Galactar (Savage Stars Book 3)

by Anthony James

  “Sir,” she said.

  Something was wrong – Recker saw it at once. “What is it?” he asked.

  “That obvious, huh?” Aston attempted a smile.

  “Yes, it’s that obvious, Commander.”

  Recker glanced at Eastwood. The man’s normally stoic face echoed whatever it was had got Aston so agitated.

  “Damnit, tell me.”

  The news not what Recker had been expecting. He thought he was about to be told that the Vengeance had shut itself down during the dismantling, or that the Daklan had shown up in Earth orbit. What he got was something else.

  “Haven’t you heard?” said Aston, evidently feeling that her seniority over Eastwood left her with the job of telling Recker. “The rumours are everywhere, but I’ve heard confirmation. Fleet Admiral Solan is coming here to inspect operations on Topaz and to check progress on the Maximus.”

  Recker smiled thinly. “It’s about time I saw that old bastard again.” Without realizing he was doing it, he cracked his knuckles. “I promised myself I’d settle things once and for all. Maybe I’m about to get my chance.”

  Chapter Two

  It was as if hearing the news about Fleet Admiral Solan was a trigger. The communicator in Recker’s leg pocket started buzzing and the muffled notes of the tune he’d assigned to high-priority messages reached his ear. With a sense of foreboding, he pulled out the communicator, flipped it open, stared at the message and then flipped the device closed.

  Aston and Eastwood stared at him.

  “Well?” said Aston.

  “Well what?”

  Aston didn’t accept the evasive answer. “You received a message.”

  “It was Admiral Telar. I have a meeting with him.”

  “Now?” said Eastwood incredulously.

  “Yes, now.”

  “Coincidentally good timing.”

  “Don’t I know it, Lieutenant.”

  “At least you’re still on that gravity car, sir,” Aston observed.

  Recker shook his head in disbelief at the situation. “I’ve got thirty minutes to find a communication station.”

  “What happens if you don’t?”

  “In that case I’ll have missed my window. Admiral Telar’s a busy man.”

  “He’s on Topaz, isn’t he?” said Aston. “Why not use that pocket communicator and route through the lifter’s comms?”

  “He’s not on Topaz.”

  “Mysterious.”

  Recker didn’t answer. Instead, he turned the gravity car and steered it for the exit.

  “Maybe the admiral will have some good news,” Aston called after.

  “I doubt it, Commander. I really doubt it.”

  With his spare hand, Recker opened the communicator again and spoke to an officer on the bridge of the Maximus. Having obtained directions to the nearest FTL comms unit, he stayed on the gravity car and drove it up the steps leading from the bay. From there, a left turn was the beginning of a two-kilometre journey to one of the lifter’s internal comms stations.

  The station was accessed via a door in the wall of the corridor. When Recker entered the compact, dingy room, he discovered a queue of four off-duty personnel waiting to use the communicator, with a fifth staring morosely at a screen. This woman turned in the seat and looked at Recker suspiciously.

  “I’m position twenty-five in the FTL queue, sir,” she said. “After that…” she thumbed over her shoulder to let Recker know that rank didn’t allow him to jump in front of the others.

  “I need this station, Lieutenant.” Recker took a deep breath and addressed the others waiting. “In fact, I need this whole room.”

  With obvious reluctance, the five personnel exited and Recker closed the door behind them. He was sympathetic and got no pleasure from interrupting their efforts to speak with family and friends. Still, the military installed the comms tech for primarily military use, so he didn’t feel too guilty.

  Having taken the lone seat, he requested an FTL channel. He was prompted to enter a priority code, which he did. Without delay, the channel was created and the Maximus’ comms system established an FTL stream to a concealed destination, which Recker happened to know was the Amethyst station, a short lightspeed journey from Topaz.

  The comms delay wasn’t longer than a few seconds and the screen turned briefly static, before resolving into a low-resolution feed which was hardly recognizable as Admiral Telar. The feed stabilised and the clarity improved.

