them to be on guard. Sector Command has also dispatched as many vessels as we could to ward off any attack, but our number of ships in the nearby sectors is pretty sparse. I don’t think they’ll be able to hold off the Meltranians for very long.”
“What about the Rhea ?” Shawn asked.
“Due to the damage suffered during the battle with the Meltranians, the Rhea will remain on station here at Second Earth for the time being. A repair tender is on route to our coordinates and should arrive within the next thirty-six hours. After the major repairs are completed, we should be able to jump into the Damara Valala systems slightly ahead of the Meltranians, but we’ll still need more firepower.”
Melissa looked to her father expectantly. “Do you really think the Rugorians are going to help us?”
“It’s Ambassador McDermott’s job to make sure that they do. And it’s your job—both of yours—to make sure that he and Colonel Tausan get there safely.”
“Do I need to watch my back around him?” Shawn asked.
“Tausan follows orders, and has a knack for coming up with inventive solutions to problems,” William said. “I’ll be honest with you about one thing, though: the Colonel seems to have a chip on his shoulder about something.”
“Could you be more specific?” Melissa asked.
“He wasn’t overly pleased to be working directly with humans.”
“I’m not overly pleased to be working with him, either ,” Shawn retorted.
“I think it’s a little deeper than simple bigotry, Shawn. As I said, I can’t put my finger on it. Be cautious, be vigilant, but avoid unconcealed mistrust. Remember, the Unified government and the Kafaran Alliance are loose partners when it comes to defeating the Meltranians. They need us as much as we need them. Don’t forget that, and I want you to make it your personal responsibility to make sure our friend the Colonel remembers it as well.”
Something in William’s tone with how he ended his statement gave Shawn a smile. “Of course, sir.”
* * *
The doors leading into the Rhea ’s hangar bay opened to admit Shawn Kestrel into its depths. Catching the gleam of the overhead lights on the forward view ports of Sylvia’s Delight, Shawn exhaled a sigh of relief as he approached the old craft. Running his hands along the uneven hull plating of the Mark-IV, he felt an immediate sense of ease come over him.
As he rounded the stern, Shawn was glad to not only see the loading ramp folded down, but to see Trent Maddox hard at work. Despite Trent’s constant upkeep, D seemed to require more and more maintenance these days, and Shawn had to wonder how much longer the craft would remain spaceworthy. After all, there were only so many patches and shoestring repairs that one could perform on a craft that was constantly being asked to keep out the dangers of outer space. Shawn sighed heavily at the thought of ever retiring his faithful ship, and the noise seemed to draw Trent’s attention from what he was doing.
“What’s going on, Skipper?”
Shawn wrapped his hand around one of the cargo ramp struts. “It’s just that whenever I look at her, I start to feel out of place again.”
“I know the feeling,” the mechanic replied with a soft smile. “That’s one of the reasons I’m down here so often. Makes me think of the old days, you know.”
“Yeah.” The old days. About a million years ago. “Is she fit to fly?”
Trent nodded, then looked up at the ship lovingly. “As a fiddle, Skipper.”
“We’ll be taking on some passengers for the trip. I assume you got the manifest for the modifications?”
“If by passengers you mean that Kafaran, then yes. I installed that alien gizmo per specifications sent over by the Kafaran technicians.”
“That gizmo is his food processing unit. Kafaran s don’t eat the same things we do. Anyway, how did you
“What about the Rhea ?” Shawn asked.
“Due to the damage suffered during the battle with the Meltranians, the Rhea will remain on station here at Second Earth for the time being. A repair tender is on route to our coordinates and should arrive within the next thirty-six hours. After the major repairs are completed, we should be able to jump into the Damara Valala systems slightly ahead of the Meltranians, but we’ll still need more firepower.”
Melissa looked to her father expectantly. “Do you really think the Rugorians are going to help us?”
“It’s Ambassador McDermott’s job to make sure that they do. And it’s your job—both of yours—to make sure that he and Colonel Tausan get there safely.”
“Do I need to watch my back around him?” Shawn asked.
“Tausan follows orders, and has a knack for coming up with inventive solutions to problems,” William said. “I’ll be honest with you about one thing, though: the Colonel seems to have a chip on his shoulder about something.”
“Could you be more specific?” Melissa asked.
“He wasn’t overly pleased to be working directly with humans.”
“I’m not overly pleased to be working with him, either ,” Shawn retorted.
“I think it’s a little deeper than simple bigotry, Shawn. As I said, I can’t put my finger on it. Be cautious, be vigilant, but avoid unconcealed mistrust. Remember, the Unified government and the Kafaran Alliance are loose partners when it comes to defeating the Meltranians. They need us as much as we need them. Don’t forget that, and I want you to make it your personal responsibility to make sure our friend the Colonel remembers it as well.”
Something in William’s tone with how he ended his statement gave Shawn a smile. “Of course, sir.”
* * *
The doors leading into the Rhea ’s hangar bay opened to admit Shawn Kestrel into its depths. Catching the gleam of the overhead lights on the forward view ports of Sylvia’s Delight, Shawn exhaled a sigh of relief as he approached the old craft. Running his hands along the uneven hull plating of the Mark-IV, he felt an immediate sense of ease come over him.
As he rounded the stern, Shawn was glad to not only see the loading ramp folded down, but to see Trent Maddox hard at work. Despite Trent’s constant upkeep, D seemed to require more and more maintenance these days, and Shawn had to wonder how much longer the craft would remain spaceworthy. After all, there were only so many patches and shoestring repairs that one could perform on a craft that was constantly being asked to keep out the dangers of outer space. Shawn sighed heavily at the thought of ever retiring his faithful ship, and the noise seemed to draw Trent’s attention from what he was doing.
“What’s going on, Skipper?”
Shawn wrapped his hand around one of the cargo ramp struts. “It’s just that whenever I look at her, I start to feel out of place again.”
“I know the feeling,” the mechanic replied with a soft smile. “That’s one of the reasons I’m down here so often. Makes me think of the old days, you know.”
“Yeah.” The old days. About a million years ago. “Is she fit to fly?”
Trent nodded, then looked up at the ship lovingly. “As a fiddle, Skipper.”
“We’ll be taking on some passengers for the trip. I assume you got the manifest for the modifications?”
“If by passengers you mean that Kafaran, then yes. I installed that alien gizmo per specifications sent over by the Kafaran technicians.”
“That gizmo is his food processing unit. Kafaran s don’t eat the same things we do. Anyway, how did you
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