Aethosphere Chronicles: Winds of Duty by Jeremiah D. Schmidt Page A

bound in rich
leather.
    “ Scarlet Cloud, maintain course and
speed,” came another ghostly voice over the radio.
    “Quiet!” hollered Moore in response to this
new addition. “Give me quiet on this bridge!”
    “ This is the transport Torchlight.
Glenfindale registry, three-four-two-one-nine echo-sierra.”
    “ Glenfindale…from Glenfindale, you
say?” replied the voice of the Scarlet Cloud’s captain.
Hopeful enthusiasm had replaced panic. “I’m loaded heavy with
Glenfinner nationals bound for their home isle. We could use any
assistance you’d be willing to lend.”
    “ Do not engage in further aggressive
maneuvers with imperial vessel. You have been misidentified,” continued the new player to this unfolding event, “broadcast an
offer of truce and identify yourself as Glenfindale—not as UKA. We
will attempt contact with the imperial vessel.”
    “ Say again, Torchlight…your last was
garbled.”
    “Lieutenant Briggs, you are to jam all
further communications immediately,” snapped the captain, sprinting
past Bar to loom over the radioman. “I’ll not have the Torchlight and the Scarlet communicating with either
that imperial vessel or one another any further, is that
clear?”
    “But sir,” protested Tiny as he squirmed
beneath the captain, “that transport’s in distress…”
    “Is that clear!”
    “Aye…aye, Captain,” the fat man, red-faced
and sweating despite the high-altitude chill, trembled and caved to
Moore’s order. “Engaging broadband interference…but you do know the
power drain to our systems will be significant. And though we’ve
got the gear and the power to block the transports without a
problem, there’s no doubt in my mind that the imperial will be able
to overpower any interference we can dish out. They’ll most
likely still be able to broadcast.”
    “As long as those transports stay in the
dark, I don’t care what that imperial does or says.”
    “Sir,” cut in Stowe. “I feel I must remind
you that should the hunter-killer choose to investigate, it’ll most
likely have an easy time zeroing in on our location, if we
continue to broadcast a jamming signal.”
    “It’s worth the risk.”
    “But for what?” interrupted Bar reflexively.
Moore turned on him abruptly and cast a dark-eyed scowl in his
direction. That clamped the ensign up almost immediately and he
looked away, contrite. Even staring up into the overhead rafters,
Bar could tell the captain’s gaze remained locked on him, almost
daring another insubordinate question.
    “You mean to bait the Torchlight using
that civilian transport?” inquired Stowe.
    “We just need them to slow, or come about in
an effort to contact the Empire. That’ll give us just the break we
need to run them down without further trouble,” affirmed Captain
Moore.
    Bar baulked at the notion of using innocent
people as bait. He turned his disbelieving eyes to the two senior
officers locked in discussion, only to find Gryph looking back,
likewise, over the shoulder of his uniform jacket. Their
disapproving eyes met briefly, and Bar watched the dwarf lock his
teeth in anger.
    “This is a travesty,” grumbled Gryph.
    “What was that, pilot?” asked the captain
forcefully. The marines flanking the captain moved forward
threateningly.
    “Watch it, Ensign Havalorne,” warned Stowe,
folding his thick arms over the crisp lines of his oxblood military
overcoat.
    “T’was nothing, sir,” surrendered the
pilot.
    “Very good.” The captain nodded in smug
satisfaction. “Shall we continue with—”
    “You know what,” interrupted Gryph
unexpectedly, “why don’t you go screw yourself, Moore,”
    “What?”
    “You heard me, I’ll not set this ship to
chasing after one of our own…and especially not after hampering a
distress call. Those civilians’ lives are in our hands; mothers;
fathers, sons and daughters, and I’ll not be the one—”
    “All of them treacherous Finny swine as far
as I’m concerned, Mr.