  Telar wasn’t smiling. “I imagine by this moment you’ve heard about the impending arrival of Fleet Admiral Solan,” he said.

  “Yes, sir, I have. Why is he coming here?”

  “Fleet Admiral Solan is performing his duties, Carl. As he is required to do.”

  The unspoken words were louder still. “He’s trying to stamp his authority.”

  “Authority he has been granted by his office.”

  “I’ve been told he’s coming to the Maximus as well as Topaz.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Will I be required to speak with him?”

  “He specifically asked that you be available.” Telar’s expression gave nothing away.

  Recker stared. “Why? Why now?”

  “A schism is forming.”

  “We don’t need one.”

  “A schism in which you are in danger of becoming the fulcrum.”

  That got Recker’s attention. “Me? How?”

  “You’re not stupid, Carl. Do I need to spell it out?”

  Recker opened his mouth and then closed it. The HPA was up the proverbial shit creek and Recker’s recent, significant successes were earning him a reputation of being a man who knew how to paddle. Without doing anything more than his duty, he was polarising the military into those who were for him and those who were against.

  Of course it was about more than just one man. Admiral Telar was at the forefront of efforts to upgrade and expand the fleet so that it became fit for purpose, and Recker was sure Telar had the backing of many other senior officers – those who had no intention of letting the HPA become the meek and accepting subjects of an extinction event.

  “No, sir, I don’t need you to spell it out.”

  “Expect to be surprised, Carl. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “I’m sure you can tell me more than that, sir.”

  Telar’s mouth flickered in what might have been a smile. “Perhaps I would like to see how you handle matters for yourself.”

  “You know my plans, sir. Land a spaceship on the fleet admiral’s car and send a missile through his window.”

  “If that’s what it is, then that’s what it is.”

  “Why did you call me to this meeting, sir?”

  “To gauge your mood, more than anything.”

  “And?”

  “It seems I’ll have to wait until your upcoming encounter is finished.”

  “When can I expect to meet Fleet Admiral Solan?”

  “He is scheduled to arrive at the Topaz station anytime from now. When you are finished, we will speak again.”

  “I don’t wish to be caught in the middle of what is coming, sir.”

  Telar narrowed his eyes. “You have no choice, Carl. Wars are fought on many fronts and often the greatest danger comes from your own side.”

  “Is this inevitable?”

  “Nothing is inevitable.” Telar gave a short laugh. “Or so my analysis teams keep telling me. I am not sure I believe them.”

  Recker guessed that was the best answer he was going to get. “I want the HPA to come through this Daklan war, sir. And I want us to be ready for the next one.”

  Even as he said the words, Recker knew they sounded naïve – like a barrier erected by a simple man to protect himself from his fears. He steadied himself and continued.

  “I’ll do what’s right, sir.”

  “I know.”

  Recker thought the meeting was over, but Telar wasn’t done.

  “Change is coming. I’ve
told you the same before, but I want you to prepare yourself. Your preconceptions will be your greatest enemy.” Telar leaned forward, his dark eyes intense. “Can I trust you, Carl?”

  There it was. The question. Choose once and never again.

  “Yes, sir. You can trust me, as long as you don’t ask me to betray myself.”

  “That won’t happen. Not ever.” Telar leaned back in his chair. “I will speak to you again soon.”

  The comms screen went blank, leaving Recker alone with his thoughts. Something significant had taken place, though he didn’t – yet - understand exactly what it was. Time would tell, like it always did.

  He got up from his seat and exited the room. The five people who’d been queuing earlier were still waiting, most of them disgruntled and hiding it poorly. Recker didn’t have anything to apologise for and he said nothing.

  A person or persons unknown had made off with the gravity car and it was a long run back to the Vengeance’s holding bay. Recker didn’t mind and he welcomed the opportunity to burn off some of the febrile energy which coursed through his muscles. He set off at a fast pace and his breathing deepened. A single phrase turned around and around in his head.

