by J Palliser
"It's not hurting like it did, so I guess it's okay. I ought to be in good shape for my afternoon beating."
"Good. That was the idea."
Aiden rubbed the back of his neck. "I've got one hell of a hangover though. How much of that stuff did you shoot into me?"
"Maximum dose, every four hours for the last day or so. You slept like a baby. And I didn't have to listen to you thanking me all over the place."
"Oh." Aiden shifted uncomfortably. "That explains why I need to use the sink so badly."
"Be my guest." Hashir stepped forward and offered his hand to help him stand. "Take it slow."
Aiden stood and waited until the cell stopped spinning, then followed the wall across to the refresher unit. "If I've been out for so long, I guess that means I'll be getting to meet this Prefect Tanweer soon," he said over his shoulder.
"That's right."
"Is this Prefect as much fun as your Admiral?"
"Even more so."
"Great. Got any idea why this particular Prefect is so unhappy with me? I mean, I haven't got a clue who he is." Having finished, he returned to the bunk, a little more steady on his feet this time.
"That's between you and the Prefect. I am sure she has wonderful plans for you. You'll find out soon enough."
"She? He's a she?
Hashir nodded.
"I think I'm in more trouble than I thought. Mind if I ask where we are?"
"We're in station keeping orbit around Artemis III, on the backside of nowhere."
Aiden gave a low whistle. "You can say that again." He sat back down on the bunk just as another trooper walked in carrying his duffel bag.
"Here's his gear, sir."
The trooper dropped the bag on the bunk. As Aiden reached for it, Hashir's pistol cleared leather. It came up and pointed directly at Aiden's chest. "Not so fast." He pulled Aiden's blade from the pouch and held it up for him to see. "We didn't quite get everything the first time."
Aiden looked at the weapon, then at Hashir. He shrugged and gave the bigger man a half smile. "I figured it was worth a try."
"Don't touch the bag." He pointed at the duffel bag with the barrel of the pistol. "Check the stuff out, 825."
"Yes sir." The trooper began pawing through the contents of Aiden's bag, carefully checking through everything. He came up with Aiden's service pistol and a comm that had been tucked in one of the pilot's dress boots. "That's all, sir. Just a couple of changes of clothes, his military ID, and these." He handed the pistol and comm to Hashir.
"All right. That'll be all."
"Yes sir." The guard stepped outside the cell, standing at attention in the passage. The other trooper stood across from him, his perfect mirror image.
"Okay, hotshot." Hashir moved to stand over by the door, his pistol still aimed in Aiden's general direction. "Pick up some clean clothes and move it."
"Where am I going?"
"To take a shower. The Admiral wants you to be presentable when you meet the Prefect."
Aiden stood and picked a flight-suit, but Hashir walked over and took the flight-suit from him. "Not that one." Tossing it aside, he picked up Aiden's formal dress uniform and boots and handed them to him. "This."
"By all means. Anything to make a good impression," Aiden said sarcastically. He picked up his shaving gear, and started for the door. As he drew even with Hashir, he looked up at him. "By the way, thanks for taking care of me."
Leaving Hashir shaking his head, Aiden walked on out the door. His trooper guard fell in beside him and led him down the corridor.
Hashir was glad that he was alone in the cell so that no one could see the smile that had crept onto his face with the young man's good-natured parting shot.
Damn you, Hunt. I don't need to start liking you.
***
The Maxim class shuttle Darknight circled the area once and then slowly descended towards the private landing platform on the roof of Prefect Tanweer's palace. It landed with a loud hiss of venting steam and a bone rattling rumble of impulse engines. There was a hydraulic groan as its wings folded and retracted. Night had begun to settle on Artemis III, and a chill wind blew the steam away.
The boarding ramp lowered and a shaft of light cut into the darkness. Omar Samra was the first down the ramp. Immaculately outfitted in his black full dress uniform, with gleaming black boots, and a single silver medal gleaming at his throat, he was the perfect image of an Khawarij Admiral. He was followed by his two aides and several other members of his staff. Their prisoner was next down the ramp, followed closely by his escort of twelve troopers and Lieutenant Hashir.
Samra crossed the platform, descended the steps to the right, and headed for the rooftop entrance to the palace. The door rose as he approached and he entered the building, his officers and escort entering after him.
Once within the colossal building, his group descended several flights of stone steps and headed for the main reception area. In the long corridor leading to the grand hall, a pair of Hashir's troopers stopped every five meters or so and stood at attention. By the time they reached the end of the hallway, only two troopers remained to guard their prisoner, as well as Lieutenant Hashir.
Ornately carved double doors were guarded by two of Tanweer's own troopers. They stepped aside to permit the Admiral entry to the room.
