The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Blood Moon Rising

by Ava D. Dohn

  * * *

  “So how long do you think it will take to make her fly?” Sarah’s impatience was barely hidden by her pleasant tone.

  Jebbson pushed himself away from a drafting table covered with all sorts of sketches and prints. Turning to face his anxious inquisitor, he kindly replied, “For you, my Dear…” he paused, pulling at his beard as if in thought. “Oh, I think she will be ready in ten, maybe twelve months.”

  “What?!” Sarah’s voice went up three octaves as her face contorted in disbelief. “How can I wait that long?! The whole war will have come and gone by then! And I’m supposed to be a lead element!” Her hands flew around, emphasizing her frustration.

  Jebbson, smiling in a way that revealed he was having some fun at another’s expense, reached out, patting Sarah on the arm. “Now, now, my Dear, remember, ‘All good things come to those who wait’.”

  “Arghhh!” Sarah slapped her hands to her face, grimacing, rolling her eyes, crying out some ancient curse.

  “What do we have here? A temper tantrum?” Jebbson quizzed in mock disbelief. Pretending chastisement and offering fatherly advice using another old maxim, he waved his finger at her, “Remember…‘patience is a virtue’.”

  After his second sting, even Sarah, who understood nothing about the value of sarcastic humor, started to comprehend Jebbson’s jocularity. On the outside, it frustrated her, but inside - in her heart - it felt like a swaddling blanket, soothing and protecting her, a reassuring voice comforting the heart.

  Sarah had only become acquainted with Jebbson a few weeks before, after the Prisoner Exchange, but already a rich relationship was growing between these two people from cultures so different in time and style. Jebbson never acted in a demeaning way, nor did he attempt to make amorous advances toward her. He was like the younger brother she never had. He was supportive and kind, but he did like to tease. At first, she had been mildly insulted by his actions, but now his little doings were almost enjoyable - in fact, preferable. She observed that when he became quiet and overly polite, things were serious or weren’t going well. The man did not play games to hurt or embarrass anyone. He used them to ‘cut the ice’, to use his phrase. And she was beginning to enjoy hearing his many little bits of wisdom.

  Jebbson drew close and peered into Sarah’s eyes, staring at them for several moments. When he was satisfied that she had finally slowed down enough to listen, he went on to explain. Taking her hand, he gently drew the woman to the table. “My crew has thoroughly inspected the Chisamore. They could find no major structural damage caused by the engine overload, but there is a great deal of age and use-fatigue that has created severe weakness in much of the hull, which can be adequately repaired. She should have been completely overhauled years ago, possibly scrapped...”

  He slowly leafed through some oversized pages of neatly drawn blueprints until he came to a mechanical schematic of one of the drive engines. “Here is where the major time cost will be to us. The core of these drive engines is original equipment, installed over three hundred years ago. At one time they used a lithium-cobalt type lubricating/cooling system combination, but sometime around the Great War they were converted to dual processing. In other words, cooling and lubing were separated into two different operations. It was a short-lived practice because of its complexity…” He raised his eyebrows, “even for these overkill people.”

  He then directed Sarah to their dilemma. “It would take far too many months and man-hours to reconstruct all the needed parts to refit the machine. We cannot convert the drive systems back to the old style either, because of all the changes made by the modifications. And, both engines were integrated together when the system was modified. This leaves us with two choices, both of which I dislike for various reasons.”

  Sarah was no ‘Captain Billy Whiz-bang’ as Jebbson would call someone who was quick to understand strange things, or when pointing out that it shouldn’t take one that long to comprehend the obvious. Most of the technical information being deposited in her brain at the moment was beyond Sarah’s ability to grasp, but Jebbson’s use of pictures and words allowed her to gather a general idea of the situation. Realizing there was a dilemma, Sarah asked, “So, what are the two choices?”

