When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) (3 page)

             
Tim...Tim...Tim...

             
Raymond isolated the track and played it again, his stomach tightening into a knot
.“
Okay,
I’
m no expert on traffic codes, but
I’
ve never heard anything like that
.”
He turned to face his supervisor
.“
What should we do
?
”

             
She chewed on her lower lip, furrowing her brow
.“I’
ll call the Director. Maybe he knows something we do
n’
t
.
”

             
Raymond swallowed, his mouth suddenly parched
.“
Do you think...is it Mars
?
”

             
“No
,”
she said with some certainty
.“
Tha
t’
s been done for ten years
.”
She tilted the monitor, inspecting the text with a sudden intensity
.“
If anything, this seems to be extra-solar
.
”

             
He nodded, but the anxiety did
n’
t ebb a bit. Raymond grabbed a bottle of water from his desk and gulped it down, his hands shaking
.“
And if this is an invasion? Are we safe here
?
”

             
His supervisor did
n’
t answer at first. She walked to her station and picked up a phone, dialing in her code and waiting for an operator on the other side. Her normally stoic face was etched with lines and a shade paler
.“
If this is an invasion, nowhere is safe
.
”

*              *              *              *              *             

              Fort Yonkers had
n’
t been built for Fleet. That much Commodore Hiro Osaka knew. Grown from the skeleton of the first lunar colony, the sprawling base lacked the facilities and equipment to properly care for anything larger than a six-man Griffin. The complexities of a Terran carrier seemed to baffle the gaggle of civilian engineers that pored over the flagship like ants on a picnic. Two weeks into the refit and they were already a month behind schedule. The fifty-year-old officer had walked the halls of his ship only hours before and had been horrified by the disastrous mess left behind. Cables hung down from the overhead panels and entire sections of the walls were missing, exposing the innards of the vessel.

             
As the commander of Carrier Battle Group Sol, Hiro oversaw a flotilla of the most advanced ships in the Terran Fleet. But even without the support craft, Hiro had the Alpha vessel.
Midway,
the Terran Flagship, was unlike any carrier before it. Designed during the final days of the Emigration War, she replaced the fallen TFC
Shiloh
. Fully three times as large, and holding eighty more fighting craft than her predecessor,
Midway
had become the unquestioned symbol of the Federat
e’
s supremacy in the dark skies. It was
n’
t hard to see why; unless one saw her in person, they never believed the stories of her size.

             
In recent years, even as newer ships-of-the-line flew out from the various yards over Titan and Phobos,
Midway
had remained a sentinel in Terran space. Her crew could populate a small town, or conquer a small moon. Though armed only with standard weaponry, the carrier was a match for any fighting vessel in the known universe. Hir
o’
s weapons officer lamented that they never installed some of the latest and greatest tools of destruction, but a forty-inch gun still packed a hell of a punch. With all of the grou
p’
s efforts combined, they could truly occupy a solar system.

             
Which made it all the more frustrating to have it sitting on the filthy, dust-choked surface of the moon while the former enemy of the Federate orbited 200 million kilometers away. Hiro looked out the small glass window next to him, imagining he could see the red planet. Such an unimaginable distance from the ground, but almost unbearably close to a military man. He took a final look at his prone and gutted berth before heading back down the hall. The civilians and soldiers he passed could
n’
t help but stare as the high-ranking officer walked by. His jet black uniform seemed weighed down by the sheer amount of badges and medallions and cords; and this was
n’
t even his dress uniform. With his closely cut gray hair and piercing blue eyes, Hiro was as recognizable a face on a military post as the High Chancellor himself.

             
He pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand holding a small phone to his ear. His jaw clenched and relaxed, and he tried to slow his breathing down to calmer levels.

             
“I do
n’
t care about the old plates
,”
he said. His voice was calm, but he felt the acid rising. 
 “
I ca
n’
t fly until you replace the port hanga
r’
s armor shielding
.”
Hiro paced back and forth in the hall, his eyes locked on a distant point of the Eart
h’
s surface. He so rarely got to see an Earthrise these days, and he could
n’
t even enjoy this one
.“
You have until I reach the OpCenter to have a better answer
.”
He hung up, lingering in place a moment longer to soak in the spectacle. For a moment he considered calling his daughter, maybe asking to speak to his grandson, but it was already late. With a sigh, he put his phone away.

