Sweat was streaming down on both Yong’s temples soaking the towel lying under his head on the bench, while Yong himself kept pressing up the last dozen, always keeping to the faint rhythmic humming of the engine that could even be heard here in the cargo hold.

The captain’s distorted voice cracked from the con: “Brian! You better interrupt your workout and come up here real quick.”

Yong stopped pushing the bar, wiped his face and neck and come over to the com.

“What’s up, Ann?”

“Some interesting you might figure”, she answered in her usual oblique way. “Came up from the cortex just now. Seems kinda official-some to me.”

“What’s that got’do with me?”

“It’s addressed to you personally, man. Or should I say Mr Colonel-of-the-reserve-Brian-M-Yong, Sir?” there was a short pause, then a loud laugh over the com.

Yong rushed up the stairs and through the common area, which was in a mess as usual, towards the Zedong’s cockpit. Ann Doben, the old Firefly’s captain and pilot, was already awaiting him, smiling from one ear to the other as it seemed. The plump brunette was in her mid-thirties, around ten years younger than Yong himself.

“You read it?” Yong asked her.

“Can’t. It’s coded. Only said who’t was for, and that’s you. But Colonel, eh? Not bad. Knew you were ex-military, but colonel? My, I’m surprised you’re talking orders from a civilian draft-dodger like me.”

“You’re a woman, Ann.”

“I know. That’s how I dodged.”

“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can you please send it to the terminal in my bunk so I can read it in private?”

“Secrets? From me? That might’ve hurt my feelings just a bit.”

“Put it through, will you. I’ll let you in on the details soon enough. Those you have to know.”

“Alright.”

In his bunk, Yong opened the message with a quick authentication of his fingerprint and his service identification number he was still wearing around his neck on a chain. Minutes later, his expression hardened with every line he read.

"Alliance Staff Headquarters

Sihnon

August 23, 25