Grahame Dorsai Clayton, IV, Commanding Officer of the Star Cruiser
GALILEO was in that delicious state of semi-sleep, where the
subconscious takes control. His sleeping quarters were darkened, the
Shaleen sheets from Shakalar, a gift from his mother, were cool
against his skin. He shifted positions, rolling onto his back and
clasping his hands together on his chest. Again, he relived the
holidays at Greystoke Manor on New Britain. Images of his father and
mother, Lord and Lady Greystoke; neighbors and old friends-and
Kirtland-floated lazily through his mind.
The GALILEO was moored in space some 50 kilometers
from Starbase 12 along with several other Third Fleet ships, awaiting the end of
the stand down and the return of their crews. Heavy Cruisers USS MONITOR
(NCC-1713) and USS MORIARTY (NCC2448); Light Cruisers USS XIA (NCC-1435), USS
TALLEDEGA (NCC-1448), and the Cruiser USS PADDINGTON (NCC-2485); along with
other ships, including USS HELENA, USS PANDORA, USS MESOPOTAMIA and USS SHARIM
EL SHEIKH, were arrayed around the starbase. Each was at a different stage of
readiness. In two days they would all begin to get underway for widely different
missions, their crews refreshed and ready to go. Then, once again, the starbase
would revert to normal: only a couple of ships, undergoing minor repairs, would
remain.
Clayton dimly heard the sounds of eight bells rung
over the shipwide intercom system: four o'clock in the morning. Almost all of
his crew would be on board by now; just a couple of stragglers left to come back
before 0800, when he would contact Fleet Admiral Kenneth Brannon at Third Fleet
Headquarters to learn the ship's next mission. Captain Clayton could dismiss the
gentle sounds of eight bells, but he couldn't ignore the insistent buzz of his
direct communication line to the Bridge.
He reached above his head and activated the circuit.
Wide awake now, he spoke into the empty room, "Captain here."
The apologetic voice of ENS Arrhae t'Kilyle, Chief
Linguistics Officer replied, "Sorry to awaken you, Captain, but I have a
Commanding Officers Eyes Only message from Third Fleet Academy."
Clayton could picture the ensign's light features,
upswept eyebrows and pointed ears at the Communications Station on the Bridge.
He could also imagine the look of concern on her face--no officer enjoyed
bothering her Captain in the middle of the night, not even for a Commanding
Officer's Eyes Only message.
"No problem, Ensign," Clayton managed to hide the
concern he felt. Was there something wrong with Father? Or Mother?
He threw back the covers and reached for his robe. "I'll take it here in my
quarters."
The Starfleet insignia was already on the screen when
Clayton sat down at his computer terminal. "Captain Clayton here."
Vice Admiral Lord Greystoke's image materialized.
Clayton could tell by the look on his father's face that something was very
seriously wrong.
"Son, I'm glad you're back aboard your ship. I have a
problem."
"Is there something wrong with Mother?" Knowing his
father was okay, his concern immediately shifted.
"What? Oh, yes, she's fine. There's nothing wrong
with the family. The problem is at the Academy." He paused, then continued,
"Kyoto Haleakala has been murdered!"
Clayton was stunned. Kyoto had been one of the many
people who had come in and out of Greystoke Manor during the recent holidays.
She had been her usual volatile self. A scene from one of the numerous parties
flashed unbidden into his mind. Tiny Kyoto, with a drink in her hand, was
involved in a heated argument with another faculty member, Jacobsen Hastings.
The diminutive Kyoto was standing her ground, looking up at the figure towering
over her. Hastings made some remark which obviously incensed Kyoto. She looked
at him in contempt, threw her drink in his face, and stalked off.
"Murdered? When? How?" It was inconceivable that
something like this could happen at the Academy
"One of her assistants found her slumped over a
computer console this morning. The program she'd been working on for more than a
year had been erased from memory-including the backup in the Academy's Main
Frame." Lord Greystoke paused and a strange look crossed his face. "She died
from an overdose of Tri-Amber Nightingale."
"TANic? Impossible! Kyoto would never be addicted to
Silk Dreams. It's out of the question!"
"I agree," Lord Greystoke nodded. "But, that's what
happened."
"Why would her computer program be erased? What was
she working on?" Clayton was searching for a motive.
"I can't go into details right now, Son, but it dealt
with the First Confederacy."
An icy hand clutched at Clayton's heart. He had lost
good friends on the Starfleet ships wantonly destroyed by the mysterious First
Confederacy. Ramifications of the last meeting between Federation and First
Confederacy forces were still reverberating throughout Starfleet.
"The First Confederacy?" Clayton repeated. "That's Top
Secret, Grahame, and not for general discussion." Lord Greystoke's voice was
stern.
A sudden suspicion flitted through Clayton's mind.
"Why are you telling me this, Father?"
"You have some of the best minds in the Fleet aboard
the GALILEO, Son. And...." Lord Greystoke was a bit uncomfortable with outward
displays of emotion. He looked uncomfortable now. His voice dropped, "I trust
you, especially, in a situation like this."
Vice Admiral Lord Greystoke studied his hands intently
for a moment, then looked up. "I've already talked to Admiral Brannon at Third
Fleet Headquarters. Your orders to get underway for Third Fleet Academy at best
possible speed should arrive any moment."
Clayton leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and
studied his father silently. He leaned forward and quietly asked, "And what else
do those orders say, Admiral?"
"Operational and tactical control of the GALILEO have
been transferred to Third Fleet Academy until this situation is cleared up."
Clayton involuntarily raised one eyebrow, "I'm to
report to you?"
"It may sound awkward, Son, but it'll be okay. I need
your help," Lord Greystoke was almost pleading.
Clayton nodded, knowing how hard this was on his
father. "We'll be there as soon as possible."
"Thank you, Captain. I'm relying on you." Lord
Greystoke retreated to safer ground.
Clayton, not entirely happy with this assignment, for
several reasons, turned off the screen and punched the hailing button on his
communications panel.
"First Officer report to the Captain's Quarters on the
double."
CDR Donati had just stepped off the transporter
platform. He reached over the edge of the transporter console and replied
tersely, "On my way, Captain."
The tone of his captain's voice was one Bo Donati
wasn't familiar with. It was obvious, though, that something serious and out of
the ordinary was up. He moved quickly to the door, down the corridor, and into
the turbolift, making sure his uniform was in place. Evidently this was no
social event.