To discover and preserve, p.1
To Discover and Preserve, page 1
CONTENTS
Preface
To Discover and Preserve
Leadership Lessons
Constellations
In the Line of Duty
Dark Lighthouse
Season’s Meaning
The Mayer Directive
Stormfront
Gaps
Every Man, Woman, and Idiot
Appendices
Aliens of the Peltedverse
About Fleet
Glossary
Cover Gallery
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright 2021 © M.C.A. Hogarth. All rights reserved.
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Cover art by M.C.A. Hogarth.
PREFACE
The stories initially earmarked for this collection have one thing in common: they were written over the course of nearly two decades as standalone invitations into the Peltedverse. Two of them, “Stormfront” and “In the Line of Duty,” were purchased by magazines for publication, and if I’m remembering correctly the latter won an obscure award before going on to become the first “e-book” I put on Amazon. ‘What will happen,’ I wondered, ‘If I participate in this self-publishing revolution? One short story can’t hurt…’
And, as most of you know, it didn’t, not even slightly.
Short stories remain an excellent venue for the task I put those five to, so for this collection I have done my best to craft the new, reader-commissioned stories in the same spirit… while also answering some long-standing questions in the canon for existing readers, like how D-pers came to be barred from Fleet ships, how Alastar spent her first years, and what happens when Beringwaite ends up in a Star Trek episode.
The book is separated into two sections. The first, The Women of the Stardancer, checks in on the Stardancer’s crew, either before their assignment to that ship, or during it. The second, Other Swords, is so named because of the habit of referring to Fleet members as ‘The Accord’s Swords’, and gathers stories about Fleet personnel not assigned to the Stardancer. The appendices have information on Fleet and the species of the Peltedverse, and a glossary. Since a handful of these stories were originally published as standalones, I’ve included a gallery with their covers. In particular, the “In the Line of Duty” cover was the first e-book cover I ever put together, back in 2009. It’s still one of my favorite sketches of Alysha.
A note about chronology: long-time readers will be familiar with my ongoing efforts to wrestle my thirty-two-year-old—oh my, is it really that old, I thought it was only twenty—canon into something approaching consistency. I’ve had some success but have accepted continuity errors are the necessary price of juggling thirty-plus books’ worth of material while adding new books yearly. This volume, which has some of the oldest short stories I’ve published, is going to have consistency issues. I’ve done some mild pruning and adjustments, but for the most part left those older stories alone. I apologize to those who hate inconsistencies, and invite you to help me keep things straight in the future!
And now, some comedy, some tragedy, and a lot of adventure. Enjoy, aletsen.
TO DISCOVER AND PRESERVE
LEADERSHIP LESSONS
“Hope you’re not afraid of heights, Ensign, because we’re off to Phoenix-Nest!”
Alysha Forrest, caught in the act of rising to face Lieutenant Vera, almost stopped at the Harat-Shar’s cheerful words.
“I… beg your pardon, sir?”
Vera advanced into the ensign’s compartment and grinned, propping her hands on her hips. “Yes, that’s what I said too when they told me I was leading the security detail.” She pointed at Alysha’s bunk. “Sit.” When Alysha did, the woman began pacing—prowling, really. Alysha had been on the Diamondwing for almost two months and she was still mystified by Vera. Homeworld-bred Harat-Shar, with their reputations as libertines and voluptuaries, did not seem a natural fit for the military, even one as lax as the Pelted’s; one expected most of the Harat-Shar in Fleet would be colony-worlders, or bred on multicultural worlds like Selnor.
And yet to date, Alysha had not met almost any Harat-Shar in Fleet who hadn’t come from their homeworld. Vera, a leopard-patterned pardine, was no exception. That she fit into Fleet with minimal friction never ceased to baffle Alysha, because like a stereotypical Harat-Shar she flirted, joked, and brazened her way through almost every exchange she had with anyone, superior officer, peer, or subordinate. But despite what she said—or how!—she worked incredibly hard, noticed even the slightest evidence of a slipshod job, and had a mind as sharp as a razor. She led her crop of ensigns by shocking them into compliance with all her unexpected dichotomies, and while Alysha was entirely sure this leadership style wouldn’t work for her, she studied it anyway, and took notes. Mostly out of confusion.
“So, I’ve got our marching orders, or rather, the ship’s got its,” Vera was saying, as she paced the small corridor between bunks. “We’re ferrying an ambassadorial team to Phoenix-Nest for a reprise of the ceremony that saw the Phoenix inducted into the Alliance. They do it once every twenty-five years, so thank your lucky stars tonight that you get to come along! Because Fleet supplies the honor guard, and that means racking up some hours in the limelight where everyone can see your face and be impressed by you.” She grinned, all teeth. “It’ll be great for your record. Mine too, of course. And an easy job, because no one expects us to do anything except stand around and make everyone else look important because we’re there.”
“I… see,” Alysha said.
