Star Keepers: The Captain

Star Keepers

Chapter Five: The Captain

by Paul Adams

The rest of Gavin’s shift went as normally as any other given day on any of Gavin’s previous ships. Once the prisoners had been squared away with the enemy ships in tow, Gavin sent Bardlun and Long Tail to speak with them and alert the Star Keeper Command, while Qarian and Geroff descended to the hold to inspect the drones and laser arrays after the battle. Gavin and Aghri personally got in touch with the local leadership of the attacked planet and assured them that everything would be alright.

Once everything to do with the mission had been dealt with, Aghri retired to his quarters, giving Gavin full command. The Witani looked so very like his uncle, Gavin’s last captain, with his golden eyes and reticent demeanor, that Gavin had a hard time reminding himself that he was the superior officer this time around. After another hour or two, Nikola the pilot handed off her controls to one of the ship’s auxiliary officers, a magenta-furred Mura whose small sleek body slipped comfortably into the grooves of the pilot’s chair, her unique quintuple-jointed hands allowing her to manipulate the steering mechanism in ways no Human ever could.

Finally, half an hour later, Garrison spun in his chair at the far end of the bridge. His screens went dark and his thick glasses lit up with smaller versions of those screens once again. He stood, straightening out his finely pressed uniform and pushing his glasses back up on his thin nose. He ran his hand through his dark, curly hair and said, with an air of a mere officer to his superior, “My shift is up, so I’m going to head to my quarters. I’ve already alerted the other auxiliary to come and take over.”

He ascended the bridge, passing the pilot on the way. As he neared Gavin however, he stopped and looked up at his captain. Through the bright images playing across his glasses, Gavin could see the blue eyes of his cousin James, studying him the way he would have back on Centauri IV whenever Gavin described the adventures he would have someday as a space captain. The computer officer was silent for a moment, his expression blank and unreadable, before he offered a brief “Welcome aboard, Captain” and left the bridge without another word.

“Thank you, Mr. Garrison,” Gavin replied quietly.

Two hours later, Qarian returned and Gavin handed off control of the bridge to her. After that Gavin made his rounds through the ship, inspecting the crew and important areas of the ship. First, Gavin visited the engine room, a massive area that took up the entire back half of the Arrowhead. A miniature sun roiled in the center of the room, encapsulated in a thick transparent globe of nearly impenetrable material, with tubes connecting to the sphere and directing the sun’s energy to the engines and other areas of the ship. Despite the measures taken to keep the engine room as cool and radiation-free as possible, the room always felt uncomfortably warm to Gavin. He remembered his days as an auxiliary officer aboard his first vessel, and being forced to spend entire shifts there helping the engineer. He was glad that he now only had to visit the engine room for brief periods every day.

The engineer, Mikoh Ras, was a Mura much like the auxiliary officer now piloting the ship, except with matted black-and-gray fur rather than magenta. While Gavin watched, he put his species’ special hands to good use, manipulating the machinery making up the room with masterful ease, as if he had been born to work with tools. Gavin found he also had a rather loud and abrasive personality, made apparent when he let Gavin know his displeasure at having had his assistant, the other auxiliary officer Garrison had summoned, called away to do some menial task like keeping the ship’s computer systems up and running.

Next Gavin visited the medical bay, a large room in the center of the ship, easily accessible from anywhere else a crew member might happen to be. One wall was lined with beds, the opposite lined with stasis pods. Both seemed small, but Gavin knew they functioned the same way as the seats on the bridge, able to expand and shape themselves to fit any body type. A third wall was lined with isolation chambers, while the fourth was a long straight wall of cabinets with screens displaying all manner of medical information across their faces. Each bed and stasis pod had a console built into the wall beside it from which medicine or information could be summoned if needed.

The doctor was one of the oldest creatures Gavin had ever met. He had a large, oval-shaped head with a beak and drooping eye stalks, heavy gray wings that didn’t look like they were capable of lifting him off the ground anymore, and thin, pale skin that showed way more of the doctor’s insides than Gavin wanted to see. The old doctor floated around the room on a large square platform, complete with holographic screen and table surface, that allowed him to set down next to any patient who needed his immediate attention.

Currently, the only patient was Geroff, the ship’s weapons officer, who sat on the edge of a bed in one corner, his fur smoking and his face and arms covered in burns, but with a wide smile on his face.

“What happened?” Gavin asked.

