Captain Hawkins (The Jamie Hawkins Saga Book 1)

by H. Alesso

  Hale’s smartly pressed uniform made him seem powerful, whereas Hawkins’ informal civilian garb made him appear less so. In truth, neither man was comfortable, at this moment, discussing this subject.

  “She asked about you,” said Hale in what seemed to be an opening gambit.

  Hawkins was intrigued, but reluctant to let on just how piqued, his interest was.

  “What did she say?”

  In a quick harsh response, Hale said, “That’s personal,” as if to slam the door shut on such a disclosure. However, a moment later, as if regretting his tone, he conceded, “She mentioned some mutual friends being arrested, her worry that she might never see them again . . . and she asked after you, as I said. The rest was personal.”

  Hawkins guessed that he might have underestimated Hale’s relationship with Alyssa. He said, “Tell me about Alyssa?”

  Hale sighed, “She’s a pretty woman—an attractive woman—someone I’ve grown close to.”

  “We share the same good opinion of her.”

  Hale went on, “Did you know that the name Alyssa is derived from the name of the flower alyssum, once thought to cure some diseases. It seems appropriate that she became a doctor.” He paused, and then continued reflectively, “She’s the kind of woman who always finds a way to smile; the one that you’ll see walking with her head held high; the kind of woman who never gives up. I admire that about her.”

  She’s all that and more.

  “When did you first meet?”

  Without hesitating Hale said, “About a year ago, when I first became involved in demonstrations and protest activities. I was on an assignment to Newport . . .”

  “And she helped you?”

  Hale gave a slight nod.

  “Could you have completed your task without her?”

  “No. I needed security access to some medical records which she provided.”

  “Go on.”

  “I told her, I was there to collect information for my university records.”

  “So she was unaware of your early activist involvement?”

  “She didn’t learn about that until much later.”

  “You’re a good story teller,” said Hawkins, knowing Hale would understand exactly what he meant.

  You were trying to impress her.

  “Were there any consequences from this effort?”

  Hale twisted his lips and took a breath, as if his conscience bothered him. He said, “She did get questioned by security afterward, but nothing specific happened, at that time.”

  “The police weren’t suspicious of your actions?”

  “Not then.”

  “Were there other times?”

  “Yes.”

  Hawkins listened in silence, as Hale related several of his early undertakings, a few of which led him into contact with Alyssa.

  “Was it all business? All activist related?”

  “Was what all business?”

  “Your relationship with Alyssa.”

  “I did nothing that would compromise her, or get her arrested. She helped of her own accord even after she knew I was involved with protests and dissent. She has always believed in our cause and at the time, she was brave enough to take some risks.” He added softly, “I grew to care about her.”

  So have I.

  Hale remained taciturn, the wariness returned to his face. He took it further and said, “Alyssa and I have an easygoing relationship, a close friendship. Considering the time and distance involved, it’s hard to say if it’s more than that now, or could be more, in the future.”

  Hawkins sat rigidly still.

  Hale continued, “It’s been months, since I last saw her—at the hospital—that night you and I were arrested.”

  Hawkins tilted his chin up. “How did she know how to get a message to you?”

  “She didn’t. She just knew that if she passed a message to the local rebels, they would pass it on. We’ve been in the news enough for her to want to reach out—apparently.”

  “What about the surveillance she’s been under since her involvement at the hospital?”

  “I imagine that’s been difficult, but she’s resourceful. She found a way.”

  “Did she sound happy?” Hawkins asked, hoping Hale would share more of the contents of his message.

  “She sounded content,” said Hale, apparently not interested in giving more than that.

  That doesn’t ring true.

  Hawkins had a bad thought. He considered punishing Hale in some minor way, to make him suffer for the discomfort he now felt. It was a petty emotion and it quickly passed.

  He wondered about Alyssa.

  She’s attractive, but not strikingly beautiful. Yet, she possesses a principled character and the kind of caring nature that I find appealing.

  Unable to restrain himself any longer, Hawkins leaned forward and placed both his hands on the table between them, he demanded, “Arron, has she made a personal commitment to you?”

  Hale’s brows knitted, his eyes grew dark, and his mouth contorted into a deep scowl. He acknowledged, “We haven’t made a firm commitment.” He stared directly into Hawkins’ eyes, and added, “but I sense we have an understanding . . .”

  “Well, my friend,” said Hawkins, standing up and then looking down at Hale, “In that case, it’s only fair to warn you, I intend to make my feelings known to her.”

  Now visibly angry, Hale said, “I doubt that will do you any good.”

  I wonder just how much strain our friendship will stand.

  Just then, a bridge messenger entered the wardroom.

  “Captain, the OOD said that there is a newscast transmission being broadcasted throughout the system that he thought you should hear.”

  Hawkins went to the wardroom communications monitor and tuned in a Jaxon broadcast reporting breaking news.

  An attractive female newscaster with a somber expression spoke with calm authority, as she said, “Chairman Rusk stunned the world today, when he stated that he was offering President Victor a limited ceasefire arrangement within the asteroid belt, to begin as soon as President Victor agreed.”

