Possibilities
© 2020 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  ahro


“Captain, message from the Hammer. Commodore Bury, personal for you,” Jax said tersely.

So far, the trip to Devil’s Gate Station was passing uneventfully. Truce talks were supposedly going on between the Empire and the Confed, and the convoy hadn’t run across any raiding ships. The golden palomino mare sighed.

She knew it’d been too good to last.

“Thanks, Jax. I’ll take it in my quarters.” Meredith had been helping the rat out with the paperwork. As they both gained experience at their posts, the mare had been giving the Exec more of the mundane tasks to do. So far, he was progressing very well.

She left the command center, stopped by the dining area to get herself a cup of coffee, and used the bathroom in her cabin before accessing the call. “Commodore, hello. How can I help you?”

The pangolin femme didn’t look very pleased at having been kept waiting, even if it had only been about five minutes. “Captain, hello. Wanted to pass a few things on to you.”

The coffee mug paused just short of her lips. “Yes?”

“I passed on your answer to Admiral Chakri,” Bury said, naming the sector commander. “He was disappointed, and he understands your anger.”

Meredith finished taking a sip of her coffee. “I’m sorry to hear that he was disappointed, Commodore. Please, go on.”

“Well, with talks starting up, the urgency has passed, at least for now,” Bury said. “This channel’s not encrypted, but rumors are already flying. The Colonies are also talking to the Empire.”

The mare’s ears flicked forward. “That’s . . . very interesting. That could – ooh.”

Bury nodded. “Harder’n hell trying to keep it quiet, so the Colonies are allowing the rumors to spread on their own. Confed ears are bound to pick it up.” She sipped at her own mug. “The final thing is largely your fault.”

“Mine?”

“Yes.” The pangolin leaned toward the imager. “Some of the merchanters have been agitating to arm their ships. Not companies like Transcosm,” she amended, “but the independent outfits.”

“Like the Fikset family?”

Bury gave a humorless chuckle. “Half their ships were armed before the Confed started all this. That family distrusts everyone, so the easiest thing to do was make the head of the family an admiral and let her have a seat at the table.”

Meredith chuckled, thinking that she’d ask Jemel about his relative when she got the time. “Do you think that the companies will start arming?” she asked, thinking about the Kiss Me in the Dark. Mounting a weapons pod would entail re-balancing the ship’s power requirements, as well as limiting the amount of cargo the freighter could carry.

“Officially,” Bury said, “the Admiralty’s against the idea, since the Confed’s stopped shooting, at least for now. But personally?” She shrugged, her long tongue flicking out before she said, “I’m worried that it’s not going to work. You’ve heard that the new Admiral-General’s calling himself Lord Protector now?”

“That’s al-Sakai’s son, right? I’d heard something about it. Makes you think,” Meredith said.

“Yeah. Makes me think that nothing good’s brewing.” Bury sighed. “I’ve had an argument with my husband about it.”

“Oh? Where’s he?”

“Faraway,” Bury said, naming a planet roughly two-thirds of the way spinward from where they were, but close to the border between the Colonies and the Confederacy. “I haven’t seen Daud or our kids in six months.” She sighed. “So I want this over, Captain d’Estcourt. You have any children?”

“No – not yet.”

“It’s magical, you know? Seeing that little life in your paws, so much potential, and the whole universe spread out before them.”

“If it helps,” Meredith said, “I hope things turn out right for you, Commodore.”

“Danyell.”

“Meredith.”

The pangolin smiled. “Thanks for letting me talk.”

The mare raised her mug in salute. “Anytime, Danyell.” The screen went blank, leaving the mare alone with her coffee and her thoughts.