“Mr. Latil set off an explosion in his quarters,” the old doctor rasped in beak-variant Ubar. Gavin wasn’t as well-versed in beak-variant as he was in standard lip-variant Ubar, but he managed to translate after only a few seconds with little trouble. Maybe Long Tail had been rubbing off on him after all.

“Wh—Was he hurt?” Gavin asked. His gut reaction was to demand why he would have done such a thing, but he forced himself to remember his training and prioritize his questions.

“Don’t worry about me, Captain,” the weapons officer said simply, his smile broadening. Only now did Gavin realize that the officer had a lazy eye on the left side, which gave him a slightly unhinged look. “We Gyrowans have very thick skin. I’ve been through a lot bigger explosions than that in my time.”

Gavin breathed slowly, inhaling the fumed curling from the creature’s bristly fur. For a moment, he though he caught a whiff of mint mixed into the smoky odor. He moved on to his second question. “Why would you do this?”

“Because it was fun.”

Gavin looked to the doctor for clarification. The old medic sighed heavily and tapped his screen, pulling up the weapons officer’s medical records. “Officially, Lieutenant Latil is diagnosed as a pyromaniac. More specifically, he is obsessed with explosives. He has been known to . . . experiment in his free time.”

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “Why is he allowed service, then?”

“He falls just above the line, sir,” the doctor said. “While he shows little impulse control and an unhealthy obsession for explosive materials, he has rarely harmed a fellow crewmember or done significant damage to any given ship he is on.”

Geroff nodded so quickly, Gavin thought his head might wobble off. “I always make sure I’m the only one in the blast range. Unless they’re bad guys. I blow them up sometimes.” He grinned at Gavin, his lazy eye wandering to the doctor’s console. “Can I go back to my quarters now?”

Gavin bit his lip and looked at the doctor. “All of this is in his file?”

The doctor nodded. “His case has been brought to High Command several times, but he was allowed to remain in service due to his apparent self-control and his particular expertise in the field of, well, explosives.”

Gavin looked back at Geroff. The weapons officer was still wearing the same unhinged grin as before. The whole thing seemed a little fishy to him. He’d have to look into it. “You may leave when Doctor Gollie clears you,” Gavin said. He turned to said doctor. “Send me the information from all previous ships Lieutenant Latil has ever served aboard.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gavin turned to leave. “Bye, Captain!” he heard Geroff shout behind him.

Finally, Gavin’s shift ended and he returned to the solitude of his own quarters. Or rather, that’s what he would have done if he hadn’t found Long Tail there, lounging on his bed while watching a space race on the opposing wall.

“What’s up,” the little lizard said as he came in.

Gavin stared at him for a second. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. “What are you doing in here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing. Making sure my boy Maxes doesn’t let me down. I’ve got too many bets riding on him this season.”

Gavin shook his head. “First of all, as your captain, I’m not supposed to approve of gambling. Second of all, you’re not supposed to just hang out in your captain’s quarters like they’re your own.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Mine aren’t as nice as yours. Now, are you going to join me in the Maxes party, or are you going to stick with Ceriah like you always do.”

“She’s going to win this thing, you just watch.”

“Sure. You only support her because you’ve got a thing for her.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to change.”

“I don’t mind,” Long Tail shrugged.

Gavin tapped a point on the wall and swiped the air between him and Long Tail. A wall materialized between them, splitting the room into two. At first, the wall was little more than a trick of light, but after a few seconds, it developed the same solid consistency as the walls to which it connected. For a minute or so, Gavin simply leaned against the door, smiling to himself. He stared at his ancestors’ pictures lining the wall opposite him, ending with his father, staring back at him with his mane of wild, brown hair and cocky grin. I did it, he thought to himself. I got through my first day as captain. He studied each image in succession, hoping they would all be proud of him.

Gavin stood and stepped across to his closet. He slipped off his coat and slacks, hanging them up carefully on their hooks, placing his badge and insignia on the shelf nearby. He tapped at the wall behind his uniform, which opened and pulled the uniform inside to be washed and pressed. Tapping the wall a few inches to the left, a set of fresh casual clothing popped out, including a white denicotton shirt and a pair of black pants. Gavin quickly got them on and checked his reflection in the mirror. His blue eyes looked back at him from the same young face he had seen earlier that day, but for a second, Gavin thought he might look a bit more mature now. But maybe that was just wishful thinking. He glanced back at his father’s picture. The same blue eyes, but shining out from a lined and weathered face, the face of one who knew combat, one who knew how to be a leader.

