Dead Reckoning - Chapter Three

Major Sheli Chowdhury
From her journal
5 October

It has been said that a Marine's life is composed of long hours of boredom followed immediately by moments of sheer terror. Lately my life had taken on too much of the boredom and not nearly enough of the terror. I knew myself well enough to know that I lived for the excitement. I had hoped that this assignment would have some stimulating elements involved. I knew that there was a leak on the ship or in the program support staff and I suspected that they had already killed once. I was intrigued by Captain's offer to find the mole. There wasn't much that would make me give up my position as commander of Gamma Company of the Elite Corps Marines. EC command had been my goal since early in my career. It had not been easy to walk away with the drop commandos halfway through their incursion training, but a personal request from Captain William Brighton had drawn me back into Fleet Security. Any request from Brighton would always receive the same response from me. I owe that man.

When I met Captain at the transfer station he had briefed me on the situation and his suspicions. Currently, there seemed to be more suspicions than hard facts. I had been aboard for two weeks now, and was pretty sure that I had isolated the leak, information-wise at least. Having set up over a dozen different information screens and computer algorithms monitoring all traffic, as well as intra-ship communication. One of the privileges afforded to a Marine Elite Corps Major, who happened to be the security officer of a top secret project ship, was that I had access to just about every byte of data that moved around on Pathfinder. Now, it was time to track it back to a person. I continued to review logs and visual sensor data when there was a knock on the door. I grabbed my uniform tunic from the hook behind my desk and slid it on.

The WSMC uniform was a thing of beauty that emanated the deadly violence Marines were known for. Jet black with slashes of crimson across the chest and back and the blood stripes down the left leg to remind an officer that their blood was for the Corps to spend if need be. Rank insignias on both sides of the collar in gold or silver, depending on the rank.

Usually, in a combat unit, the right shoulder would have the tabs of the unit insignia in the same crimson red. This tab was to remind the Marine that the unit came before self, that your blood was your unit's blood, and that the units' collective blood was the Corps'. A Marine in fleet security had no insignia, to remind them that everyone else came first in every situation. Marines take security very seriously, as there is no other security on any Warner Space Naval vessel. It was a uniform designed to impress and intimidate. As a member of the WSM Elite Corp, my right shoulder tab held a gold sunburst with crimson chasing. The Elite Corps was the best of the best. The regular corps had a standing joke about the EC. The joke went that the sunburst chased with crimson was a warning to those around an EC. Mess with this Marine, and the middle of a supernova was a better place to hang out. From the EC's perspective the best part was that it wasn't a joke.

I straightened my tunic and added my best 'security officer' scowl and opened the door ready to intimidate. Lt. Commander Leung recoiled slightly as the door slid open so either the uniform or the scowl was working. She looked slightly nervous.

"Er, …I found this while going through some logs," Leung said handing a datachip to me. I sat down in my desk chair.

I said nothing as I loaded the chip and pulled the diagnostic up on my vid screen. I never took my eyes off of Leung, but Leung was focused on what was coming up on the screen, for all outward appearances agitated and probably a little afraid. It must be the scowl, I decided.

"See, here, this string, that is non-Warner encryption. I ran it against my engineering database to see if it recognized the family string of the algorithm base. It didn't. That means it isn't one of the friendly Families either, meaning there is no single commissioned piece of equipment on Pathfinder that should be capable of producing it."

"I am aware of the significance of this, Lt. Commander. You were right to bring this to me," I said absently as I looked more closely at it and focused a little less on Leung. What I didn't say was that I had just seen this encryption pattern. This was a different message than the others, though, and maybe there would be more clues as to the identity of the leak. "Who else have you spoken with about this," I asked curtly. No sense in relying too heavily on the scowl, I thought.

"No one. When I saw it, I backed out of the diagnostic and sealed it off so that no one else who came across it would see any trace of its discovery, and I came straight to you. I had my standard security training about a year ago at the beginning of this project, and that was as close to protocol as I could remember," Leung responded absently as she stared intently at the vid screen data load. Leung was now following multiple strands of code on the screen.

"There!" Leung yelled pointing to a small section of log string. "That's an emanation code from a relay switch. That encrypted message must have gone from there."

"Indeed," I said as I saw the case about to break. Leung had turned quickly to look at me. I was busy pulling up vid files and calling up other sub-routines to search security footage around the access areas at an interval around the timestamp.

Got you, I thought. Leung jumped. Maybe I said it out loud. I stood and grabbed her arm.

"You will wait right here. Do not attempt to com anyone or to leave. I will be back presently. If all goes well, I will make sure that Captain Brighton knows that it was you who helped me find a leak in Pathfinder's security. Sit down, get comfortable, have a drink, I don't care, but don't leave this room. Is that clear, Lt. Commander Leung?"

