Free Excelsior by Jasper T. Scott Page A

about who else we might have lost. The truth is, we don’t know, and without Lewis Station to act as a comm relay between us an Earth, we’re not likely to find out until we re-establish contact.
     
    “By now some of you have probably already figured out what’s going on, and since operational security is already blown, I’m free to tell you what Operation Alice is all about.
     
    “We’re busy traveling through a wormhole to an earth-type planet called Wonderland. In light of the recent conflict back on Earth our mission is more important than ever. We need to find out if Wonderland is really habitable, and report back to the Alliance with our findings so that we can establish a colony there before the Confederacy does.”
     
    Alexander let that news sink in before he went on. “If you have any questions about the mission specifics, please hold them until later. I’ll be issuing a proper mission brief before the next sleep cycle that should answer all of your questions.
     
    “But for the moment, we’re going to stop and honor our fallen brothers and sisters-in-arms by doing something unconventional. We’re going to celebrate their lives, not focus on their deaths. This is a wake, not a funeral. It’s a time to share memories of the deceased. We’ll have a few drinks, make a toast, and swap stories of the deceased. For the next four hours, we’re all officially off duty. Stone, Ryder, would you please see that everyone gets a drink?”
     
    Lieutenant Stone nodded and started toward the bar. Seth followed a few steps behind.
     
    “That’s all for now. Dismissed.”
     
    Hushed murmurs bubbled from the group as everyone dispersed back to couches and chairs. One man remained where he was. Alexander didn’t recognize him, but from his lack of insignia and overly genteel appearance, he could guess who it might be.
     
    “Can I help you, Mr. Ambassador?”
     
    “Your orders are to get to Wonderland with all possible speed, Captain,” the man said, approaching the bar like a snake slithering in for the kill.
     
    “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Alexander said, holding out a gloved hand.
     
    The ambassador shook hands with him. “Maximilian Carter, Ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary to the Alliance.”
     
    “Plenty-potenty-ary… That’s quite a mouthful, Max.” Korbin glanced sharply at him, and Alexander offered a brisk smile to cover his contempt.
     
    “Pleni-potentiary,” Maximilian corrected.
     
    “That’s what I said,” Alexander replied.
     
    “We’re on a strict timeline here, Captain. Now more than ever.”
     
    “A few hours downtime won’t make a lot of difference to our mission parameters, but it will to my crew’s morale.”
     
    Alexander felt someone tap him on the shoulder.
     
    “Here you are, sir.”
     
    He turned to see Lieutenant Stone holding out an acrylic tumbler full of Scotch. He accepted the drink with a nod of thanks and turned back to the ambassador. Alexander sat sipping away under Maximilian’s watchful blue gaze. The man’s wavy blond hair, long, aquiline nose, too-perfect face, and tall, trim figure gave him an aristocratic air. He was probably meant to look erudite and sophisticated to geners, but Alexander thought he looked pompous and disingenuous instead.
     
    “What if the Confederacy follows us to Wonderland?” Maximilian asked.
     
    “That’s a valid question. I have another one. What if a sea monster eats us?”
     
    “Your attitude will be noted in my report.”
     
    “Well, the truth is, Max, I don’t give a flying fuck what you write up in your report. I just lost five family members, and I have a paper-shuffling bureaucrat in my face, trying to tell me not to grieve for them. I’m sure you can understand how that might make me grumpy.”
     
    Maximilian scowled and walked away.
     
    “That’s tellin’ him, sir,” Seth said from behind the bar.
     
    Alexander drained his glass and turned to the bar.