Fall of the Terran Empire - Traci Ganner series book 1

Fall of the Terran Empire - Ch 3

 “I’m glad to see you alive, Commander,” said Captain McKenzie, looking into the comm screen linking him to the Corsair bridge. Traci Ganner looked back at him and raised one hand. “Captain, we need to meet. Would you be so kind as to join me on the Corsair?” she said without preamble.

“I’ll bring my first officer, Charles Cavanaugh,” McKenzie said as he studied her face for a clue to this breach of protocol. It was tradition that any meeting that took place between two starship commanders did so on board the vessel of the senior officer, the exception being a starship inspection. Junior officers always jumped through hoops at the whim of their seniors. Traci Ganner held his eyes a few heartbeats longer and said as calmly as she could, “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party.”

Captain McKenzie was putting his cup of coffee back in his armrest cup holder when he heard that turn of phrase. It was an old phrase, an anachronism used only to test a new computer typing sys­tem. It had very little meaning outside of that context, except to Michael McKenzie. His hand froze only for a second as he settled the cup on the armrest. His executive officer noticed the reaction immediately and looked up at his captain. McKenzie forced a smile.

“A little unorthodox, Commander,” he stated, more for his crew than for Traci. He looked down at his coffee cup to make sure he had settled it without dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor. He looked back up at his view screen and said, “I suspect you have a very interesting pirate tale indeed.” Then he closed the channel.

Cavanaugh was fully alert now. Officers that serve together long enough learn to note the small mannerisms of their shipmates. From his viewpoint, Captain McKenzie might have swallowed a live octopus.

“Very well,” Cavanaugh heard his captain say. “Commander Cavanaugh, you have the watch.”

“Aye, aye, sir, I have the watch,” he acknowledged automatically. Something was not right here, but he couldn’t be certain of what it was. Could it be that the captain had a relationship with Commander Ganner and they needed to be alone as part of a romantic interlude? That didn’t add up; she could have made the trip to the War Hammer just as easily if that were the case. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was going to keep his eyes and ears open.

* * *

His shuttle pilot completed the final approach, and the shuttle shivered as Corsair gently wrapped a tractor beam around it, aligning it with her brilliantly lit shuttle bay, then settled it into the landing cradle. The cradle clanged softly as the capture collar mated to the shuttle’s docking port and lowered it down into the floor of the bay. The shuttle shuddered lightly as it reached the bottom of the elevator and the large hull doors slid shut overhead. A few moments later, the atmosphere light glowed green.

Captain McKenzie stepped out of the craft in front of the tall lieutenant at the head of the side party and returned his salute.

“Permission to come aboard?” McKenzie asked.

“Permission granted, Captain.” The lieutenant dropped the salute, then ex­tended his hand. “Stafford Swanson, Corsair’s exec. We met once on Altair Five.” His voice was deep and resonant, his clasp firm.

“Yes, Lieutenant, I remember. You were part of the cargo crew for the merchant service there.”

“Yes, sir. I’m surprised you remember,” Swanson said. “If you’ll accompany me, sir,” Swanson continued after a brief pause, “the commander is waiting in briefing room one.”

“After you.” He gestured for Swanson to lead the way, and the two of them walked through the side party to the waiting elevator. “Care to clue me in on what is going on?” McKenzie said on the way to the briefing room.