Retribution

by Dave O'Connor

  Harry blew out some air, girded his loins and somehow found the energy required to walk down the hallway to the dining room. He brushed across his thinning hair endeavouring to hide the growing expanse of bare skull. It was another of life’s disappointments. Why his parents opted not to cull that gene he never knew. ‘Hum’ he thought ‘it’s the least of my worries.’

  As he approached the entrance to the dining room, he took in a deep breath. The third most powerful person in the human federation entered the dining room of his own house feeling inadequate.

  The face that looked up from her plate was no longer the lure it had once been thirty years ago. It was a long face whose cheeks had hollowed out despite the best efforts of earth’s finest cosmetic surgeons. Her dark brown eyes rolled up to meet Harry’s. He felt them interrogating his form. He knew they would not fail to realise that he was weary but he also knew that there would be no acknowledgement let alone a soothing word. She gave him a slight nod before inserting another mouthful of filet steak into her mouth with the ornate silver fork.

  Harry sat down in the chair on Amelia’s left. The chair opposite, on Amelia’s right, was occupied by their son, Commander Charles Chen. His son was in the middle of chewing his own mouthful. There wasn’t much left on his plate. Charles made an attempt to smile but opted to nod instead.

  Harry removed the lid from his plate and took in the aroma of the steak diane. It was to his liking. He reached forward and took hold of the bottle. He inspected the label and nodded in appreciation. The Penfold’s Grange was the best cabernet sauvignon on the planet and his cellar was well stocked with them. He poured a glass and brought it to his nose and inhaled the satisfying aroma.

  Amelia knew he loved his wine. She had witnessed this ritual of his all too often. She appreciated the benefits that came with being married to the Federation Treasurer but as she had done more and more of late she robbed him of his pleasure by interrupting him just as he was about to take a sip. “So?” she demanded.

  Harry shook his head slightly. He was onto her little games. This was becoming annoying. It was a form of harassment. If Charles had not been here he would have said something. For now, he exercised all the restraint he was famous for. He slowly lowered the glass to the table. His prize would wait. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. He glanced across to Charles.

  “It’s done. You have your war. You report to the spaceport tomorrow morning 0800 sharp.” Harry turned to Amelia. “I hope you are satisfied?” he said with more than a trace of sarcasm.

  “The Resolute?” asked Amelia ignoring Harry’s tone. Her focus was only on the outcome. She had long since given up caring about how Harry felt.

  Harry nodded but then decided to add “this cost us big time.” He turned to Charles “Don’t screw this up.” With great determination Harry took a good swallow of the precious red liquid. He forwent the niceties, keen for the after effects that only alcohol provided these days.

  The rest of the meal was had in silence. Amelia excused herself at the earliest opportunity. A minute later Charles followed suit leaving his father to savour his food and wine in peace.

  Charles made his way to his bedroom and began packing his gear. Most of it was done already, save for his Fleet whites that were now folded neatly into the suit compartment of his case. There was no expression on his face, no indication of how he felt.

  The impassive demeanour was still there when Amelia entered a minute later. Amelia noted it just as she had done so many times before. There was something missing, emotionally, in her Charles. She put this down to Harry just like everything disappointing in her life was down to Harry.

  She put her hand on Charles as he was closing the case shut. Charles turned and gave her a half smile. That was the best she would get from him. But her payoff would not be in terms of an emotional response. No, her payoff would be in terms of status.

  Ever since she had graduated from Oxford she had only one goal and that was to attain the highest office in the Federation. Harry’s own ambition had torpedoed hers. She had reluctantly agreed to back his political career instead of her own when it looked like he would have the best chance of going all the way. Oh what a mistake that had been. Not only had Harry failed to deliver but he had seemingly, willingly accepted his fate as the loyal lieutenant – fool! It was now down to Charles.

  “You know your father’s right about not screwing this up” she said in an even measured voice.