Gavin tapped the wall, dispelling it into thin air once again and re-opening the room. Long Tail still lounged on the bed, but he had moved over several feet, leaving enough space for Gavin to lay however he wanted. Gavin flopped down beside the lizard, for the moment no longer captain and communications officer, but the best friends they’d always been.

“Maxes winning?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“How’s Ceriah doing?”

“Hit an asteroid two laps back.”

Gavin cursed. “Fine, put me in on Maxes.”

“Nope, too late. My offer has already expired. Try again next time.”

“Really?” Gavin asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Of course. You’re a captain now. I have no reason to go easy on you anymore. Besides, as a captain, you’re not supposed to approve of gambling.”

Gavin slumped back on the bed. He watched the screen on the opposite wall, as a pair of racers sped neck-and-neck through an asteroid belt. One of them bore the blue-and-silver markings of Maxes Maxone. The other bore black-and-red markings that Gavin didn’t recognize. “Which belt today?”

“Earth’s.”

“Really? We’re that far along in the season already?”

“Gavin, come on, you really need to pay more attention to these things if you want to stand any chance against me.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I’ve been a little busy lately. Has Ceriah won any so far?”

Long Tail flipped casually through a small pad of paper in front of him. “She came in third once.”

“Great. How much am I set back?”

“Only thirty yorei. I guess that’s one advantage to not paying enough attention. As for me, if my boy Maxes pulls through I can be looking forward to a nice seventy-three coming my way.”

Gavin watched the screen for a minute. The race was nearly over, and it looked like Maxes was pulling ahead of his opponent. “I guess there’s no point to keep watching. I should get on those reports.” He got up and crossed to his desk. He sat down and typed up his report for command. Once he was finished, he tapped the tabletop, which projected an image of the document into the air before him. He looked it over, proofreading it for errors, then grabbed it with his fingers. A row of contacts appeared around the document, showing every member of the ship’s crew, his family, and some of his contacts at the station and the academy. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying toward the face of Admiral McLustiff.

The document gone, the contact images in the air reshuffled themselves to fill up the space. Gavin leaned back in his chair and watched the swirling images bounce around each other for a moment. He studied the faces of his new crew. First officer Aghri’s golden eyes gleamed at him, his damaged ear visible in the image. Gavin briefly wondered how he had received the wound. Pilot Nikola’s green eyes brimmed with the same youthful excitement she had had on the bridge, and Long Tail still wore his wide grin. Combat officer Qarian’s gray eyes still had their same piercing quality, but her face seemed softer in the image. And of course, James Garrison still wore his thick-rimmed glasses, but no images danced across them, allowing his blue eyes to shine through, fixing Gavin with a gaze of calculating intelligence.

Gavin smiled slightly. He remembered back when he and James were children, laying out in the heath in front of his aunt Jelly’s inn on Centauri IV, picking out constellations like Skywalker and Enterprise, and talk about the adventures they would have someday when they were old enough. He remembered how James would try to explain to him the exact distance between each star and how none of them were really in the order they seemed to be, but Gavin with his ten-year-old mind didn’t care. He daydreamed about zipping from the stars making up the constellation’s fingers to the star at the end of its laser blade so fast, the energy from his ship’s turbines would light up the sword the way it was supposed to. Then he’d fantasize about exploring planets made from the heads of giant spacemen and fighting alien parasites that preyed on unsuspecting miners. James would just roll his eyes and tussle his little cousin’s hair, telling him he’d been watching too many old movies.

Gavin’s eyes wandered to the few images of his family floating around the circle. He wanted to talk to them. He wanted to tell them all about his first mission as a captain. He wanted, well, he wanted confirmation that they were proud of him. He wanted to know, for sure, that he had finally made it into their ranks. But his father, mother, and Uncle Tyler were all surely busy, and James wasn’t supposed to be related to him right now. He tapped on the image of a smiling blonde woman with a round face and blue eyes as clear as his own.

“Oh, Aunt Jelly,” Long Tail said, settling down gently on Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin noticed that the wall displaying the race had gone blank. “You think it’s about dinnertime back on Centauri? I could go for some of her famous flassberry bobcakes right now.”

