“How bad were our losses?”
At the other end of the comm channel, Izra Dargan grimaced. He looked no worse for wear except for a cut above his eyebrow and some soot on his face. “Six pilots and almost a squadron’s worth of fighters. Ten more wounded to varying degrees and another squadron’s worth of starfighters damaged, but repairable.”
From a far enough distance, an outside observer would notice little difference between the debris filling a certain swath of the Aten-Re system. Yorick coral and durasteel alike, each was only a small, twinkling point of light, bathed in the soft blue glow of Aten. Were it not for the unnatural concentration in so small an arc, each little point would be easily mistaken for a distant star.
Alextravia Judas Grentarii could not be said to be a happy man. Not just in general – that was absolutely expected by anyone who’d ever had the occasion to spend even a few minutes with the man. But even at this exact moment, as he trudged up to the meeting alongside Janet Skyy (now Wyler), he was in a particularly unhappy mood. Alex was suffering under the kind of unhappiness that strikes when you are completely and totally undecided about what you want to do with yourself. Thinking back over the course of the last several months – a task that was surprisingly difficult since he spent most of it in a state of unconscious hibernation – he had been all over the map. All told it was very difficult to say what he wanted to do with his life any more.
Molly Losoda tapped Logan MacKenzie on the shoulder, smothering a smirk as the other man jumped. He’d been absorbed in mournfully watching some of the ground crew from Shay Memorial move his freighter from the Legacy’s landing bay to the tarmac–so absorbed that he’d missed the NRI agent’s approach. “You don’t have to just stand here, you know. You can get off the ship.”
“What’s this about?” Alextravia Grantarii asked Janet Wyler as they headed to a meeting at ops.
“I…well, it’s…something I should know but…it’s secret. Top secret,” she replied to her old friend from back in the Katarn Commando days. She winced at her lame excuse. Was she getting that old and forgetful? “It’s not to be discussed until we arrive.” Alex seemed to accept this and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“…no ma’am, I don’t have an ETA for it to be fixed. Lieutenant Bullian is down there working on the hyperdrive as we speak.”
Commander Dorrin Drake stood on the bridge of the Legacy, looking far to in control for the way he actually felt as he stared at a split-screen image of Admirals Indiana Bridger and Karen Wood.
“And what, exactly, did he say was wrong with the hyperdrive, Commander?” Karen looked none too pleased at being informed that the tough little Acclimator would be out of commission. Continue reading
“And where do you think you’re going?”
Arilyn Bullian went rigid, slowly turning her gaze toward the voice’s source. Karinlyyn Bridger Kel-Solan stood in the hatchway leading into the Firelance’s cockpit, dressed in the silver mesh armor of an Auyn, her honey-brown hair plaited into a braid. Ari swallowed bile as she looked her mentor up and down. The other woman was armed to the teeth.
Must be pretty serious Order business if the open Warmistress is on her way up. Continue reading