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"Code of Honor"
Rating: PG-13 You get to see a different side of Centaurian life from the one Travis saw when he visited Philippe in “Deadly Negotiations”. You’ll also see where Malcolm was before he rendezvoused with Travis and Company on Vega in “Broken Loyalties.” He meets some old friends from the CSF and Travis reunites with his mom. Malcolm speaks French in some parts of this chapter. The translations are in bold. I’m not as fluent as Hoshi is, so please don’t shoot me if my grammar’s not right. Three Malcolm watched the sensors with a mixture of trepidation and worry. A squadron of Centaurian Air Force planes surrounded Shuttlepod Two like a steel trap. He glanced at Travis, who returned the concerned expression. Nevertheless, Travis skillfully kept the shuttlepod within the protective circle. “We aren’t going to Cochrane Commons proper,” Travis commented. His tone was casual, but Malcolm heard the unspoken question: Then where are we going? “EdML and Philippe’s family estate are located in the southern sector. The Centaurian Security Force Headquarters is in the central sector, which is where we're headed.” A slight smirk passed over Malcolm’s lips. “That’s right...you didn’t get to go by this part of Cochrane Commons the last time you were here.” “I was mixed up with Philippe’s upper-class crowd,” Travis said with a touch of embarrassment. “They kept me away from, well, the normal folk, which was a pain. You worked with the ones who do the important legwork.” Malcolm chuckled. No matter how Starfleet had tried to portray Travis as "Starfleet's Golden Boomer Boy", the younger man would never be wholly comfortable in the high-society circles that Philippe occupied. He was a Boomer, through and through. “You’ll find some members of the CSF pleasant; others had just as bad as Guillem Montclaire. Follow my lead and you’ll be all right.” Travis nodded as he made another course correction. Indeed, they were landing in another section of Cochrane Commons. Malcolm immediately recognized the tall, high-rise buildings, divided by narrow strips of greenery and beds of flowers. The streets crisscrossed the sector in a neat grid pattern, each one jammed with hovercar traffic and public transports. Mag-lev lines and bridges spanned the cityscape. All in all, it appeared just as any other bustling Colonial city, except there was a definite sense of claustrophobia in the area. Hoshi wouldn’t like this place, Malcolm thought, not for the first time. It had been a major reason why he’d turned down the offer to be CSF’s commandant. The move would have been a boost to his career, but he had to consider Hoshi’s desires as well. Now he was glad he’d refused the offer. “CSF Headquarters is that spired tower on the left, Travis.” Travis frowned at the ornate flying buttresses and the rugged butternut-yellow stone walls. Gargoyles perched on the roofline, their coppery-green skin a sharp contrast to the rest of the building. “Looks kinda odd in the middle of a business sector, Malcolm. Like someone just plunked Notre Dame in the middle of San Francisco.” Malcolm chuckled. “CSF HQ was one of the original buildings on Alpha Centauri. Its architect was taken with Notre Dame in Paris and combined it with some elements of Buckingham Palace and New Scotland Yard.” The helmsman winced. “No offense, but it’s ugly as all get out.” “I can’t agree more, but it’s a permanent fixture and any attempt to move the HQ’s location has always met stiff opposition.” “And you nearly got to work in there?” Malcolm chuckled. “Looks can be quite deceiving, Travis.” As Shuttlepod Two descended into a landing vector, Malcolm saw the large courtyard in the center of the building. It reminded him of the ones in the English castles he’d visited with his sister back home, but instead of cobblestone, the surface was hard duracrete. Small private shuttlepods sat in a row on one side, like a line of soldiers at attention. The fighter escort peeled off as Travis landed with hardly a bump. “Good work, Travis.” The younger man grinned at the praise as he secured all of the pod’s systems. Malcolm looked for Oneko, but couldn't see her. “Oneko, we’re here.” The cat meowed from the back compartment and leaped into Malcolm’s arms. She began purring as he took a moment to scratch her underneath the chin. He’d learned to watch Oneko’s reactions closely, for she was a rather accurate indicator of the current situation. The kami, or ‘spirit’, as Hoshi called her, didn’t seem to notice