Gavin blushed. “No,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking about her food.” Though now that Gavin thought about it, he could feel his mouth starting to water imagining all the meals Jelly used to serve back at the inn. “I just wanted to talk to her, that’s all. Um, what happened with the race?”

“Oh, that? Maxes lost. Smacked right into an asteroid half a kilo out from the goal. Better luck next race, I guess.”

Gavin smiled. “Sorry, buddy. Do you really need some bobcakes to cheer you up?”

“I do,” Long Tail said, hanging his scaly head.

Gavin tapped Aunt Jelly’s face again. The image expanded to fill the screen, and a faint buzzing sounded from the desk. After a few seconds, the still image was replaced by the actual smiling face of the woman it depicted. Her expression broke into a glittering smile when she saw her favorite nephew and boarder staring back at her. “Gavin,” she said. “I was just thinking about calling you. And Long Tail, taking care of yourself?”

Long Tail lifted his head, his whole demeanor brightening. “Yes, Aunt Jelly.”

Gavin smiled. Seeing her face always managed to lift a burden from his shoulders. “Hi, Aunt Jelly,” he said. The smell of his aunt’s signature mashed potatoes with gravy and jaffa fruit wafted up from vents on his desk, sensors there duplicating the smells filling Jelly’s kitchen on the other end. He sniffed the air hungrily. “You are making dinner right now,” he said.

Aunt Jelly raised an eyebrow mischievously. “Smell it, can you?” Her boys both nodded eagerly. She held up a plate of the food in question. “As I recall, Gavin, you used to look forward to this every Sunday.”

Gavin licked his lips. Every bit of the plate looked as perfect as he remembered it being. Jelly watched Gavin’s face as he stared at the food, passing the plate through the air in front of his nose just to tease him. Gavin leaned forward, closing his eyes and letting the aroma wash over him. Long Tail licked his lips. Then, she looked down at it curiously. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked.

“No,” Gavin said, acting natural. “Not yet. I was planning on going down to the mess hall later.”

“You know,” she said. “I have plenty for the guests right now. Would you like this plate?”

Gavin was sorely tempted. He watched a trickle of brown gravy ooze across a particularly large jaffa. He could almost taste their flavors mixing in his mouth right now. He forced himself to shake his head. “No,” he said. “No. You don’t have to do that, Aunt Jelly. The ship’s got food. Long Tail could use a bobcake, though.”

“Nonsense,” Aunt Jelly said. “No amount of ship’s food can compete with my cooking, and you’ve earned it. Your first day as captain, and you expect me to just let you eat ship food. Now, I’m going to send you this plate, and Long Tail’s bobcakes,” She grabbed a pair of light green pastries from somewhere nearby and placed them beside the potatoes, “and you’re going to like it.”

Gavin smiled. He just couldn’t say no. “Alright,” he said.

Aunt Jelly grinned. Long Tail bounced on Gavin’s shoulder as she placed the food on a console out of sight before her and tapped at the air. A few seconds later, a red light flashed on Gavin’s table, telling him he had a delivery. The smell was gone. Gavin reached down and pulled a small panel off the bottom of his desk, which glowed a faint pink. He held it up to show his aunt. “Thanks, Aunt Jelly.”

“Mmm,” Long Tail said, grabbing the panel out of Gavin’s hand and rubbing it against his stomach.

Aunt Jelly smiled. “Now, your cousin tells me that you’ve completed your first mission as captain today.”

Gavin rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

“Well, honey,” she said, “That’s a big deal. You’re finally out there doing what you’ve always wanted. The whole family’s so proud.”

“Yeah,” Gavin blushed, smiling even wider. “How is everybody? Grandpa, Mom, Dad?”

“Oh, they’re all fine, sweetie. Grandpa’s just gone to bed. Getting a bit old, you know. But he was just tickled as a baby Cheqin when James told us. Your dad might see you at the station sometime. He’s there overseeing some change in protocol. Your mom’s on a reconnaissance mission to Raijou, but she’ll be back soon. And Uncle Tyler’s with your—”

“With my dad,” Gavin finished. Uncle Tyler had been Gavin’s father’s best friend in the academy and had served as his first officer in the war. Even to this day, they were nearly inseparable, almost as inseparable as Gavin himself and Long Tail. The only person who seemed capable of getting the two apart was Jelly herself.

“They’re both so proud of you, Gavin,” Aunt Jelly said.

Gavin smiled. “Yeah, I know,” he said.

