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.