The Space Navy Series Books One & Two: Including the Kindle novellas Josiah Trenchard and the Might of Fortitude & Josiah Trenchard and the Morgenstern

by Jonathon Fletcher

  ‘Good afternoon Miss. What’s a lovely thing like you doing on a great big military star-ship like this?’

  You twat, he thought instantly. That had to be the cheesiest opening line imaginable. Come on Joe, you’re completely out of practice. You can do better than that.

  The woman stopped and stared at Trenchard as if he’d just crawled out from under a log. She placed her hands petulantly onto her hips and said, ‘What?’

  Trenchard paused; the usual stuff wasn’t working. Actually, come to think of it, it never really worked. Perhaps the direct approach would be better?

  ‘Fancy joining me for a drink later love?’ he asked with a cheeky wink.

  The woman broke into a genuinely warm smile, seemingly amused. ‘Is that the best you can do? That’s a pretty lame chat up line for a Commander of the Space Navy, isn’t it?’

  Trenchard grinned. At least he was getting somewhere. She had smiled and she had a lovely accent, just a hint of something foreign, Chinese or Korean maybe? Trenchard was no good at identifying accents.

  ‘It’s the best I’ve got,’ Trenchard replied. ‘So, how about that drink?’

  The woman pouted. ‘Sorry Commander, no can do. I’ve got a very important meeting with old iron knickers.’

  Trenchard stared at her blankly.

  ‘Admiral Turner?’ explained the young woman. ‘You didn’t happen to see which way she went did you?’

  Trenchard chuckled and jerked his left thumb down the corridor. ‘Down there, second on the left love.’

  ‘Thanks… love!’ said the young woman, mimicking his patronising tone. She made as if to move off, then she stopped and turned back to face Trenchard. ‘Well done for not looking at my chest the entire time mate! Catch you next time Commander.’

  With that the woman marched off down the corridor towards the room that Admiral Turner had just entered. Trenchard watched her go, paying particular attention to her backside as she walked away. Something about the woman intrigued him but he couldn’t pinpoint it. He was interrupted from his happy ponderings by a polite coughing. A smart young admin assistant had exited Fife’s office and was holding the door open and smiling at Trenchard.

  ‘You can go in Commander Trenchard. Admiral Fife will see you now.’

  Trenchard smiled politely and made his way into the room. The assistant closed the door behind him and Trenchard was left alone with Fife. Trenchard tried to salute with his left arm and Fife impatiently waived him into a seat.

  ‘Forget the formalities Commander Trenchard,’ Fife growled in his deep Scottish accent. ‘The fleet owes you a great debt of thanks. Please sit down.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Trenchard, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. ‘What can I do for you Sir?’

  Fife leaned back in his high-backed leather chair and crossed his fingers across his stomach. His bright red uniform with the four diagonal black stripes of an Admiral was impeccable, ironed and starched. Fife mustn’t have done any proper work for years. Trenchard studied Fife’s nails. They were manicured. He was a desk jockey now. Still, a lot of the officers had a great deal of respect for him. He was more down to earth, more straight-talking than some of the other Admirals of the fleet. He was fair.

  ‘Firstly, I wanted to thank you personally for saving the Might of Fortitude from the hands of the pirates. It was an extremely courageous thing that you did.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir, but I was just doing my duty,’ Trenchard said, a slight flush coming unexpectedly into his cheeks.

  He suddenly felt out of his depth. He wasn’t used to chit-chatting with high ranked officers. He’d only ever run into Commodore Ciaputa once or twice aboard the Hand of Valour, certainly no-one further up the chain of command than her. Trenchard was also finding it hard to concentrate his mind upon Fife’s words. He was distracted, his mind still filled by the woman in the corridor. She had beguiled him; he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  ‘I think that you did a little more than that Joe,’ Fife grinned. ‘I used to command a platoon myself. I know how hard the job is aboard those cramped, smelly little boats.’

  That was true. Everyone knew that Fife had come up through the ranks. He had seen his share of fighting, unlike Trenchard’s last boss, Commodore Ciaputa. But Fife had just called him Joe, was he on first name terms now with the Admiral? What the hell was going on here? Why was Admiral Fife even aboard this ship? The Breath of Vengeance wasn’t a flagship. Something smelled funny.

