The start of a new book. The Chapter threw me for a loop so chapter two might be a while. Not sure where its going yet: Another Fine Mess Chapter One “Admiral Reese, can you explain to me why your fleet is half the galaxy away from their assigned location?” Admiral Tory Reese stood motionless at attention, sweat running down his back and threatening to soak through his dress uniform, his gaze centered on the Supreme Commander’s face. “Well?” His superior gestured. “Speak, please. I would like to know the reason.” “We received informa....” The admiral’s voice caught. He cleared his throat. “Information, sir, that led me to believe an invasion was imminent.” “A invasion half the galaxy away from your patrol?” “Yes, sir. Half the galaxy.” The Supreme Commander laced his fingers together, put his elbows on the desk, and leaned his chin on his hands. “And did you find any sign of this invasion?” The trickle of sweat down the admiral’s back grew, becoming a small stream. He swallowed hard while shaking his head. “No, sir. We have found no signs.” “Meanwhile, the area you were supposed to be patrolling is unguarded.” Admiral Reese forced himself not to wince. “Yes, sir, though we did notify...” “Who? And when? Because I have sadly failed to find any notifications from you, or any of your captains, that your fleet was leaving the area of its patrol.” The admiral’s heart sank and he thought furiously. I gave the order. I was informed the message had been sent. I... did we get an acknowledgement? I can’t remember. “Three weeks before we vacated...” The Supreme Commander’s eyebrows shot up. “Three weeks?” His hands picked several pieces of paper up off his desk and squared them. “You hung around for three weeks after finding out an invasion was imminent in some other quadrant? Explain why, if you thought it was so drastic that you had to deal with it in person instead of notifying Command Central and letting them assign someone else to the issue, you hung around for three weeks.” Visions of various lethal instruments headed his way flashed before the admiral’s eyes. He worked a bit of water into his suddenly exceeding dry mouth, and swallowed. “I, sir... I thought we...” He trailed off and stood silent, miserable and unable to form thoughts into words. “Do you even know why? Or were you so busy imagining about the medal you’d get for stopping the invasion that you didn’t bother to think at all?” “I wasn’t thinking that!” Admiral Reese grimaced and clamped his mouth shut. “Then exactly what were you thinking? That you could wander over, stop the invasion by snapping your fingers, sneak back to your patrol and no one would notice?” The admiral bit his tongue and forced himself not to snap the retort that begged to be said. “No, sir.” “There are a number of things I fail to understand here,” his superior said. “Why you thought it was your business to stop the invasion. Why you thought I would be happy to discover your patrol area was unguarded. Why you felt it necessary to hang around for three weeks if it was critical. And why, assuming your fleet survived attacking the invaders without garnering any casualties, you thought you would be able to just mosey back and pick up your patrol again without anyone noticing you’d been gone. ” Admiral Reese said nothing. The sweat running down his back had turned into a river and his underpants were becoming soggy, which added to his misery. Just court martial me and get it over with. “I have no intention of court martialing you.” His superior stood up. “However, I probably should. While you were off chasing a phantom invasion without anyone Command Central being the wiser, the area you were supposed to protect fell.” Admiral Reese stood motionless, his thoughts churning, watching as his superior walked around the desk and half sat on it. Fell? To what? There’s nothing out there. “There wasn’t. There is now. That invasion you were worried about happened. Only you weren’t there to stop it. That entire section is now under Pirate Fleet control. And your fleet is still sitting half the galaxy away, twiddling it’s collective thumbs!” The admiral felt as if a bomb had exploded inside him. He staggered, shocked beyond comprehension, and then dropped his head in his hands. “I’m relieving you of your command, effective immediately. And assigning you to my office. You have potential, and I don’t want the fleet to lose that. But you also, apparently, need some extra training before I let you be in charge of anything more critical than a broom. You have fifteen minutes to get down to the quartermaster, get a new uniform, get changed, and get back in here. Move!” Tory saluted, wheeled around, and left the office at a run. * The quartermaster was waiting, uniform in hand and a sneer plastered across his face. “Sign here.” He shoved a clipboard at Tory and snickered. Tory clenched his fists but refrained from saying anything. He snatched the clipboard from the quartermaster’s hand, scrawled his name across the dotted line, and handed it back. The quartermaster gestured across the room with the clipboard. “Change over there, hand that uniform in before you leave.” He handed Tory the new uniform. Tory glowered at him but complied as rapidly as possible. The uniform was slightly too large, but it fit where it counted, and he struggled into it. The mirror informed him that he probably wouldn’t be passing his upcoming yearly physical without some work. He frowned at his reflection, tossed his old uniform at the quartermaster on the way past, and sprinted back to the Supreme Commander’s office. He made it with three seconds to spare. * On the other side of the galaxy, in a very small bar on a very poor - and out of the way - planet, a lone man sat and nursed a warm beer. His dark eyes flickered around the room, taking in the clientele, his ears listening to their chatter, and his brain busily at work plotting. Bits of conversation sparked his interest, but nothing jumped out and grabbed him. He took another drink of beer, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and leaned back in his chair. Waste of time. He cast another glance around the room. Then sat bolt upright and stared across the room at the door. A second later, he vanished from sight, stood, and moved rapidly into the nearest dark corner. He pressed back against the wall, his attention centered on the small furry creature that had just entered the room, and the lanky youth that accompanied it. The creature turned around slowly, and then stared at the corner and pointed. The youth whipped daggers out of sheaths and threw, but his target was no longer standing in the shadows. The man now crouched on the roof of the building next door, hidden behind a chimney. What I wouldn’t give to be able to teleport more than fifty feet! What in the seven suns of Yalon is he doing here?! I have got to get out of here. He crawled, taking pains to stay hidden from view by the chimney, across the roof. Laying still on the opposite edge, he shut his eyes and listened. Nothing moved. After several minutes, he opened his eyes, searched the darkness for any sign of life, then teleported to the ground and faded into the underbrush. The object of his consternation stood at the window of the inn and frowned into the darkness, then shrugged and made its way to the bar. “We’re not going after him?” “No. We’ll catch him another day. Go get your daggers out of the wall.” * The man ran, weaving through the woods, dodging trees, branches, and other roadblocks, his mind frantically at work. He found me once, he can do it again. I can’t stay here. I need... He skidded to a halt inches from the edge of a cliff and stood staring out into the darkness at a tiny cluster of distant lights. The spaceport. I can make it that far. Grell willing, there’ll be a ship there and I can get passage somewhere else. Somehow. He closed his eyes and sent thought tendrils winging into the night, seeking a safe landing zone within his limited range. Nearly half an hour, as he was beginning to despair, he found what he sought, and teleported. Three more careful hops later, he stood on solid ground at the base of the cliff. He flung a fleeting glance up at the top where he’d started, then turned his back on it and headed into the trees.
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 06:58:56 +0000