Aunt Jelly glanced to her left for a second. “I have to go,” she said. “My tenants are getting hungry. Enjoy your food. I’m so proud of you both.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gavin said. “See you.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, Aunt Jelly,” Long Tail said. “Thanks for the food.”

The image disappeared, leaving the room darker in its absence. Long Tail held up the small square panel in his claws. “Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “I can taste them now. Come on, let’s get down to the mess hall.” He held it up to his nose, sniffing it as if he could still smell it. Gavin tapped at his table to check the time. About right for dinner. Gavin was about to get to his feet when he notice a flashing red dot in one corner of the display.

“Hang on, Long Tail,” Gavin said. “Looks like we’ve got an assignment.”

Gavin tapped the dot and it brought up a breaking news item with an attached itinerary from High Command. Apparently, a city had been attacked on a planet a few systems over. Whatever it was seemed to be boasting serious firepower and had blown a hole in the city walls, killing one civilian. Authorities feared it had come from off-world, though they had detected nothing in the area. Judging by the map, Gavin figured it would take about a day to get to the planet from here. He tapped the itinerary and forwarded it to the auxiliary officer currently piloting the ship so that she could set a course.

“Guess we have something to do tomorrow,” he said to Long Tail. He eyed the panel Long Tail held. “In the meantime, I’m in the mood for some potatoes.”

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Star Keepers: A Legacy Among the Stars

Star Keepers

Chapter One: A Legacy Among the Stars

by Paul Adams

A panorama of millions of tiny stars glimmered through the large plexiglass window. Some were red giants, others white dwarves. A few were single suns, while still others were whole galaxies. Some millions of lightyears away, and some only a few. Quasars. Pulsars. In the upper right-hand corner of the window, a red one was no star at all, but a planet in the same solar system. A sea of wonders and adventure just ripe to be explored, but from behind the window, nothing more than a long black sheet sprinkled with tiny, uniform white specks.

Gavin closed his eyes. Composed. Professional, he told himself. He turned away from the window to finish putting on his uniform. Picking up his coat, he took special care not to wrinkle the silver fabric. A shiny red captain’s insignia glistened on the left lapel. He slipped one arm through the left sleeve, then the other through the right. As he buttoned the coat, he felt something crumple in the right breast pocket. He stopped and removed a small folded piece of paper, opening it and scanning the first few lines.

Dear Sir,

You are hereby promoted to the rank of Captain and are assigned command of the Starship Arrowhead, to protect and serve the peoples of the United Worlds, and to keep the peace as a member of the Star Keeper Corps, in accordance with . . .

Gavin carefully folded up the paper and placed it on his bookshelf next to his old Academy textbooks and his grandfather’s copies of Ender’s Game and Foundation. He finished buttoning his coat, and checked his reflection in the mirror. Clear blue eyes stared back at him from a youthful face that didn’t look like it quite fit the captain’s insignia below it. His dark brown hair was cropped short, as per military standard, and his chin was meticulously clean-shaven. His long nose gave him a bit of a noble look, but Gavin feared it wasn’t enough to counter the young look in his eyes. He took a deep breath and brushed at his uniform, smoothing out every slightest wrinkle he could find. The arms and legs were delicately creased, and not a piece of lint could be found, but still Gavin pored over it, doing everything he could to make sure he looked perfect.

Finally, only one piece of his ensemble remained. He picked up his nameplate off of the table, staring up at the row of pictures lining the nearby wall. Eleven people stared back at him, smiling for the camera and showing off their awards and accolades. At the far end, three individuals in astronaut suits posed against a backdrop of Earth’s moon, the man in the middle staring back at Gavin with clear blue eyes. The gold plate at his chest read Kent. Beside his picture, another man with dark brown hair shook hands with an alien, his chest proudly displaying Kent as well.

The portraits continued down the line. A stately woman with a long nose holding a treaty. A man in a star pilot’s uniform handing food to a starving alien child. Another woman with blue eyes laying the cornerstone for a new colony on Centauri IV. All named Kent. Gavin stood before the last two pictures, the first a portrait of an aged man with a long nose dressed up in the regalia of an admiral. Beside him was a picture of Orion Kent, the man with the shaggy, brown hair who had saved Aghri and his family twenty years before, being awarded the Galactic Medal of Honor. Both stared back at Gavin with stern, noble looks.

