Chapter 5
(Covering Tracks)

Natan Gannatet’s Wonderful Autobiography!

I’d like to start out by saying that this goes out to my beloved and my son. I’d like to thank them for putting up with my infrequent calls and never visiting them.

So!

I suppose I should start at the beginning; I was born on May twenty-second, sixty-oh-six to Midris Gannatet and Ameda Gannatet. I was the second son, my brother Saimon was seven years older. I was born on Victory Station out in the Teviot sector, on the edge of Gilonnian space - actually near the corner of Wolfadon space too, and beyond that was the wide Unknown! Victory Station had been built by my grandfather. Ameda, my mother, was the current Stationmaster. When I was seven, the Emperor’s brother, Gelran, took off with Ha’Likka, the then second in command to the top admiral of the Imperial Navy. Along with her went half the navy and the war broke out. Victory was evacuated and mothballed, due to our exposed position near Rebel space - Emperor Armalan couldn’t spare the ships needed to protect us.

For the next few years, we were sort of drifters. Dad got the rights to a ship and started trading, but we kept getting boarded and our cargo confiscated by Rebels. Dad finally sold the ship when I was fifteen and bought some land on Larena and we moved there. He’d spent a good part of his life on Victory Station, but never really took to space, I however, really missed space - I’d gotten to be a real hot pilot by then, and not having a ship nearly drove me crazy.

Though I’ve never really liked planets, it was there that I found my best friend, Paymeh. I’m just not comfortable at the bottom of a gravity well, staring up at the stars. Before I met Paymeh I’d used to get so frustrated with being unable to see the familiar patterns. I annoyed my family to no end, begging to go home to Victory. My parents always refused, and for good reason. The Teviot sector was firmly behind Rebel lines by then.

Our favorite game was Space Fleet; we’d come home from school and head out to the backyard where I’d engineered a tree house to look like the bridge of a ship. Of course, I was the captain and Paymeh would play any other officer he felt like playing. He could never settle on one - finicky lizard.

When my brother turned twenty, he joined the Navy, but shortly afterwards, he was captured and we never heard what happened to him. When I was eighteen, I’d made up my mind to enlist, but I had to finish high school, which didn’t take long. I’d annoyed all the teachers, and had visited the Dean’s office more than a hundred times during the three years I was there for pranks and various disruptions, though I was acing all my classes. When I petitioned him to just let me go mid-year, he said - and I quote: “Leave? You want to leave early? Oh Emperor! Bless you for this miracle! Get out Natan! Get out and never is too soon before I see you again!”

Bless him, he was so fun to torment! My son is attending the same school - and that man’s still Dean. Unfortunately, my son’s not quite the prankster I was. Ah well.

I’ll get to that later.

Anyway, I told my parents the good news about the Dean signing my diploma right then and there in the office and booting my butt out the front doors. They were so proud of me.

Then I showed them my acceptance into the Navy.

They weren’t too happy about that.

It was then that I learned the meaning of ‘Rant’. My mother threw a fit, my father stomped and raved. All I could do was just sit there and take it until they’d started repeating themselves - that way no one could ever say that I hadn’t heard them out. My argument was that the Empire needed someone as smart as me and there wasn’t a more capable pilot! I also told them that while I was out, maybe I could find out what had happened to Saimon. I told them that I’d send letters and vids and come home when I could, and that I’d make myself so visible that they’d know if something happened to me. They weren’t interested in those arguments, and honestly, I still don’t understand them. I was past the age when parental instinct would have made them so rabid about it, but I don’t know. I started to wonder if maybe Saimon took off without a word for this very reason. He just disappeared while we were docked at a station one day and later sent a letter telling us where he’d gone.

However, being that I hate breaking promises - even ones not really agreed to - I refused to tell them that I wouldn’t join without their permission since I’d already been accepted and I was to report to duty by the end of the week. I also planned on doing my best to get noticed by the officers in... positive ways.

So! Midnight, I took off from home and hiked to the spaceport where I joined two other young men on a transport to Ika Station. We talked some on the flight, but nothing much. They were going to be techies and I was going to break the stuff they fixed. I didn’t know much about fixing the stuff I piloted, but I knew I could pilot. However, as I listened to their chatter across the aisle, I realized how handicapped I was and decided that I’d learn how to fix stuff too. Haha. It wasn’t as easy as I thought. I’ll say more on that later.