  Charles put the suitcase down onto the floor and then looked back at his mother. “I got that. You don’t need to give me the lecture. I know what I have to do. Don’t worry. I will return the hero and claim my birth right.” He paused and waited for the response from his mother. She gave him the smile he knew would come. He then added “but I won’t be doing this for you mother. I will be doing it for me.”

  Amelia winced. She felt the pain, but she was determined to have the last word here. “Yes do it for yourself Charles. Stay safe and succeed. I have had enough disappointments for one life.” She then turned and exited.

  Another half-smile came over Charles Chen’s face. ‘Oh I’ll succeed alright’ he thought to himself. ‘Whatever it takes.’

  Chapter 2. Nova Vista, Polaris 1800, 5 July

  Lieutenant Commander Sheldon Brice shifted his weight in the chair by the bed in ward 1202 of the North Shore Hospital as the attendant wheeled in the trolley with the meal. Being an active man Sheldon hated sitting for any length of time but his duties as the Comms and Intel (CI) Officer had taught him to control the urge to rise.

  His best friend First Lieutenant (1st Lt) Jake Holman winced as he adjusted his position in the bed. The bubble wrap dressings around the right side of his face, neck and shoulder groaned under the adjustment. They were designed to be flexible while still protecting the burned skin but the noise they made did not suggest flexibility at all.

  “Do you need me to move the pillow?” asked Sheldon.

  “No” barked back Jake angrily.

  Sheldon just nodded. He’d seen this before. He knew his buddy was going through the post trauma anger stage. Jake had been the engineering officer on board the FFS Auckland, Admiral Rudi Holland’s flagship during the recent battle for Polaris. He had been badly burned when the Auckland had been hit with rogan missiles during the opening salvoes.

  Sheldon was the senior CI on the Auckland. He and Jake had served together now on three different ships since graduating from the Academy nine years ago. It had stressed him no end when he heard the damage report after the enemy strike and even more when he was told to stay at his post.

  Sheldon knew that to pass through this anger stage, Jake needed support and that was why he was here. Prior experience had taught Sheldon not to react to the displays of anger, just to be quiet and most of all just to be there.

  The attendant gave a weak smile and placed the tray of food on the adjacent bedside trolley, rotated the arm so the meal was now in front of Jake and said in a quiet and measured manner “You good?” Jake nodded and the attendant left.

  Jake pulled off the lid revealing the usual hospital fair. Tonight it was sliced roast lamb, carrots, beans and the ubiquitous mashed potato with gravy. He let out a sigh of disappointment but still lifted his fork and dove it into the mash.

  Sheldon’s communicator chimed. “Do you mind if I take this?” he asked Jake. Jake shook his head ever so slightly. Sheldon stood up and went out into the corridor. He walked down towards the lounge area which was currently deserted. “Yes” he answered.

  “Commander Sheldon Brice?” asked the voice on the other end.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Captain Alex Peabody, PERS (Personnel Staff Officer) for Admiral Yomoto. Can you talk?”

  “Yeah go ahead.”

  “I have a new assignment for you. It’s effective immediately. Report to my office 0800 tomorrow and I’ll fill you in.”

  “Have you cleared this with Admiral Holland?”

  “Yes. He’s th
e one who recommended you. Don’t worry. I think you’ll like it” said Alex with a wry smile on his face.

  “OK Sir 0800 tomorrow.”

  As Alex put down his communicator on his desk in the Combined Fleet Alpha HQ he said to himself “and who wouldn’t like being the commander of the Spectre.” The Spectre was the second in the new series of Phantom class stealth frigates.

  “Now who am I going to get to command the Raptor” he added. The Raptor was the third in the series.

  Chapter 3. Nova Vista 2240, 5 July

  LCmd Meg Songa rolled out of the bed careful not to disturb her latest conquest. She instinctively brushed away her frizzy black hair from her forehead. ‘I should have had it cut this afternoon’ she chastised herself. She was tall, athletic and her dark complexion looked positively shiny under the glow from her communicator. She threw on a robe, grabbed the communicator and exited the bedroom into the main living area of the two bedroom apartment high up in the Sea Breeze complex overlooking the bay.