  Fife leaned forwards and his voice took on a confidential, hushed tone. ‘Can I speak to you as one sailor to another?’

  Trenchard nodded silently, his mind suddenly sharpening and fixing steadfastly on the Admiral’s words.

  ‘We’ve been watching Captain Bird for a long while now Joe. We knew we had a leak somewhere in the ranks; someone was selling information to the pirates. We suspected Bird. That’s why we put him in charge of the prototype Wolverine. Think of it as the block of cheese in the mousetrap.’

  ‘You were deliberately trying to entrap the pirates?’ said Trenchard, suddenly starting to catch up. ‘You were after Harlequin?’

  Fife nodded. ‘We knew that Harlequin wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to get his hands on the Wolverine prototype. If we could bring him down, then his whole organisation would begin to crumble. Intel thinks that Harlequin is ex-navy. He just knows too damn much. He second-guesses our every move. We knew that you and Captain Bird were old friends. We also knew that you were particularly trustworthy. So, I… suggested to Captain Bird that he choose you to be his X.O. He jumped at the chance too.’

  Trenchard sagged in his chair. ‘It was a set up?’

  ‘Yes,’ confirmed Fife, settling back into his chair once again.

  ‘That’s how you got to us so quickly,’ Trenchard thought out loud. ‘You were waiting nearby for our signal.’

  Admiral Fife nodded. ‘It was a shame that Captain Bird was killed. I believe that he was salvageable. He was a good officer, just a little misguided. His official record won’t mention anything negative, just that he was killed in action. It’s a shame they ditched his body, I would have liked to have given him a proper burial. But the operation wasn’t a complete loss. We’re tracking the exhaust trail of that pirate ship and we’ve got some prisoners who were left on board the Might to interrogate, maybe find out some more details about their organisation. More than that, I think you’ve proved that you’re ready for command of a star-ship.’

  Trenchard sat bolt upright, alarmed. ‘Me?’ he stammered, amazed. ‘But I… I haven’t even done the Perisher!’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ Fife said with a smile. ‘The Might still needs a good Captain and experience counts just as much as training. You’ve earned those dolphins, Joe.’

  Fife nodded towards the shiny badge that adorned Trenchard’s breast pocket. It was the last thing that Bird had given to him. Fife’s face took on a serious expression once more.

  ‘We’re up against it here Joe. There aren’t enough qualified officers to go around. I’m prepared to bend the rules a little in your case. The Might needs a capable Captain. The job’s yours if you want it?’

  ‘You’re asking me?’ said Trenchard carefully.

  Fife raised an eyebrow. ‘I would rather it was your free choice than a direct order Commander. I know your command style is a little… forthright? A Wolverine will suit your style. Think about it. Your own ship to command, your own crew and the freedom of the stars!’

  Trenchard thought about it. ‘What about Pugh and Schmidt?’ he asked cautiously.

  Fife fixed Trenchard with a steely gaze. ‘What happened on that ship stays on that ship Commander. We can’t allow the rest of the fleet to know that there was almost a mutiny on board our newest prototype on her maiden voyage. Morale is already low as it is. Confidentially, there are already some problems aboard other ships in the fleet. Vice President Chang’s policies are not widely supported within the ranks.’ Fife tailed off into a sombre
scowl, then took a deep breath before carrying on. ‘I’m sure that being under scrutiny from the rest of the crew will be punishment enough for Pugh and Schmidt. They’re going to find life aboard very tough, until they prove themselves to be trustworthy once more.’

  Fife looked down at a computer touch screen and tapped at the controls.

  ‘Plus, I’m sure that you can come up with some ingenious punishments for Pugh and Schmidt. I have a report here… a complaint of unfair treatment from a young trooper, a “Mrs Fluffy Kitten”?’ Fife raised a surprised eyebrow.