  “Well…” Jebbson replied. “We can either replace them with ‘Wougffer’ engines,

  (called that for the strange ‘wougffering’ sound they made at cruising speed) or we could convert the present ones to radon drafters. To add the former, we will need to dry dock the ship and rip out her belly, remove the old engines and insert the new - that is, if we are fortunate enough to find two that will readily fit. The latter refit is much faster to do, but even with the layered lead and chromium linings, will still be deadly in a rupture.” He looked into Sarah’s face, slowly shaking his head. “A massive radiation leak such as that would instantly kill the machine crews and, if escape was delayed, most of the rest aboard the ship.”

  “But!” He added. “You’d have unlimited power with the radon drafters, and it would be a thousand years before there’d be need to refuel. If repaired properly, your flying death trap would be one of the fastest in all the fleets.”

  Sarah asked, “How long will it take to fit the ship with the engines?”

  “If we’re lucky…” Jebbson waved hand in the air, “and I use that term loosely... If everything runs smoothly with the Wougffer engines, and we can get into a dry dock soon, we’re looking at twelve to fourteen months at best, another eight if things go to normal...so I reckon close to two years.”

  Sarah wrinkled her face and shook her head. “That won’t do! We can’t wait that long!”

  “So I figured...” Jebbson calmly replied. “Your suicide motors can be installed quickly, and even with all the other needed repairs, we can have the Chisamore shipshape in maybe six months.”

  “Make it four!” Sarah demanded. “Give me the ship in four!”

  “Whoa, girl! Slow down!” Jebbson cried, motioning with his hands for her to ease off. “I will not make a dangerous machine a fools’ paradise. Only an idiot builds a gun with opposing barrels. It will take a crew of over five hundred to operate such a contraption as we’re redesigning, plus whatever number of soldiers you’ll put in to her. No! I will not carry the blood of so many to satisfy the whim of urgency. The ship will meet my minimum safety standards and have adequate escape devices before I let her go out at all. Is that clearly understood?”

  Sarah grudgingly agreed, nodding her head in approval.

  “But that’s not the worst of it, my Dear.” Jebbson cautioned. “The Chisamore is a carrier, or should I say was. And I assumed that’s what you wanted it for.”

  “What do you mean ‘was’?” Sarah suspiciously asked.

  “What I mean is,” Jebbson repeated, “by the time you asked for the Chisamore, work crews had already off-loaded all fighters and parts that were of any value. Then they had removed compressors, gravity machines, operational systems, gages, pony motors, whatnots, gimcranks, and what-have-yous. Just about anything that made it much of a carrier, let alone a ship, had been stripped from the old girl.” He shook his head. “We got back some of the less useful items, but the damage was already done. The good parts are now scattered throughout a hundred other derelicts that are being readied for the war.”

  Sarah unleashed a mournful sigh as her shoulders slumped in surrender. Finally, in an exhausted tone, she muttered, “What good am I as a commander if I have no ship to lead my soldiers into battle with? Of what value is the arrow when the string is loosed from the bow?”

  Jebbson fumbled in his vest pocket and pulled out a well-worn pocket watch. Sarah looked at him in disbelief. “Hey!” He cried out in defense. “All of us carry old baggage.” Then he offered. “I have been working here nonstop since before sunup and haven’t eaten a bite today. Would you like to accompany me for lunch and we can have further discussion over some hot food an
d a good ale?”

  At the mention of a meal, Sarah’s own appetite awoke, telling her that breakfast had been some time earlier. She agreed. Soon the two were on the street leading to one of Oros’ finer cafés.

  As they casually ambled along the cobblestone-style sidewalk, created from hand-hewn bluestone blocks, Jebbson began to inform Sarah of his personal viewpoint regarding their presence in this new and different world they now lived in. “My Dear, I believe we must not look at our arrival here as providential to the winning of this war. You make much ado about leading your army into battle, and I think that is not the major part you are to play in matters.”