  She made her way out onto the balcony of her lover’s apartment. A breeze had finally picked up and the smell of saltwater wafted in. She sat down on the cane chair and briefly caught site of ground zero, where the rogan nukes had impacted in the north of the city some fifteen kilometres away. The arc lights from the decontamination crews could be seen clearly. ‘Pity’ she thought ‘the view would have been lovely before the rogan ruined it.’

  She glanced down at her communicator, recognised the sender and double tapped the urgent message.

  ‘URGENT NEW ASSIGNMENT. Report to F1 CFA HQ, 0800 6 July ready to deploy. CONGRATS!’ It was from Captain Alex Peebody.

  A beaming smile came over Meg’s face. “Yes!” she exclaimed out loud. She sat back in the chair and started to think of all the things she had to do. Through all the different strands of thought one came that forced itself to the fore. ‘Oh yes’ she thought.

  She crafted her thankyou email to her aunt beginning with her normal term of endearment for her. ‘Bumbles, I got it. Thank you so much. I won’t let you down…’ The recipient would have to be careful and ensure she opened it in private lest word got out that the Federation Health Minister was referred to as ‘bumbles’ by those that knew her the most.

  Meg crept her way back into the bedroom and let the robe fall to the floor. The night light penetrated through the partially opened curtains but she couldn’t find her underwear. She bent over and began feeling for them under the sheet.

  She got a shock when she felt his hand on hers. Her lover rolled over onto his side and looked up to her admiring the light playing off her trim body. “Do you have to go?” he asked quietly.

  “Sorry new orders” she replied. She liked this one. He was a country mile ahead of the rest. But now was not the time for attachments she reminded herself. She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  He took advantage and pulled her on top. “Surely you have time for a farewell embrace” he said.

  Meg smiled. “But that’s not an embrace I’m feeling is it?”

  “What can I say” and he chuckled.

  Meg leant closer to him and rubbed her breasts over his chest. She felt his hands squeeze her ample bottom holding her in place while he thrust up to meet her. She arched her back up and with real pleasure took all that he had to give.

  Chapter 4. Nova Vista 1115, 7 July

  Admiral Phil Yomoto looked out through the door of his office hoping to catch sight of Alex Peabody. But he wasn’t there. He returned his focus to the voice of Dr Mani Govinda, head of Deathly Hollows where his new fleet of stealth ships were under construction.

  “Yeah I get it Mani” said a frustrated Phil “but you’re not the only facility to get itself nuked here OK. We’re pulling out all stops here and I expect your team to do the same.” Phil was referring to the nuclear strikes against Deathly Hollows and against Nova Vista in the recent battle for Polaris.

  Mani was not impressed and remained silent. He used it like a weapon. It had proved effective before with Phil and if the strumming of his fingers on the desk was anything to go by it was proving effective today. Finally Phil broke his resolve. “Alright then 1 August it is but I want Tenacity ready for operations. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with the Resolute.”

  “Of course Admiral” said the smooth voice of Mani “ready for operations on the 1st. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, that’s all” and Phil terminated the call as he caught a glance of Alex through his doorway. “Alex” he bellowed.

  “Sir” acknowledged Alex who about turned and marched into his boss’ office.

  “Any news on Rokosky?” asked Phil.

  “Yeah but you’re not going to like it. The doctors won’t give her a clean bill of health. She may have to be invalided out. Apparently the op never got all of it out.”

  “Shit. Why do we always loose the best?” demanded Phil. “Who’s next on our list?”

  “Mad Dog.”

  “Right” said Phil drawing the word out as he thought about the suitability of Commander Jeb Wilson.

  “He’s available right now.”

  “He’s also a bit of a loose cannon.”

  “He did alright with the Rikter – two verified kills” said Alex referring to the recent battle over Polaris.

  “Yeah but that was a frigate and he nearly lost it. Can we trust him with a new capital ship?”