  Trenchard shuffled uncomfortably in his chair for a moment before replying, skipping over the issue as quickly as he could. ‘I would like to recommend one of the crew for promotion Sir. Lieutenant Devinder Sivia, the S.E.O. He acted above and beyond the call of duty.’

  Fife nodded. ‘Surely.’

  ‘…and I’m going to need a new X.O.?’

  ‘I already have someone in mind. Anything you want Commander Trenchard. Just name it and it’s yours.’ Fife leaned forwards and stared intently into Trenchard’s eyes. ‘Surely you want another crack at Harlequin and that smiling son of a bitch who murdered Bird?’

  Fife’s eyes sparkled as he studied Trenchard. He was sure that Trenchard would bite. The offer was too tempting. Trenchard was silent for a long time. Then he stood up and walked deliberately towards the door, as if to leave. Fife screwed his brow up and called after him. ‘Commander Trenchard?’

  Trenchard turned and looked back at Admiral Fife, smiled a tight smile and pulled a cigarette out from a packet in his inside pocket. Very slowly he reached into the pocket again, took out a matt black Zippo lighter and lit the cigarette, taking a long drag. It was very bad form to smoke in a superior officer’s office without being invited but Trenchard was showboating and he knew it. For once in his life he had an Admiral in the palm of his hand.

  Then Trenchard fixed one of the navy’s highest ranking officers straight in the eye and said, ‘If I’m going to put my arse on the line again by going after those sadistic bloody pirates for you, then I’m going to need a very big drink first!’

  With that, Captain Trenchard of the Might of Fortitude walked out of the Admiral’s office with a smile on his face, intent solely upon finding the nearest bottle of rum.

  Trenchard walked out of Fife’s office on a high. He was a Captain. How good was that? He strolled down the corridor, practically dancing on air. He entered the elevator at the end of the corridor and pressed the button for the hangar bay where a shuttle was waiting to take him back over to the Might of Fortitude. No doubt there would be all kinds of questions from the crew. He’d stop by the stores when he got there and pull a bottle of rum to share with the officers. After all, it wasn’t every day you were promoted to Captain, was it?

  When the elevator slowed, Trenchard was still smiling. Captain of a ship and chatting up a fit young woman in the same day, he was on a roll. He thought about the woman in the corridor outside Fife’s office. Something about her was bothering him. He couldn’t place it but he was sure that he knew her from somewhere. He had a sneaky feeling like déjà vu that was creeping up on him like the big, fat hairy spider in his dreams. The elevator doors slid apart and Trenchard stepped out onto the hangar bay deck.

  As he walked towards the waiting shuttle he passed a group of technicians. They were working on an open panel in the deck, re-wiring some circuitry. The junior snipe of the group was bored and was standing holding a length of plastic insulation pipe, swinging it around him like a sword and making swishing noises. Trenchard stopped and stared open mouthed at the young tech as his mind finally dropped the pieces of the puzzle together and then it suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. Something from his sub-conscious welled up and burst forth like a dam breaking.

  “Catch you next time…”

  The woman’s accent wasn’t Korean or Chinese… it was Japanese. The voice, her voice, was the one that had haunted him in his dreams since the Belatu-Cadros uprising. The woman meeting Admiral Turner was the one who had slit his throat with a sword and left him for dead four years ago.

  The woman in the corridor was the assassin from Mars!

  He looked around quickly for the deck officer and grabbed the man roughly by the sleeve. ‘Hey, that woman who came to visit Admiral Turner, which shuttle did she arrive on?’

  The man looked confused. ‘What?’

  ‘The fit Japanese bird! Ponytail, nice tits! Where’s her shuttle?’

  Suddenly the man’s face cleared. ‘Oh, her… She didn’t arrive in a shuttle. That’s her ship over there.’

  Trenchard followed the man’s pointing finger across the hangar bay towards a parked spacecraft. It was like no other that Trenchard had ever seen, sleek and black like a smooth pebble. The Japanese woman was just disappearing up the ramp into the ship. Trenchard let go of the deck officer and began to run at full speed across the hangar bay towards the black vessel.

  ‘Stop! Stop that ship!’ he shouted, much to the bemusement of the techs around him.