"Well… yes Major, but I don't think it is necessary to--"

"I do," I cut her off quietly but firmly.

"Yes, Major. I will be here waiting for you," Leung said, sitting down in the chair at the vid screen.

"Good," I said as I quickly keyed in codes that blanked the screen, activated the security monitoring of the office and dumped everything to the datachip that Leung had brought with her. I pulled the chip and went out the door.

xxxxx

"You rang, Major?" Aichele said quietly as he and Jill Burton came around the corner to meet me in the hallway outside the bridge. I nodded at them and was happy to see both already had weapons drawn and formed up on the door.

"Yeah, Gunny, I did. There's an LT sitting at Com in here that has been leaking info to one of the other Families," I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the bridge door. "I talked to the captain to tell him we were arresting one of his officers. Captain just went on the bridge, so he's keeping an eye on him for us. Let's move."

We went through the door quickly and smoothly. Training took over and I noticed every single person on the bridge as I quickly inventoried, threat-assessed, and dismissed them all. Eric Aichele moved around the far left side of the bridge while Burton moved quickly down the right side. Both of them swept the bridge with weapons as they moved into position. I had my sidearm out, but not raised. "Lt. Rex Jhonsruud," I said loud enough that the noise of the bridge evaporated, "you are under arrest for suspicion of treason to the Warner Family Space Navy. Stand and place your hands behind your head. Everyone else, sit down at your duty stations until we finish here."

Lt. Jhonsruud went white in his seat and he started to stammer that he was outraged. He looked to the captain and to Commander Teach, where he saw no sympathy. Teach did sound upset, though, but I couldn't spare him a glance. He had stood when we entered the bridge and was apparently angry at our presence. I motioned with my weapon that Rex had better stand up. He did, slowly bringing his hands up behind his head. I moved in to place wrist locks on him, holstering my sidearm as I went behind him while pulling the wrist locks out.

Without warning, Jhonsruud spun and lashed out at me. Rex was a big man, young and strong. However, he was far from the fastest man that I had ever dealt with. As quickly as he had spun on me, it wasn't quickly enough. I grabbed his leading hand and twisted it as I pulled him to the ground. He found himself on the floor with a dislocated shoulder for his efforts. His scream of pain was chilling to those on the bridge.

Burton and I escorted him out, an arm locked under each shoulder as his wrists were bound behind his back. His left shoulder, the side I chose, was out of its socket and looked grotesque as Aichele followed us off the bridge.

"Captain, was this necessary?" Teach hissed under his breath to Brighton as the doors closed behind us.

Dead Reckoning - Chapter Two

Admiral Conrad Cosina

From his personal journal

19 September

The orders I had received from my direct superior were explicit in requiring me to be inventive in reaching the company's objectives. That left me with a great deal of latitude in how I went about it. Most times it is much easier meeting stringent guidelines than finding a solution without any boundaries. Still, it was what it was, and I was determined that I would not only succeed, but do so in a way that no one could anticipate. Well, no one was likely to expect me to move ahead with phase three while phase two was less than halfway to completion.

That was the reason that I was walking down the metallic corridors of the Warner Naval Academy at 0015 hours. It had been a short jump to the school in high earth orbit, and no one but the duty officer knew of my arrival. That was about to change.

I knocked solidly on the door marked, 'VAdm Franks, C. W., Commandant', and waited for a response.

"Well, I'll be…" she said, abruptly changing gears from the scolding she had prepared for the cadet that didn't know better than to wake the old lady.

"Not exactly the response I was going for, Commandant, but I guess it will do," I rejoined.

"I apologize, Admiral, I meant no offense, I just didn't expect…" Charlotte said, trying to adjust her mind to where this might be headed. She had never worked directly with me, though of course we had met a number of times.

"Actually, Commandant, that is exactly why I am here. Do you mind if we speak inside?" I asked. I could see that she had not yet retired for the evening, as I had expected.

"Certainly, Admiral. Please come in."

Once we were seated, I got right to the point. "There are two things that I need to ask of you, both quite possibly are equally important to the future of the Warner Family," I said quickly.

"You will have my full support with anything I can be of help with, of course," Charlotte replied. Again, I had expected this response. I don't like dealing with unknown quantities, and I had scrutinized her record before deciding to proceed.

"First, there is a project we have been working on for quite some time. We are going to require some talented junior officers soon. What I want to do is screen for your five top graduates both from this semester and the next. Obviously, GPA and duty fitness exams will account for a lot of our evaluation, but I want you to interview each one on three separate occasions, with different officers in attendance each time, to make sure this is someone we want involved in a critical project. You may allow the students to know that there is a special posting to which the five best will go if you think it will help you," I allowed, "but no other information about the project may be given."