             
The Commodore turned to walk toward the Operation Center and nearly collided with two young men running down the corridor. They stopped cold when they saw the golden star on Hir
o’
s collar, the scarlet S designator at the top point. Recognition hit the pilots at the same time as they realized who stood before them. Each snapped off a crisp salute, which the commander took a moment to reflect on before returning. The ranking officer walked around the two pilots, glaring as only a superior can. His perfectly polished shoes clacked on the tile with a satisfying echo.

             
“What unit are you with
?”
Hiro asked.

             
The taller of the two turned to speak. His charcoal gray dress uniform was neatly pressed, the array of medals gleaming. Silver pilot wings crested his lapels with a large A in the background
.“
Sector Patrol, Wolf Squadron, sir
.”
His friend, a head shorter with dark and unruly hair, grinned in agreement. Both men wore bronze badges on their left side underneath rows of ribbons: a fighter in front of an exploding star
.“
W
e’
re on our way to office
r’
s call
.
”

             
“With your unit crest on the wrong side
?
”

             
They both looked down. The shorter pilot cursed and began pulling pins from the golden shield and spear on his left breast pocket. The taller pilot laughed
.“
Are you serious
?
”

             
“I did this in the mirror. I got mixed up
.
”

             
“George, I am literally without words
.”
He helped his friend get sorted out, then returned to a position of attention.

             
Hiro could
n’
t help but laugh
.“
You can relax
.”
The tall pilot went to parade rest, his hands clasped tight behind his back.

             
“There
,”
George said, adjusting his medals and ribbons
.“
Is this better, sir
?
”

             
“It will do. But
I’
d reread the regs for dress uniforms in your free time. And spend a few hours on those shoes
.”
He saluted, signaling for the boys to run off. George immediately began speed-walking away, but the other remained a moment.

             
“Is that your ship, Commodore
?”
The young man pointed out the nearby window. From almost any area inside the post, the supercarrier could be seen. It blocked most of the view, not that there was all that much to miss. Just a sea of gray stretching to the horizon.

             
Hiro smiled
.“
Midway
has been my home for seven years now, but I can never claim her as my own. She belongs to the crew and the pilots, to the engineers who brought her to life. Though she does do what I ask. Most of the time
.”
He took a moment to take in the younger officer. The dirty blonde hair was a bit long for regulation, but one could
n’
t deny the man possessed a powerful bearing. There was something in his manner that Hiro found wholly likable
.“
What is your name, pilot
?
”

             
“Davis, sir. Cameron Davis
.”
He checked his cufflinks, wiping off a smudge with his thumb
.“
We sort of met before, sir, at my commissioning ceremony. You talked about the battle at Phobos, said it made you wish yo
u’
d been a pilot again
.
”

             
“I apologize. Did we speak then
?
”

             
“No. I was laid up in a chair in the back. My Dodo bricked out fifty yards from the deck. I was lucky; only sprained. They had me on so many meds, I slept through my pinning
.
”

             
“But you remembered my speech
?”
Hiro asked.

             
“Some things stick with you
.
”

             
Hiro looked at Camero
n’
s shoulders, noticing the silver bar on either side. He almost called him a Junior Grade, but he recalled that SP worked off the Army ranking system
.“
May I ask you a question, Lieutenant
?
”

             
“Of course, sir
.
”

             
Hiro stared out the window, fingers brushing against the cold glass. His breath fogged the view when he pressed his face closer
.“
Why SP? Why not Fleet
?
”

             
“I failed the health test
.
”

             
The Commodore could hardly believe that
.“
You look perfectly fine
.
”

             
Cameron tapped his chest
.“
Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Fancy way of saying I have a genetic disposition towards a bad heart. Fleet would
n’
t accept my packet without a letter from a doctor saying I would live forever
.
”

             
Hiro nodded. H
e’
d seen more than a few good soldiers turned away from service because of geneticism
.“
What does the disease do
?
”

             
“For now? Nothing. But, if the wrong things happen, my heart gets thicker and I ca
n’
t pump blood as well. Makes it hard to be a pilot
.”
He waved off the look the Commodore was wearing
.“
It does
n’
t bother me, sir. Sector took me, and they let me fly whatever I want. Besides,
I’
d never fit in with the active side. Too rigid
.
”

             
“Is that right
?
”

             
Cameron laughed
.“
Sorry, sir. No offense meant
.
”

             
“Well, Lieutenant Davis, yo
u’
d better make sure your wingman has
n’
t gotten lost on his way
.
”