“Don’t be a stranger in troubled times.” Doctor Samuel Brock.

Lieutenant Briggs had been placed in a medical stasis pod. Her vitals were encouraging. The Doctor had treated Besh, wrapping the finger and sitting back, seemingly, as bewildered as Besh. Suddenly, the voice of Brigadier Alarie boomed over the ship-wide hail.

“Langley, Shuller,” he said crisply. “To my Call Room. Now.”

Besh squeezed into the Call Room beside Corporal Langley. He felt the closing door brush his backside. He was pressed against the Corporal, shoulder to shoulder, and the look on the Brigadier’s face was a matter of serious concern. Besh stood at attention with Heaven and watched the Brigadier’s conflicted face and clenched fists with a sense of dread.

The Brigadier spread his palms on his inadequate desk and leaned into his opening remark. “I want to know what happened. We registered a large energy spike that cannot be explained by the Lieutenant’s injury.”

“Sir,” began Langley, but was cut off abruptly.

“If you’ve damaged my ship,” Xander grated menacingly, “I will hold your creds until I am fully reimbursed.”

“Yes sir,” answered Heaven.

“And you.” The Brigadier turned a dangerous glare on Besh. “I’ll take it out of your scrawny ancient ass.”

“Yes sir,” answered Besh, wholly intimidated.

Just then, a siren sounded, loud and shrill. “Move!” shouted the Brigadier, angrily slapping the control to open the door. Besh and Heaven had barely squeezed through the door when the Brigadier pushed past them, commanding the two Privates, “Report!”

Private Lurei responded quickly, “Sir, we are post net with Merlin line of sight.”

Private Thrush added with concern, “Two ships of unknown configuration closing.”

“Hail!” commanded the Brigadier.

The Corporal had seated herself in a station near the Call Room and was quietly occupied. Besh had jockeyed for a position out of the way, hoping to be unnoticed. He watched the screen, he saw the brightly reflective ships growing larger as they approached.

Private Thrush spoke clearly, “C. C. Thornburg to unidentified ships, you are in our lane. Please Identify.”

Besh felt it in his feet. The ship vibrated as if struck. He felt a second, more worrying blow as the Thornburg appeared to list starboard. Besh jumped when the Corporal spoke suddenly from her station.

Langley said, “Taking fire.”

The Brigadier, enraged, shouted back, “I know, goddammit.” He took the Captain’s seat, slapped the arm console, and shouted, “Shielding! Now!”

The voice of Master Sargent Kelly shot back, “Still down, sir.”

Xander spun in his seat and jumped to Langley’s station, shoving Besh aside. “Turn the ship, Private!” His command was penetrating. “Langley, weapons.”

“Weapons online,” replied Heaven.

Besh recalled the Corporal’s penchant for destruction. She had used his shield to cut down a small army with callous disregard. She had justified her actions in the name of duty. Besh was assured of her lethal skills.

Thrush called sharply, “We have a third ship, sir.” Besh turned with the Brigadier to view the screen as Thrush continued. “Unidentified configuration. Size of a Dreadnought.”

“Hold!” Xander commanded, holding a hand out to Langley.

All eyes watched the ships on view. The larger ship was dark, hard to make out, as it turned above the smaller two ships. Bright flashes appeared from the larger craft and shot toward the smaller. A flash engulfed one of the smaller ships in a ball of fire and spreading debris. The second of the two ships turned sharply and sped away, but the missile also turned and found its mark. The mysterious attackers were gone.

Xander turned to Langley and calmly commanded, “Stand down, Corporal. And get this civilian off my bridge.”

Heaven sat across from Besh in an otherwise empty mess. They stared silently into cups of steaming black coffee as the cook walked from the galley, wiping his hands on a towel held fast by knotted apron strings. Cahill chose the table nearest Besh and Langley and sat on it, a booted foot on the seat.

He said solemnly, “Well, that’s a thing you don’t see every day.”

Besh answered offhandedly, “Could it be a response to the Brigadier’s ill-temper?”