Gavin puffed out his chest and tried to keep his posture as straight as possible. “I will make you proud,” he promised them. He looked down to see that he was twirling his nameplate between his fingers the same way he used to do with his pens just before a big test at the academy. He stopped, holding the plate still. Grasping it with two fingers on each side, he held it up to the light. The nameplate was small, about an inch wide and three inches long, made of solid gold. Four letters gleamed in the light, delicately engraved in the plate’s surface.

KENT.

The steel door across from the window glowed blue and emitted a shrill beep. Gavin closed his eyes. “Composed,” he said. He pinned the nameplate to his coat, then turned and crossed to the door, waving his hand across it. The blue light dissipated and the gray steel turned translucent, revealing the hallway beyond. A yellow lizard hung in midair, his tail spinning above his body like a propeller, keeping him aloft. The lizard wore a broad smile across his face and was waving at the door like a fool. Long Tail, the ship’s communications officer.

Gavin suppressed a smile and waved his hand again, restoring the door’s solidity. He took a deep breath, checking his uniform one more time and straightening his posture. With a tap of his finger, the door slid open, revealing Long Tail once again.

“Good morning, Gavin,” the lizard said, his smile getting, if possible, even wider. “Ready for your big day?”

 “Long Tail,” he said, trying to maintain the air of a captain. “Is it time?”

The lizard pretended to check his wrist. “Somewhere around there. Coming?”

Gavin responded with a curt nod. “Let’s go,” he said. He stepped out into the hall. Tiny claws pressed into Gavin’s uniform as Long Tail perched on his shoulder, giving his tail a rest and letting it hang across Gavin’s other shoulder. “So, captain of your own ship, huh? How do I get one of those?”

“First off,” Gavin said, “by not riding your superior’s shoulders in public.” He shifted his shoulder, trying to shake the lizard off. Long Tail’s grip proved unshakeable.

Long Tail shook his head and sighed. “You think you know a guy. Ride his shoulder all through the academy and across two ships, then he becomes a big-time captain and suddenly that shoulder is hallowed ground.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Seriously, though. You need to get off before we get to the bridge.”

They turned a corner, and walked down a bright, stainless steel corridor ending in a clear cylindrical tube. Long Tail continued to ride Gavin’s shoulder all the way up to Gavin stopping before the tube and pressing his hand against the glass. “Captains aren’t supposed to walk around with their communication officers on their shoulders,” Gavin said. “You’re going to get me demoted to auxiliary officer.”

Long Tail adjusted himself on Gavin’s shoulder, looking perfectly comfortable. “Nah. You don’t have the skills for that job.”

A smaller glass cylinder slid into the tube before them, and the glass slid open. Gavin stepped inside and said “Bridge.” The glass slid shut and the lift shot upward.

“So,” Long Tail said. “Anyone fun joining us on board the ship this time?”

“How do you define fun?” Gavin asked.

Long Tail thought about it for a second. “Well, on the one hand,” Long Tail said, “I’d like someone I can hang with, you know. But on the other hand, I feel my shipboard experience would never be complete without some stuff-shirted stickler for rules that I can drive up the wall with various shenanigans.”

“You do realize that as captain, I cannot condone any ‘shenanigans.’”

“Well, yeah, but I know you too well. You’ll stick to the rules for a while, but you’ll crack eventually.”

Gavin rubbed his forehead. He tried to shake off Long Tail again, but the lizard still clung as if nothing happened. “Like I said. Demoted to auxiliary. That’s my fate.”

Long Tail picked a piece of lint off his own uniform and wiped it on Gavin’s. “Well, on the bright side, maybe they’ll make me captain to replace you.”

A square of light appeared at the top of the lift and it slowed to a stop. Gavin and Long Tail could see the bridge laid out before them. Before the glass slid open, Long Tail said “this is our stop,” and leaped off Gavin’s shoulder.

Gavin glanced at him, rolling his newly freed shoulder. “You’re not going to ride me onto the bridge, then?”

Long Tail smiled. “Nah,” he said. “We’ve got to have some level of decorum, right? Good luck in there, Captain.” Long Tail spun his tail and floated out onto the bridge. “Alright, look alive, everybody,” he said. “The captain is on the bridge. The captain is on the bridge.”

Gavin closed his eyes, and he collected his thoughts one more time. He straightened his posture and checked his uniform. With one last breath, he stepped out onto the bridge.