In any case, we got to the Fusaki, captained by one Da’Huran. He was the very definition of “Stick in the Mud.” But there I stood in my crumpled new uniform after a long ride in a cramped transport, saluting, and trying not to laugh. Everyone else, even the other two that were on the transport with me, were prim and proper. I just stood there wrinkled and grinning.

Huran’s got this thing about insubordination, and he’d read my file. He knew the things I’d been up to in school and didn’t like it one bit. But he needed pilots and I was there to be a pilot - if I passed the test. He’d told me then and there while in roll call - I remember this part clearly! “I know your kind, Gannatet, and I don’t like them. You step out of line once and you’re out.” What he didn’t find out about didn’t kill him - I know that for a fact!

The test was a simulation of a battle. The first run through was a test of how well we new recruits could follow orders.

I’ll let you guess how well I did on that one.

Second test was what we’d do in an emergency situation.

Hehe. I liked that one a lot. The situation was thus: our commanding officer was dead and all that was left of the wing were the other recruits that were taking the pilot’s test. I convinced them to follow my orders. One idiot decided to argue with me and he ended up getting shot down because I’d led off those who’d decided they liked me better and we kicked butt and took names, pulling through the battle without another loss and with the most kills on simulation record. Huran Really didn’t like me. Neither did that idiot, Gatas Phie.

No one liked Gatas much back then either.

I wasn’t put in charge of a wing immediately - and if Huran hadn’t been forced to later I never would have been. It only took three years for the wing officer to do something stupid in a battle and get himself killed. Poor guy, he was a good man, but not very inspired in the tactics department. No one argued when I told the wing to follow me and started handing out orders. Thankfully, Gatas had learned his lesson. That was the seventy-kills-in-one-battle record and in one stroke I’d made sure that I was noticed by all and that I couldn’t just be shoved to the back ranks again. This was also when I got my first Silver Star and met Emperor Armalan for the first time.

Being the cocky twit I was back then, I was respectful enough to him to not have my butt thrown in jail, but I also refused to be anything other than myself and, of course, Huran was pissed, but when was Huran not pissed? So, Armalan invited me to come have a drink or two with him and the other officers who had gotten medals that day. I was so proud of that Silver Star, but I tastefully left it in my room when I went to the Emperor’s little party. Huran was wearing his still.

For four hours, I told dirty stories to the officers and even made Emperor Armalan blow brandy out his nose with one, but I’ll save his dignity and refrain from specifying which one. By the time we all left, we were sloshed, but happily so, and we all returned to our rooms to sleep off the hangovers. Okay, so expensive brandy shouldn’t be chugged like that, but who cares?

I really do miss Armalan. He was a good fellow, a bit older than me, but still good, but he had rather romantic ideas of how a war should be run. He thought it was all glorious battle and that Heroes would triumph and silliness like that. Honestly though, we were on the losing side and we had to do something to turn the tide or the empire would be swallowed by that greedy son of a bitch Gelran and his whore Likka.

I slaved away for six years as a pilot, taking lessons from the techies on how to fix what I broke, and though I was never quite as expert at it as they were, I could tell when something wasn’t done right. I’d decided that should I ever had kids, I’d make sure they knew tactics, how to pilot, and exactly how their ships worked.

I’d made friends with a lot of the mechanics in Huran’s ship by being willing to learn what they knew, but never stepping on their territory by attempting to fix my ship on my own.

During that time, I had at least three official girlfriends on every station and some on the side that the others didn’t know about. None of them were anything serious, just something I did because it was fun and I was a handsome prick and I knew it. Looking back, I can’t help but wonder at myself.

Ah well, past is the past...

Gatas and I never got to be good friends of any sort, but when he mentioned wanting to start a civilian fleet to me the thought hit me! What the war needed were not just Imperial dogs for heroes, but some regular peeps. While Gatas didn’t have the cash to buy himself a ship, I figured I could get a loan on something small and work my way up. I still had my inheritance from Victory that I hadn’t touched, so I threw that into the bargain along with all my pay I’d been saving up and bought myself a little mining craft I named Midris. Sure, Dad refused to talk to me, but I still loved him, and thought he’d like having a tough little ship like that named after him. I promptly retired from service - much to Huran’s relief. Gatas took up command over the wing and did well enough, but he always played by the book.

