers hanging on the wall to the right of the stairs. Each picture had the name of the cruiser and a brief synopsis of its encounter with pirates, raiders, or enemy cruisers. They represented encounters in which my mother, who was retired Captain Bellona, or I had participated—she as the captain of a war cruiser and me as an NIA agent chasing criminals. The lone exception was a Free Peoples Union (FPU) cruiser on which I had been imprisoned and tortured. Mother had been reluctant to hang it on the wall, but I had insisted. Nightmares had to be faced, not ignored.
When I reached the last stair, Alexa grabbed me in a tight hug, deftly avoiding the venomous krait resting somewhere on my person. He had adopted me at age four, and as a result, he’d saved my life. Ours was a symbiotic relationship: he fed off my blood, and in so doing, his poison kept my deadly Coaca Virus in remission. After twenty-six years, he was no longer a snake. He was a beloved companion I had long ago named Red.
"It's going to be a…horrible day," I continued to whine. "New people, new responsibilities, people speculating…"
"Do you remember your first day as the Eastar NIA station chief?" Alexa asked.
"Yes." I smiled. "I set off the weapon detector and security thought I was some kind of a teen-aged terrorist wearing a poor disguise."
"As I remember it, that day went well. You've made good friends and have been successful," she said, patting my hand. "I've adopted the philosophy that helped you survive your early days—take one day at a time. I've found it's liberating not trying to guess the future."
I laughed. "Thank you, Mother. I've been future-surfing and dwelling on all the bad things that can happen rather than all the good things that are happening. I've a wonderful mother I love, work I enjoy, good friends, and all the evil people who wanted me dead are either deceased or in prison." I finished my coffee—which was more milk than coffee—just as the doorbell buzzed. I rose, feeling like weights had been lifted from my shoulders. Alexa had not only saved me from a nightmare life by adopting me but provided a sanctuary that kept me sane.
When I opened the door, Colonel Pannell stood appraising me. He was tall, around one hundred eighty-six centimeters. He had a muscular build with no excessive fat, although he was now well into his forties, and his clean-shaven, angular face was beginning to show lines of age. His brown hair was cut short—so his ears showed—but remained thick. He nodded.
"It suits you, Admiral Paulus," he said without smiling and quickly added, "and it is well deserved."
"Thank you, Paul. And I'm still Anna. But I'm considering having my hair dyed gray and walking slow with my shoulders bent."
Paul laughed. "That would ruin your pit-bull, bloodhound image," he said, alluding to Vice Admiral Lutrell's description of me after the Raiders project, where I had her investigated as part of our inquiries.
"Okay, let's go see what exciting things await us today," I quipped.
"I would rather it be a quiet and boring day." He didn't smile.
"Can't have it both ways. Quiet and boring fits the gray-haired admiral, whereas exciting goes with the pit bull, bloodhound image."
"Is she giving you a hard time, Paul?" Alexa asked as she approached.
"She's trying to adjust to being an admiral." He smiled and waved for us to leave. Since I had no known threats on my life, Pannell had agreed I could use my skimmer to take Alexa and me to work. But he insisted I still needed an armed escort. When I asked why I still needed security, he had smiled. "So I'll have security in place when you find the next bunch of bad guys to chase…and in case someone thinks they can still collect the Wanted Dead reward the hijackers had placed on your head."
* * *
When I entered the naval headquarters building, each of the five security stations had twenty or more persons waiting in line. I had just entered the end of the line for station two when a senior master chief approached me.
"Admiral, please follow me," he said and waved me toward the front of the line.
"Chief Gomez, this is a little embarrassing," I said, leaning toward him.
"Less so than everyone speculating why an admiral is standing in line." He grinned. "Maybe they would think you're not an admiral."
"Thank you, Senior Chief, for reminding me who really keeps the ship operational." I smiled, grateful for his perceptiveness and alertness.
"You’re welcome, Admiral Paulus. We wouldn't want to keep Master Chief Stamm waiting, would we, ma'am?" He nodded toward Stamm, who stood in the hallway entrance to the elevators, and handed me my new identification card, which now had my admiral rank and new position.
"Definitely not, Senior Chief," I said.
"Corporal Mann, turn off the security scanner for Admiral Paulus. She's authorized to carry a weapon," Gomez said to a young, freckled-face man monitoring the checkpoint. When he nodded, I slid my new ID through the slot, the bar released, and I passed through. Stamm stood appraising me with a satisfying expression.
"Ma'am, I thought I'd escort you to your new office and we could discuss your schedule."
"Thank you, Master Chief. I'm not looking forward to today, so anything you can do to make it run smoothly will be appreciated."
