Free Stars of Blood and Glory by Joe Vasicek Page A

wing of squat, ugly-looking gunboats made a slow pass around
the sleeker Rigelan cruisers.
    “ Colonel Webb’s shuttle has
docked,” said one of his officers. “Your orders, sir?”
    “ Direct him to the main briefing
room,” said Katsuichi. “I’ll meet him there shortly.”
    He turned and walked off of the bridge, Kenta
following close behind. As he palmed open the door, he couldn’t
help but notice that Kenta’s sword was partially drawn, with half
an inch or so of bare steel showing. He gave his bodyguard a
puzzled look, as if to ask what was the matter.
    “ I don’t trust him,” the old
samurai muttered. Katsuichi nodded and stepped out the
door.
    The windowless briefing room was directly
below the bridge, near the center of the ship. Decorated in the
same ancient style as the Imperial palace, it featured paneled
walls and an authentic wooden floor. The Imperial heirloom sword
sat in a glass display at the head of the room, before a giant
glass table ringed by almost two dozen plush leather chairs. A
holographic projector sat in the middle of the table, while display
screens in the walls listed the status and location of each Rigelan
flight group, with organizational charts showing the line of
command down to every fighter wing and gunboat. Except for the two
of them, the room was empty.
    Katsuichi walked over to the main doors
opposite the table, and waited in silence, taking advantage of the
brief moment to meditate. Footsteps sounded out in the corridor,
making Kenta grunt. He opened his eyes, and the doors hissed open,
revealing a man in an immaculate blue uniform flanked on either
side by junior officers.
    Colonel Webb was tall by Rigelan
standards—almost a full head taller than Katsuichi, though Kenta
was much larger overall. His features were rugged, his sharp chin
and square jawline only slightly softened by a few days worth of
brownish-blond scruff. His deep-set eyes were a dark blue, his
golden hair trimmed short with a well-groomed mustache just below
his nose. As his gaze fell on Katsuichi, his lips turned up in a
keen smile, and he bent at the waist in a polite bow, following it
with a sharp Federation salute.
    “ Your Imperial Highness,” said
Colonel Webb, speaking in Gaian. “I trust your voyage to the
rendezvous point was agreeable?”
    “ As much as is expedient in a
time of war,” said Katsuichi, returning the salute. “Please, have a
seat.”
    Colonel Webb followed him into the room and
sat opposite the head of the table, flanked on either side by his
junior officers. They said nothing, their faces dark and impassive.
From the way the colonel declined to introduce them, Katsuichi
assumed they were underlings performing their assigned duties.
    “ I’m familiar with the deployment
schedule and have read up on all the reports I could find,” said
Katsuichi, taking his place at the head of the table. “Of course, I
trust you have a clearer picture of the situation. What can you
tell me?”
    Colonel Webb frowned and looked down at his
lap, as if to apologize. The gesture made Katsuichi raise an
eyebrow.
    “ To be honest, Your Highness, our
forces were about to retreat before you came. Our position here is
too close to the Hameji to be tenable, and with Federation High
Command split the way it is, we’ve received no clear directive
other than to secure the battlefront stars.”
    “ No clear directive? Couldn’t
that be taken to mean that they wish to leave discretion to their
officers in the field?”
    “ It certainly could, Your
Highness,” said the colonel, his voice smooth and deferential.
“However, the fleet commanders in this sector are indecisive about
which course of action to take. Many of them are ambivalent about
the prospects of success, and advise taking a more, shall we say,
muted approach.”
    Katsuichi frowned. “But Eyn-Gatta is less
than five parsecs from New Vela,” he said. “If we can’t head off
the Hameji here, there’s nothing to stop them from