Ponnfarr watched as the Federation ships withdrew. The convoy was safely away with the destruction of just one of the twelve transporters. A small number of containers had been transported from a couple of the others but the marines had again held out well in protecting the shield generators. His squadron had formed up as they prepared to return to the refinery and the next convoy, which would be going out within a couple of days.
“Captain Ponnfarr, there's an incoming message from Commander Kali, secure Fo’c’sle channel,” his communications officer said, half turning in his chair.
“Put it through to me here,” he ordered as he sat at the pilot’s chair. Quickly he read the message and smiled. “Order Gwidion to take over returning the escort. He's in command of the unit until my return.”
The communications officer grinned at Ponnfarr. “I'm sure he's gonna thank you for the promotion, Captain.”
Grinning back Ponnfarr replied; “Tell him it's only temporary until we find someone better.”
Ponnfarr sat back in the chair and waited. Within moments of his communications officer sending the message, Gwidion was demanding to speak to him.
“All right Ponnfarr, what're you doing trying to palm your responsibilities onto me?” he asked.
“I have new orders and have to leave now,” Ponnfarr replied. “We’ve found our lost lamb and Kali wants the best we’ve got to go and get her.”
“So why are you going? Does she need cannon fodder to act as a distraction?” Gwidion asked, laughing.
Ponnfarr grinned. “You'd better hope not or you'll never get the money I owe you.”
“What? You’re actually going to pay me when you get back?” Gwidion said, surprised.
“Probably not, but you can live in hope, stay alive.”
“Make sure you leave your money with Kali before the attack starts and don't do anything stupid, as the drinks are on you when you get back.”
“I don’t have any money till we get paid, you know that Gwidion,” Ponnfarr lied.
“So you didn’t win two hundred credits from Frandar last night then?” Gwidion asked, already knowing the answer.
“O.K. I’ll buy the drinks when I get back. You’re taking the food out of my...” Ponnfarr began defensively.
“I know, your poor starving mum’s mouth. Stay safe and give ‘em hell,” cut in Gwidion, not letting him finish.
To be continued.
All images are mine.