anything amiss so far. Still, Malcolm wore his phase pistol and gestured for Travis to do the same. One could never be too cautious, even in familiar territory. Malcolm climbed out of the shuttlepod as Oneko gracefully preceded him. A young woman in the black-and-gold uniform of the Centaurian Security Force stood waiting. Her blonde hair was bound tightly to the back of her head, her face set in stern, unsmiling planes, her dark blue eyes like cut sapphires. The corner of her mouth turned up as she approached Malcolm with precise soldier-like steps. “Monsieur Commandant Reed,” she said, with a strong Centaurian accent. “Bienvenue en arriere.” Welcome back. “Merci beaucoup, Lieutenant,” Malcolm replied as he returned her salute. He was amused that she hadn't noticed Oneko sitting straight and tall at her feet, despite the fact that the cat had literally placed her nose on the lieutenant's shiny boots. “May I introduce Lieutenant Travis Mayweather? Travis, this is Lieutenant Angelique Dumond, of the CSF Sector Alpha.” “Lieutenant Mayweather,” Dumond said as she shook Travis’s hand. “I am pleased to finally meet you. We were rather occupied the last time you were here.” Travis nodded and tried not to laugh as Oneko swiped at her reflection. Dumond still hadn't noticed. “I remember. Thanks for saving our skins, Lieutenant.” She smiled briefly at him and it lightened her face. Then she turned back to Malcolm, who asked her, “Qui est en service en ce moment?” Who’s on duty right now? “Commandant Allemande Je vous lui porterai. Veuillez me suivre.” I’ll take you to him. Please follow me. Dumond gestured for both men to follow her across the courtyard. Oneko meowed and strode between Malcolm and Travis. “Don’t even think about it, Travis,” he warned in a low voice. “Sergeant Kemper challenged her to a hand-to-hand combat competition last time I was here. She beat him. Three out of three.” “Ouch.” Travis winced. “Yeah, Fiona McKenzie told me about that. Don’t worry, Malcolm. I wasn’t even gonna go there.” The halls were busy with traffic: cadets rushing to their next classes, administrators heading to meetings, suspects being taken in for questioning. Questions and counter-questions rang on the stone walls, while physical trainers conducted their drills in the nearby gymnasiums. CSF HQ had always reminded Malcolm of the many times he and his father had visited the Royal Navy College. The rarified atmosphere both fascinated and repulsed him. The thought of his missing father sobered him. Their goal was to find Stuart Reed, Emile De Jeunier, Paul Mayweather and Philippe Trieste. The quicker they were located, the quicker that Malcolm, Travis and the CSF could bring them home. A woman’s voice echoed from the acting commandant’s office. Travis stopped so suddenly that Malcolm nearly ran into him. Oneko yowled in recognition. Lieutenant Dumond hardly noticed; she snapped back to attention and rapped smartly on the door three times. “Entrez!” came the gruff voice. “Visiteurs pour vous voir, monsieur,” Dumond called. “Our visitors are here to see you.” “Show them in.” Dumond pushed the door open, then ushered the men inside. Oneko squeezed in before the door closed and she gracefully leaped onto the desk. Malcolm had realized a while ago that if Oneko didn't want to be seen, she wasn't seen, period. Only those she chose could see her and that elite group at first had included himself, Travis, Hoshi, Philippe and Ensign Bernhard Mueller. Then Paul and Trip Tucker. Then Captain Archer and Porthos. The group was larger than before, but Oneko was still selective. Malcolm glanced around the Commandant’s Office; everything was neatly in place, and not a trace of dust anywhere to be seen. Honestly, it didn’t look any different than he’d imagined, if he’d accepted the job. Commandant Allemande, a tall muscular man with sandy-blond hair, stood up from behind his desk. A smile burst onto his face as he saw Malcolm. “Malcolm Reed! Thank God you’ve returned! We could use your help.” Malcolm nodded and thought, If Albert Allemande is asking for help, that means it’s pretty bad. “Good to see you again, Albert.” He drew his attention to the woman who had shot up to her feet at the sight of Travis and grabbed him into a bear hug. “Mom,” Travis whispered. “I thought I heard your voice.” Rhianna Mayweather looked up at him and said exactly what Malcolm was thinking. “It’s good you’re here, son. We’ve just gotten news about your brother, and it’s bad.” |
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