  She started to argue, but he kindly motioned her to wait. He continued, “This is not our war. It is a time for the testing of the spirit and resolve of these people. I believe the coming events are what our friend Jonathan witnessed in visions long ago. It was written by his hand that he saw Michael – ‘Mihai’, as she likes to be called - and his - we now know that they are her ‘angels’ - the name we once called everyone from this place. Jonathan wrote that they drove Asotos from this realm. There is no mention of you, me or any others from our old realm lending a hand in the contest.”

  Sarah queried, “Then why are we here? If it is their war, why involve us at all?”

  “That’s a good question!” Jebbson waved his hand in the air, shaking his finger in time with his statement. “And I think I have some good answers.” The woman patiently allowed him to continue.

  “We’re a wild card, a fly in the ointment, so to speak. You see, Lowenah has been very deliberate with those of us who have been delivered here thus far. She’s been secretive as to the number that has arrived to date, and she often whisks us away before we’re noticed…like she did with you. It was only at the last Prisoner Exchange that we were revealed to Asotos, the old fool, and it was done to draw out his hand. Now he feels compelled to push his contest against us sooner than he wanted. He has no idea how many of us are here and is concerned as to how great our powers may be. Remember, he thinks us to be immortal.”

  Jebbson stopped and turned toward Sarah. “Only now has he begun to realize who the Gravemaker really is.” He pointed his finger at Sarah. “And believe me, whispered reports about you, the rumored shadow-dancer have reached his ears - the one person who took out dozens of his best troopers and invaded his private castle. It does not set well with him knowing she commands a clandestine navy of rogue miscreants.”

  “Oh, yes! And our little lady who’s building one of greatest armies that ever raged heaven or earth unsettles him. I watched the man when our cold-blooded sister killed that dog and then spit on its carcass. I saw this unease and concern on his face when he realized Trisha was in control of his life that hour, and he had walked right into the trap, himself. Asotos knows he faces two unknown and unpredictable adversaries who will not hesitate to bring his doom and it troubles his dreams.”

  They both looked up as a carriage overloaded with uniformed new recruits came careening down the street. Both stepped back as the joyously raucous crew raced by. Jebbson smiled as his eyes followed its journey down the steep hill and around a sharp curve, almost upsetting as it did. “War always does this to people, you know. No matter how old one is, there is some kind of reckless, hidden energy released when possible death is first realized. A person will do foolish and dangerous things while feeling an almost euphoric passion about life. It’ll settle down after they’ve seen their first few comrades torn to smithereens.”

  The two followed the carriage’s route down the hill. At the bottom, they crossed the street and exited onto a winding trail leading them through a flower-filled park and out to the main part of the city. The hour was a little early for the lunch crowd, so Jebbson found his favorite café only half full. He ushered Sarah to a quiet booth at the far end of the room. They ordered their meals and took up the earlier conversation.

  Jebbson leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “I believe there’s an even more important reason for us being here. I think it will do you well to hear me out, and that’s why I invited you to lunch with me. I usually take it alone. It suits me better. Gives me time to think...”

  Sarah was taken aback, but made no mention, for she wished to hear him out. “Go on,” she kindly ordered, “seeing I’m just a curious intrusion for you to extol your theories on. Let’s be done with it.”

  Jebbson grinned. “That’s better. I like to see the blood flowing in you.” He then offered his explanation. “These are a wonderful people. They are artisans, poets and inventors. They love life and enjoy the works of their hands, lavishing all their energies upon the things they make. As an example, it’s nothing to wait an hour for a simple meal at this establishment. Why? Because they make every item perfect, something to be remembered far into the future. They turn a simple meal into an event. They do this with everything.”

  “Navy ships - from fighters to huge carriers - are all hand-crafted, one at a time. Sometimes one person or a small group will manufacture and assemble one ship. It is nothing for it to take years to put a fighter into action, and decades or longer to construct a carrier. The Chisamore was three hundred years old at the time of the Great War, yet there were many others that were far older. Carracks built well over two millennia before were still frontline ships in some battles, and many had never even been upgraded to modern standards. Although things sped up somewhat during that war, there still was never any mass production, many times not even any interchangeability of parts, each machine being unique.”