The bridge was a triangular room of cold gray metal, descending from the lift down five levels, like steps. On the bottom level, a man with dark, curly hair worked at five computer consoles, keeping the inner systems of the ship running. Between the third and fourth level down, a round white platform rose from the floor where the pilot sat at her console. Two more white platforms were built into alcoves on either side of the third level. Long Tail took his position in the alcove to the right, while the ship’s weapons officer stood in the opposite alcove. Two more officers, the combat and cultural officers respectively, sat facing the lift from the second level down, and Gavin’s first officer Aghri stood waiting beside the lift at the top.

“Captain,” the first officer said. The officer was tall, at least a head or two above Gavin, and he wore a similar silver uniform. His head sat atop a long thin neck like a balloon on a string, and his face jutted forward like a monkey’s. His pointed ears twitched and shifted, bristling against his forest of thick, quill-like hair, the right ear torn and ragged with scar tissue. Gavin forced himself not to stare at it. The first officer straightened out his long, clawed fingers and placed his hand vertically against his chest in salute, bowing slightly. “We await your command.”

Gavin nodded. “Thank you, Commander,” he said. He looked down at the officers now under his command. Six sets of eyes stared back. He couldn’t help but notice that many of them looked far more experienced than he. The combat officer studied him with her cold gray eyes, her gaze piercing right through him as if she could see his every inward doubt. The cultural officer’s watery gaze was more supportive and sympathetic, but still tinged with a shade of wariness. Aghri’s golden eyes remained flat, betraying no emotion at all. The computer officer had finally turned around, gazing up at Gavin through thick-rimmed glasses that displayed the images that had once been on his console screens. If Gavin squinted, he could just see the blue eyes of his cousin, James Garrison, forcing himself not to show any particular emotion. Gavin and James had talked briefly after they had both received their assignment, both agreeing that it was best that they remain professional during their service together. Gavin followed his lead and broke his gaze.

 Only the pilot gazed up at him with bright green eyes filled with hope and excitement. She looked about as young as Gavin himself, her face that of a fresh recruit just out of the academy, eager to receive her first orders from her first captain. Gavin sighed. Why couldn’t they all be like her, he wondered. That would make this all so much easier.

A large window took up most of the front wall and ceiling of the bridge, opening to the stars beyond the ship. A large purple planet hung in the upper right-hand corner of the window. A golden-green spaceship made up of three circular segments hovered in the center of their view. Gavin recognized the design. Woraugenn. The alien race his father had fought so many years ago. Gavin was tempted to smile at the thought of them being his first opponent.

“Report,” he told Aghri. “What’s the situation?”

“The ship appeared in the planet’s atmosphere thirty-three hours ago, Captain,” the first officer replied. “Our sensors detect a second ship in the area, a few lengths to our right.”

“Any signs of hostility,” Gavin said.

“None yet.”

Gavin stepped out to the edge of the first level. An octagonal platform rose out of the floor as he passed, providing him a seat. He sat and the metal reshaped itself to the contours of his body. He leaned forward, studying the enemy spacecraft. He’d been in potential combat situation, but never before as the highest voice of command. He remembered a situation with his last captain, who he had served under as first officer. A group of terrorists had been holding a freighter hostage. That captain had been able to bring the situation to a peaceful conclusion through his expert use of his combat and cultural officers. “The Star Keepers are a peacekeeping organization first and foremost,” he had told Gavin. “Always assess the situation before rushing headlong into battle. Seek a peaceful solution if possible.”

“Are we seeing a breach of treaty?” Gavin asked the combat and cultural officers. “Could they be peaceful?”

The two officers looked at each other. The combat officer, Qarian Neru, looked almost like a human, with curly brown hair and a spray of freckles across her nose. Her features were finer though, and her skin had a faint glow to it. Her cold gray eyes watched the enemy ship with the cunning of a fox. Beside her, the cultural officer Bardlun scrolled through a holographic display of notecards on Woraugenn culture, his thick meaty claws brushing gently at the images. His grotesquely obese frame weighed down on his seat, immense rolls of fat drooping over the sides. His canine jowls fluttered in and out as he breathed.

“Most likely not peaceful,” Qarian said. “Woraugenns rarely are.”

“It may not be a breach of treaty, though,” Bardlun said, his deep voice reverberating through the bridge. “Many splinter groups were displeased with the treaty. It could simply be one of them stirring up trouble.”

