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public address system.
       “Attention: all squadron commanders and department heads muster on the main hangar deck in fifteen minutes. Repeat: all squadron commanders and department heads are to muster on the main hangar deck in fifteen minutes.”
       “What’s that all about?” Trent asked, still looking at the powerful strike group just beyond the glass of the observation deck.
       “The fleet admiral from the Duchess is coming aboard,” Shawn said, repeating what he’d been briefed on earlier that morning. “Supposedly, he’s got some VIPs tagging along for the ride.”
       “Anyone we know?” Trent asked hopefully.
       Shawn shrugged, then finished the last of his drink. “I’ll let you know what I find out.” He set the glass on the nearest table and, slapping Trent gently on the back, began the long walk down to the hangar.
       “Have you been down to see Melissa yet?” Trent called after his old friend.
       Shawn’s only response was to wave a lax hand over his shoulder.
     
    * * *
     
       Shawn was leaving his cabin in a hurry, rushing to get down to the hangar deck before the Duchess ’s shuttle had landed. Looking pristine in his dark gray service dress uniform, he barely managed to avoid running headlong into Jerry Santorum and Roslyn Brunel as he rounded a passageway.
       “Lookin’ good, Skipper!” Nova cried out in his West Texan drawl. Raven’s whistle of offhanded appreciation wasn’t far behind.
       “As far as you’re both concerned, I’ve been down in the hangar for twenty minutes,” Shawn called back, not bothering to break his stride.
       “We didn’t see anything, sir,” Raven called back, but Shawn was already out of earshot.
       Jerry scratched at his head in bewilderment. “Captain Krif is going to tan that man’s hide someday.”
       Roslyn harrumphed. “He’s got to catch him first. Come on, let’s get to the simulator room. I’m looking forward to tanning your own hide.”
       Nova smiled broadly. “You’ve got to catch me first, ma’am.”
     
       Shawn dashed into the hangar, out of sight of the assembled crewmen who were still milling about the cavernous hold. Thankfully the crew hadn’t mustered yet or he would have been caught for sure. Eyeing Commander Saltori standing near the head of the enlisted crew, Shawn calmed his breathing and walked slowly toward the commander of the Red Skulls.
       Saltori’s dark eyes caught Shawn’s and he smiled. “Didn’t think you were going to make it, old man.”
       “Me? I’ve been here for . . .” Shawn made an effort of looking down at his watch. “I’d say twenty minutes now. Just catching up with the crew. You know how it is.”
       “You can’t con a conman,” Saltori snorted. “I’ll be honest with you : I just got here myself.”
       Shawn looked at the assembled crew. “How’s your team doing?”
       Rylani’s voice was low as he gazed at the still-closed hangar door. “I lost two of my best people in that last battle, including my executive officer.”
       An image of Roslyn Brunel flashed into Shawn’s mind, surely his best, most trusted officer. “Sorry to hear that, Rylani,” Shawn offered apologetically.
       There was an almost imperceptible shrug to Saltori’s wide shoulders. “They won’t be the last, I’m sure of it.”
       “A premonition?”
       The loose smile that briefly flashed on the seasoned commander’s face melted. “A fact.”
       Shawn nodded slowly. Hopefully the incoming admiral was bringing good news, but Shawn highly doubted it. Still, it was always good to hope. And it never hurts to pray.
       Not far from where the two men were standing, Commander Caitlyn Hayes, the Rhea ’s third in command, stepped forward to a waiting podium. She straighten her long, light brown hair one final time before speaking. “Assembled personnel, get into your assigned positions and stand at parade rest. The admiral’s