I worked over in the Marak system for three and a half years before I’d paid off my loan for the ship and started showing some profit on the stocks I’d bought as well as some eh... okay... So they were shady dealings on the gray market, mostly information, but they got me a lot of contacts in that area, as well as a lot of other places. I’d finally saved up enough to buy my first battle ship, which I called Midris as well, and I was able to get a letter of marquee and reprisal from the Emperor, establishing myself as a privateer. After that I sold my mining ship for some extra cash and hired some crew for our maiden flight. The Midris II is still the smallest of my fleet, holding only a crew of thirty and at max fifteen fighters, but it’s the fastest since I had the engines replaced. I won’t bother going into the details since anyone reading this probably already knows.

Heheh, though I will say this. There’s some stuff on that thing that’s not up for sale at just any station.

We were a real skeleton bunch. I was com officer as well as captain and ship ops, Paymeh ran Weapons two, and a pretty little thing named Erekdra ran navigation. Arih ran weapons one. We had a wing of ten fighter ships that the pilots had to do their own maintenance on for lack of funds to hire real mechanics. It was incentive for them to not get shot up. And off we went, into Rebel territory all on our own.

Our first battle was small but successful. We’d happened across a struggling merchant ship that was getting chased by three small battle ships. I admit, we got busted up a bit, but we saved the merchants and hauled them aboard before their ship died. They were so grateful that they joined my crew and that was how I got Bibbole to take over com operations with his bond Codas taking ship ops. Codas’s mate took off to control the mechanics department and make sure my pilots knew what they were doing while her brother, Yaun, became a pilot himself. Yaun and his mate had two grown children and weren’t interested in having any more.

We collected crew as we went - as well as rewards for capturing Rebel ships by surprise and stealth. Finally, I had a full crew on the Midris, and there were more that wanted to join. We had plenty of money from my ventures in the stock market and gray market, as well as money from the rewards and selling protection to wealthy merchants who felt like their goods were worth buying the services of The Great Da’Natan.

* * *

Pulling a comb through his wet hair, Vathion eyed his reflection. He probably could have done with more sleep, but he doubted he would have succeeded, considering his last two attempts. After the first attempt ended in screaming, terrified failure, he had pulled up the crew dossier on a datapad and perused that until he had fallen asleep again. The second time, he had pulled out his father’s autobiography. Other than having hollow, sunken in eyes, Vathion supposed he looked fine - all things considered.

Setting the comb down, Vathion shoved his hands through his hair to break it into smaller chunks so it would dry faster. Going to bed just after showering had been a bad idea. Leaning forward over the white bathroom countertop, Vathion wiped his finger across his Bondstone. There were still some specks of blue paint on it from the play.

‘Today it’s violet. Jathas’s eyes were silver, Paymeh’s are blue. ...maybe it’s got something to do with what Paymeh did?’ ...Whatever Paymeh had done. Vathion had never heard of a Hyphokos acting like that before. Hyphokos usually respected each other more. As Jathas had explained to Vathion once, Bonding with a Gilon meant that Hyphokos had another spot to store extra memories, like an external hard drive for a computer. These spots were not something a Gilon could access. The things stored in a Hyphokos’s Gilon were still available through a mental link that did not require direct touch. This was not like what occurred in Bonding meetings between Hyphokos Association groups, which did require direct touch and fully meshed the thoughts and memories of the Hyphokos involved. At first, Vathion had been upset that his head was being used as a mobile storage unit, but he had gotten over that quickly.

‘Maybe it had something to do with that mental link?’

Lowering his hand, Vathion clenched his fist and thumped it against the bathroom counter once before standing back. If he could get away with it, he would gladly punt that blasted lizard! He and Jathas had always made a game of physical abuse, but it was a mutual thing and they'd never actually hurt each other.

Vathion eyed his reflection, and scowled at his uniform. He could tell it was his father’s. The same as he could tell that the bathroom had belonged to his father, and the bed, and the bedroom...

‘At least the boots are mine,’ Vathion mused sourly.

Lifting his shoulders, Vathion set them in a confident angle, and then tried on a cheerful grin.

His grin immediately curdled and he quickly left the bathroom. Pausing in the bedroom, he shoved his hands through his hair. “Kiti, what time is it?”

“Six-twenty-five, Heartland time,” the soothing female voice of the ship’s AI said. “You should rest some more.”

