A Matter of Honor (Privateer Tales Book 9) Read Free Page B

Peren had forwarded from Admiral Tullas' office.
    "They better have something to eat or I'm going to be grumpy," Ada said.
    I laughed. For such a small girl, she always worried about where her next meal was coming from.
    A shiny silver, oval shuttle landed next to our huts, just down from the stairs leading to the beach.
    "That's us," Nick said.
    A small gang-plank extended from the side of the shuttle and we trooped down the stairs, meeting a formally-dressed man in a black suit and white shirt.
    "Greetings, Mr. James, Ms. Bertrand, Ms. Masters…" He spoke as we entered the shuttle, making eye contact with each of us. "My name is Jonathan and I'm here to make your journey comfortable. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask."
    The shuttle was large enough to carry at least thirty people, so there was plenty of room for the dining table that had been set up at one end. Jonathan showed us to the table that was covered in a white cloth complete with five place settings.
    "I've taken the liberty of having our chef prepare a light breakfast of eggs, toast and local fruits," he explained as he leaned in, turning over fluted glasses and filling them with water. He was joined by a middle-aged woman, who wore a black uniform.
    The shuttle rose gently from the ground and the three hundred sixty degree windows darkened to the point of being opaque.
    "Excuse me, Jonathan?" Marny asked.
    "Yes, Ms. Bertrand."
    "Is it your employer's intent to obscure our destination?"
    "It is. My employer is private and prefers that his whereabouts are not generally known. I hope this is acceptable," he said.
    "You're asking us to take a lot on faith," she replied.
    "I assure you, Ms. Bertrand, everything is aboveboard. It is simply a matter requiring discretion. We will allow you to retain your weapons as a gesture of good faith," he said.
    "How far are we going this morning," Nick asked.
    "The trip will take ninety minutes, Mr. James. Would anyone like coffee?"
    I'd spent much of my short career studying people and their response to stressful conditions. If Jonathan felt stress, he sure wasn't showing it.
    "In for a penny," Nick said and picked up the delicate coffee cup in front of him.
    "Quite," Jonathan replied.
    We ate the provided breakfast in an awkward silence. Jonathan and his cryptic answers did nothing for our comfort.
    After breakfast we adjourned to the couches that would have otherwise provided a good view. Jonathan seemed content to clean up after breakfast and then sit quietly at the other end of the shuttle.
    I held Tabby's hand. Like all of us, she preferred things to be out in the open and her stress level was rising. She was also the most likely to make an issue of it if the uncertainty went on for too long.
    Mercifully, a small bump warned us that the shuttle had come to rest.
    Jonathan was the first to stand and walked to the entry hatch, where he palmed a security pad. The door slid into the hull. The shuttle had landed in such a way that it opened onto a well-lit hallway.
    At that point, I was ready to get off the shuttle and would welcome whatever we'd gotten ourselves into - anything to end the awkward trip. Jonathan's reassuring smile at the doorway did nothing to ease my discomfort.
    "If you'll follow me," he said.
    The hallway ended at a T-intersection. We followed him to the right and found ourselves at an elevator which opened as we approached.
    "Definitely a station," Tabby said, mostly to herself. I nodded. The smell of recycled station air wasn't something that could be faked, nor could it be hidden.
    The elevator doors closed behind us. We dropped for a few seconds and then jogged to the right.
    "And here we are," Jonathan announced just before the doors opened.
    In front of us was a cavernous room that extended up twenty meters ending in a domed ceiling. Video panels, tools, equipment, partially constructed robots and all matter of technology were hanging above or strewn over a dozen workbenches