  “If we are to have a well-equipped Army and Navy, the manufacturing processes are going to have to change. Already, my team of construction and production engineers is working on that. A full thirty percent of all industry joined to our cause is busy making the machinery that will produce the tools of war. Standardization of parts, mass production, ease of use, streamlined manufacturing processes, none of these things are unknown to our friends here. It’s just that they have resisted the concepts...still do. Sad to say, at times we’ve had to implement a military method of procedure in our work places to get some of our people to follow instructions. Also, sad to say, there have been those who were asked to leave because they either couldn’t or wouldn’t fit in to the routine.”

  Liquid refreshments were finally delivered, Jebbson’s being a steaming concoction that reminded him of coffee with whiskey and sweet cream added. Sarah’s was a cold, robust beverage with a biting ginger flavor. “Ah, just perfect…perfect.” Jebbson closed his eyes, smiling, savoring the drink’s intoxicating aroma. “They make the best Irish coffee I’ve ever tasted.” He smacked his lips and took a sip.

  Sarah frowned, “Food is to sustain the body. It should not become a distraction lest we forget our duty to cause and responsibility.”

  Jebbson grinned, set his drink down, and placed his hand on her arm. “No, my dear, food sustains the spirit. And it is one of the things we fight for. It was told to me by a friend who survived the mass murders of most of her people during the last big war that swept our old realm that while in prison, she and other starving women compiled a book of their favorite food recipes. She informed me how the reminder of such wicked delights somehow helped sustain her through the horrific months and years that followed. When all things appeared hopeless and my friend would be near to giving up, just the thought of hot, sweet pastries would somehow revive her spirit to continue the struggle.”

  “No…” he continued, shaking his head is disagreement, “it is for the foods and other delights we fight. If people fail to remember why they are willing to surrender their lives, if they forget the good life, then they will lose their reason to endure the battle.”

  He quickly gave Sarah another example, telling her a story from his own days in the Second Realm, of soldiers trapped in a contest over a bridge. “The men asked for their whiskey ration to be returned to them if they took it. The commander agreed a
nd, unlike all the earlier attempts to capture the bridge, that charge carried the day.” Finally, he asked her what she thought of during her times of combat in the arena.

  The woman lowered her head, remembering, her face grimacing in pain as if recalling the past brought back feelings of guilt and shame. She finally looked over to Jebbson, her face appearing ancient and worn. “You do have a way about you - a way to make long-forgotten memories spring to life - memories that I wish would never wake.”

  She paused to collect her dark thoughts. “All right, I’ll tell you the truth - truth that I have always denied even myself until now. One of my masters promised me a hot bath and an entire night of private seclusion in my own room, where I would not have to serve the whims of some drunken bastard. If I was really good in battle, bringing the death of my adversary - often another woman - I could have two nights free from intrusion.”

  She shook her head in sadness. “Men are really sadistic! The more I maimed my opponent before killing her…you know, slicing open her belly, cutting off a breast, or two - things like that...the more they hooted and raved about my abilities, the greater the favors given me by my master. We often fought naked for the smaller, richer gatherings. I would carefully choose my blows to create the greatest amount of gore and blood, while extending the life of my prey. That gave me a larger reward after the contest.” She paused. “All I can remember thinking when I entered the arena was, ‘tonight I can sleep alone, free from groping hands and stinking breath’.”

  Jebbson remained silent for some time. He finally picked up his cup and took another sip then, looking back at his friend, smiled and, nodding his head at the similarity, saying, “The thought of good food will sustain the spirit in dark times.”