  Change is coming.

  Recker didn’t slow until he arrived once more at the Vengeance. Aston and Eastwood weren’t in sight. Presumably, they were somewhere onboard helping the technical teams.

  One of the senior technicians – a burly individual called Douglas Frank – spotted Recker and ambled over, with the pace of a man who was never hurried. Frank was middle-aged, with a dour face and a bleakly depressing sense of humour.

  “The Vengeance will request a biometric re-approval in the next hour, sir.”

  “When are you planning to sever the last tie-ins?” asked Recker.

  “Still on schedule for today.” Frank looked about as if he was hunting for an oily rag to wipe his visibly clean hands on. “Meaning this shift is the last time we’ll need you, sir. If all goes to plan, of course.”

  Many of the Vengeance’s less critical components had already been scanned, their structures analysed and the data transmitted to the HPA’s many different scientific teams. The physical components would remain here on the Maximus, and a huge, well-staffed workshop had already been set up behind the aft bulkhead on this upper bay. It was these hands-on teams who were taking up all the accommodation on the heavy lifter.

  “Are they sending you anywhere, sir?” asked Frank, hoping for some gossip.

  Recker didn’t know and he said as much. With a disappointed harrumph, Frank wandered off back to the nearest group of technicians.

  A waving arm caught Recker’s attention and he saw Aston emerge from the Vengeance. She hurried down the forward boarding ramp and jogged over.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  The audacity of it made Recker chuckle. “I get to meet the big man,” he said. “Maybe today, maybe tomorrow.”

  “What’s the reason for the meeting?” Aston was worried and trying to hide it.

  “Truthfully, I don’t know, Commander. Even if you asked me to pick my best guess, I wouldn’t have a frontrunner.”

  “You’re about to be played like a puppet.”

  Recker checked his shoulders. “I don’t see any strings.”

  “But that’s what’s going to happen, sir. Fleet Admiral Solan has avoided you for years and now this happens. There’s a reason for it.”

  “There’s a reason for everything. Maybe those reasons aren’t always so obvious.”

  “So you do know something.”

  “No,” Recker shook his head. “If I did know, I’d tell you I knew.”

  Aston grinned suddenly. “You just might not tell me what it was that you knew.”

  “Exactly.”

  “One thing’s for sure – they won’t leave you languishing on the Maximus forever. As of today, you’re effectively redundant from the process of dismantling the Vengeance.”

  “I know it.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And you won’t have to travel far to find your crew.”

  Recker laughed. “We’re all in it together.”

  His pocked buzzed and his personal communicator played its infuriatingly catchy tune. Recker flipped open the device and read the message. He didn’t keep Aston waiting.

  “Fleet Admiral Solan doesn’t want to delay his inspection of the Vengeance,” Recker said. “The battleship Divergence broke out of lightspeed about ten minutes ago, along with a second ship the comms team didn’t recognize. Once the formalities are done – whatever that entails – the admiral is planning to pay us a visit.”

  “He isn’t hanging around,” said Aston. “A shame it’s taken him so long to find this enthusiasm, and I mean that for the war as well.” She grinned again. “I guess you’re just a side-line, sir. A footnote in the life of a busy fleet admiral.”

  Recker didn’t take the bait and recognized that Aston was trying to keep his spirits high in the face of a coming event which had been avoided for years.

  “I don’t feel much of anything,” said Recker eventually. “If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I’d have told you I was angry about the past. Furious, even. Not anymore. I won’t allow it to control me.”

  “What happened to Fortune puts things in perspective.”

  “It does, but I think it’s more than just that. Fleet Admiral Solan is fighting his own war – a war to keep himself in power.”

  “Do you think it’s a war he’s going to win?”