“It’ll be a twenty-five man detail,” Vera continued, tail flicking as she walked. “Which is why I want you as a second.” She paused, tapping her chin. “And now you will ask me why I picked you out of all my crop of ensigns! And I will tell you it’s because you’re a nicely steadying presence, Ensign, and you don’t fluster easily. Also, you’re decorative.”
Alysha, who’d been wondering if she should explain that she hadn’t been planning to question her lieutenant about her choices, closed her mouth abruptly.
Vera grinned. “Yes, yes, I know. It’s not fair, but people who clean up well get more opportunities than people who can never seem to show up in a neat uniform. You have the ‘Fleet poster girl’ look. It’ll make for excellent viseo stills.” She struck a pose. “I, of course, always look good. In stills or moving pictures.”
Which, Alysha reflected, was manifestly true. Vera was a sleek and dangerous-looking woman, from her golden eyes to the tip of her tail, and there was never a hair out of place on her immaculately groomed body or a strand astray in her short bob, the edges of which were so perfectly cut they looked machined. She was fit like someone who used the gym for at least an hour a day because she did. Alysha knew, because she was usually there at the same time.
“Anyway,” Vera said, “before I officially second you to this detail, I want to make sure you’re good with it.” She tilted her golden head. “You don’t precisely seem shy, but I get the feeling you’re avoiding attention.”
Saying that she wasn’t wouldn’t change Vera’s opinion, because by her standards anyone who wasn’t throwing themselves into the middle of the fray was a shy wallflower in need of encouragement. So Alysha said only, “I’d be glad to help, sir.”
Vera beamed. “Excellent. Good. You need to spend a little less time pushing other people forward and a little more time selling yourself, if you know what I mean.” Any time Alysha would have had to react to the unfortunate wording was lost after the next few words: “I think it’s admirable, you know, and I see you’ve taken your duty to develop and protect your peers and your specialists seriously, but you can’t be so busy with other people that you fail to put yourself in front of the superiors who would promote you.”
Alysha looked up, ears sagging.
Vera bent, resting her hands on her knees, tail a long curled arc behind her. Gently, she said, “You can do more of that when you’re captain. Or higher. But to make captain quickly, you have to be noticed. Do you get what I’m saying here, alet?”
“Yes,” Alysha answered, still surprised.
“Good.” Vera reached over and chucked her under the chin with a knuckle. “I like you, Forrest. Consider this my career-nurturing moment. On your behalf. I already look after my own career.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. I’ll go take care of that now. Expect a mission brief in an hour. Ever been to Phoenix-Nest?” At Alysha’s headshake, the Harat-Shar grinned. “Me neither. Do your research and I’ll check back with you when I’ve got the details down.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is going to be great, alet. You’ll see.”
And then, as usual, Vera was gone, taking her enormous presence with her and leaving Alysha bemused. Nor was she the only one because Nai’esh, the only other ensign off-duty, slowly levered his head out from behind the coaming, his long ears comically splayed.
“I know,” Alysha said.
“Oh good,” he said. “Then I don’t have to comment. But seriously—”
He grinned and his head slowly disappeared behind the coaming. A jokester, Nai’esh, but the Aera didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was just very good at physical comedy, and resisting obvious opportunities was beyond his otherwise serviceable willpower. From in the head, he added, “I don’t envy you, though. You know how tall the Phoenix build their cities? Brrr. No thank you.”
“Not jealous then?” she asked, only teasing a little, because she wanted to know.
“Not in the slightest. In fact, don’t even show me the stills, the backgrounds will give me nightmares.”
That was when Alysha started to worry.
Exactly an hour later, the brief popped onto Alysha’s tablet, interrupting the article she’d been reading on the Sirelanders, a species of interstellar nomads who’d traveled through the Alliance, made friends and participated gleefully with the Pelted culture, and then continued on without any seeming qualm. What would it be like, she wondered, to simply take your entire culture with you on a worlds-spanning tour of the galaxy? She tagged the Glaseahn anthropologist who was accompanying them so she could read his travelogue installments and spread Vera’s message. They were to lead a twenty-five-person security detail, seconded to Ambassador Barrinbilt, to the capital city of Phoenix-Nest, where they would be joined by a Phoenixae detachment, and there spend one day guarding the aerie until the conclusion of the meeting. A ceremonial duty, the mission brief reported, as there had never been, nor did they ever anticipate there ever being, any attack. The meeting was a formality; skimming the schedule, Alysha thought it consisted mostly of sitting in silence, and occasionally having a (small) meal or looking at old documents. Maybe they’d discuss something? But what did they have to discuss? She found the entire affair puzzling, and fascinating. Maybe the ambassador would elucidate, if they got a chance to talk to… Alysha checked the ambassador’s biography…her. A Seersa, that species apparently traditional since the first ambassador to the Phoenix had been one.