  At that instant, the ramp was raised, the black ship fired up its engines and blasted out of the hangar bay at full speed. Trenchard was caught in the wash of heat from the powerful thrusters and had to hide his face behind his arms. When he looked back up, just for a moment Trenchard was sure he could see the young woman staring smugly at him out of the cockpit window and winking at him. Then the ship passed through the magnetic field at the end of the runway and disappeared into open space.

  Trenchard was left standing, panting hard and staring after the rapidly diminishing ship. If that woman knew Admiral Turner, then there had to be some way of finding her. One day he would track her down. One day he would have his revenge and wipe that pretty smile off her self-satisfied young face.

  ‘Don’t worry love,’ he said under his breath. ‘I will catch you… next time!’

  The circular chamber was gloomy, foreboding, constructed from stone and starkly lit from above. Huge stone pillars encompassed the central lighted area, where a glossy, black stone table was encircled by fifty, high backed, leather chairs. The table had a bold logo directly in the centre, a red and black Yin Yang with a single orbiting red planet instead of the usual eight that surrounded the yellow sun on the United Worlds emblem. The figures who were seated around the table were only partially lit by the distant overhead beams, their faces deeply contoured by dark shadows. An old man with skin like weathered leather, leaned into the light and spoke in a heavy Russian accent that was deep and commanding.

  ‘Was the mission a success?’

  Admiral Turner twisted towards him and nodded at the old man as she too leaned forwards into the light.

  ‘Yes, completely,’ she replied. ‘I recently received confirmation from our agent while I was aboard the Breath of Vengeance. Captain Bird was killed in front of Trenchard and the Might of Fortitude is now in his hands. Fife promoted him, just as we had hoped. It went exactly as we planned.’

  The old man nodded in satisfaction. ‘Good. Trenchard is exactly what we were looking for. He has opened new pathways in the Mesh. The future is looking bright for him. He is destined to become a great hero.’

  A new voice spoke. This man remained pushed back in his seat, his face in darkness. Only his hands and the cuffs of his shirt were clearly visible on the table. His gold cufflinks were encrusted with diamonds; his shirt was the finest silk and his fingernails were immaculately manicured. He spoke with a French accent and he sounded worried.

  ‘But do you think he is ready for the next test? The Sentinel prototype is extremely dangerous and unpredictable. He may be killed.’

  The Russian smiled.

  ‘Do not worry so my old friend,’ he assured the Frenchman. ‘Trenchard’s future has been mapped out carefully by the Mesh.’ Then the Russian smiled like an undertaker before a battle. ‘He won’t be allowed to die until we require him to.’

  CHAPTER 12 “HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER”

  Mars.

 
Four years ago…

  The woman’s eyes flickered open. For a long moment, all was confusion. There was pain somewhere, dull and throbbing, but she couldn’t place it. It was like a fog or haze all around her. The light was searing and bright. Then a face came into view, a pretty woman with dark brown hair. Her face was kind, the sort of face you could confide in. She was wearing a bright red lab coat with a picture of a poppy on the breast pocket. Could she be a doctor?

  Where am I?

  The words formed in the woman’s mind but she couldn’t vocalise them.

  Must try to sit up…

  No movement.

  Am I paralysed? Have I been in an accident? What’s going on?

  The pretty young nurse smiled, not in a comforting way but more a smile of jubilation.

  ‘Her eyes are open. There’s brain activity, we’ve done it!’ she said excitedly.

  So, I can still hear, thought the woman. Why can’t I move or speak? I’m locked into my own body. Help me! For Christ’s sake, help me!

  Panic overtook her like a wave. She was sucked under into a seething mass of fear.

  Another figure came into view, a taller figure… a man. He too was wearing bright red coveralls but had a surgeon’s mask across his face and blue nitrile gloves on his hands. His hands were held up, raised into the air to keep them clean and they were covered with bright orange iodine.

  ‘Excellent,’ he said leaning forwards excitedly. His voice had a thick French accent. His eyes smiled over the top of the mask, deep creases at the corners. ‘…the first time that a human brain has been re-activated successfully! This moment will live in history.’