Star Storm

Chapter Four

A Job Well Done

The cold air hit Vuke's bare skin as he stepped out the shower and collected a towel from his private collection. Sighing as he wrapped the crisp fabric around his waist, he left the comfort of his grand bathroom to investigate the message his communicator had received.

Commanding a region had sounded easy when the Watch's council had proposed the job to him. They had made it seem as if he would have others working under him to deal with trivial tasks. But now Vuke carried the title of commander, he knew the Celestial Watch's finest had lied to him.

All the trivial tasks belonged to Vuke – and Vuke alone. Pesky messages from one ship to another, had to be signed by him before they could be sent, even if they contained worthless information. Cargo manifestoes had to be corrected and stamped with his insignia. And worse of all, his crew were too afraid to make any move themselves without his approval.

Before meeting the Governor, Vuke had considered getting himself demoted. Back when he had been captain of only one ship, Vuke had managed to find plenty of spare time for drinking, gambling and long, long showers. His crew, unafraid of their simple captain, had not been frightened of stepping out of line. They had not avoided meeting his eyes or sitting with him in the lunch hall.

Commander. Vuke snorted. It was the Celestial Watch's means of making their best officer's outcasts.

He checked his handheld communicator and dropped the device back onto the red sheets of his bed. The message was nothing important – they rarely were – but Vuke had been dragged from his quarters for lesser tasks. Leading a boarding party to a suspicious vessel for a cargo search was one of his more exciting duties.

Scowling, Vuke set about fixing his uniform. As much as he loathed his position, Vuke had worked to become a commander. Even if his uniform was slightly too tight for his liking; the cape too long, and the shoes too flat, he would ensure he wore the clothes finely.

He was overworked and underpaid, but at least announcing himself as Commander Vuke came with its advantages. There was a fine difference between his crew hiding in his shadow and having others scramble out of his path. Vuke had no need for the galaxy's low lives. Being commander ensured they stayed well out of his way.

The communicator made its cursed tone again as Vuke was stepping out of the door. He paused in the anteroom of his chambers and flicked the device open. The screen flashed white, an encrypted message dominating the display.

"About time," Vuke muttered. He read the Governors message on his way to his ship's head, not bothering to look from the screen to see his crew diving out of his path. The sound of their scuffles was enough to tell him the way was clear.

A brilliant display of shooting stars had stalled his party's passage into the Grey Region. From the flag ship's head, Vuke shook his head at the stars, hands clasped tightly together. The floor to ceiling windows of his command station revealed more than enough of the strange phenomenon.

"When will we be cleared?" Vuke turned to the crewman closest to him. The man was practically quacking in his polished loafers. "Well?" he pressed when the officer hesitated. "Those couriers we are escorting are supposed to reach Uterca in five days. We're already behind schedule."

Behind, Vuke knew, was an understatement. The couriers had been dropped into his care two days ago. The Celestial Watch's intelligence branch had not told Vuke the nature of the message the couriers were carrying. Only that the hooded messengers were to be taken from the First Region to Uterca, the centre of the Noric Region. As head of the First Region's operations, Vuke had been unable to avoid the assignment.