  “That’s your call Sir. If it helps the next one on the list is Soulis.”

  “What we’re down to Bumbling Barnaby?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Alright then get Wilson in here. I need to have some strong words with him before he takes charge.”

  Chapter 5. Konkorda to Qwantum 1300, 23 July

  Retna was large even for a sleth. He sat hunched over in the co-pilot’s seat, his big reptilian hands worked the station in front of him. He glanced across at Chungisium Sleck, the rogan he had put his faith in. By comparison Chung, as he preferred to be addressed, was about half Retna’s size. Only Chung’s large head provided any offset in relative sizing.

  “We’ll be there soon” said Chung. “We come out of warp in seven minutes. Make sure you are ready to launch the probe immediately if required.”

  “Of course” said Retna. He glanced at the screen in front of him and confirmed the probe was ready. “Do you think they will have done it already? They have had three hours head start.”

  “Yes, yes they have” replied Chung a little exasperated. “We’ve gone through this how many times? Yes they may have initiated it but that is not what our Resistance friends reckon. We still have six hours to the scheduled time.”

  Retna was getting decidedly uneasy as the countdown ticked over to five minutes. He shifted his significant frame in his seat. It was a rogan seat in a rogan ‘Starjumper’ class spacecraft. Ostensibly designed for the executive passenger market it was now an older craft and most commonly used by the gun runners and anyone else who wanted a small, fast nimble craft capable of warping between systems with small but high value cargo.

  That cargo in this case was a probe. An old Mark 42, no longer in service with the Imperial Rogan Fleet (IRF) but heavily modified for this particular mission.

  “Make sure you set it for delayed broadcast” directed Chung. “We want to give us the best chance of escaping.”

  “Done. One day should do it.”

  “Whose day?”

  “Does it matter” replied Retna. His tone was terse. “We’ll be in and out well before even the shortest day.”

  “On all frequencies?”

  “Yes, yes. It’s all done. I just hope it works and that we are not too late.”

  “Well we will find out now. Exiting warp.”

  The starjumper transitioned to impulse drives very smoothly and then came to a dead stop. Chung scanned the sensors for signs of their prey. He was only using passive sensors to avoid giving away their position. “There’s quite a lot of activity” he stated. He filtered out th
e usual mining vessels found around the big gas giant that lay before them. His sensors were now tuned to locate the signature of an Imperial Rogan Fleet Hedjling class corvette and in this case one matching the signature of the IRS (Imperial Rogan Ship) Fustus.

  “There it is” announced Chung excitedly. “I told you they’d come in behind the second moon.”

  “That is good” said Retna. “Gravity readings appear normal. They haven’t initiated yet.”

  “No, we are lucky so far. Hopefully they have not detected us.”

  “Launch or wait?” asked Retna.

  “We wait. It looks like our friends were correct. By my calculations we have six hours before the fourth planet reaches its closest point.”

  “I still cannot believe they would do this to one of their own systems” said a confounded Retna.

  “It’s only been under rogan rule for nineteen years. Hardly one of ours” said Chung and then quickly added “I mean one of theirs.” He smiled awkwardly at Retna.

  “It’s still genocide.”

  “Yes, but as far as they see it, the beings within this system have already chosen. Maybe it would have been better to have stayed their hand.”

  “And what of your friends?”

  Chung felt a great weight of sadness on him. “There is nothing we can do for them. You know that.” Retna shrugged his shoulders. “But hopefully this probe can let everyone know that it was the Imperialists who did it and not the Resistance.”

  “I need to stretch out” said Retna. “Call me for the launch.” Chung nodded. Retna extracted himself off the seat and while still crouching exited the cockpit. Even in the main cabin he still had to crouch. He laid down on the bedding he had been using and stretched out his long legs and then his long arms in the opposite direction. It felt so good to stretch. He sighed as the tension eased in his muscles. He knew it would be difficult to sleep this close to the initiation. But years of hard military experience had taught him the value of taking what opportunity you could to rest. So he closed his eyes and focussed on his breath.