Samra opened both doors wide and stepped into a large gala reception, an aide at each elbow. He stood to his full height, his back straight and strong. He knew that he was an imposing figure and wanted to make sure that no one missed his entrance. He smiled at the reaction of the people in the room.
Women at the party drew back, murmuring in appreciation. Several of the ladies smiled tentatively at him, and were rewarded with a nod of faint recognition. The men who met his gaze as it swept across the room gave a half bow as a sign of respect.
But however impressive Samra's entrance had been, it was nothing compared to the effect of his prisoner's appearance. Flanked by two armed troopers, and followed by Lieutenant Hashir, Commander Aiden Hunt was escorted into the room. His hands were bound in front of him and he was a striking contrast to Samra's black uniform with his white dress jacket.
Aiden had the slim, lithe body of a fighter pilot, and he moved with a loose, easy grace acquired through years of space travel. His disheveled hair and intelligent brown eyes gave his face a somewhat handsome, if boyish, countenance. Because of his size and appearance, many potential opponents often made the mistake of underestimating him.
Aiden's dress uniform consisted of a black body stocking, high black boots, and a white jacket fastened at the waist with a gray belt. There was a slash of red running up the left hem of his jacket that continued up and over his left shoulder and down the middle of his back. It held his rather impressive collection of medals and battle ribbons. Also embroidered on it, at the shoulder, was the emblem of the Executioner and Lucifer and the Star of Daraa. The Iron Cross of the Luftwaffe and Knight Squadron stood side by side over his heart, with the star eagle of his rank insignia in silver just above them.
The wind on the roof had tousled his hair, and he reached up with both of his bound hands to brush it out of his eyes. Most of the conversation in the room had stopped, and several of the women stared openly at him. He smiled and sketched a polite bow. "Ladies."
"Quiet, you." The trooper beside him cuffed him on the shoulder. The women giggled and whispered to one another.
Samra turned towards Aiden, towering menacingly over him. He gave the shorter man a sharp poke in the chest to emphasize his words. "I'd be very careful if I were you, Commander." His hand dropped to his side and he peered down at Aiden. "You're no longer on Daraa. I doubt that any of these people consider you much of a hero. You owe a debt here, and you may rest assured it will be paid."
"Sorry. I was just being polite." He smiled innocently at Samra, but Aiden harbored no illusions about his situation. He never had. He knew that there was a very real possibility that he wouldn't survive whatever
these people had planned for him. The odds were definitely not in his favor. But that didn't matter, since the Korsican in conflict with the soldier at the core of him had no respect for those odds anyway.
Samra's face reddened and he moved menacingly toward the pilot. But he was brought up short by a velvety voice from somewhere in the crowd behind him.
"Really, Omar," the voice purred. "That is no way to behave in front of my guests. You forget yourself."
For a fleeting instant, Aiden saw real fear in Samra's eyes, but then it was gone. The Admiral turned towards the source of the voice, and Aiden had his first real look at her. Standing several centimeters shorter than Aiden, the woman had an elegant figure that was enhanced by the low cut, softly draped blue gown that she wore. Her shoulder length brown hair cascaded around her as she moved, and her complexion was pale and creamy, accentuated with eyes that were a startling amber color. She was an absolutely stunning and intense woman.
The crowd parted as Prefect Tanweer descended from her dais situated at the center of the room. They acknowledged her with brief bows and curtsies as she swept by, her dress rustling as she walked. She wasn't at all what Aiden had expected. He was prepared for someone much more... Khawarij. Tall, cold, radiating evil. Although Tanweer wasn't obviously any of those things, he could still see an echo of the same cruelty in her eyes that he had seen and experienced in Samra. Though he was surprised by her appearance, he tried to keep his own expression neutral.
Stopping directly in front of him, Prefect Tanweer examined him from head to toe. She studied him closely, her eyes taking in each detail. She hesitated briefly at the images of the crest representing the Executioner and Lucifer then continued until she found her look being met evenly by Aiden's nonchalant, brown-eyed gaze.
She spoke to the Admiral without removing her eyes from Aiden. "Omar, where are your manners? Please introduce us."
"As you wish, your Excellency." He bowed formally to her and moved between her and Aiden. "Lady Natal Tanweer, I present Commander Aiden Hunt of the Luftwaffe, Commander of Knight Squadron. It was Commander Hunt who killed your sons during the Reichs' cowardly attack on our beloved Prophet at Khondor."
There was a collective gasp from the room, and Samra's cold smile turned to Aiden. "Commander Hunt, it is my honor to present Her Excellency, Prefect Natal Tanweer, Commander of the Khawarij forces in the Artemis Sector."
"Commander Hunt. I've been looking forward to this for a very long time." Her open handed slap landed solidly on Aiden's left cheek, leaving a red imprint of her hand.