"That's what I'm here for." To my surprise, when the elevator opened, no one rushed in. Stamm waved me in, and when no one joined us, he pressed the button with eighteen in red numerals. "Rank has its privileges. Admirals ride alone since their offices are on the eighteenth floor or higher and would have to wait while it stopped at five to ten intermediate floors if the elevator were full." He stood looking at his tablet. Less than a minute later, the elevator opened into a large reception area, where a master chief sat behind a large marble counter.
"Welcome aboard, ma'am," the chief said as he saluted me and then motioned to Stamm to proceed to our right. Stamm stopped about halfway down the hallway and opened the door. I stood mesmerized by the sight. The room was twice the size of my current…no, old office. A wooden executive desk with a beige leather chair sat five meters from the door and was not only larger than my current one, but the wood was a beautiful dark reddish brown. The floor was covered in a navy-blue carpet with the NIA seal in the middle: a ghost-white image of a jellyfish on a dark blue background partially covering a silver trident. The outer circle had the inscription Naval Intelligence Agency. Three padded high-backed chairs sat to one side along the wall, and a sidebar ran along the opposite wall. I walked around the room in a trance. Seeing a door and not sure where it led, I opened it and found a small bathroom. When I looked back, Stamm was smiling. I couldn't blame him. I probably looked bewildered, like someone who just woke in a strange place with no memory of how she got there. I walked behind my desk and stood looking out the floor to ceiling window, admiring the spectacular view of the city, and eventually sat.
"Yes, Carl. I feel like I must look, overwhelmed and…petrified. I've stepped into a strange world where I don't understand the rules."
"That's why you have me, ma'am." He hesitated for a moment, looking at his tablet. "I thought I'd give you an hour to get settled and I could acquaint you with your new access. You can now see the personal files for all the personnel at the NIA stations. And you can review the catalog of accessories available for your office." He smiled at my jaw-dropping expression as I scanned the page he displayed on my desk monitor. "I've scheduled your new Eastar station chief, Commander Damon, at ten and the prospective aide-de-camps for this afternoon."
"What time?" I asked, dreading those interviews.
"Whenever you get around to it." He grinned. "An aide serves at the admiral's pleasure and is on call twenty-four-seven."
I laughed. "So you have them in training."
He nodded. "It's the cost of getting to train under the NIA's resident wizard."
* * *
A knock at the door and a second later, Stamm's head appeared. "Ma'am, Commander Damon is here when you're available."
"Send her in, Master Chief," I said as I considered the up
coming protocol. As a commander, a salute wasn't normally required in one's office. I may stand to greet the person but entering an admiral's office wasn't the same. I didn't really care, but as Lulltrel and the Sharat inquiry board had made perfectly clear, protocol was important to maintaining discipline. As I sat pondering the issue, Damon entered the office, took two steps into the room, braced to attention, and saluted.
"Commander Damon reporting for duty, ma'am," she said but couldn't stop a traitorous twitch of her lip that wanted to turn into a smile. I couldn't blame her, seeing this small young girl dwarfed behind a huge desk and wearing an admiral’s uniform. She must have noticed something, because she immediately continued. "Sorry, ma'am. I'm so excited to be here working for you I can hardly stand still."
I returned her salute, smiled, and stood, coming around the desk. "Get something to drink if you want and have a seat," I said. Damon was also petite with an elfin face, playful smile, and wild, curly blond hair. She shook her head, which made her hair dance as if alive, but waited for me to sit. I put out my hand and she took it. "Welcome aboard, Damon. Unlike you, they had to drag me here kicking and screaming all the way. But I have to admit, I loved being the Eastar NIA chief and I'm going to miss it."
"Quite frankly, I was surprised you picked me," Damon said, looking a bit sheepish.
"I've been told I have an unorthodox style. I wouldn't know, as I've been promoted too fast to acquire the experience to understand the difference. But I value honesty. I'll be very disappointed if you tell me you agree with me when you don't." I held up my hand to stop her from saying anything. "To be honest, you should know you weren't my first choice. I offered the position to Commanders Sinclair and Shrader. But they each have recently become engaged and didn't want to move."
"Being third after Commanders Sinclair and Shrader is very respectable." She grinned, then lowered her gaze. "I've talked to Commanders Newman, Atkins, and Cooper…"
"That was smart," I said. "I imagine the rumor mill has too much information and much of it is conflicting and without context."
She nodded. "You're the most talked-about officer in the navy and ironically by people who never knew you. I preferred to talk to people who know you. They agreed your style was different, but they loved it and said they learned more from you in a year than their entire previous time in service." Damon gave me an award-winning smile. "They were delighted you were promoted and even more so that you will continue to be their boss."
