Chapter Four

Rhys screamed. It was partly a delayed reaction to the explosion, and partly due to the extreme pain he felt as he opened his eyes. David was the first thing he saw, looking down at him with a very concerned look on his face. He bit his tongue as he placed a damp cloth on Rhys’ forehead, which felt as though it was burning intensely, though not as severely as the agony he felt in his hands, tail, and chest.

Very slowly, Rhys turned his head slightly to get a better look of his surroundings. He wasn’t certain, but he believed he was in the New Swansea hospital. His was the only occupied bed in a ward of about a dozen others, and David was the only one he could see, but he thought he heard at least one other person in the room.

 “That was stupid, absolutely stupid,” David said, the words practically bursting out of his mouth as he tapped on the side of a syringe. “Do you have any idea how scared Steph’s been? Doctor Sparks had to carry her out an hour ago and sedate her just so she got some sleep. Captain Penklis has been out of her mind, thinking she left you for dead, and the same for Mr Scott.

“And as for Twitch, I’ve no idea what he’s been going on about, but he’s been out of his mind with worry too. Stupid, absolutely stupid.” David plunged the syringe into Rhys’ arm.

Rhys tried to flinch away, but every movement was unbearable agony. He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to escape the pain and return to unconsciousness.

“What happened?” he whimpered in a pitifully quiet voice.

“The building exploded with you inside. You suffered quite significant burns. Then you fractured your knee, broke your arm in three places, four cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a fractured skull on top of that. Your paws have been torn to shreds, what with all that debris you’ve been walking over. All in all, you’re lucky to be alive, Rhys,” David said as he continued to work; now unravelling a length of bandages.

Rhys tried to shake his head, but that simple movement felt like knives down his back.

“No. The CGP? What happened to them?” he asked.

Someone cleared their throat, and David looked up and frowned. “He’s not ready to see you, especially not to hear that,” the mustelid said to someone Rhys couldn’t see.

“He needs to know,” Scott said, stepping forward so Rhys could see him.

“The CGP had retreated even before the control tower exploded. They were in quite a hurry to leave, even though they still had a good chance of capturing the port. All four ships were able to launch and escape before the Celta reinforcements arrived. Even the downed ship was evacuated. The whole attack made no sense, but for a message I intercepted just after they landed. I couldn’t warn you at the time because I didn’t want anyone to overhear.

“They were after you, Captain. I heard them. Their target was ‘the mustelid captain’. I don’t know why, but for whatever reason, they came here to capture you,” Scott said.

Forgetting his injuries, Rhys tried to sit up, but he screamed as his various maladies sent pain spearing through his body. Every panicked breath he took was fresh agony, and it took David’s cool hands on his uninjured shoulder and forehead to calm down again. It still hurt to breathe.

“I told you,” David growled at the navigator, before moving away to get some pills from a drawer by the bed. He placed them in Rhys’ mouth and helped him swallow them with a few splashes of water. He then set to work at replacing and fixing up the bandages around Rhys’ bloodied feet.

“I... How can it be me?” Rhys whimpered, trying to ignore David’s movements.

“I don’t know, but given they didn’t even try to capture the port, it seems it was all an attempt to capture you. Destroying the port was only to try and cover it up a little,” Scott said, ignoring the dirty looks David was throwing him.

Rhys heard the door open. “Steph’s back in Avon now. Twitch is taking care of... oh, he’s awake, and what are you doing here?” Doctor Sparks said as he walked in. A MHB serenely drifted into the room behind him, smiling widely.

Scott backed away from Rhys’ bed. “I was just telling him about the message I intercepted,” the navigator said defensively.

“Oh, that one. Yes, well, it didn’t go quite according to the plan, did it? If you don’t mind though I’d like my patient to get some proper rest so he can recover without worrying about CGP plots to capture him,” Doctor Sparks snapped.

“If that’s your wish. We’ll talk when you’ve recovered, Captain,” Scott said before retreating out of the room.