  Their meal finally arrived and the two ate quietly. By the time they finished and exited the café, the lunch crowds had become a throng, filling the street with long queues waiting to enter favorite eateries. The two paused to watch. They cut quite an appearance and would have stood out as noticeable oddities in normal times, but with so many costumed strangers from so many star systems, dress and apparel were given little notice. From naked to natty and everywhere in between was the style of the day.

  Jebbson wore a light brown, pinstriped, vested suit, similar to what he wore in his later life in the Second Realm. The man had it tailor-made from what he called ‘high quality, worsted wool’ with leather patches sewn on the elbows of his coat. Black leather tie shoes, spats, a hat he called a ‘bowler’, and a thin walking cane complemented his apparel. He argued that dressing up for work made him more proficient at his duties. The fancier the clothes, the more involved the job. Today he had been working on a very complex one.

  Sarah was wrapped up in a new dress uniform. Special Forces garb was very similar to the Navy’s, other than some detail in cut and trim. White leggings and blouse, covered by a white, collarless, short jacket, all partially hidden by a gray, knee-length, flowing cape, and all of it trimmed in black - that was the commander’s choice of clothing. She topped it off with a white officer’s kepi, braided with gold leaf and a glossy black bill. At the time she carried no weapon, but her belt was notched to take the hilt chain for a saber sheath.

  They hurried away from the swarming crowds and soon found the narrow walkway that entered a little park. Slowing to a casual stroll, Jebbson again took up the conversation, leaning close, lowering his voice. “First, let me tell you, I do enjoy your company and I do like you very much. So I never find my time wasted when in your presence. That aside, it’s business before pleasure, you know. So business is my primary reason for this encounter.”

  Sarah smiled to herself. This Jebbson always refreshed her spirit. He loved her, cared for her, treated her with respect, yet he did understand her past and never made any attempt to stir up old feelings unless necessary. What he had done at lunch this day was deliberate. There was a lesson from the discussion and she needed to study it and learn from the things it revealed.

  Jebbson began to explain the role they were to play in future events. “These people have produced notable leaders. They have been brave, bold and, like Mihai, very charismatic.” He raised his hand into the air, index finger extended. “But they have few great commanders.”

  Sarah stopped, her face revealing her surprise. “What do you mean? If one is a great leader, how can they not be a great commander? Your soldiers must trust the one who orders them into battle. They need someone to lead the charge.”

  “All you say is true, for the most part.” Jebbson agreed, then asked, “Tell me, please, how do I send a message of need to my commander when he or she is at the head of the troop, thick in combat?”

  Sarah paused to ponder the question. Jebbson saw that she couldn’t quite grasp what he was getting at. “Look, my dear, if you command a thousand soldiers, then leading a charge may give you a winning advantage. Yet, if you become a casualty, yourself, will your army stay together without a leader? How many battles have been turned when the officer in charge was disabled? Many, I assure you.”

  Sarah was in a quandary. She was beginning to understand the issue of command, yet how to deal with it was still foggy in her mind. “But if no one leads, how will the soldier follow?”

  Jebbson shot back, “Leadership is not necessarily standing out front, taking the lead.” He took her arm, encouraging her to walk along. “The responsibility of a good commander is to turn all of the soldiers into leaders. Each person must know the reason for the fight and be willing to carry on without someone in front issuing orders. Leadership is a taught thing. If the soldier in our army must wait on our action for everything they do, then we will all fail. No! A good commander provides the directive and the subordinates carry it out, being given the flexibility to reason out matters for themselves.”

  “When you can see your entire army, then one leader out in front may suffice. But…” He waved an arm for emphasis, “when your army is spread beyond the horizon, how do you hold it together? A good chain of communication then becomes imperative. Creating and maintaining that communication is the mark of a good commander. It cannot be done while out in front of your troops. And that, my dear, is why I think Lowenah brought many of us here, including you.”

  Sarah just stared at Jebbson, puzzlement written all over her face.