Whatever reaction she and Samra had expected from him, it definitely wasn't the one they got. He made a split second decision to keep them off guard. Without hesitating, he took the hand she'd slapped him with in his bound hands, bowed to her briefly then kissed her hand. "Lady Tanweer, you have my deepest sympathy for the pain caused by the loss of your sons. I owe you that much. But that is all I owe you." He straightened up and continued to meet her gaze as he released her hand.
She stared at him incredulously for a long moment before she laughed out loud. It was a laugh that didn't express any amusement but the bitter cruelty that he had noted earlier. If he wasn't sure before, this all but confirmed it.
I am in real trouble.
"I see now why you've been such a thorn in the Empire's side. You are utterly fearless." She moved closer to him and lightly caressed the cheek she had just struck. "And, I must admit, I never expected you to be quite so charming. Come, let us go in and have dinner." She reached to take his arm and he held up his bound hands, shrugging apologetically.
"Lieutenant?" She motioned to Hashir, who stood behind Aiden. "Remove these restraints."
Samra stepped in front of Hashir before he could reach the pilot. "Your Excellency, that may not be a wise idea. He has already resisted..."
"Omar, if these two armed troopers are not enough to stop Commander Hunt should he decide to cause trouble, then I doubt very seriously that the binders will be much of a deterrent. Proceed, Lieutenant."
Hashir grabbed Aiden's shoulders and turned him roughly around to face him. He poked Aiden in the chest with a finger, speaking in low tones. "Okay, flyboy. Remember that target we talked about." Hashir's voice was deadly serious.
"I will." Aiden rubbed his wrists, and nodded his understanding of the hidden warning. He turned back to Prefect Tanweer and offered her his arm. She took it, and they walked into the dining room together.
Omar stalked after them, pure rage flowing from him. Hashir and his two men followed.
14
XIII
When the Knight Squadron briefing began, there were two extra pilots in the room. Ares had known that Jarro and Hanson would be joining them, because Neva had received their transfer orders not a half-hour before and had notified him by comm. He didn't know how they had convinced Admiral Raeder to transfer them, but he was pretty sure that he was better off not knowing.
Ares stood and straightened the front of his black flight-suit. Although most of the pilots in the squadron wore the typical Luftwaffe grey, he had always worn black. It dated back to his days at the Khawarij Academy, where he had graduated as a Defender pilot. But it also served to remind him of what he had nearly become before the destruction of his home planet had forced him to defect to the Reich.
The only real change he had made to his flight-suit was the addition of Luftwaffe battle tabs, including a rather large ribbon representing the part he played in the taking of Daraa. It was only one mission of many that he had undertaken to atone for his time with the Empire. He shook his head to steer clear of those thoughts and turned his attention to the pilots in front of him.
"All right, everybody. If you could settle down, we'll get started."
Everyone took his or her seats with hardly any commotion. The squadron was unusually quiet, and that concerned Ares a bit.
"Since our last meeting, I've spoken with Admiral Raeder and this is where we stand. I have orders releasing all of us from our previous assignments, including new Knights Jarro and Hanson. As yet, we don't know the location of Commander Hunt, but have narrowed the ambush point down to an area of space approximately three hours out of Thula in the outer reaches of the Helios System."
He signaled to Neva and the lights in the room dimmed. Just in front and to the right of where Ares stood, a holoprojection of the Helios System sprang up. It was an ordinary system, containing three planets, all of them gaseous in nature, with one very average red star at its center.
Ares pointed to a certain area and it expanded to show a sector of space that was entirely featureless. "It's an area of space with no moons or planets for several parsecs; the perfect spot for an ambush. Two hours after this meeting ends, most of you, including Captain Vint in our assigned Maxim shuttle, Watcher, will be heading for these coordinates and will commence a search of the area. Major Fenn will be in command."
There were several groans throughout the group, but whether it was about searching in the middle of nowhere or the fact that Jarro had been put in charge, he wasn't sure.
"I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's all we have for the moment. We're looking for any kind of clue to what happened to Aiden and where they went after they ambushed him. While you are making your search, I will be heading straight through to Thula with Otto, Mira, and Ajax to meet up with Jace Borne and see what we can find on that end."
The holoprojector shut down and the glow panels in the room returned to normal illumination. "Now, with the return of Hanson and Jarro, I've had to juggle some of the call signs and flight assignments. For this mission and any others concerning the search for Commander Hunt, we'll have the following numbers: I will be Knight Leader and will be in command of One Flight as well as the squadron as a whole. Rik Dekar, you will remain Rogue Two and will be my wingman. Amon Vera and Valeria, you are Three and Four and round out the Flight."