Doctor Sparks turned on Rhys. “Are you aware of how stupid –”

“I’ve already told him,” David interrupted, lifting his head up from Rhys’ feet.

“You have? Oh, well then, good, I suppose,” the doctor muttered.

“And he’s had the painkillers, and the calcium booster for his bones. His cast has been set and I’ve fixed up his shoulder the best I can. I just need to finish this and that’s all you asked of me. I’ve been quite thorough,” David continued proudly.

“Good, that’s good,” Doctor Sparks said distractedly. He pottered around while David worked, frowning slightly as he flipped through the virtual pages on the screen of the MHB. The doctor muttered under his breath, too quietly for Rhys to hear.

The painkillers were starting to take effect. Every breath no longer hurt Rhys, and if he remained still then he wasn’t bothered by constant jabs of pain, though these returned as soon as he moved, even just slightly.

David sat up and checked over Rhys again. Content that he had done everything he could do for his patient, he conversed quietly with the doctor. They came to a quick decision, and Doctor Sparks stood over Rhys’ bed, fiddling with something behind the mustelid’s head.

“We’ll put you in an artificial sleep for now, at least until everything starts taking effect. It’s going to be some time before you’re fully recovered, but it’s your own fault really. If you weren’t so bloody stupid...” the doctor said, before relenting a little. “We’ll do all we can to ease your recovery, so sleep now, and you should be hurting a lot less when you wake up.”

Immediately, Rhys began to feel immensely weary and his sight blurred out of focus. He was dimly aware of David saying something, but his mind was unable to interpret his words. He was lost to unconsciousness in seconds.

Rhys remembered very little of the next few days. He drifted in and out of consciousness as a fever took hold of his body that David and Doctor Sparks found tough to defeat. He was so hot that he began to shiver, and he was constantly covered in cold, damp cloths to try and keep the heat away. Steph and Twitch were frequently by his side, though he was not always aware of their company.

It took four days before the fever finally broke, and Rhys was able to sit up in bed for the first time. Aided by the various pills and shots that he was being given, Rhys’ injuries gradually began to heal, until, after a few more days, he was able to walk with Steph’s assistance. His feet and knee still caused him some pain, and he was constantly dizzy, but he was not about to give up because of that.

Captain Penklis surprised him by stopping by to check on his progress one morning. Though she had never been in any real danger, she humbly and sincerely thanked Rhys for his concern. She also apologised for her behaviour towards him, and admitted her decisions had been swayed by the opinions of Sergeant Benson. Rhys gladly accepted her apology, hopeful that he had a new ally within Spaceways.

She told him of the destruction of the port. The fire had finished gutting the spaceport and barracks, leaving just the docking bay standing and unharmed. There had been surprisingly few casualties in comparison to the destruction caused, which made Rhys think of Scott’s information: if the CGP were only targeting him, it would make sense that they had limited casualties. In all, just a dozen deaths had been recorded, with over half of these being in the control tower alone.

Almost as an afterthought, Captain Penklis handed Rhys a letter as she made to leave. It was a letter that had come from Admiral Garter just that morning; she knew nothing of its contents. The Institute of Science had transcribed the message, and had been ordered to pass it on with strictest confidentiality. Rhys’ hand shook as he took the envelope and bade farewell to Captain Penklis.

With his broken arm still bound up in a sling, Rhys passed the letter to Twitch to open. There was just a single page with a couple of paragraphs of neat, tidy writing inside. Twitch handed the page back, and Rhys could barely breathe as he started to read.

Captain Griffiths.

Word has reached Terra of the destruction of New Swansea’s port. A full investigation has been launched into the attack. Captain Penklis has stressed your brave acts in clearing out the control tower, and I’m sure that will shine very positively on your case, which has sadly been delayed yet again by these proceedings.

