Excerpt
Deep Space, 2568 CE
For the first time in his century-long career, Fleet-Captain Arjen of Clan D'gameh disapproved of a mission he had been given. That his orders came straight from the Supreme made no difference to his feelings, nor did the First Speaker's assurance that the Circle of Lords deemed it vital to the survival of the Traiti race.
It wasn't the goal of the mission that disturbed him, as much as the means. In the war between the Traiti and the Terran Empire, two things were, if not exactly sacred, proprieties that both sides respected. One was hospital ships, and the other was the return of bodies to their kin. By extension, ships delivering wounded or picking up dead were also immune, a principle that neither side had violated … yet.
Arjen and his reinforced fleet were about to violate that unwritten taboo. The Fleet-Captain looked around his flagship's control central, conscious that nobody else aboard the Hermnaen knew of the planned deceit. He traced the honor-scars on his upper body through the cloth of his shirt, wishing he were elsewhere and free of the orders that seemed so dishonorable—then he told himself sternly to get on with it.
His mission was to deliver one of the Terran Empire's elite, one of the green-uniformed Rangers, safely to the Supreme and First Speaker on Homeworld. Although that sounded simple enough, it would take both firepower and trickery. Arjen's fleet, now with sixty ships instead of forty, had firepower enough to overwhelm even a Sovereign-class Terran battle cruiser, the type of ship a Ranger normally used. Fifty-nine of the Traiti warcraft were in positions that englobed a point in space a quarter-million n'liu from a blue-and-white oxygen planet—over forty diameters out, nearly in the orbit of the planet's moon.
The Hermnaen was still at the center of the twenty-n'liu-diameter sphere of ships, its Ship-Captain and crew waiting for Arjen's orders. Still reluctant to begin the trickery that was part of this operation, Arjen spoke anyway. "Release signal transmitter."
"Aye, Fleet-Captain." Battle discipline was strict, if fair; not even an action as apparently senseless as releasing a beacon in the center of a combat-ready fleet was questioned.
Then the Hermnaen took its own position in the sphere and Arjen ordered the beacon activated. The moment the distinctive paired triple-pings, used only for body-return containers, sounded on the ship's receivers, Arjen found himself the focus of fourteen pairs of eyes, from the ship's operators in their U of consoles facing him and the Master-Pilot and Ship-Captain Exvani, whose consoles flanked Arjen's at the opening of the U—but not even those senior officers spoke their questions aloud.
It wasn't necessary; Arjen knew they shared the shock and dismay he'd felt when he was given this mission, and he was sure similar feelings were spread throughout the Fleet. He sighed and displayed resignation by extending the claws on one hand. "Give me Fleet Communications."
"Aye, Fleet-Captain." The Communications operator's attention returned to his console, and within minutes Arjen was in communication with all his Ship-Captains....