  Jebbson continued. “Most of Lowenah’s commanders have led from the front of their armies. They would march up to battle in fine lines of pageantry and glory, banners held high, and they would die in all that pageantry and glory. Armies fought up close, even when weapons arrived on the field capable of mass killing. Not only that, but the people objected to modern tools of war. To this day, veterans carry the crossbow and sword, declining the use of modern arms.”

  “If this war is to be won, the old ways of doing things must end. It will be difficult to re-educate the experienced soldiers. So we must attack the easier targets first - all these new, raw recruits. Besides, the urgency of the hour before the war starts doesn’t give us the opportunity for creating Samurai. No! We need to produce point and shoot soldiers and then provide the ordnance that will allow them to accomplish that. To succeed at such a task, the commander must become an overseer, assigning duties to trusted lieutenants. A chain of command must be devised all the way down to the person mopping the floor.”

  Sarah wondered, and then asked, “How can such a thing be done unless we enslave all the people who follow us, making them obey orders by force if necessary?”

  “Well…” Jebbson stated, “to a degree, that must be done. First, though, it is your job to train your lieutenants to obey every order you issue. You do that by making the orders clear and also providing enough latitude within them so your officers will be able to function within the orders’ confines. Then you must instruct your people to educate all officers within their chains of command, and so on and so forth, until the entire army has been taught how to carry out orders
and, as importantly, how to issue them. When everyone understands the gravity of command, they will submit themselves to becoming slaves to a cause.”

  Sarah asked Jebbson additional questions concerning this style of leadership. He patiently and carefully explained his understanding of how commanding officers needed to lead in a modern war. Later the two discussed the progress being made on her new fleet of warships. It was during this conversation that Jebbson suggested appointing crews in advance and using them to help build their own ship. “Everyone here is highly skilled and capable. They each have the ability to adjust those skills to accomplish any work necessary. Not only will the building proceed at a faster pace, the crew will feel a closer attachment to the vessel they will serve in. Loyalty can even be given to a machine.”

  Sarah thanked him for such insight and said she would take such suggestions under serious consideration. By the time they had returned to the upper part of the city, the place where Trisha had secured offices for Jebbson and his staff, the afternoon was well along. From up here, a person had an excellent view of the valley that stretched south from Oros. Once again, the machine shops and factories were busy, filled with mechanics and machinists of every trade and craft. Night and day, smoke rose from the new foundries further to the south. Their furnaces boiled up concoctions that their forges hammered into new machines destined to create death and slaughter.

  A heavy sigh escaped Sarah’s lips. “My friend…” She took hold of Jebbson’s arm, “when I first arrived here, I honestly believed the world of hate and violence was left far behind me. Since that time, I have removed dozens of Asotos’ people far from this land. I did it because it was the right thing to do, not because I enjoyed it. At least, I wish to hope I didn’t enjoy it...” She shrugged. “My point is, in all my dreams I had never expected to have to face misery and death in my new home. I sometimes wonder if I would have struggled so hard to achieve this place had I really known what it was like.”

  Jebbson closed his hand over hers. They made a strange-looking couple, not only in appearance, but also in stature. Jebbson was all of only five feet and nine inches tall, and medium build. On the other hand, Sarah stood well over six feet and was large boned and muscular. Although stunningly attractive, she still made Jebbson appear almost as a child next to her. Yet these two people never saw each other in that light. When with this man, Sarah felt almost the child. He stood as her protector and mentor. He made her feel good about herself, good about life.

  After a long pause, Jebbson spoke up. “You know, my dear, I think you would have volunteered for this job had you known it was available. As much as we all have come to some kind of disappointment at seeing the mess this place is really in, I don’t think any of us would wish to miss what’s about to happen. Deep down inside, we have all found a real purpose to our lives in this place. We know what we’re doing here is vital and appreciated. These people truly respect anything we can do to help. Lowenah doesn’t make frivolous decisions. She knew what she was doing bringing you here.”