Ignoring her, Vathion headed towards the bedroom door - only to be tackled by a nearly-crimson lizard. Before Vathion could blink, Paymeh had merged with him, leaving the young Gilon to straighten his shirt and cut all his mental connections with the symbiotic Hyphokos out of spite. It only seemed fair, if very rude, but what did it matter? Vathion figured his life was only likely to get worse before it abruptly ended - just like Natan’s had.

Stepping out of his quarters and self-consciously pulling on the top of the strange uniform, Vathion adjusted his belt and breathed a sigh.

“Ha’Natan?” someone called from down the hall.

Vathion turned a frown towards the pale crewwoman and corrected, “I am Ha’Vathion. Please introduce yourself?” Though he did vaguely recognize her from his perusal of the personnel files earlier.

Shocked, she stared at him for a moment before stammering, “Ca’Hassi, second shift communications officer,” and lifting a hand, she saluted him. What she was doing up this early and heading out of a room on the inside wall of the ship, Vathion was not sure, since first shift had rooms on the inside wall, second shift had rooms on the hull-side, and third and fourth were down a level. She was an average sized woman with brown eyes and orange hair. She did not look bad for a forty-year-old, but Vathion could tell she was getting nearer to fifty by the lines near her eyes. She probably had a pretty smile. Currently she was frowning slightly.

Nodding, Vathion said, “Carry on,” and continued on his way, heading across the wide hall to the bridge. Taking a breath, he steeled himself. If Ca’Hassi’s reaction was any indication, today was probably going to be a long one.

Turning at the sound of the door opening, Ma'Gatas squawked in horror, “Ha’Natan?” He stepped away from the captain's chair and down to his own.

‘A Very long day,’ Vathion thought sourly.

Taking a moment to collect his nerves and temper, Vathion stared at Gatas before stepping forward to drop into the captain’s chair, “No,” he said, then added on second thought, “I suppose I should do a fleet-wide announcement or something.” Not that he wanted to, but he did now own twelve old, beat up battleships which included around nineteen hundred officers and crew.

Ca’Bibbole, first shift communications, cleared his throat, turning his diamond shaped head to look towards Vathion. To use a Gilon sized station, he had a smaller panel pulled out just under it with Hyphokos sized buttons. He had an audio bug clipped to one of his long flexible ears. Today, his shoulder length hair was done in three braids, two falling in front of his ears and one straight down the back. “Yes...” the Hyphokos agreed, “Now, sir?”

Thinking on that briefly, Vathion decided, “May as well get it over with.”

Opening his eyes once again, the young man looked over the various stations on the bridge. His chair was set near the back, a short distance from the door. He had his own screen which could access whatever station he chose to peek at, with a mini window logging all commands and feedback. To his direct right was the bridge office door and beside it, the communications station where Ca’Bibbole was seated. Next to the comstation was weapons one and two with a pair of orange-haired women seated at them. Wo’Chira and Wo’Arih were obviously sisters. To their left was navigation, also manned by a dark haired woman who had taken some liberties with the Fleet uniform and turned the boots and leggings into heels and a tiny skirt; Fae’Erekdra. To her left was the ship operations station where Li’Codas sat, and from behind, he looked like a cucumber. Gatas’s chair was in front of Vathion’s and down a step, low enough for Vathion to see over the man’s shoulder.

The room looked exactly the same as the bridge of his flagship on Battle Fleet, a game his father had sent him when he was little and had updated fairly regularly through the years. It was not a game any of his friends had, either, which left Vathion with the sneaking suspicion that his father had created it for him and him alone. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

Bibbole turned his diamond-shaped head back towards his screen, “Channel open, Ha’N- Vathion. Front screen.”

Gatas stood to the side with his arms crossed on his thick chest, scowling - in view of the camera Vathion was about to speak to.

Taking a breath, Vathion stood. “Good day. I am Ha’Vathion, your new admiral.” He paused, unsure of what to say, and feeling nervous with everyone on the bridge watching him. He imagined hearing his voice echoing through the halls of the ship and nearly shivered. “I am the son of Ha’Natan,” he paused, thinking fast before he continued.

Confirming that Natan was dead would not be such a good idea but it felt wrong to lie to his own crew. But there was no such thing as a secret amongst so many. All he could do was damage control.