"That shouldn't be too hard, Admiral, we have a pretty fine crop of graduates this year," she said while taking some quick notes, "I will need some of the specifics sent to me on any special talents or criteria we are looking for, though."

"No," I said flatly. She stopped writing and stared at me. "When I said no information that was exactly what I meant. I want the ten graduating ensigns most fit for any type of duty from the next two classes, based on your assessment. I cannot allow any information about this project to become known, even that which might be inferred from my requirements."

"I understand, Admiral," she said courteously, though she clearly didn't.

"Thank you, Commandant. I also have another mission for you personally. I would like you to be my contact officer for another special project. It would mean you would be in communication exclusively with me and Gerry Warner about it, and no one else. I trust you will have a lot of questions, but I have to ask you to hold them until I have made security arrangements. Can I count on your absolute discretion?" I raised my eyebrow to indicate the question needed to be answered.

"Of course, Admiral. If almost twenty years of combat operations taught me anything, it taught me patience. I can wait until you are ready to ask the hundreds of questions on my mind," she responded with a small smile.

"Thank you, Commandant. I'll let you get some sleep now," I said, rising. I had a calm feeling as the interview concluded that I had selected the right person for this job.

xxxxx

The next morning, I entered the familiar office of Gerry Warner. He motioned me to take a seat as he finished a vocom call. I chose my accustomed wooden chair in the center of the semicircle of chairs facing the large antique desk.

"Okay, so what's your plan, Conrad," he said simply, standing and stretching. I didn't take it as a sign of unconcern, but a sign of comfort in working with me that he could be less formal than he was with other subordinates.

"Gerry, I think it's time we hedge our bets," I answered simply.

Warner gave me a patient look, waiting for the rest of the explanation. When I remained silent he asked, "Is there more to this plan, or is that all I get?"

"For now, Gerry, I'd like to keep the details where I know they can't be leaked." I tapped my temple to indicate my secure data storage arrangements. "I want to have complete autonomy to make it work. I don't want anyone to know what I am up to, so I will be working this from the front, if that is all right with you."

"All right," he agreed much more readily than I expected. "I assume that your idea is sufficiently outside the proverbial box that no one else would think of it?" Warner asked.

"I don't know, but I don't think so. I am going to go on a goodwill tour of some facilities and ships. I will be out of the Sol system for most of the next eighteen months," I said, smiling.

Gerry Warner looked at me for a while before responding. "You got me. I don't think that I expected that. If you can turn that into hedging our bet on the Argo project, I am all for it. We have too much tied up in this not to take every chance at success. If this project fails, we will have ten, maybe fifteen years before the Family is taken over by one of our competitors. Make it happen, and let me know personally if there is anything else you need. How are you handling communications, by the way?"

"I don't want anything coming directly here. I will be in contact with an officer in this system that no one would expect, and you will be receiving an increased number of personal letters from your niece containing a datachip. Standard Cosina encryption, your eyes only," I said, smiling at our private joke about 'your eyes only,' since standard Cosina encryption had an ocular biometric algorithm that would only decrypt for Gerry Warner's or my retinal eye scan. "I will leave in the morning."

"Good luck Conrad, and good hunting," Gerry said as I stood.

Reading, Writing, and How They’re Connected

"Reading is the best way to learn to write well. Read as much as you can." - Lois Lowry

If you’re going to write, you want to do it well. What’s the point, otherwise? Fortunately, it’s an easy topic to study, because textbooks are everywhere. Just hop on down to your local paperback exchange, and pick up a cheap copy of the best use of the English language imaginable.

That’s right, if you’re going to write, you need to spend a good deal of time reading as well. It’s how you know what works on a page and what doesn’t. When your protagonist is stuck and you want the reader to feel what he or she is going through, think back to some of your favorite reads, ones where you felt connected to the characters. How did that author do it? What words on the page touched your heart, or ignited your mind, or made your eyes well up?

“Writers do not read for fun.” – John Irving

Since I started writing, I’ve found that I read differently than I used to. It’s not enough anymore to simply be entertained; I need to understand why I found it entertaining, or boring, or exciting. I look more carefully at how sentences and paragraphs and chapters are put together. I am more aware now of the crafting that goes into this craft.

It’s been quite a while since I picked up a book just to enjoy it. The Gathering Storm is sitting on my desk waiting for me to crack its pages, but then it’s been a while since I read any Robert Jordan and enjoyed it, so that’s not a fair example. My problem with Robert Jordan is this: he doesn’t get to the point. More on that in a bit.

