Rogue Galaxy, Episode 1: The Captain and the Werewolf Read Free Page A

time in months, Blaine felt again some of that excitement she'd once known at the prospect of serving under the son of that legendary Captain Farraday. Even if it hadn't been for her oath, even if the Galaxy had had a different captain, Blaine would have done a lot for Terry Farraday based on the family connection alone.

TWO
    O n the bridge, Captain Farraday sat in his captain's chair, mounted a few feet higher than the rest of the room on its dais, and watched his crew prepare to drop out of hyperspace. They were going to re-enter real space in orbit around Meyer's III, a planet that had been charted but never visited. Spectroscopic analysis had shown it was devoid of life and plentiful in miridium, a mineral the Galaxy could always use more of.
    He'd ordered Lieutenant Summers—Jennifer—to supervise helmsman Lieutenant Beach in the drop. This drop from hyperspace would be fairly simple, because according to the charts Meyer's III had no moons; because of Jennifer's condition, any time they dropped out of hyperspace near a world with moons they had to be sure to do so at such an angle as not to have the ship exposed to a moon with its surface fully illuminated by the sun, with no visible shadow; if there were only one moon, they preferred to keep the planet between it and them.
    Jennifer had left his bed and come to the bridge a few minutes before him, because arriving together would raise more eyebrows. Right now Terry realized he was staring at her as she took readings from her habitual post at the science station, so he began looking around the bridge at the other personnel. Those he made eye contact with, he smiled at. When he'd received the Galaxy command, most of the crew had been happy to serve under such a relaxed, firm but not harsh commander. He was good at coordinating a team and handling the sorts of crises they'd run into, back in those days. But he knew there were those who worried his manner might not be ideal for this new state of constant existential crisis they'd been in since their rebellion. Before it had been great, having a trusted big brother at their head—but now, what they needed was a father.
    Terry Farraday knew that many in his crew felt this way, and he even knew that they might be right. But he was what he was, and he was also the captain. Once or twice, during a harsh bout of insomnia, he had actually considered stepping down, handing command over to the probably better-suited Val Blaine. But that would only be shirking his responsibilities—besides, switching the C.O.'s around would not exactly reinforce stability or morale.
    And besides, the real truth was that he wanted to remain in a position where he could protect Jennifer. He sometimes suspected that resolve didn't line up with his duty. But there it was. He prayed he would never have to make the hard choice between the two.
    A curt gesture aimed at Lieutenant Summers by Lieutenant Beach caught his eye, and he snapped his attention towards the helm. “Lieutenant Beach, Lieutenant Summers,” he said. “Is there something I should know about?” Jennifer had moved a few paces away from the helm, where she'd gone to supervise Beach as per Farraday's orders. In his peripheral vision he saw her pleading with her eyes for him to drop it—but he couldn't.
    Short, skinny Beach had swiveled his chair so that he was facing the captain. He kept his gaze down and docile, but Farraday could sense the resentment emanating from him. “No, sir. Everything's fine.”
    Farraday knew he should let it go, that he would be perceived as showing favoritism to Jennifer, that that would be bad for her, for him, and for the ship as a whole. But his rage was like a big wave tossing him up and propelling him forward. That rage was not really due to whatever minor snub Beach was guilty of. It had been born the awful day that the Provisional Government had sent a subspace communiqué ordering him to eject from an airlock the dangerous Lieutenant Summers,