  Sarah thanked him for such kind words and offered her leave. Jebbson in turn requested, “Tomorrow I’m supposed to travel to RadapNasi to visit some of our new factories. If you’re able, I’d like the company. Some of the work being done there involves your Special Forces. The tram rail is slow, but it passes through some beautiful hill country. It gives a person time to relax and think.”

  A smile of appreciation crept across Sarah’s face. “Yes, I would like that very much. I have taken no break in weeks and, since this would be business, I can see no one faulting me for going. Thank you.”

  “Excellent!” Jebbson exclaimed. “I will meet you at Oros’ main station at six. We must leave early in order to accomplish our rounds. If we finish at a reasonable hour, I know of an excellent dining establishment that offers pleasant entertainment.”

  Sarah gave Jebbson the eye, as if to say, ‘how can you luxuriate in such pleasures at a time like this?’

  Jebbson laughed and, as though he had been reading her mind, quipped, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

  Sarah wrinkled her face in mock disgust. “All right Jack, have it your way this time. But let me warn you, with the wisdom of my mother, ‘The oil burns up faster when the lute sings into the night’.”

  “A point well taken, my dear! A point well taken!” Jebbson laughed. “I will make sure Cinderella is home before midnight.”

  Sarah had no idea what Jebbson meant by the name he had used to describe her. Jebbson could see her total lack of understanding. He raised a hand to her face and gently brushed her cheek with two fingers and winked. “Tomorrow, my dear, tomorrow... We have a lengthy ride in the morning. I will tell you the story of Cinderella on our journey to RadapNasi. Oh, and by the way…”

  Jebbson reached out and lifted one side of Sarah’s jacket. “You know, you Special Forces guys ought ta be havin’ somthin’ special to signify your purpose. After all, when you come callin’ on those Stasis pirates, you need to have the appropriate callin’ card. Now trust me on this. I think a black patch with a white skull and crossbones would be fitting. Oh, and yeah, you should make your guys feel more independent. Have ‘em do somthin’ like paint pictures or threatenin’ words on the noses of their ships - somthin’ real personal for them pirates to think about.”

  Sarah thanked Jebbson and said that she would run his last idea past her staff. She then again offered parting salutations. They gave each other a gentle kiss on the cheek and departed, Sarah to the base to inform her staff of tomorrow’s plans, Jebbson to finish some blueprint drawings.

  The man turned and hurried into the building, leaping up the stairs to his workshops and offices where his staff and others were busy designing new machines of war. He flew past his fellow colleagues and workers, heading for his office. Pushing open the door in a rush, he dove into his room, almost crushing the lone figure who fell back to avoid the encounter. Taken very much by surprise, it took Jebbson a moment to recognize who was there.

  The person kindly chided, “When the rabbit becomes fat and happy, he fears not his own rabbit hole. But that’s where the weasel will lie in wait. What a pity to lose such a handsome rabbit to such an ignominious fate.”

  The shock quickly fled as a huge, toothy smile broke across Jebbson’s face. “My dear Trisha, lord of all the poor, two-footed mules and burden-bearers, what brings you to my humble rabbit hole this warm, sunny day?”

  Trisha poked Jebbson in the belly with a finger. “Oh, so sweet and charming he is when I have seen him bantering with another bunny. Should I shoot him and eat him and hang his hide out to dry? No! I think not, for I have already waited far too long to see him. An hour has been my imprisonment while I’ve lingered here for his company.”

  “My apologies...” Jebbson then admitted, “Had I known my covey would have been graced with such a beauty as you, I might have hurried back sooner. On the other hand, since I perceive your presence as possibly troublesome, I may have lingered in the graces of a more kindly and gentler bird.”

  “All right! All right!” Trisha cried. “I surrender! You win again. I cannot compete with your winsome and oftentimes silly sayings. But I think I did better this time.”

  “Very much so!” Jebbson laughed. “Very much so! Now tell me, please, what has dragged you so far from your home? And where is your faithful adjunct?”