"To be able to write one good Book on some Subjects, a man must have been at the trouble to read an hundred." - Robert Boyle (1627-1691)

I participate in two book groups, both of which draw liberally from classic literature. Two books a month is a pretty ambitious pace, if you have a real life besides, anyway. It is a pace I can’t always keep up, but I have definitely expanded the number of great authors to whose works I have been exposed. I have marveled at Dumas’ plot structure in The Count of Monte Cristo. I have learned bits and pieces of how to portray human flaws from William Shakespeare. Jane Austen showed me how to write vibrant characters. J. R. R. Tolkien, George Eliot, and Louis L’Amour have all taught me that protagonists don’t have to be complex to be heroic. My list could easily expand to fifty or a hundred books that have taught me something, but you get the point, I’m sure.

Reading great books gives you a pattern of greatness that you can use in your own work. It is almost inevitable that your writing will emulate that of the writers you admire most. After all, why would you write a book you wouldn’t enjoy reading?

"There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts." - Charles Dickens

The other extreme is also a distinct possibility, however, when you start spreading out the blanket of topics and authors you peruse. More than likely, you’ll find yourself reading through some work and you’ll say to yourself, “I wouldn’t have written it that way,” or, “Why does she take three pages to get to the point?” or even just, “Yuck.”

A couple of months ago I read Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. All three of those thoughts crossed my mind. More than once. Now don’t get me wrong, taken as a whole it is a remarkable work, told in an intriguing manner. But I would have done it differently. A lot of that, I am sure comes from the fact that the book was more about propounding her views of economics and morality, and lack of same, than it was about telling a great story for the sake of the story. The more I found my own views diverging from hers, the less I enjoyed the book.

“If you have an important point to make, don't try to be subtle or clever. Use a pile driver. Hit the point once. Then come back and hit it again. Then hit it a third time--a tremendous whack.” - Sir Winston Churchill

As an example, near the end of the book (p. 923 in my version) the leader of a group of industrialists co-opts all the radios in the country to make a speech to explain the logic of his position. His position, of course, has been well documented for the reader in the 922 previous pages. Yet, Ms. Rand takes the next 57 pages to lay it all out yet again. I have heard it said that any philosophy that can be summed up in a nutshell belongs there, but, honestly, fifty-seven pages? I wouldn’t have written it that way, myself, because I found the reading of it so distasteful. Not because I disagreed with everything, or even most of, what was said, but rather because she wouldn’t just get to the point.

“I could go on if you’d like.” – Monty Python

I could go on if you’d like, but I think you get my point.

Dead Reckoning - Chapter One

Captain William Brighton

From his memoirs, "A Renewed Hope"

13-18 September

I stopped at the door and mentally went through my personal checklist. I straightened my grey uniform jacket and was caught momentarily off guard by the color. Even after ten months in command of the heavy cruiser CFS Redoubt, I would have been much more comfortable wearing my WSN uniform. In spite of the black and crimson piping that designated a Warner Space Navy officer posted to a ship within the Earth Forces Combined Fleet, the gray cloth seemed incongruous to me as I prepared to enter the office of Admiral Conrad Cosina, head of Research and Development for the Warner Space Navy. When my mental list was complete and everything was in order, I tucked my soft uniform cap under my belt and knocked twice, sharply, on the wooden doorframe.

"Come."

I quickly strode into the office and came to attention before the center of the desk and saluted. "Captain Brighton, reporting as ordered, sir."

Admiral Cosina looked up from the report he had been studying and crisply returned the salute. "Have a seat," he said indicating the chair to the left of the large desk. I sat rigidly on the front edge of the chair and waited for the man I had served with twice, and who had three years ago recommended me to the Board for promotion to captain.

"Thanks for coming in so quickly, William," Cosina said. "We need to pull you off Redoubt," he continued without any preamble. "A situation has arisen that will need your special talents. I need you to take command of Pathfinder. She is a prototype exploration/survey ship that is nearly ready to begin final testing. You will be taking over command from Edward Teach, who will stay on board as your executive officer. He has been Acting CO since the death of Captain Vanderjagt, three weeks ago."

I was astonished at this unexpected news. I had never heard of the Warner Navy pulling an officer out of the mandatory Combined Fleet duty for reassignment. "Admiral, I'm sure you realize that I have fourteen months left on my commitment to Combined Fleet. We will have a stiff penalty if you pull me out early," the statement came out before I could stop myself.

"Yes, the two officers have already received their orders," he said, as if complying with the 'two for one' provision of the Combined Fleet Charter was an inconsequential afterthought.