  An equally attractive male newscaster with a stern demeanor and deep resonant voice said, “There has been no reply from President Victor, yet. We are waiting for his administration to digest this offer, but no doubt the government will issue a statement shortly.”

  The woman looked directly into the camera and said, “The situation in the asteroid belt has been grim since the start of the war and it is now approaching catastrophic proportions. Throughout the asteroid belt, there are hundreds of Jaxon and Hellion colonies in desperate conditions. There are many colonies that have had no relief in years. They have been surviving within their closed environmental habitats, using the stores they had when the war broke out and relying on a brisk black market trade. In addition, some colonies have suffered from raids from Hellion ships, as well as from internal colonial dissension and civil strife. Rebel sympathies have developed in some. The Eureka mining colonies, over which the war started, are facing starvation and genocide. It is a humanitarian crisis.”

  The camera turned back to the man. “Chairman Rusk said that, as a humane gesture, he was offering to withdraw his Combat Fleet from the asteroid belt and bring it back to Hellion for a period of one month, and to respect a complete ceasefire within the belt while cargo ships filled with food, medicine, and environmental repair equipment traveled to any of the colonies in need. He is asking President Victor to reciprocate, by withdrawing our Combat Fleet, back to home space and respect the ceasefire.”

  The woman said, “The terrible slaughter on the Eureka colonies has been called a war crime by President Victor in the past, so that should weigh heavily on his decision of whether to accept the Hellion proposal.” He said, “Hellion sources have said their experts will work to allow for humanitarian access to parts of colonies caught in the crossfire and provide for the creation of demilitarized areas around those asteroids. The Chairman furt
her offered to open talks with Victor to discuss possibilities beyond the ceasefire. He even proposed to speed up adoption of a new constitution in the Eureka colonies to facilitate their future elections.”

  She turned to her colleague and said, “This could be fantastic news. We have at last, some hope for an end to this war.”

  He returned her gaze and said, “Don’t get ahead of the story.”

  She twisted her lips into a frown and said, “President Victor has said, in the past, that he wanted to stay out of that area. He thought it was a quagmire. He proposed setting up a refugee safe zone, early in the war, but he feared defending such a haven would require greater intervention. Of course, Victor ended up bombing anyway, without much effect. Meanwhile, hundreds of thousands of refugees flooded from the colonies back to Jaxon. His haphazard policy has left us with an unenviable task. Until now, Victor has questioned whether any deal with Hellion is possible, given the “gaps of trust” between our two states.”

  The male newscaster grimaced at his colleague as if to rebuke her editorializing. He sat up tall in his seat, to appear as professional as possible and said, “It seems Victor has three options: He can continue the war without regard of the hardship the colonist face. However, without intervening, that consigns colonies to the slow-drip of destructive warfare. This option has the domestic political advantage for Victor of preserving the fiction that he is concentrating on protecting the home planets. Or, Victor can try to match the Hellion by attacking Hellion’s client states. This, of course, would risk an open collision with Hellion’s Combat Fleet. Or Victor can throw in the towel and effectively give away the colonies to Rusk, as the lesser of many evils. Letting Hellion have the colonies it chooses in order to end the war. Such a decision would surrender an unhappy population, largely centered in marginalized colonies, and lead to an inevitable post-war crackdown.”

  She watched him intensely, as he spoke. When he stopped and looked over at her, she squinted at him, and then said, “I don’t image President Victor will get any sleep tonight.”

  Hawkins watched the newscast with growing impatience. He said, “The Hellion fleet hasn’t attacked the inner planets, but that fear remains ever present. There were a dozen uprisinsg on different mining colonies against both Jaxon and Hellion, causing great suffering, but I don’t trust the leaders, of either side, to solve this complex situation.”

  Hale was also concerned. “A dangerous dynamic.”

  All of a sudden, all the connections Hawkins had been trying to form, arranged themselves perfectly in his mind. He understood. Fury rose within him and he felt an overpowering sense of anger and frustration.

  Hawkins said, “Chairman Rusk’s offer is a distraction, a subterfuge, a cover story designed to essentially win the war. He wants Victor to be distracted by the refugees from the colonies, so they can direct an attack of greater proportion elsewhere, maybe Jaxon itself, or perhaps against the Combat Fleet in a vulnerable position. It would take some very skilled deception to manipulate circumstance to reposition whole fleets, but it can be done. I suspect that if Victor agrees to the conditions of withdrawing both Combat Fleets from their bases in the asteroid belt, back to their respective home planets, then once our fleet is withdrawn, he will swiftly discover that the Hellion fleet stayed put and that it was sweeping through our colonies invading and capturing all the big and best prizes. Then Hellion could fortify their gains and defy Jaxon to fight into the teeth of their fleet and the new fortifications—an impossible task. The Hellion tactics have a dual purpose: to flush out civilians and guerrillas—anyone left in the asteroid would be dead meat—and to destroy the Jaxon Combat Fleet when it tries to protect the Eureka colonies. The Victor government would undoubtedly fall. Its replacement would sue for a lopsided peace on Hellion’s terms.”

  Hale said, “Do you really think they’re that Machiavellian?”