We are unsure what motive is behind this attack. I will admit there have been rumours floating around Terra that it had something to do with your presence on the planet, but I would dismiss that as defamatory gossip. The media has gained word of your rebellion at Mount Cotton, though I do not know the source. Needless to say there has been a bit of controversy back here regarding this, with many people condemning Spaceways for appointing a mustelid captain, but there has also been a pleasing amount of support too.

However, that this is a CGP raid because of your presence cannot be true. There is no possible way for the CGP to ascertain your location on Cymru. They would have to have tracked your ship for that, and the Harvester was thoroughly checked before departing Terra. No, this attack has nothing to do with you. You’ll likely be aware of the motive before I will, so I will not contact you again until I have further news to tell you.

I hope you are not too badly injured.

Regards, Admiral Nigel Garter.

Rhys read the letter before tossing it aside. There was still little in the way of news, but he had to ask himself, what had he expected? An automatic reprieve for his display of stupid bravery? He doubted that even had he single-handedly saved the entire port he would have received that.

He was quite shocked though that some people seemed willing to blame the attack on his presence in the city. He knew it to be the truth, he knew he had been the target, but he was still alarmed how readily people were willing to attribute that attack to him. Likely it was a further attempt to discredit him before the hearing of his case.

Steph took up her usual place by Rhys’ left side. He placed his arm around her shoulder and tried to ignore the pain her gentle weight gave him as she pressed against his sore ribs. “You have Admiral Garter fighting for you, Rhys,” she said in an attempt to console him. “If anyone can help you there, then he can.”

“And if he can’t?” Rhys said.

The silence that reigned after that question was long and awkward. “You have options,” Twitch said eventually. Rhys wished the silence had continued.  He did not want to think about his options. There was only one outcome he wanted: continued captaincy in TIE.

Rhys was eventually discharged from the hospital two weeks later, allowing him to return back to the house in Avon. The only sign of his injuries was a slight discolouration in his fur where it had grown back over burnt skin. David had accompanied him back to Avon, and was yet to return to the hospital, despite the passing of three days. His studies had been placed on temporary hold, likely to make sure Rhys’ condition didn’t deteriorate, though he never actually said that. He claimed it was so he could spend some time with Twitch, despite spending more time in Rhys’ company than his partner’s.

The rebuilding of the port had just begun. Ships bearing supplies from Terra had arrived the day before, and many more continued to descend into the atmosphere. Rhys watched them land from one of the many parks in the outskirts of the city, pointing about the various models to Steph, who lay on the grass beside him. With the spaceport in disrepair, and the docking bay too small to accommodate the fleet of ships descending on the city, the Institute of Science had cleared a large space in its grounds for the ships to use, as well as providing a frequent shuttle service to those ships waiting in orbit.

Commercial spacecraft differed little from military vessels, all being compact, blockish brutes through force of design. Where they did vary though, was in their cosmetic design. Spaceways ships were dull, grey beasts with just the ship’s name in blocky white letters to break apart the monotony. The commercial crafts were colourful, lurid affairs, and none more so than the fleet owned by Branson Ltd, which had a strong showing in New Swansea. It was easy to spot the Branson vessels, shockingly bright red against the pale blue sky.

The Google Corporation, which owned the Institute of Science, also had a small range of spaceships filling up the New Swansea skyline. These were emblazoned with the corporation’s traditional colour scheme: stripes of blue, red, yellow, blue, green, and red.

Amongst all of these came a military ship; dull, grey, and boring amongst the wash of colour and mayhem in the sky. At first Rhys paid it no heed, expecting it to be a ship crossing the short distance between Cymru and Celta, but then he saw the name.

The Europa was in New Swansea.

At first he didn’t believe the evidence of his own eyes; Admiral Garter simply couldn’t be in New Swansea. The Sirius System was well outside the jurisdiction of the middle-Sol admiral.

He asked Steph if she had caught the name of the ship, but she had failed to notice the military craft amongst the throng of other ships in the sky. Rhys tried to put it down to a trick of the mind. He was concerned about Admiral Garter: he had imagined that he had seen the Europa, and the ship had indeed been one of the ones stationed on Celta.