Straightening his shoulders, Vathion lifted his chin, making his decision. “My father’s greatest wish is to restore order and peace to our people and I will carry on that goal to the best of my ability - otherwise, he’d be rather upset with me.” In a quick annoyed glance aside, Vathion continued, shifting his weight to drape a wrist over the hilt of his baton and the other thumb hooked in his belt, “The reason for this sudden change is partly my father being his eccentric self, but mostly because Ha’Natan felt that it was time to test me and wanted the chance to visit my mother. As for how he successfully lived so long without constant contact from his mate... He's Natan, and we all know that Natan does whatever pleases him." Vathion shrugged. "So, in short, Ha’Natan is on vacation as of two days ago, and I will continue the fight!”

Figuring that he had said enough, Vathion nodded to Ca’Bibbole, and the link was cut. He took a seat, feeling drained, but that was only the start of his problems. It had just occurred to him that he had an entire school full of students and teachers back at home who knew nearly everything about him. How embarrassing...

Gatas was staring at him, mouth opened. “You - you just lied to them!” He flung his arm out, to gesture wildly at nothing.

Taking a breath, Vathion relaxed in his seat then shifted to put his elbow on the arm of his chair, nibbling his nail lightly as he thought. “Yes, I did,” he said blandly. “You people are the only ones who know Natan is dead, correct? Aside from Savon.” To this, Erekdra, the navigator, nodded. “I’d like to keep it that way. You’re hereby under gag orders.”

Still, Gatas was gaping at him like a beached fish.

First thing was first. If Natan had been murdered, Vathion needed to figure out what he had been doing in Cargo Bay Four. Then there was the matter of making sure that no one would believe that Natan was dead, the chaos that would cause would be terrible. Well. Best to continue the lie he told the rest of the fleet. Sitting up, Vathion checked the screen at his right hand. Of his twelve ships, four were in dock. They were on alert, so while there was crew running around the station, they could easily return to their ships and take off. The four currently in port were Cinnamon, Episode 34, Seven, and Cider. The other eight were stationed around the sector, watching for any signs of trouble.

“I want Cinnamon to switch with Xarian on patrol.”

Gatas shook his head, “What? But Cinnamon is in dock.”

Vathion nodded.

“You want us to dock?”

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Vathion nodded again. “Yes. That was my intention.”

“We don’t need to do that. We’re fully supplied!” Ma’Gatas argued.

Eyes falling half lidded, Vathion straightened, “Ma’Gatas,” he said calmly, holding onto his temper, “Is there some reason why we can’t put into dock for a day?”

For a moment, the second in command stared at him, opening and closing his mouth, then closed it and scowled. “Yes,” he said finally, “We’ve got better things to do than let you sightsee.”

Vathion eyed him, then said, “Hardly sightseeing, Ma’Gatas, I’ve got things I need to do on station. Quit arguing with me. Fae’Erekdra put us into port. Ca’Bibbole, if you’d send the messages?”

“Yes sir,” his officers said, following orders and leaving Ma’Gatas to do all the bitching and whining.

Fae’Erekdra reported, “It will take an hour to dock.”

Getting to his feet, Vathion glanced around, “I’ll be in my quarters, should anything happen that Ma’Gatas can’t cover.” Turning, he left the room and headed across the hall. He needed to make some calls.

If he remembered correctly, there were some people he could call out in the Baelton sector of space that might have some information. Well, if the information from Battle Fleet could be trusted, which Vathion had a feeling it could - everything else was quite accurate so far, except the graphics on the game, which had been far from realistic. He shook his head, remembering how insistent his mother had been about his taking the game with him. He needed to call her still, but that would have to wait. He did not want to be teary eyed in front of the people he needed to speak to.

Heading into his office, Vathion took a seat at the desk.

For a moment, he sat there, staring at the screen, running his hands across the edge of the desk.

How many times had he seen his father looking at him through this very screen?

Gritting his teeth, Vathion shook his head and pressed his fingers to his eyes. No. He was not going to cry! He wasn’t! Taking a breath, Vathion lowered his hand and straightened his jacket, “Kiti, call Pi’Xian... usual precautions.” Though he hoped the name was correct - the names of his bridge crew on the game had been optional and he only knew the real crew’s names because they were on the Show.

There was a moment and the screen lit up finally with the face of a haggard man with scars crisscrossed over his flesh. He was shirtless, and Vathion hoped the man was wearing pants. The room behind him was dark, his face and torso only lit by the glow of the screen. “Who’re you? Yer not Natan.” The man lifted a hand towards the disconnect key.

“Wait!” Vathion yelped, “I’m his son.” This made the man pause.