"I certainly would not want to second guess the Board, sir, but isn't this a lot of effort for something that could be accomplished much more simply? What about Commander Teach? Wasn't he in line for the command?" I asked. "He certainly has the seniority for it."

Cosina studied me a moment before answering. "Normally, yes," he said finally, "he would be in line for the slot, but there are some very special security conditions that call for us to stay away from 'normal' solutions. Therefore, we went completely outside the project for the new CO. Will there be a problem working with Teach?" he asked after a slight pause. "I would prefer not to move anyone out of the project until its completion, for security reasons again, but if leaving him in place after he has been in command will cause problems..."

"No sir, absolutely not. I have worked closely with him in the past, and I will have no problems working with Commander Teach."

"Good. Now let me outline Project Argo for you," he began. "The project is designed to create a ship that is capable of creating its own jump gate independent of any external jump gate generators. The implications are obvious to you, I'm sure. This is the first step in developing a true Jumpship, capable of jumping from any point to any other. Also, as a side benefit, any ship with this technology will be able to bypass the normal tariffs that are imposed at jump points. As near as we have been able to determine, no other Families have been able to duplicate our power system and the balancing needed to make the system work. That said, it appears that we may have a leak feeding this information to one of the other Families." He continued on that topic for some time, outlining what was known, along with his fears and suspicions.

"What we need from you are two things. First, we need you to carry the prototype through to production. Finish the testing, work out all the bugs. Second, we need you to plug the leak and make sure that it stays plugged. Can you do that, Captain?"

"Can I assume that I can count on whatever support I need?" I asked.

"Absolutely."

"Then I feel confident that I can accomplish both goals. I would like to request Major Sheli Chowdhury be assigned to replace the security commander that was lost. I understand that she is fairly senior to head up a security detachment that small, but there is no one better and certainly no one whom I would trust more."

"That can be arranged," Cosina replied after only a slight hesitation. "I should have thought of her myself after that Humboldt mess. You two have a fairly tight bond there. Anything else?"

"Not that comes immediately to mind, sir, but I'll notify you if that changes."

"Very well, I'll cut Major Chowdhury's orders this afternoon and the two of you can meet up with our courier at Hugo Station and head out to Pathfinder.

I could tell a dismissal when I heard one, so I rose to my feet and saluted.

Cosina returned the salute and I departed through the door and out into the corridor. Cosina could have selected any captain in the fleet for this assignment, yet he had singled me out. He had gone to great lengths to do so, and I determined then and there to prove that he had chosen the right man for the job.

xxxxx

I straightened at the knock on the door of the office I had appropriated for my use since arriving at Hugo Station in the Betre System. I had been engrossed in the schematics of the power system of my new command. This was my fifth command and I had developed a routine that I followed with any new vessel. I was working on the third step of that routine, which called for the memorization of all the systems and sub-systems. This was done in the same way that all tasks should be done, thoroughly and methodically. Nothing was left out. Before I step on board a new command it is my duty to know more about the ship than any other single individual serving there.

I knew who must be at the door, and the proper appearance would be expected of me. I stood and crossed to the coat rack in the corner of the room and took my uniform tunic from the hanger, smiling to myself as the black tunic with crimson front and back panels now startled me as much as the CF gray had done earlier. I donned the jacket and finished buttoning the second row of buttons all the way to the shoulder before calling, "Enter."

The door opened quickly and a tall, muscular, dark-haired Marine officer entered crisply. She took two graceful steps to the front of my desk and gave a salute that would have been appropriate on any parade ground in the fleet academy. It struck me again that she always seemed to prowl rather than walk. "Major Chowdhury reporting for duty, sir."

"At ease, Major. Please sit," I said, motioning to the chair in front of the desk. This was the opening volley in an ongoing game that had developed in the seven years that we had known each other. I had purposely put her into a situation that she disliked, seating her with her back to the only door. I watched as she settled into a waiting game with me. Earlier that day, I had set her chair carefully so that it was a few centimeters from giving her a view of the door in the reflection from the glass of a picture behind my desk no matter how she moved. As she sat, I resumed my own seat and moved the printouts and data disks from the center of the desk into a stack at the left edge. As I looked across the now pristine desk at the officer in her Marine Dress Blacks, I realized that this had been a tactical error. I began the briefing, making no comment on the fact that the chair had somehow moved those few centimeters without the slightest sound while my head was turned. She wins another round, I thought. But then, she always does. Eight minutes had been my best effort, but that had been years ago, early in the game.