  “First…” Trisha replied, frowning. “Zadar is not an adjunct. He is part of my executive staff and, as such, often carries out responsible missions for me. For the past several days, he’s been visiting with one of our future commanders.”

  “Oh, he’s been babysitting that little brat, has he?” Jebbson’s face soured. “Yes sir, that’s a heavy responsibility all right.”

  Trisha responded in surprise. “Jebbson Garlock! You speak so harshly. Have you even met our little darling yet? I have been told she can be sweet a
nd kind. Besides, Lowenah seems so fond of her. I hear, as of late, she has drawn all her attention to that girl.”

  “Yes, I have had the pleasure of meeting her acquaintance.” Jebbson quipped. “I speak of her as she has currently been acting. I know the child will grow and mature to become one of the three swords, but I think the price we will pay for her to attain such a place will be painful and heavy.”

  Trisha agreed, quickly changing the subject. “But let me get on with why I’m here...” She moved forward and deposited a small folder on Jebbson’s drafting table. “I had these made into paper copies for you because of your fondness for creating more litter.” Jebbson thanked her for such a kindness. “I need your assistance away from here as soon as possible.”

  “Whoa! Why the rush?” Jebbson complained. “At the moment, I’m swamped with our current projects…”

  Trisha stopped him. “I don’t have time to fully explain right now. You’ll find all you need to know in the report I’ve left with you. The gist of the matter is this: There are several small colonies in the Trizentine that contain some unique and specialized manufacturing operations. We have been in process of dismantling and moving those we feel are important to our needs. The problem is, for some unknown reason, Stasis pirate activities have suddenly increased in the area. We have also received reports of a buildup of the enemy fleet just across our borders there.”

  “It makes no sense to us why Asotos would be gathering his navy to that place. We’ve even heard that Godenn has departed Memphis for parts unknown, although some of our spies claimed to have seen a hefty contingent of ships coming from that direction, heading toward the Trizentine. Anyway, because of all this activity, the council concluded it unsafe for us to allow our transports to travel unsupported in the area. This means we have to be more selective in rescuing our manufacturing facilities.”

  “I want you to go there. The Admiral has agreed to lend us a warship so you can more quickly accomplish your mission. Set up a priority schedule with our people. This will let us retrieve the most valuable assets we have there. It shouldn’t take you many weeks to finish the task. I’ve already had a list made up of the places you’re to go, what is produced, and its current value to us. I felt you should personally check things out because you’re working on machines that may have special requirements that others aren’t aware of. You may see the need to change priorities. I give you a free hand in doing that.”

  “I need some time to put this place in order.” Jebbson complained. “The work here is critical for the immediate future, for our well being. I will have to set up my team to handle things while I’m gone.”

  Trisha countered, “The Omri is pulling out in two weeks to lead a convoy of replacement troops and supplies to the Third Fleet. I have already made arrangements for your passage aboard the Starlight, my personal ship, placed at your disposal for the journey. That should give you the needed time to get your act together here. You see, I take care of my officers.” She looked Jebbson over and wrinkled up her face. “You are an officer, you know - on Mihai’s staff and presently placed under my command. Make sure you dress accordingly for the trip. I don’t want people mistaking you for some… what do you say? Oh, yes…for some vagabond just out hitching a ride. Do you understand?”

  Jebbson smiled. He snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute. “Yes, sir! Right away, sir!”

  Trisha frowned, slapping him on his arm. “That’s enough of that! Just do as you’re told and stop making fun.” She squeezed his hand and turned to go, but suddenly stopped up short. “I almost forgot!” Turning around, she retrieved a scented letter from her inner pocket, presenting it to Jebbson. “Just got this from Planetee by mail freight. It has your name on it. Looks to me like you made a friend.”

  She said good-bye and left the office. Jebbson lifted the letter to his nose and inhaled a long, intoxicating breath of the envelope’s fragrance. Soon he was busy pouring over the penned message delivered to him, the torn envelope having drifted to the floor.