“Or it could be pirates,” the pilot suggested. Gavin glanced up at her to see her green eyes gleam, as though the prospect excited her.

“Or maybe it’s some rebellious Woraugenn teenagers,” Long Tail said. “Took their parents’ warship out for a joyride.”

The pilot blushed and looked down. Gavin forced down a smile again.

“It could be pirates,” Bardlun conceded.

Gavin thought for a minute. Nothing about this appeared anything more than a run-of-the-mill peacekeeping assignment. One alien group overstepping their bounds toward another alien group. So, standard protocol then. Gavin almost felt a little disappointed. He ran through the procedure in his mind. The procedure he’d watched a hundred times under two captains. Have the cultural officer contact them, negotiate with them, talk them down. If they prove hostile or indolent, send it to the combat officer and let her force them to leave.

“Alright,” Gavin said, pointing to Bardlun. “Ambassador, you’re up first. Find out what they’re here for.”

Gavin waited, watching for either officer’s reaction, nervousness growing in his chest as the young academy student inside him toyed with the possibility that he might have made a bad call. The two officers looked at each other and nodded. “Yes, captain,” Bardlun said and spun his seat around to face Long Tail. “Open a channel,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Long Tail replied, tapping his console. A cylinder of light lit around the platform he stood on. Gavin let out his breath, relief as the pressure that came with beginning his first command started to evaporate. Long Tail tapped at the holograms around him with his tiny claws. “Star Keeper Corps vessel 192463, contacting unidentified Woraugenn vessel. Do you read me?”

A square image appeared on the surface of the cylinder. A hideous green face oozing with slime and baring thin pointed teeth scowled at Long Tail, its eyestalks leering down at the small lizard. Gavin stared at the face, remembering the pictures and videos of his father’s war, the images in his textbooks. His heart thumped with momentary excitement as he remembered all the stories he’d grown up with, all the stories of his father’s heroism. Beside him, Aghri made an odd, swallowing noise in the back of his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, Gavin saw the first officer’s hand grasp at the damaged flesh of his right ear. The Woraugenn opened its mouth and spoke in a garbled, phlegm-filled language that Gavin couldn’t understand.

“Language and dialect?” Bardlun said.

Long Tail shifted his eyes past the Woraugenn image to focus on Bardlun. “Sounds like Glyx,” he said. “Eastern Cave dialect.”

Bardlun rubbed at his blubbery chin. He tapped the notecards in front of him. They expanded and stuck themselves on the side of Long Tail’s cylinder, displaying the information. Bardlun flipped through them, stopping on one card reading “Glycene Cultural Branch.” Gavin could read several shorthand details on the basic customs of the overall group, with charts on the differences between various subgroups. Bardlun’s watery eyes scanned the notes for barely a second before brushing the notes away with a wave of his heavy arm. “Does he speak Ubar?” the cultural officer asked Long Tail.

Long Tail repeated the question for the Woraugenn. “No,” Long Tail said. “He does not.”

Bardlun turned to Gavin. “Full room mode?” he asked.

Gavin nodded. “Alright,” he said.

Bardlun turned back to Long Tail. “You’ll need to translate, Long Tail.”

“Yes, sir.” Long Tail tapped a command into his cylinder. The light emitting from the platform below him expanded outward, wrapping around Bardlun and forming a large white circle taking up a fourth of the bridge. The edge of the light came up almost to the tips of Gavin’s shoes. Within the circle, Bardlun sat in a flat empty plane. Sitting across from him, the full body of the Woraugenn soldier sat in Long Tail’s position. When Gavin squinted, he could see Long Tail still floating beneath the Woraugenn’s image, as if the Woraugenn were a transparent second skin. The Woraugenn’s tongue flicked out, slithering over its dripping teeth. Its thick, muscular arms clenched at its side, much of its bulk covered in rubbery black armor.

Bardlun met the Woraugenn’s eyes, touching his claw to his left shoulder and sliding it across his chest. “Good hunting,” he said, his deep voice carrying an edge of force to it. “I am Ambassador Bardlun of Pindar Volga, cultural officer of the starship Arrowhead.” He placed his palms together before him. “May we dine?”

The Woraugenn smiled, and mirrored Bardlun’s gestures. He said something in his own language. A second later, Long Tail’s voice translated. “We shall.” The Woraugenn’s hands clenched as if crushing something between them.

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