When he’d been a junior officer, he’d always refused the offers of local communities to put him up in luxurious accommodations, but somewhere along the line, he’d realized they were just expressing their love and gratitude for his grandfather’s heroism…and that as much as he had tried, there was no way to refuse without leaving a trail of hurt feelings behind. He’d never gotten comfortable with the celebrations and endless dinners with local dignitaries, but now he tried to strike a balance, humoring the locals enough to be gracious and hiding in his room enough to maintain his sanity.

He felt vibration in his pocket of his com unit buzzing. He pulled out the small device. It was usually clipped to his collar when he wore his uniform, but he’d been planning to go out for a run, and he was dressed in a pair of light sweats.

“Yes?”

“Captain, it’s Atara. I just got a flash update from the base, sir.” Travis took her duties seriously, and part of that meant being the information conduit between base command and the captain. Barron knew she took it upon herself to see that he wasn’t disturbed unless it was absolutely necessary. He appreciated it, but he also regretted the added stress she took on herself.

“What is it, Atara? I know I wouldn’t be hearing from you if there wasn’t a problem.”

“I don’t know, sir. Admiral Lowery wants to see the two of us as soon as possible.”

Barron didn’t like the sound of that. Lowery was the base commander, the senior officer on all Archellia. Something was wrong. Had one of his people gotten into some kind of real trouble? Or had the refit crews found a major problem on Dauntless?

So much for a run…but I definitely need a shower and shave before reporting to the admiral. “Okay. I need about thirty minutes, and I’ll meet you outside the command building.”

“I’ll be there. Atara out.”

Barron sighed. He couldn’t imagine a maintenance problem so bad it couldn’t be discussed over the com. And, while he wouldn’t be surprised if a few of his people—especially the pilots—ended up getting hauled in by base security, he couldn’t imagine any of them had caused any real problems. Drunkenness and brawls were normal enough in any spaceport, nothing that should even get to the admiral’s desk.

He walked toward the bathroom, pulling the tight sweatshirt over his head as he did.

So, what the hell is it?

The war? Has it started?

Barron shook his head. No, that couldn’t be it. If that had happened, the whole base would be on alert. But what else?

What could it be, all the way out here?

*   *   *