The Alpha Choice by M.D. Hall Page A

coach reddened to a shade brighter than their scarlet tunics.
    ‘You know each other, Dad?’ asked Genir.
    ‘Since we were boys, but that story can wait.’ He looked at Zaran and smiled, but Gorn noticed there was sadness in the man’s eyes. Turning back to the bemused youths, Jaron added, ‘I’ll wait outside until your coach has finished with you,’ and with that he left.
    Gorn was jolted back into the present, literally, when his friend nudged his arm and indicated the three adults ahead of them, who had just walked through the gate of the villa. ‘Dad’s talking to your mum, I reckon we’ve got minutes before we’re bombarded with dos and don’ts. Why can’t we just tell them we already know?’
    ‘Because,’ replied Gorn, ‘it would spoil it for them. It’s…I don’t know…custom, that wisdom is passed down from generation to generation on the eve of induction. He probably knew everything when your granddad told him, how many centuries ago?’
    Genir laughed so loud, the adults turned. Jaron smiled and asked. ‘What was so funny?’
    ‘Nothing!’ they replied in unison.
    Jaron, still smiling, nodded, giving Gorn the distinct impression he knew exactly what his son was laughing about.

Ω
    Once inside the Villa, Jaron moved into the sitting room, beckoning the others to follow. The two women seated themselves side by side on a settee, while he sank into his favourite chair, and looked at the two boys standing in front of him. ‘Well, sit down lads.’
    The friends did as they were told then, without warning, Ciarra stood and walked out of the room. Gorn and Genir looked at each other perplexed, but before anyone had an opportunity to say anything, she had returned carrying a small black folio case. Gorn noticed it was emblazoned on the front with the emblem of the Navy. Ciarra handed it to her husband.
    For a long moment Jaron simply looked at the case, as though debating whether to open it. Eventually, and with a long sigh, he undid the clasp and looking at the boys, said: ‘Tomorrow you embark on a journey. It’ll be one of the most important of your life, not an adventure, as some might tell you, it’s more than that. What you learn in the next few years might save not only your lives, but also the lives of the men and women who serve with you.’  
    Gorn had never seen Genir’s father like this, serious, sombre even and from the look on his friend’s face, neither had he.
    Without taking his eyes off the boys, Jaron opened the case, leaned forward and handed it to his son. Genir held it so both he and Gorn could see what it contained.
    What Gorn saw failed to register immediately, but when it did, his friend’s gasp mirrored his own feelings, he was stunned. The case contained a plain medal on one side and opposite, a letter from the Supreme Council, addressed to Jaron, which read:
    ‘In recognition of the actions of Commander Jaron when, during the encounter at Gallsor, and in the face of overwhelming enemy forces, he commanded his vessel, Starseeker, so as to save the lives, not only of his crew, but of all aboard her companion vessels Plasma Trail, and Nebula.
    We, the Supreme Council, confer upon Commander Jaron, the order of Nova.’
    Gorn looked, more closely, at the medal, a dull grey irregular disc with the simple words: ‘Commander Jaron, of the Cruiser: Starseeker’.  
    From what he had read, this was the greatest honour that could be accorded any serving member of the Navy. The official version of events at Gallsor was common knowledge, the award was not. From the point of view of youngsters such as Gorn and Genir there was no shortage of exciting stories of naval exploits, but there was no denying it, the encounter at Gallsor was the stuff of legend.  
    Jaron could see the look on their faces and, before speaking, glanced at both his wife and Cyrar, who both looked resolute. ‘What I'm about to tell you is known only to a few, outside of those who were directly