  “I can’t call it one way or another, Commander. I couldn’t even guess at the outcome.” Recker stared at Aston. “But I can assure you that this time I won’t be a passive spectator. The fleet admiral and his son have had their time and by hell they’re going to move over and let someone else take charge.”

  “Whatever it takes?”

  Recker hesitated for only a moment and then he nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

  As he considered his newfound determination, Recker came to appreciate exactly how clever Telar had been. The man had planted the seed and hardly even bothered watering it. Then, he’d sat back to see what would take root. It was the kind of manipulation that Recker couldn’t bring himself to resent and, in fact, thought that just maybe, Telar had done him the biggest favour imaginable.

  With a deathly calm, Recker waited for the coming meeting.

  Chapter Three

  Like a breeze rustling through a lonely forest, news of Fleet Admiral Solan’s arrival in the Gygor system came to everyone. It was the first time Recker had witnessed the organic spread of rumour and fact from such a proximity. Communicators buzzed with increasing regularity, comments were shouted from person to person, while new arrivals from elsewhere on the Maximus carried their own take on the rumours, heard from different sources.

  Within thirty minutes of Recker’s return from his meeting with Admiral Telar, every single technician was talking about Fleet Admiral Solan. Senior officers flooded in, to make it seem like they were always on hand, and Recker overheard that others – currently off duty – were on their way from the Topaz station.

  “Fleet Admiral Solan doesn’t seem interested in keeping this low key,” Eastwood observed, as he watched a new group of senior technicians arrive from the heavy lifter’s main bay.

  “This is a show of strength,” said Aston. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s brought the TV crews with him, in order that everyone in the HPA can see how well Solan is leading the military.”

  “I knew I should have shaved this morning,” said Lieutenant Burner, from his seated position on a metal crate. He’d sourced a coffee from somewhere and swilled the dregs around in the bottom of the cardboard cup.

  “A comb through your hair wouldn’t hurt either,” said Aston. “Maybe that’s why you’re single.”

  “I’m naturally curly, Commander. This is what naturally curly looks like.”

  “Like a bird’s nest, you mean?”

  “Please,” said Recker. “If I’
ve got to listen to this for the next five hours, I think I’ll return to Topaz.”

  He cast his eye over the ongoing dismantling works. The activity around the Vengeance was clearly at an agitated and elevated level, though Recker was sure the efficiency had plummeted. This was a stressful, artificial situation and the technicians were anxious to appear like the well-trained experts they really were.

  For the next few hours, Recker paced around this part of the bay, answered questions from the technicians and generally filled in time, while hoping that the overall reduced pace of work wouldn’t result in him having to provide his biometric authorisation for an additional day. Recker wanted to be away from here, fighting the war.

  As the time approached, tension in the upper bay climbed so high that work almost ground to a halt.

  “This isn’t how to run a military,” said Recker angrily. “He’s one man, not a damned god.”

  “They don’t see him as a god and that’s the problem,” said Eastwood. “They don’t know what the hell he is.”

  “Just a man,” Recker repeated.

  Instructions came over the internal comms that Fleet Admiral Solan was on his way and that he preferred to see his personnel at work, rather than wasting time with line-ups and introductions. This was in stark contrast to Recker’s own experience of the man. The Fleet Admiral Solan he remembered preferred to be treated like a visiting head of state and have rose petals strewn on his red carpet.

  “Here he comes,” said Aston, her head turned towards the nearest entrance to the bay. “Do you think we’ll be asked to explain what a fleet warship can do?”

  “Commander,” Recker warned.

  A line of four of the heavy lifter’s gravity vehicles emerged from the stairwell. Like most others on the Maximus, these vehicles were designed to navigate steps, ensuring that the officers onboard wouldn’t have to trouble their heartrates by walking even the shortest of distances.

  With untroubled serenity, the gravity cars approached the Vengeance, and a squad of soldiers ran along behind. The lead car stopped about a hundred metres from Recker and the others did likewise. Doors opened and a total of sixteen officers climbed out.