  “It’s always a fatal error to assume your opponent is not as least as ingenious as you are. If I can figure this out, there are competent Hellion admirals, who can too.”

  Hale said, “So what should we do? Let Hellion win the war, so Victor will fall?”

  “No. That would be the worst possible outcome. We must work to prevent this phony ceasefire from being imposed and to stifle any chance of the Hellion fleet gaining control of the asteroid belt.”

  Hale suggested, “I think we’re going to have to pay a long overdue visit to Jaxon and meet with the rest of the rebel leadership to accomplish that.”

  Hawkins smiled.

  I like that idea. I like it a lot.

  CHAPTER 21

  Homecoming

  The converted freighter Liberty carried Hawkins to his home planet. That tiny precious ball of life hung in space with a razor thin atmosphere supporting millions of fragile human beings—all feverishly working to erect monuments to their existence—none of which were visible from orbit. Once Hawkins descended in his shuttle, he began to recognize the hallmarks of humanity snaking along the surface and rising from the ground. The roads and buildings grew in clarity as he approached the outskirts of Newport.

  It wasn’t easy for an enemy of the state to slip past patrol ships and guards, to land on his home planet and sneak into the capital for a clandestine meeting with the leadership of a revolution, right under President Victor’s voluminous nose. However, once Hawkins was in the cramped meeting room, enclosed in the dank basement of an old dilapidated building on the outskirts of the capital, he was confronted by many faces staring at him, assessing him, deciding if they liked what they saw. Dressed in his usual pilot jacket, rawhide trousers, and knee-high boots, he sported a two-day stubble.

  Out of the frying pan . . .

  It was rare that there was such a gathering and it would have been devastating if this meeting were betrayed to Victor’s henchmen. What a crowing he would have, but such was not the case. The rebels were bound together in a cause they believed in, and betrayal had no place here. However, the rebel cause was not going well. The dozen men and women huddled together around the large conference table, stared at Hawkins, seemingly engaged, and intrigued, some hoping that their future might change with his arrival.

  Hawkins matched each face with the brief introduction he had received from Hale before they entered the room. He concentrated his attention on their leader, Catherine Parker, who sat at the head of the rickety table with her followers, gathered around her. A wife, mother, lawyer, and former senator, she dedicated her early career to liberal causes. As a senator in the early Victor administration, she dared to speak out against the collusion and electoral fraud she saw, and Victor had ousted her from office. Despite his harassment, she continued to advocate for reform until Victor banned her outright, when she went underground to avoid arrest.

  Opening the meeting, she said, “The decisions we make now are critical, we will set in motion actions and events of grim consequences that cannot be undone, or realistically altered. We either embark on a rewarding path toward changing the Victor government, or waste our best chance and lose our lives, as well as our followers, on a fruitless venture.”

  There were murmurs of agreement and Hawkins nodded.

  Parker turned to Hawkins and said, “You have achieved something vital to our cause.”

  “Are you referring to my ship?” asked Hawkins.

  “Actually, I’m referring to your achievement of giving our people the most important ingredient in any new venture of dubious viability—hope. With hope we have a chance,” said Parker with charm and grace.

  “I appreciate that sentiment.”

  Parker said, “However, Captain Hawkins, while I have no doubt of your fighting abilities, I wonder about your ability to work with our emerging organization—your ability to work with our team.”

  Once again, he recalled his mother’s admonishments about not playing well with others. He said respectfully, “Senator Parker, I have faults, some of them serious. But I assure you, I am committed to the righteousness of our cause
and I will do my best not to disappoint your faith in me.”

  “I’m gratified to hear that because I have prepared these orders for you.” She handed him a tablet.

  As he scrolled through the detailed instructions, he tensed.

  Not again.

  Hawkins shifted in his chair. He leaned toward Parker and said, “Senator, this orders me to turn over my ship to your chosen captain and follow his orders.”

  “That’s correct, but that’s not to minimize your contributions. It’s rather to ensure close coordination between this government in exile and the military operations in the asteroid belt. My officer will be able to closely coordinate with me and guide you.”

  Hawkins stood up and shook his head. “No,” he said.

  Tension flooded the room. “What do you mean?” asked Parker crossly, “Are you refusing my orders?”

  Hawkins was unable to strip out the dismay from his voice as he said, “Senator, I stopped following orders when my Marine company was annihilated at Gambaro Ridge, more than a year ago. I lost nearly everyone I held dear that day, and in the end, I was forced to make a painful sacrifice to save those who were left.” He stopped, frozen by emotional upheaval. When he recovered his composure, he added, “Since then, I swore I would never blindly follow the folly of others, nor would I ask others to face dangers that I would not face myself.”

  Hale rose and stood by Hawkins’ side.

  Hawkins said, “I came here to coordinate my military operations with the rebel activities on Jaxon. I had hoped you’d welcome that and help oppose Rusk’s phony ceasefire offer. But I have no intention of placing myself, or my crew, under your direct command.”

  The room remained silent for several minutes. Finally, Parker folded her hands together and rested them on the table before her. She looked up at Hawkins and Hale and said, “Please be seated gentlemen. We’re not here to bicker and divide. We’re here to find a path together.”

  The two men sat down.