He was proven wrong when Admiral Garter’s first officer found Rhys a few hours later.

Rhys had met Ryan Jones many times before, and had always gotten along well with the man. Ryan had joined Spaceways two years before Rhys, and had graduated into full service with honours. His entire career had been aboard the Europa, though he had never been given a ship of his own. Though they had never worked together, they had been study partners for about a year in the academy.

Once he had gotten over the initial shock of seeing Lieutenant Jones, Rhys hoped that because of Admiral Garter’s influence, and because of their past friendship, Jones would treat him with the same respect he had always used. He was not disappointed.

“Good to see you again Rhys, sort of, anyway. I hear you’ve been keeping yourself rather busy,” Jones said amicably.  Rhys did notice Jones’ neglect of calling him by rank, but then he had to remind himself that he was not strictly a captain at the moment; suspended and off duty as he was.

“Risking life and limb for TIE, whether Spaceways want me or not,” Rhys replied, taking Jones’ hand in his own.

“Well I hope we can relax matters for you a bit,” Jones said, before going on to explain why Admiral Garter had felt the need to come to Cymru. Someone had finally taken a moment to assume that Rhys was not the reason behind the attack to deduce that a greater assault was forthcoming in the Sirius System. The attack on New Swansea became an attempt to weaken TIE defences. Admiral Garter was present to advise Admiral Hedges on the rebuild, given his experience with doing much the same on Ceres. He was only on Cymru briefly to check the extent of the destruction in New Swansea, and to speak with Rhys.

“And that’s meant to make things quieter for me?” Rhys asked, trying to mask the guilt that a full-scale attack likely wasn’t coming to the system. The apparent media frenzy surrounding him on Terra had been right; Rhys had been the reason behind the attack.

“I don’t know what Admiral Garter has to tell you, we barely even saw him on the journey here as he’s been feeling a little under the weather, but I’m hoping it’s some good news for you. He did ask if you could bring Lieutenant Hall and Mr Scott with you though,” Jones said.

“Did he say why?” Rhys asked. He clenched Steph’s hand tightly in his. He had been waiting for this moment for nearly five months; finally he would know his fate, and judging by Jones’ positivity, Rhys was apprehensive but excited.

“He didn’t mention why, but he told me it’s a matter of significant importance,” Jones said.

Rhys stayed with Jones as Steph ran back to collect Twitch and Scott. The admiral’s lieutenant had a quirky smile on his face that Rhys recognised from their time in the academy. Jones had seen something he found amusing, and he wasn’t going to hold back on saying it either.

“I saw the way you were with that little one. You’ve got yourself a girl, haven’t you?” he said, ruffling Rhys’ hair, which was something the mustelid didn’t particularly appreciate. “It’s been what, half a year, a bit more than that maybe, since the accident? And this already.”

“It may sound weird, but becoming a mustelid, I think that’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m happier now than I can remember ever being before,” Rhys said with a smile, batting Jones’ hand away from his head.

“I’d never have picked you as someone to like a mustelid. Please don’t take that in the wrong way, but that’s just what I thought. I didn’t think you were particularly fond of them,” Jones said.

Rhys knew what Jones was trying to say though, and he agreed with him. “It was Captain Lee who told me that mustelid sympathisers are everywhere, you just have to find away to unlock it, to make them aware of their true feelings. Like with Admiral Garter.”

“No, the Admiral’s always had a soft spot for mustelids. He’s impressed quite firmly on the crew that anyone who mistreats a mustelid on his ship will be dismissed,” Jone said. Rhys had not known that, and it filled him with hope, which was then crushed by Jones’ next words. “Of course, amongst Spaceways’ high ranking officers he is very much the exception.”

