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Authors: Gun Brooke
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into the knee-high, black leathermix boots outfitted with an auto-refreshing thermo-lining. She remembered with a smirk how the guard pointed out their self-cleaning feature. Never anything but shiny boots in the SC fleet.
Five minutes later, at port 1, Kellen saw the docks filled with crewmen on their way to the ships.
Large portholes overlooked the vessels moored outside. The largest ship, a destroyer, was anchored to her left, and her guard guided her to the entry gate. “Kellen O’Dal is the commodore’s guest,” he said. “Permission to come aboard.”
The ensign stationed at the gate checked his computer. “Affirmative. Permission granted.”
The security guard checked his chronometer. “You have less than four minutes to report to the bridge, Ms. O’Dal.”
Kellen was not unaccustomed to being aboard a tightly run ship and lengthened her stride, moving faster than her guard as they hurried through the gate and rushed down a corridor with transparent walls. They reached the ship’s main door, where they repeated the procedure and once more obtained permission to come aboard. A tall, muscular woman wearing a security officer’s insignia walked up to Kellen.
“Ms. O’Dal, I’m Lieutenant Owena Grey, chief tactical officer on Gamma VI . I have orders to escort you to the bridge. Come with me.”
“Thank you.”
Kellen followed the dark-haired woman through long corridors. All around her, crew members scrambled to reach their posts as one message after another boomed over the ship-wide comm system. They saluted Lieutenant Grey with hurried movements, which she acknowledged with a brisk, “Carry on, please.” Of the same height as Kellen, Grey moved with the pantherlike grace of someone trained in combat skills and the martial arts. She wore her black hair pinned up in a tight twist, and her uniform was immaculate. Her eyes were dark blue under black eyebrows and straight bangs. Sharp angles and planes helped form a strong, formidable face.
The bridge, on deck 1, was controlled chaos. Ensigns manned the post along the semicircular wall, standing behind computer consoles and talking in low voices into their communicators all at once. Lieutenants manned four more consoles within the outer circle. One was empty, and Kellen guessed it was Lieutenant Grey’s post on the bridge. The main view screen on the far wall depicted the vast space outside Gamma VI .
Kellen took in the scene, listened to the intent voices, and felt the rising tension before battle. Suddenly taken back in time to her years in the Gantharian Academy of Pilots, she found it amazingly familiar to observe these people prepare as a team for the same goal. Once she had thought she would pretend to cooperate with the Onotharians and try to change the system from within. Her life had not worked out that way. Instead she had lost not only her chance to make a difference, but also everyone she’d ever cared about, except Armeo. A part of her connected now with the unique mix of exhilaration and dread that preceded a space mission.
“Three minutes to launch.” A voice pierced through the conversation, and everyone scrambled.
The two command chairs sat on a dais between the four stations. Even if a couple of lieutenants obscured her vision, Kellen recognized the voice the moment the woman occupying the chair spoke.
“Ms. O’Dal, ma’am.” Lieutenant Grey rounded the consoles and approached the chair.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Rae stood, stepped off the dais, and glanced at Kellen, while Lieutenant Grey assumed her duties at the vacant computer console.
“Can I help?” Kellen asked as the commodore approached. “After all, I am a pilot.”
“That would be a breach of protocol, but how are your navigational skills?”
“Quite good, ma’am.” Astounded at how easy she fell into the crisp military language, Kellen feared she sounded impudent.
She waited for Rae’s disapproval, but to her surprise, Rae nodded. “All right.
Five minutes later, at port 1, Kellen saw the docks filled with crewmen on their way to the ships.
Large portholes overlooked the vessels moored outside. The largest ship, a destroyer, was anchored to her left, and her guard guided her to the entry gate. “Kellen O’Dal is the commodore’s guest,” he said. “Permission to come aboard.”
The ensign stationed at the gate checked his computer. “Affirmative. Permission granted.”
The security guard checked his chronometer. “You have less than four minutes to report to the bridge, Ms. O’Dal.”
Kellen was not unaccustomed to being aboard a tightly run ship and lengthened her stride, moving faster than her guard as they hurried through the gate and rushed down a corridor with transparent walls. They reached the ship’s main door, where they repeated the procedure and once more obtained permission to come aboard. A tall, muscular woman wearing a security officer’s insignia walked up to Kellen.
“Ms. O’Dal, I’m Lieutenant Owena Grey, chief tactical officer on Gamma VI . I have orders to escort you to the bridge. Come with me.”
“Thank you.”
Kellen followed the dark-haired woman through long corridors. All around her, crew members scrambled to reach their posts as one message after another boomed over the ship-wide comm system. They saluted Lieutenant Grey with hurried movements, which she acknowledged with a brisk, “Carry on, please.” Of the same height as Kellen, Grey moved with the pantherlike grace of someone trained in combat skills and the martial arts. She wore her black hair pinned up in a tight twist, and her uniform was immaculate. Her eyes were dark blue under black eyebrows and straight bangs. Sharp angles and planes helped form a strong, formidable face.
The bridge, on deck 1, was controlled chaos. Ensigns manned the post along the semicircular wall, standing behind computer consoles and talking in low voices into their communicators all at once. Lieutenants manned four more consoles within the outer circle. One was empty, and Kellen guessed it was Lieutenant Grey’s post on the bridge. The main view screen on the far wall depicted the vast space outside Gamma VI .
Kellen took in the scene, listened to the intent voices, and felt the rising tension before battle. Suddenly taken back in time to her years in the Gantharian Academy of Pilots, she found it amazingly familiar to observe these people prepare as a team for the same goal. Once she had thought she would pretend to cooperate with the Onotharians and try to change the system from within. Her life had not worked out that way. Instead she had lost not only her chance to make a difference, but also everyone she’d ever cared about, except Armeo. A part of her connected now with the unique mix of exhilaration and dread that preceded a space mission.
“Three minutes to launch.” A voice pierced through the conversation, and everyone scrambled.
The two command chairs sat on a dais between the four stations. Even if a couple of lieutenants obscured her vision, Kellen recognized the voice the moment the woman occupying the chair spoke.
“Ms. O’Dal, ma’am.” Lieutenant Grey rounded the consoles and approached the chair.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Rae stood, stepped off the dais, and glanced at Kellen, while Lieutenant Grey assumed her duties at the vacant computer console.
“Can I help?” Kellen asked as the commodore approached. “After all, I am a pilot.”
“That would be a breach of protocol, but how are your navigational skills?”
“Quite good, ma’am.” Astounded at how easy she fell into the crisp military language, Kellen feared she sounded impudent.
She waited for Rae’s disapproval, but to her surprise, Rae nodded. “All right.
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