As was our custom, I made no mention of the game. "Welcome to Project Argo, Major. I know that you have had very little information on what you are stepping into, so I will give you a rough outline. Pathfinder is the prototype ship designed as a testbed to prove that ships can create their own jump gates without the massive fixed generators that are currently necessary. As you can imagine, with any project this important, the security has been very tight. Up until a few weeks ago, it was believed that the security was unbroken, but Captain Vanderjagt was on his way to Earth with his security chief to discuss something that he had found when his shuttle was destroyed and they were killed. Security has almost certainly been compromised. I would like you to take over the remaining security detachment and unearth our mole. We have a shuttle set to depart at 0800 tomorrow morning. Here is everything that I have on the security arrangements and possible threats," I said, handing her the appropriate data folio. "Collect anything that you think you may need and meet me at docking bay six at 0745."

"Yes, sir," she said, collecting the folio. "And, by the way, sir, it's good to see you again." She gave me a mocking bow and a slight grin lit her dusky face as she turned to go.

"And you as well," I murmured. I was certain I had the right woman for the job.

xxxxx

The three day trip out to Pathfinder was uneventful. Sheli had ample time to study the folio I had given her. The lack of any windows or viewports in the courier shuttle gave her little opportunity for anything else. She recognized my need to concentrate as I studied datafolios. She knew from past experience that I would be useless until I had completed these self-imposed tasks, and did not seek to interrupt. We spent some time at meals discussing possible scenarios and strategies we might employ. The courier crew left us completely to ourselves.

"Docking in thirty minutes," the annunciator called. These were the first words we had heard from the crew in two days. The courier crew handled the connection with the ease of a crew long used to ship-to-ship docking. Within minutes of the appointed time, the hatch opened and Major Chowdhury and I made our way through the hard passageway and into Pathfinder.

Considering the welcome I had anticipated, the scene before me was far from ideal. The crew was not lined up at attention with shining faces showing eager anticipation of their first glimpse of their new commanding officer. In fact, Commander Teach and Lt. Commander Leung would have been the sum total of the greeting party, if the shocked looks on their faces did not make it clear that they were not there to welcome anyone.

Anger boiled inside me at this unprofessionalism. "Attention to orders," I bellowed. Those crewmen who were just beginning to relax came immediately back to attention. "By order of the Department of Human Resources for the Warner Board of Directors, I, William Brighton, do hereby assume command of the Armed Survey Ship Pathfinder, hull number WNC-628."

In the silence, I surveyed the assembled crew. Pathfinder was designed for a crew of eighty. Presently, there were only forty-six on board, apart from the two of us just arriving. Of those, there were only about fifteen in the boat bay. All of the faces showed various levels of surprise. Most were glancing toward Teach, as if waiting to follow his lead. Teach now had a look of consternation on his face.

"We were not expecting a new commanding officer, sir," he said with only the slightest hint of emotion in his voice. "Am I to be relieved, then?"

"No, of course not, you will continue to serve as the Executive Officer," I said with pleasure, then, lowering my voice, I added, "It is great to see you again, Edward."

"And you as well," Teach mumbled.

"Would you care for a tour of the ship?" Commander Leung said into the ensuing silence.

"Not just yet," I replied, and moved toward the aft bulkhead. I felt the slight lurch that signaled the courier boat disengaging and moving off. When I reached the control panel mounted on the aft bulkhead, I reached up and pushed two buttons in quick succession. The second button started a strident, undulating, atonal siren. Chowdhury jumped slightly as if she had not expected the noise, a point for me in our game, but she immediately glanced at her chrono. Leung and Teach both stood rooted to the spot where they had stood. Leung seemed to recover first.

"What are you doing, Captain? That is the evacuation alarm," she shouted over the noise.

I said nothing, merely noting the time on my own chrono and settled in to wait. The assembled crewmen looked uncertainly from me to the engineer and then the XO. They were torn between the ingrained need to enter the lifeboats and their knowledge that I had manually set off the alarm and was making no move to evacuate the ship. Training won out in the end and they headed for the lifeboats at a run.

Thirty-five minutes later, I addressed the assembled officers and crew. "Twenty-seven minutes from alarm to completion is absolutely not acceptable. There is nowhere on this ship that is more than four minutes from this boat bay. That is the acceptable limit of time that I will allow you.

"There are many issues on this ship. All will benefit from proper discipline and training. I understand that many of you are new to your jobs and in some cases creating those jobs from scratch. That is no excuse for laxity. Laxity in space can get you and your shipmates killed. That is not an option!"

Turning to the communications officer in the front rank, I said, "Lt. Rex Jhonsruud, how often do you download message traffic from the beacon?"

"Every twelve hours, sir."

"And how long does it take you to decode and get that information to your commanding officer?"