Scowling, Pi’Xian leaned closer to the screen, “So.”

Unsure if the man would stick around any longer, Vathion cut straight to business, “You’re Pi’Xian, correct?” the man nodded, “I need some information.”

“Where’s Natan?” Xian said belligerently. “I don talk to no one but Natan.”

Pursing his lips, Vathion pondered his choices. He had three as far as he could see. The first was telling the truth about Natan, the second was lying about Natan, and the third was just bribing the man. “Not even for a case of Malt?” Vathion asked. “Too bad, I guess I’ll take it somewhere else. And here my father had been saving it for you...” Hopefully that would send him the message that Vathion was all right with the usual procedures for business.

“Why you rotten...” the pilot growled. Vathion smiled sweetly at him, “Fine. What do ya’ wanna know an’ when can I get my Malt?”

Vathion pondered, “Xarian will be in port in an hour. I’ll make the usual arrangements,” which were the ones he had to make on his Battle Fleet game with the contact called ‘Prickly Pilot Xian’. Pi’Xian nodded, folding his arms, “I need to know what kind of traffic’s been going through Baelton, and if you heard any noise about my father lately?”

Pi’Xian leaned forward again, remaining silent for a long moment. “He’s dead, innt he?”

“Of course not,” Vathion said, “Just gone on vacation. He needed to be with Mom for a bit.”

The pilot did not look convinced, but he nodded. “Right... On vacation... That official?”

"Yes."

Xian stared at him.

“Make up whatever.” Vathion sighed at himself. This hiding Natan's death thing was getting off to a great start. “The wilder the better. But what’ve you heard?”

Again, the man sat back, looking stunned, and his belligerent expression fading to one of remorse, “Emperor watch over him,” he mumbled, “Nuttin’ out of the ordinary here, Ha’Vathion,” he said. “Just the usual traders. As for Natan, ain’ nuffin’ about him, just people gettin’ worried with the Fleet hangin’ around for so long. They dunno what’s up. I’ll start spreadin’ rumors.”

Vathion nodded, endeavoring to not show his surprise. Perhaps not lying to Xian had been the best move after all. “Good. It’d serve the Rebels more than the Empire if the truth got out.”

“Can I at least ask what he died of?” Xian requested.

Scuffling his feet under the desk, Vathion tried to remember what kind of information he could give to this man. He could not recall, but he relented anyway, “Fatal case of compression... Someone applied a large crate to him.”

Xian blinked and shook his head. “All right. You stay out of trouble, kid... much as your breeding’ll let chya.” Briefly, the pilot grinned, “Call if you get another crate of Malt ya need to get rid of.”

Nodding, Vathion said, “Sure. See ya, Prickly.” That had been the name of the animal that Pi’Xian had been represented by in Battle Fleet: a spiny sea creature with attitude.

The man’s brows rose, and he laughed, “So he told ya that too.”

Smiling sadly, Vathion shrugged. “In a fashion. Thanks for the info.”

“Lighten up, kid. It ain’ right seein’ summin’ who looks like Natan scowlin’.”

Lips twitching downwards, Vathion sighed. “So I’ve been told.” He shook his head. Xian was apparently finished with the conversation, for he hit the button to disconnect his link.

Sighing, Vathion shifted, “Call Miski’s, order a case of Malt, have it delivered to the Kavinndar.”

Closing his eyes, Vathion kicked the wall under his desk, listening to the clonk of his boots against the metal paneling. He kicked it again and opened his eyes, “Call Hyan, usual precautions.”

Again, the screen flashed and a woman’s image filled it this time. She leaned forward with a seductive smile, exposing her ample attributes to him, “Ha’Natan,” she murmured, “You look exceptionally good today - but why the expression? Someone kick your pet?”

His brow twitched. Vathion was caught between the urge to laugh at the difference between the real Hyan and the one from Battle Fleet, and cry at her practically quoting Natan about his usual expression, and third option was to flush to the roots of his hair. Lisha had been rather well endowed, but not quite that much and Vathion was glad there was a wallscreen and a lot of distance separating them. He suspected she was surgically enhanced.

Lifting a hand, he coughed behind his fist, “Ah, Ha’Vathion,” he corrected her, “Ha’Natan, my father, has gone on vacation.”

She pouted, but her full lips could not remain in that position for long and the corners curved upwards in a sly look. “I see. Too bad. But maybe you’ll come visit me then? I get so lonely sometimes. Ha’Natan hasn’t visited me in years.”