Heaven looked up and gasped in surprise, mouth open. Cahill laughed. “Aye, Mister Shuller.”

“My friends call me Besh,” said Besh.

“Besh it is,” replied the cook.

Heaven smoothed her dark blue top and sat back with a relaxed expression. “I’m just wondering who’s taking shots at the Brigadier.”

“Pirates?” asked the cook.

“That was one really big ship,” said Besh. “I’m glad it was on our side.”

The cook said, “I’m glad to be rescued, and all, but I’m curious. Who might our mysterious benefactors be?”

As if in answer to the cook’s idle query, the Brigadier’s voice came across the ship’s hail. “All hands to their stations. A representative of the Orlainese High Guard will be boarding. Make me look good.”

Heaven smiled at Besh as the cook took their cups to the galley. She said, “The dock is on the way to quarantine. If we walk slowly, we can take a peek at the representative.”

As they walked slowly back, Besh could feel the foreign shuttle dock with the Thornburg. Heaven stopped to pretentiously tug at her top and smooth wrinkles from it. She winked at Besh to let him know she was stalling. Besh thought, she must really be curious.

They tip-toed around the corner and stopped. Ahead of them stood the Brigadier and Major Brock in conversation with the representative. The uniform of the representative was black and gold. He held his cap under one arm as he spoke. Although his back was to them, Besh could see that the representative was a tall muscular man with salt-and-pepper hair cropped short in a military fashion.

The representative said in a deep voice, “We had been tracking them from the asteroid belt. While they were Orlainese, they were enemies of the crown. Frankly, had you left the asteroid belt as per the agreement, you might have avoided the ambush.”

Doctor Brock glanced toward Heaven and Besh as they stood exposed by the corner. He looked quickly back to the representative as the Brigadier answered.

The Brigadier, dressed in his cap and jacket, stood tall and replied. “Sir, you have my apologies and those of the Consortium. It is just that our sensors discovered life on the asteroid.”

The representative responded crisply, “Ocalel is a private hunting ground for the Royalty of Orlain. It is for that reason we asked you to respect its sanctity. Obviously, there are animals on Ocalel. Had you been discovered by the Royalty, the accord between Orlain and the Consortium would be strained to say the least.”

Besh and Heaven looked between themselves. The Brigadier’s approach to HP954 had been in contradiction to treaty. Their attention returned to the conversation ahead of them as the Brigadier responded.

“Again, I am truly sorry,” said the Brigadier. “But, as it turns out, we retrieved one of our own marooned on your asteroid for seven years.” Xander looked past the representative and spotted Heaven standing quietly beside the old man. His eyes hardened momentarily to discover interlopers. Then his eyes relaxed and his arm extended toward the Corporal and Besh.

The Brigadier said to the Orlainese representative, “In fact, here he is.” Xander motioned for Besh and Langley to approach as he said, “Allow me to introduce . . .” the introduction went unfinished.

The representative turned to Besh and dropped his cap. The man from Orlain spread his arms and walked forward with a smile on his scarred face. “Besh!” he called out. “My old friend!”

Besh was suddenly lifted and hugged. Bewildered, the realization of the representative’s identity slowly dawned on him. “Sam?” he asked. “Sam! It’s you.” Besh hugged the man he knew as pirate, Captain, and King. He slapped the hardened back of his old friend and laughed out loud. 

Sam turned to the stunned Brigadier with Besh in his arm. He called happily, “This man saved my life.”

Besh pulled free and drew Langley into Sam’s attention. “Actually,” said Besh, “you can thank Heaven for saving you. None of us knew anything about gunshot wounds. She got you to the Royal Hospital with just seconds to spare.”

Sam took in the image of the Corporal with a crooked smile. “So, it is Heaven who is to blame that I was made King.”

“King?” asked the Brigadier.

“King of Orlain?” asked Major Brock.

Heaven stammered, “Excuse me?”

Besh laughed merrily, then sobered and turned to face his old friend. “Wait,” he said. “Have you been demoted?”

“I wish,” said Sam. His hand pulled the smile from his face. He placed his arm around Besh and said, “We should talk.”