"Well, sir, normally that can be accomplished in two hours but we have been running a heavy load, so the times vary."

"Tell me, if you can, what is the decode time limit on a Fleet Priority message?"

"Sir, by regulation a Fleet Priority message must be decoded and in the hands of the commander within fifteen minutes of receipt. All other traffic is bumped to the bottom of the queue and all available personnel are to be assigned to the decode," he answered as if reading from the pertinent regulation.

"Given those numbers, Lieutenant, can you explain why a Fleet Priority message that was sent to this ship thirty-four hours ago has still not been seen by her commander?"

"Sir, I have not seen any FPM's in our traffic."

"Then I suspect that one of three things has occurred. Either you are incompetent and did not recognize the priority when you saw it, you purposely deleted it from the queue when it arrived, or you were too lazy to check the downloads as they came in. Which is it, Lieutenant?"

The lieutenant wisely avoided the question which had no correct answer and simply said, "I have not found any FPM's in our traffic. If I had, I would certainly have alerted Capt…er…Commander Teach."

"We shall see, Lieutenant," I said in a quiet voice, then raising the volume called, "Sergeant Aichele," turning to address the Marine in his jet black class B uniform. "Why was there no security team in the boat bay while the courier boat was unloading passengers?" The Marine turned red under the scrutiny. "This is a flagrant violation of SOP. Major Chowdhury, I am extremely disappointed in the readiness of your section." Aichele turned his attention to his new superior and any flush on his cheeks was replaced by a ghostly pallor as he took in her expression.

"No excuse, sir. It won't happen again, sir," she responded, never taking her eyes from her team.

"Very well." I knew without doubt that it would not.

"I expect nothing short of perfection from this crew. Don't disappoint me."

I waited several seconds for these words to sink in. "Dismissed," I called finally and strode out of the boat bay amid the silence.

Dead Reckoning - Prologue

"Captain Vanderjagt is dead."

Admiral Conrad Cosina slapped a data folder down on the mahogany desk to punctuate the momentous statement. The tall, broad-shouldered admiral continued past the desk to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared out at the sharp points of light visible only from space. Stars on Earth are fuzzy, Cosina thought incongruously.
Of the four Families which claimed ownership of all extraterrestrial properties, only the Warner Family had made the move to locate their head offices away from the planet surface. The other three, along with the thirteen Families that owned nothing beyond Earth, worked from a position far below them.

The man behind the desk looked up sharply at the intrusion, but did not respond immediately. Gerald Warner headed the fourth largest corporate government on Earth, or off it, as the case was. He presided over more than seven billion citizens, negotiated trade agreements in the trillions on a weekly basis, and had organized the expansion of humanity to fifteen other worlds. It was his habit not to speak without thinking, and so he remained silent. His weathered hands opened the folio and he began absorbing the information within.

"Was it an accident?" he finally asked, his eyes never leaving the report.

"I don't know for certain yet," came the heated response, "but I doubt it. If I can find evidence it wasn't, someone is going to wish they had never been born."

"If it wasn't an accident, then we have bigger problems than avenging a murdered friend." The words were cold, but the look he gave the admiral when he turned was anything but. There was pain written in the CEO's face, pain and loss both. They could not overpower who and what he was, though. He was a Warner, and the Family came first, always.

"There's only one reason Chris would have become a target. If someone did arrange his accident, then the secret has gotten out somehow."

"I realize that, Gerry, but there's more." Cosina strode across the plush carpeting to the desk and lowered himself into one of the carved wooden chairs that sat facing it. "Chris and his security officer, Lt. Sepulveda, were coming to have a face-to-face meeting with me over a recent security issue. He wouldn't be more specific in his message. I think that someone on the project is feeding information to one of the other Families. That's the most likely conclusion given what has happened, anyway. If the leak figured out that someone was onto him, he could have gotten word out to his contact and arranged the 'accident'. Chris' shuttle was on final approach when there was a problem. The shuttle lost altitude too quickly, and crashed on the landing strip."

Warner took his eyes off the report finally and transferred them to his head of military research and development. "Vanderjagt's team has been sealed since the beginning, correct?"

"Yes. We have quietly shut down all requests to transfer out, and no one knew of Project Argo to ask to be transferred in. The information couldn't have gotten out that way. Outgoing communications from the team are all monitored. There's no traffic in the Minoa system. We've been careful, but obviously not careful enough."

Anger and self-recrimination filled Cosina for a moment. He quickly rejected the latter as illogical and unhelpful, while harnessing the former to drive him forward.