“I think not,” Vathion said, “Too much to do to get involved with tea and playtime now. Perhaps on another visit, Lady Hyan.”

She pouted again.

Vathion quickly forged on. “So anyone unusual come to your parties lately?”

Sitting back, Hyan adjusted her ...attributes… as she said, “Hmm, not really.”

Vathion frowned. She always preened when she was lying. “I suppose I’ll just have to tell someone about a certain little deal my father mentioned...”

Hyan blushed red, then huffed, “Enough! Fine!” She scowled and Vathion gave that obnoxiously oblivious smile of Natan’s. Grinding her teeth, she crossed her legs and picked at the edge of her silky over robe as she spoke. “Fine,” she repeated in a calmer, quieter tone, “I had the Stationmaster come for a visit. He asked me about the Fleet and when you’d be leaving but I told him I didn’t know. So when are you leaving?”

“When I feel like it,” Vathion said. “Anything else he asked?”

Her eyes fell half lidded as she flipped her hair off her shoulder. It had changed colors so many times that it was impossible to guess what color it had originally been. Currently it was blue. “I dunno. The Stationmaster gave me a pretty good price to stay quiet.”

Vathion eyed her. She was telling the truth, but what she was hiding, he could not guess. Weighing the options, he finally said, “Thanks. See ya.”

“Wait!”

He paused in his action to hit the disconnect button on his keyboard.

Hyan frowned at him, “You’re not even going to ask what I know? Or my price?”

Vathion was not sure how Natan had dealt with her, but in Battle Fleet, he had always just brushed her off and pretended like he was not that interested in what she had to say and she usually ended up telling him without a fee. So, Vathion pretended to ponder her words, then smiled at her, “Nope!” he continued towards the keyboard.

A hiss and slap on the desk in front of her and Hyan said, “Fine! But you tell me something in return!”

Blinking at her, Vathion kept that idiotic expression trademarked by his father on his face, “What? No fee?”

“Where’s Ha’Natan?” she asked.

Pondering, Vathion looked up at the ceiling, “Well. Hmm... I think he said something about Victory Station before he left. I dunno, he was a little weird when he called me. Stranger than usual anyway.” Vathion shrugged, straightening his expression and leaned closer to lower his voice, “I think he might’ve lost it - driven mad by the Rebels or by not having my mother around for so long. He really did a number on his biology, doing what he did. The crew said he cursed and screamed then stole a fighter from the bay and just took off!”

Eyes widening, Hyan lifted a hand. “Oh my! At least he put someone sane in charge before he left...”

Frowning, Vathion shook his head. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Can you keep it secret?” he asked, glancing around with a worried expression. “Bloody... I really shouldn’t have said that. Lady Hyan, I’ll give you a donation if you just keep that to yourself, okay?”

“How much?” Hyan smiled.

“Four thousand.”

Her eyes widened. “Ohhh... Your secret’s safe with me!” Of course it was. Vathion was counting on it being all over the station before the end of the day.

Tapping out some commands on his keyboard, Vathion frowned as he transferred the credits to her account.

“Well, since you were so honest with me. Stationmaster’s got some drug rings he’s running on station, they’re passing Shell and they use my parlor to have meetings, so food and creature comforts aren’t the only thing getting traded out of Baelton.” She smiled, curling her hair around her finger, quite proud of herself.

Vathion nodded, and gave her another five hundred, “Just hang onto that for me, okay?”

Her smile broadened, and Hyan said, “Sure thing, love.” Letting go of her hair, she kissed her fingers and blew it at him, “Come see me some time. I’ll give you your money’s worth.” She winked as Vathion flushed.

“Sure,” he said and disconnected.

Sagging, Vathion sighed. Who was next? The news stations needed to be called directly, they did not move in the circles Xian and Hyan did. “Kiti, call Baelton News anonymously - tell them that you heard that Ha’Natan has gone on a solo mission for Emperor Daharn and that you spotted him incognito on station somewhere but that when you tried to talk to him, he said something about going to Heartland.”

Kiti giggled. “Okay, Stud Muffin,” she said and Vathion frowned. He had not seen her visual yet, no one outside of the Fleet knew what she looked like; even the Natan Fleet Show did not have visuals of her. They just had a dry female voice that confirmed commands over the audio. In Battle Fleet, Kiti’s visual was of a pretty young mint haired and eyed woman and her voice was warm and her responses nearly as versatile as any living person’s. “Done, Sexy Beast.”

