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Authors: Richard L. Sanders
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he hurried to his
post. Calvin couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Miles' red face was
almost worth the small fortune.
"It's fine, it's fine," Calvin made a
calming motion with his hands.
"I'll pay you back, I swear!" He got
to his station but didn't sit down.
Sarah spun her chair to face him. "So
what happened to that 20,000q you were going to win,
hotshot?"
"Hey..,” said Miles. "No sass from
you."
"The word is you lost 30,000q. That's
like buying four cars, brand new."
"No, no, no. It was much less than
that. End of discussion."
Calvin smirked. "It was 29,905q. I
just paid it."
"Well... the game was rigged anyway,"
Miles looked flustered.
Shen spoke up, "the controller told me
you lost it on eight consecutive hands, increasing the bet with
each one."
"Yeah eight hands, and all of them
rigged. Isn't that unfair? I mean it's bad enough to rig one hand,
but eight? Give a guy a break."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sarah rolled her
eyes and spun back to her station. "Miles, you never
change."
Just then Miles noticed Summers
Presley, who'd been silent. He pointed to her. "Who the hell is
she?"
Calvin shrugged. "I dunno, I think
she's a stowaway."
Summers cleared her throat. "I'm
Commander Presley, your executive officer. Now take your station,"
she said, sounding unimpressed. Miles looked dazed so she snapped.
"On the double, mister!"
His eyes darted to Calvin who nodded.
Miles took his seat, looking disgruntled. "Aye,
Commander."
"All right," said Calvin. "Now that
everyone's acquainted, let's get out of here. Sarah, plot a course
to Aleator and standby for a jump of eighty percent
potential."
"Ready, sir."
"Now."
Sarah fired up the engines and the
view from the windows became black.
"Accelerating, we'll reach eighty
percent in just over two minutes—standard heading. ETA, six
hours."
"Perfect. Now that that's done, I'll
be in my quarters. Summers, you have the deck."
Chapter 7
His room was cluttered with boxes, the
same boxes he'd put off unloading back on the station when he
thought he was getting a few weeks of vacation. But while his
procrastination to unpack them had paid off there, he had no reason
to delay unpacking them here. Except for pure, simple laziness. He
shifted them out of his way and took a seat on his bed, letting his
head rest in his hands.
"Blah...what am I gonna
do?"
A thousand thoughts
scrambled his mind. He was the miracle boy of the Fleet, the
youngest, brightest CO in Intel Wing, or so he liked to think.
Officially … he was second or third behind, of course, the
legendary Captain Lafayette Nimoux. But aside from him, and
possibly one other, Calvin’s success got the most attention within
Intel Wing circles. And some people, Calvin was sure, saw him as a
real contender for the unofficial role of best agent . After all, his latest
work had gotten him not only another gleaming Silver Star and a
phantom-class stealth warship, but also the opportunity to handpick
most of his primary crew. One that came with certain expectations.
He had to deliver.
That meant making sense of this Raidan situation which, as of now,
wasn’t adding up.
First there was the fact that Asari
Raidan went rogue in the first place. It didn't fit his background
at all. He was a distinguished fighting captain with decades of
loyal service. Why did he give it all up just to attack a handful
of alien ships? How could that possibly be worth it?
And then there was the issue of how he
managed to escape, and steal a first-rate dreadnought in the
process. The Harbinger had almost a thousand crew. There's no way
he simply charmed them over. But Calvin also thought it unlikely
that Raidan could have taken the ship by force. Where would he have
gained an army to do so, and where would he have hidden it? And how
did he anticipate needing to capture the Harbinger enough in
advance to make the preparations? Unless it wasn’t Raidan but
someone else who did it, perhaps to liberate Raidan or else capture
him for
post. Calvin couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Miles' red face was
almost worth the small fortune.
"It's fine, it's fine," Calvin made a
calming motion with his hands.
"I'll pay you back, I swear!" He got
to his station but didn't sit down.
Sarah spun her chair to face him. "So
what happened to that 20,000q you were going to win,
hotshot?"
"Hey..,” said Miles. "No sass from
you."
"The word is you lost 30,000q. That's
like buying four cars, brand new."
"No, no, no. It was much less than
that. End of discussion."
Calvin smirked. "It was 29,905q. I
just paid it."
"Well... the game was rigged anyway,"
Miles looked flustered.
Shen spoke up, "the controller told me
you lost it on eight consecutive hands, increasing the bet with
each one."
"Yeah eight hands, and all of them
rigged. Isn't that unfair? I mean it's bad enough to rig one hand,
but eight? Give a guy a break."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sarah rolled her
eyes and spun back to her station. "Miles, you never
change."
Just then Miles noticed Summers
Presley, who'd been silent. He pointed to her. "Who the hell is
she?"
Calvin shrugged. "I dunno, I think
she's a stowaway."
Summers cleared her throat. "I'm
Commander Presley, your executive officer. Now take your station,"
she said, sounding unimpressed. Miles looked dazed so she snapped.
"On the double, mister!"
His eyes darted to Calvin who nodded.
Miles took his seat, looking disgruntled. "Aye,
Commander."
"All right," said Calvin. "Now that
everyone's acquainted, let's get out of here. Sarah, plot a course
to Aleator and standby for a jump of eighty percent
potential."
"Ready, sir."
"Now."
Sarah fired up the engines and the
view from the windows became black.
"Accelerating, we'll reach eighty
percent in just over two minutes—standard heading. ETA, six
hours."
"Perfect. Now that that's done, I'll
be in my quarters. Summers, you have the deck."
Chapter 7
His room was cluttered with boxes, the
same boxes he'd put off unloading back on the station when he
thought he was getting a few weeks of vacation. But while his
procrastination to unpack them had paid off there, he had no reason
to delay unpacking them here. Except for pure, simple laziness. He
shifted them out of his way and took a seat on his bed, letting his
head rest in his hands.
"Blah...what am I gonna
do?"
A thousand thoughts
scrambled his mind. He was the miracle boy of the Fleet, the
youngest, brightest CO in Intel Wing, or so he liked to think.
Officially … he was second or third behind, of course, the
legendary Captain Lafayette Nimoux. But aside from him, and
possibly one other, Calvin’s success got the most attention within
Intel Wing circles. And some people, Calvin was sure, saw him as a
real contender for the unofficial role of best agent . After all, his latest
work had gotten him not only another gleaming Silver Star and a
phantom-class stealth warship, but also the opportunity to handpick
most of his primary crew. One that came with certain expectations.
He had to deliver.
That meant making sense of this Raidan situation which, as of now,
wasn’t adding up.
First there was the fact that Asari
Raidan went rogue in the first place. It didn't fit his background
at all. He was a distinguished fighting captain with decades of
loyal service. Why did he give it all up just to attack a handful
of alien ships? How could that possibly be worth it?
And then there was the issue of how he
managed to escape, and steal a first-rate dreadnought in the
process. The Harbinger had almost a thousand crew. There's no way
he simply charmed them over. But Calvin also thought it unlikely
that Raidan could have taken the ship by force. Where would he have
gained an army to do so, and where would he have hidden it? And how
did he anticipate needing to capture the Harbinger enough in
advance to make the preparations? Unless it wasn’t Raidan but
someone else who did it, perhaps to liberate Raidan or else capture
him for
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