Rhys sighed as paranoia struck him again. Would the admiral have come out all this way to simply inform Rhys that he still held his rank? That Admiral Garter had come all the way to Sirius to merely advice Admiral Hedges on how to defend his own system didn’t sit well with Rhys’ troubled mind. He had a feeling that once again, this was all about him, and that didn’t bode well at all.

“What chance is there for me Ryan? Honestly?” he asked his old study partner. They were no longer Captain Rhys Griffiths and Lieutenant Ryan Jones. It was simply Rhys, worried and afraid, and the man he had looked up to in the academy.

“Of staying captain? Small unfortunately. I think your best option would be to find a captain who would let you onto his crew. Like Admiral Garter even. We could work together for the first time,” Jones said.

“I couldn’t take that step back.”

“Well, wait and see what Admiral Garter has to say first, and then make up your mind over what you should do,” Jones said. While Rhys agreed with that in principle, he doubted that anything Admiral Garter had to say would make him want to accept a demotion.

He waited in silence for Twitch and Scott to join them, worried about what this meeting could throw up. He said very little even once his first officer and navigator joined them. Steph had wanted to join them, but Scott had convinced her to remain behind in Avon. As she had not been summoned by Admiral Garter, the navigator assumed that she would not be allowed to sit in on the meeting.

The Institute of Science was a remarkable compound, and didn’t quite seem to fit in the low lying city. Here was one of just two places in the city where the buildings rose above three stories; the spaceport’s docking bay and old control tower being the only other such instance. Unlike the intentional rustic feel to the majority of the buildings within the city boundaries, the Institute was designed to look modern.

One building really stood out from the rest though, and that was the small fibreglass shack that looked like it had been erected in five minutes – and probably had been. That was the spaceport’s new home, and would remain that way until the port was rebuilt.

Behind it was the temporary landing pad for the commercial spacecraft. The behemoths were crowded into what little available space they could find, with the closest being less than fifty feet from the Institute buildings. Unlike in the spaceport, which had been insulated from the noise, the sound of the ships landing and launching would be deafening. For the time being though, there was a quiet lull in proceedings.

Rhys paused outside the small shack, not daring to open the door, for fear of the reaction he’d find inside. The Lieutenant Jones reached past the mustelid and pushed open the door. Rhys faced his fate as he walked in with Twitch and Scott.

Admiral Garter was waiting inside, as was Admiral Hedges and Captain Penklis. It was all rather cramped once everyone was inside as the communications and sensory equipment took up much of the limited space.

“Ah, Captain Griffiths, welcome,” Admiral Garter said without even looking up at Rhys. His attention was solely given to several maps of the Sirius system that were spread out over a small table squeezed between the complex machinery. He turned to Admiral Hedges and continued the conversation that had already been taking place. “This could just be a diversion. They’re almost due a raid on the Denitchev particle mines. Unless they’ve found a way to reproduce it their reserves must be getting low by now.”

“We can’t defend all of them, we don’t have enough ships, “Admiral Hedges answered. “Leave the mines. They’re too important to the CGP as well as to us, so if they’re targeted, they’ll be left intact and all we’ll lose is some Denitchev particles. We have to defend where there are citizens. Cymru and Celta should be our main priorities.”

“I think you could be right,” Admiral Garter replied. He pointed at several points on one of the maps. “If we deploy ships here, here, and here, then we should have a large enough range and vision to defend whatever they throw at us.”

“Of course. We should also look at bolstering the ground armies’ reserves. If the CGP have learnt that we’re vulnerable on the surface, then they’ll look to exploit that,” Admiral Hedges said. He turned away from the map and held his hands behind his back as he looked over the cramped little room. “Captain Penklis, I would have your suggestions on how to rebuild the port again.”

“Certainly, Admiral,” Captain Penklis said, and the two of them vacated the temporary spaceport command centre. As she passed Rhys she whispered, “I’m sorry,” but offered no clarification.

Rhys faced Admiral Garter, his pulse racing. At his back, he heard Twitch shuffling his feet nervously back and forth as they waited for the admiral to acknowledge them.