Vathion frowned. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, sweetie, it’s my programming for your quarters.”

Sighing, Vathion shook his head. “Insane jerk...” he muttered. “All right, Kiti, call E-Sector News and give them the message that Ha’Natan’s finally lost his mind and after streaking around the ship naked, he stole a fighter and headed off to Datanna, swearing at the top of his lungs that the universe was dirty and he was escaping the germs. Those in the know suspect it to be Widow Syndrome.”

Sighing as he tried to think of anything else he could do, Vathion finally shook his head and looked at the time in the bottom corner of his wallscreen. He still had half an hour.

“Kiti... call my mother. You know the number, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” she said.

In front of him, the screen went black, clicked a few times, and then finally brightened.

The sight of his mother did not reassure him as to her condition. Vathion put on a smile for her, “Hey Mom,” he said.

She was dressed but was brushing her hair dry. At least he had not disturbed her sleep, as it was still fairly early in the day as his first shift was set to Heartland time. Hasabi managed a smile, but it faded quickly. “You actually called,” she said.

“What? You think I’d forget?” Vathion said, then winced as he realized he had just quoted his father.

Hasabi shook her head, picking up the brush she had set down on the desk when she had answered the call. The room behind her was a spacious bedroom, decorated with rich fabrics and antique paintings. It did not look like any hotel room Vathion had ever seen on the limited trips he had taken with Mirith and her family. “No. You’re better at remembering things than he ever was,” she admitted. “Are you doing all right?”

“Yes. Well enough, I guess,” Vath said, “I keep freaking people out, though.” He glanced at the time again.

“You have somewhere you need to be,” Hasabi said, interpreting his glance.

Shaking his head, Vathion said, “Not yet. Not for another twenty minutes, anyway. I’m going to parade around Baelton and do damage control...” Lifting his hands, he scrubbed his face with them then shoved his fingers through his hair. “I lied to my captains,” he told her. “And I just lied to several news stations and a whore. I’m lying to the Empire...”

Reaching out, Hasabi touched the screen lightly and Vathion lifted his own hand out, wishing desperately that he could lace his fingers with hers. “I’m sure you’re doing it for a good reason,” she said and smiled at him.

“I’m doing it because... Dad was more than an eccentric... he’s a symbol.”

Hasabi sighed and closed her eyes, nodding. “Soon, you will be too.”

“I’ll never be as good as he was,” Vathion said bitterly. “Not when Ma’Gatas says ‘why’ to every word that comes from my mouth.”

“He’s probably just a little upset. Natan’s antics always kept him irritated.”

“I guess... He says I’m inexperienced and that I don’t know what I’m doing... and the bad part is, I agree. But... But if I just left him in charge, then everyone would know something was up. I mean... I said I’d be admiral, but that doesn’t rule out taking my officer’s opinions into account, does it?” Vathion asked.

Casting a sad smile at him, Hasabi finally lowered her hand and returned to brushing her hair gently. “No, it doesn’t. You just do your best. Your father had faith in you.” She paused. “Vathion, where’s Jathas?”

Looking away, Vathion curled his hands in his lap as he said, “He...died. Paymeh mistook me for Dad... and killed Jathas.”

She gasped, “Oh no!” Her hand went out to the screen again. “I’m so sorry!”

Clenching his teeth, Vathion shook his head. “I’m fine. It just gave me an awful headache.”

Hasabi stared at him, then slowly sat back. “I wish... I could make it better,” she said, “I’m sorry. I wish things had been different for us, I wish we could have been a proper family - not... this.”

Vathion lifted his eyes to look at her, “Don’t talk like that. I just don’t need to think about that right now. I have work I’ve got to do and breaking down into tears isn’t going to help me convince anyone else that Dad is still alive.” Taking a breath, he shook his head, and then asked, “Where are you?”

“Ha’Vathion,” Kiti interrupted, “We’ve arrived in dock.”

For a moment, Hasabi sat silent, watching him from billions of miles away - wherever she was - and Vathion could not bring himself to tell her goodbye.

Finally, she made the first move, “Go on and knock their socks off with your amazing charm and wit. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” Vathion said, and with great reluctance, cut the link and got to his feet.

Chapter 4 ..... Chapter 6