Cosina was a military officer, and he had seen more than his share of deaths. That this death hit very close to him personally did not keep him from being focused on his duty, and the objectives he was ordered to seek. This was not the first time that someone under his command had died, and he had learned that mourning could be postponed until immediate threats had been handled.

"What do you want me to do, Gerry?"

"I'll have Thom and his team investigate these deaths. I want you to let him work without looking over his shoulder. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir." he agreed with a casualness that implied to Gerry that he was still going to monitor the investigation, just not allow himself to be caught at it. That was enough for Warner, so he did not comment on what he knew he couldn't change. If the admiral was circumspect, he wouldn't be interfering, now would he?

"As for Project Argo, what would be the most logical response?"

"Turn the project over to Commander Teach, Chris' XO," he ticked items off on his fingers, obviously having outlined a proposal ahead of time. "Turn security over to Sgt. Aichele and add to his team. Shut Argo down until the leak can be found. Move operations to the back-up location."

"Conrad, this is your project and you can run it any way you want. I will not tell you what to do, but I will tell you that I don't want you to do any of those four things."

Cosina stiffened in his chair. "Why not, if I might ask?"

"Don't get your feathers ruffled, Conrad. I am not telling you that this was poor thinking on your part, because it wasn't. You are absolutely right, that is the most reasonable response to our current situation. That's why I want you to find a different response.

"There are several reasons that Chris might have been killed, if the secret is out. Because of his earlier message, covering up someone's identity or activities is the most likely. Still, it might have been done to try to set up a situation desirable to whoever is responsible. Our best response is going to be the one the other side didn't anticipate."

Cosina frowned, shuffling ideas around, testing their potential effectiveness in his mind. "All right," he finally said. "I'll have a new proposal for you tomorrow morning."

He rose and left quickly, his mind already forging a new list of things to do. He barely noticed Warner calling Thom Marshall to arrange a meeting.

Dead Reckoning - Preface

Many historians are wont to point out Gerald Warner’s dramatic address to the Families Ruling Council on 22 October, 2787 as the beginning of the Second Interstellar War. History texts never fail to quote him as saying, “I hereby declare that a state of war exists between the Warner Family and all other Families which will not support it in maintaining its guaranteed rights of life, liberty, and property. The Forrest and DaGama Families have violated those rights without provocation, and I will see them punished, so help me, God!”

Lost to most observers were the smaller actions that eventually triggered the grander themes we are all familiar with.

This work is the story of where things actually began, told in the words of those who were there. Admiral Brighton and Doctor Ward have both published their memoirs, and the author has drawn from them extensively,
but not exclusively. Other witnesses have also left behind journals, media interviews, and official reports to further document what transpired. Some editing has been done to allow for a narrative flow, but this has been kept to a minimum and no actual facts have been distorted thereby.

The opposite viewpoint in this tale was not so well documented, and much of what is included in these sections are the extrapolation of known facts to cover what was not known, and cannot now be discovered. These items are told in a neutral voice to distinguish them from the accounts of the participants.

Without further delay, then, this is what happened.

About this blog...

Well this blog has been a long time in coming. Thanks to those of you who have been patient. To those of you who have not been patient, "I said I'd get it done, Aunt Evelyn, didn't I? Sheesh." This blog was more Jeff's idea than mine, but as with all of our joint projects, the tasks get handed out to whomever is handy, and creating the blog fell to me. Fear not, though. The actual blogging will be distributed more evenly.

By way of introduction, I'm Craig, the fourth of the seven Cs. My brothers Jeff (#2) and Jared (#7) and I have been working together for the last three years writing a series of science-fiction books. Our first, Dead Reckoning, has been published. You can look it up here if you want a copy. Book two, Day of Reckoning, has been written and polished and we are shopping it around for a publisher. Of course, there exists the distinct possibility that it will need yet another rewrite before it is suitable for publication. We'll see. Book three, Final Reckoning, is being written at our usual snail's pace.

The idea behind doing a blog (which I will again attribute to Jeff, the brains of this outfit) was to give us a way to interact with our readers more directly and to elicit feedback on our writing. At this point, we'd like to post one or two chapters every week and ask for a critique from interested parties. If you like the story, subscribe to the blog; there'll be more coming every week.

We'll also blog about things of interest to us, which is likely to revolve around writing, since that's the topic all three of us share. That won't be the sum total, however. With three bloggers living different lives you're likely to see everything from sports to politics to elementary education. Someday, I may discuss how it's possible to remain civil to that older brother that thought it was funny that you had a scab on the end of your nose for a month after he forced you to push a penny from one end of the house to the other with your nose. Who knows?

Anyway, welcome all! Pull up a comfy chair and settle in for a gripping story. (If I do say so myself.)