She looked at the place they were supposed to be guarding and swallowed. She’d been expecting a building, but it wasn’t. A wooden platform, upon which a spiraling ramp led up to a series of smaller platforms, culminating in an open-air gazebo, it was raised on what looked like a single stilt so high into the air that when Alysha rotated the perspective she couldn’t clearly make out the ground by looking down. And there were no railings anywhere. She tried to get a sense for the scale of it by scanning the capital’s other platforms and failed, so she searched for historical records. Pulling up the last summit, she discovered that the gazebo was large enough for six people to sit in. Cozily. Which made the platform itself smaller than the bridge of the Diamondwing.
“How are we going to fit twenty-plus people on there?” she asked the picture, which didn’t answer.
“This is the placement chart,” Vera said the following day, leaning over the table that was displaying the solidigraph for her, Alysha, and the head of the Diamondwing’s security department, Liam Sorenson, a dark brown Hinichi wolfine built like a brick wall. He was frowning at the image and the projected locations of all the personnel. Ten were standing on the platform, facing outward; eight were stationed on the platforms leading up to the gazebos. Seven were patrolling. Another five hazy silhouettes represented the Phoenixae detachment, but unlike the Fleet personnel, they were flying. “The two ambassadors are up here.” She tapped the gazebo, which made them phase into view, sitting at the top of the tiered structure.
“You’ll let me pick the personnel?” Liam asked, drumming his fingers on the table. “This is a challenging assignment.”
“You know your people best,” Vera said.
He chuckled. “Good. Thanks for that. When do you need them?”
“We’ll be picking up the ambassador in two days. After that, it’s another three to Phoenix-Nest.”
“Five days, got it. Any special instructions beyond ‘stand guard’?”
Vera eyed the platform. “None. It’s not exactly the kind of place you attack.”
“Not with warm bodies, anyway,” Liam said. “Unless they have wings. Orbital strike, maybe. Or bomb emplacements. Local security sweeps for those, or should we be checking?” He pushed the platform up and tapped the pole. “I assume someone’s checking the entire length of this thing for explosives.”
“Battlefields, I hope so!”
“Any objections to us wearing antigrav ‘chutes?”
Vera flicked her ears back. “Huh. I hadn’t thought to ask. But I can’t imagine why not.”
Liam grinned. “Good. That makes my job easier. Otherwise, I’d be petitioning for hazard payouts for this one. We don’t have any fliers in the section.” He straightened. “Give me a day, I’ll have ‘em lined up for you, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks, alet.”
After the Hinichi had left, Vera said to Alysha, “Second thoughts?”
“No, sir,” Alysha said. Even if she’d had any, Liam’s suggestion would have put paid to them. She was glad he’d thought of it. Having an antigrav parachute deploy wasn’t pleasant, but far preferable to standing guard on that platform without one. “Do you think we’ll have a chance to explore the rest of the capital? The other platforms are beautiful.”
“Are they?” Vera asked. “I haven’t looked.”
Alysha brought up the historical images she’d been examining. “If these are still there…? Look at the hanging gardens. And the views must be incredible.”
Vera laughed. “They look it, but unless we grow wings… or they have Pads, or rig lines for us… it’s going to be hard to get anywhere.” She pressed the images to one side. “I’ll ask Lieutenant Commander Shirrelberry if we’ll have time for liberty after the assignment. No harm getting shot down, eh?” She glanced at Alysha. “Have you met Terry?”
“No?”
“Oh, then, I’ll be sure to introduce you. Remember, Ensign, you manage up as well as down in this business.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alysha said, wondering how well she was doing managing Vera, and finding the idea funny.
Two days later found Alysha on the flight deck in full dress uniform, the white half-cape slung over one shoulder and roped diagonally over her chest with golden cord. She’d never had occasion to wear full dress, and was grateful it didn’t differ much from working uniform; it used the same basic pattern of tunic over trousers and boots, just finer materials, with turned back cuffs and a lot more braid and piping. The white boots, though… she could understand why those were full and dinner dress only. Keeping them clean was daunting, as she knew from her very few dress drills at the Academe.
As expected, Vera carried off the formal gear with panache, managing to look like a swashbuckler from a 3deo… in stark contrast to her superior, Lieutenant Commander Terrell Shirrelberry. A slender Tam-illee todfox, Terrell moved as little as possible, shoulders stiff and hands clasped behind his back over the rust-red tail. Nervous, she thought, but not an autocrat: his face didn’t have the tension or the grooves of a man given to irritability or disdain. Vera had not introduced her yet, but Alysha decided she was looking forward to it… when they weren’t waiting for the ambassador’s shuttle.
To be on the flight deck at all was unusual. Most people boarded the ship via Pad—the single-person Pads if arriving alone, or the large multi-person-capable Pads in the cargo holds. Shuttle travel was reserved for unusual occasions and, apparently, dignitaries of the highest order. The honor guard had been turned out in specialist dress uniform, which Alysha had never seen in her life—she hadn’t even known there were specialist dress uniforms—and she and Vera stood with the team’s lead, behind Terrell, who himself was behind the captain and first and second commanders. The deck had been cleared, the bay doors opened to the starry void, and only a forcefield held the vacuum at bay. It was a stunning view… as if she could walk out into space, and float away.