Admiral Garter folded up the maps and cleaned his glasses before finally looking at Rhys. “Mr Griffiths, I’ll be blunt. I have good news, and I have bad news, and it begins with some surprising news. Chancellor Roberts has come to a very swift decision over your future,” he said, neither his face nor his tone betraying which news was the greater.

 Rhys hardly dared to breathe, and behind him was a sudden silence as no one moved. “The good news?” he whispered.

“You’re still in Spaceways,” Admiral Garter said. He wasn’t smiling, and in fact had no trace of happiness on his face at all. All Rhys could see there were weariness and the forlorn failure of being unable to keep his word to a friend. The bad news was far worse, and the brief elation Rhys had felt was completely and utterly destroyed. Then Admiral Garter finished, adding vocalisation to the total obliteration of Rhys’ career. “You’ve been assigned to the systems crew of the Europa, by order of Chancellor Roberts. I’m sorry, but that was the best I could do for you. Mr Hall you will be joining the systems crew of the Harvester, and Mr Scott, you are promoted to captain of the Harvester, and it is now your duty to fill the crew vacancies.”

No one answered. No one said anything. Not one person present, even Admiral Garter, thought that Rhys deserved what he had just been given.

Rhys was numb and tried to wonder if anything else had happened to prove this must just be a dream. Surely he wasn’t standing in front of Admiral Garter and listening to the sound of everything he had worked for over the past nine years falling to pieces around him. And all because he had become a mustelid, through no choice of his own. That thought filled him with rage, not at the mustelids who were considered so inferior, but at the humans he had once called his own species, and their warped prejudices and conceptions.

The first target of his anger was the messenger of his fate; Admiral Garter. “I’d rather be dismissed than that,” Rhys snarled. “The best that could be done? It’s a dead end job with no hope of escape. Do you think I’d enjoy that? That I’d like being stuck doing the same menial tasks every day? You said I could be admiral, and you give me this.”

“It’s all I’ve been allowed to offer you,” Admiral Garter said. If Rhys hadn’t been practically blind with rage, then he’d have noticed the admiral’s helplessness and sympathy. He saw neither. “Go and think it through, Rhys. I expect yours, Mr Hall’s and Captain Scott’s presence here tomorrow morning. There are things that still need to be discussed.”

Rhys had stormed out the moment the admiral had uttered the name Captain Scott. All his fears and concerns, which he had been trying to convince himself were unfounded, had been proven painfully correct. Admiral Garter hadn’t been able to do anything to help him.

Rhys was already out of the Institute before anyone could catch up with him, and Scott was the one to do so, holding Rhys back by the arm. He became the second target of Rhys’ anger. Scott was as innocent as Admiral Garter in the whole incident, but he was a more real target than the admiral, as Scott had benefitted the most.

“What do you want, Captain?” Rhys spat in disgust, trying to free himself of Scott’s grip. It didn’t make him feel any better venting his frustrations at his former navigator.

“I’m not the captain here, Rhys. You still are. And I think you know what we need to do now,” Scott said, as Twitch caught up with the two.

Scott’s denial of his new rank was like a bucket of cold water to Rhys’ face. The fire of his rage was doused in a moment. “You’re rejecting the promotion?” he said.

“I’ll never believe I deserved it,” Scott replied. “I’ll get the crew together, explain what’s happened, and find out who wants in and who wants out. I’ll meet you at the Avon house in three hours.”

“Be careful, if anyone goes to Admiral Garter, then we’re all arrested,” Rhys said, shaking with fear and anticipation, his anger now completely forgotten. He still had another option. Admiral Garter hadn’t given it to him. Aaron Lee had.

Scott ran on ahead as Twitch put his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. The mustelid was grinning broadly. “We’re doing it? We’re really doing it?” he squeaked with excitement. Rhys nodded, hardly believing what he was about to do. It had gone unspoken between the three of them, but they all knew. They were turning their back on the Emperor and going to Alpha Centauri.