Galaxy's End: Book One LeRoy Clary (dark books to read TXT) 📖

good chair. She would have to look at the manufacturer and model and order a similar one for the Guardia. That would wait until she woke.

Fang said, “Captain, I think it is time for you to wake.”

She opened her eyes and felt refreshed. A glance at the top corner of the screen nearest to her indicated she had slept the equivalent of a full night. She needed a bathroom and food, in that order. “How long?”

Fang said, “Plenty of time to take care of personal needs and make a quick inspection of the ship.”

How had he known she would do both of those things?

Experience, she decided as she left the bridge. She was beginning to appreciate the solid construction of the old ship. It needed some basic work, but that was mostly cosmetic. If things didn’t work out, she might consider a second ship. One very much like this one. The Guardia could run point and locate larger cargo that was not in a rush to reach a destination. This ship could transport that. There was no telling how many cargoes she had refused because they were not in a hurry and for that reason wanted lower rates.

After visiting the restroom, she started at one end of the ship and made a quick inspection of each space until she came to the cabin where the steward that had killed the former captain was confined. Her hand was almost on the handle before she pulled it away.

She then paused again. Had the man called Chance influenced her decision not to enter? She had felt nothing of the touch of an empath, but he was older and perhaps a more sophisticated user of the mental power. Could he be so good at using the skill she wouldn’t detect it?

She didn’t think so, but the thought unnerved her. She couldn’t trust anything around him.

Still, she didn’t enter. Time was growing short and she wanted to be fully awake and ready when the ship left the wormhole behind and entered normal space. She expected to make several life-or-death choices and wanted to be fully alert and prepared.

Seated again in the now-familiar captain’s chair, she gave a curt nod of approval to Fang and glanced up at the single speaker on the ceiling. “You with us, Bert?”

“Always,” he said after a single ping.

Fang said, “I’ve installed a countdown on that main monitor in front of you.”

She noticed the number in the upper left. That was good. Her pulse elevated a small amount, already down to double digits. Whatever was going to happen, would do so soon.

After a few deep breaths, she felt better. As a starship captain, she had made thousands of decisions, any of which could have led to disaster. Most wrongs could be corrected but a few couldn’t. The problem when you were the captain was that you never knew which.

Her father had also taught her that. Mistakes kill, he’d said. Don’t make them. It was good advice. He’d also taught her to gather the right information before making a mistake. Despite all the variables in their present circumstances, she felt she’d done as well as anyone could and better than most.

The numbers on the screen decreased. They looked like they were decrementing faster, yet she knew that was not the case and still believed it. As they approached zero, she said, “Bert, keep me informed.”

Fang raised an empty flipper and curled the edge in what she believed was his version of OK, the ancient thumb and forefinger circle.

The numbers stalled and winked out of existence. Monitors around the bridge recalibrated with the latest information as the ship entered normal space.

Three rapid pings. Bert said, “Messages sent and verified receipt.”

Fang said, “We’ve got company.”

She glanced at the screen to her right, which displayed nearby space. A larger dot and a pair of smaller ones were accelerating in her direction. She swallowed hard.

Fang said, “Looks like a frigate and two small destroyers.”

“Any response to the messages?” she asked Bert.

“On screen six,” he said, excitedly, and without a courteous ping.

Her head turned to the left where a smaller screen for personal communications winked to life. She tabbed the audio options so Bert and Fang would hear. She said calmly, before the image fully stabilized, “Captain Stone, here.”

A stern-faced semi-human male scowled at her. He wore a pale blue uniform, a cap that was both useless and a hazard in space, and three gold bars on his shoulder pads. That made him a commander, technically a full military step below a captain, although more than enough rank to command a frigate.

“You have entered a restricted area and are under military arrest. Your ship is now the property of the Bradley Concord. Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded or be destroyed.”

Captain Stone sat up taller. She snapped in her most official voice, “Shutting down our engines and preparing to be boarded.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Fang said.

She heard the change in the pitch of the engines. Her eyes were locked on those of the commander. She said, “Now, let’s get a few things straight. You are only a commander. I need to speak to your superior immediately.”

He started to answer, his face turning hostile.

She held up a finger to stall him as if he were a child in a classroom. “Sir, with all respect, failure to do as I ask may cost you your command, if not your life. We have complied with your orders and are unarmed and helpless. How can sending a message to your superior be of danger to you? Yet, if you do not send it, I assure you that your career is at an end.”

Oh, he was angry, but enough of her words stung so that he turned away and gave an unheard order to a subordinate. He turned