by Cheryl Angst
John refused to meet Nate’s gaze and stared out over the crowd of tourists rushing from one “authentic” boutique to another.
Nate shrugged and gestured to their server for the bill. Swiping his card, he stood and held his hand out to John. “Well, good seeing you again, John. I’m glad you made it back to us.”
John stood and shook Nate’s hand. “Yes, I’m glad to be back. Take care, Nate.”
Nate moved out into the flow of pedestrian traffic and turned. “John?” he called.
John was in the process of sitting again and froze. “Yes?”
“If you change your mind, remember I could use a set of trustworthy eyes and ears in the UESF. Relations with the avians are a long way from friendly and secure.” Nate smiled broadly. “If you ever decide to show off your new medal by putting on a uniform again, you give me a call, all right?”
John smiled, waved Nate’s words away, and sat. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs at the ankle, closed his eyes, and let the warm rays wash over him.
* * * *
Rebeccah’s boots were too tight, her collar itched, and her pants were riding up. Even her skin felt wrong. Sitting at the desk in her temporary quarters on Earth, waiting to be summoned to yet another hearing, she wanted more than anything to strip away who she was and start again somewhere else. The letter didn’t help.
In light of your exemplary service to Earth and the UESF in the course of carrying out your duties as the acting executive officer of the Firestorm, you are hereby awarded the Distinguished Service Medal, Second Class.
Your competence in a leadership position has been noted on your record. Should you wish to pursue advancement within the Command structure of the UESF, your application will be favorably received.
Unless you indicate otherwise, you are hereby returned to your previous rank and position on the Firestorm. You are expected to report for duty at the end of your current two-week leave, granted 14 August 2185 CE.
Your service to your planet is to be commended,
Fleet Captain Banks, DSM, CD, SMA, VaD
She rose from behind the desk and stood by the window overlooking the choppy water on the lake. Normally she enjoyed the break from constant ship-board life, but this leave wasn’t a vacation. Called in to testify in several hearings related to the deaths of almost three dozen crew during the course of the mission, Rebeccah spent her time shuttling between the offices and hearing rooms of sympathetic, aloof, and sometimes hostile fleet commanders and fleet captains.
She clenched her jaw in frustration. She hated how the fleet officers sat in their chairs, safe on the planet, and presumed to judge her actions and the actions of her crew. Some twisted her words against her, implying she’d abused the authority granted by her position.
For her, the worst came in HQ’s treatment of John. They wanted her to agree that he’d shown blatant disregard for human life in his handling of the situation on Cerces III, and with his decision to allow Targersson to destroy the raptor as part of the cover-up. Instead of looking for the traitor within their own ranks, the fleet officers seemed united in their quest to lay blame on the shoulders of one man.
The procedure sickened her. She repeatedly stated that she was the one who devised the suicide mission. Every assertion was met with an accusation of covering up for the incompetence of her captain. Her one consolation was that from what she’d heard, none of the crew had sold John out. To a man, they’d remained loyal and true to their captain.
The thought of the fractured and traumatized crew of the Firestorm took the chill off the ice in the pit of her stomach. She enjoyed her work, she loved serving in the UESF, but how could she continue, knowing of the corruption and treason eating away at the fabric of peace from within the echelon tasked to preserve the peace?
* * * *
Butterflies swirled in John’s gut. For the first time since the hearings began, cold sweat trickled down his spine as he waited to enter the fleet captain’s office. A ranking fleet officer himself, John chose to wear his captain’s rosettes instead, figuring if they wanted to draw and quarter a captain, he’d give them one. His crew had performed above and beyond any reasonable call of duty, and he’d be damned if he was going to let a bunch of self-important desk jockeys drag his crew’s performance through the mud. If anyone’s career was going to be destroyed, he was going to make sure it was his.
He had options. Rank had its privileges after all. He could walk away from the UESF and continue his civilian life regardless of what was decided in the hearings. His life and his livelihood wouldn’t be affected by charges of gross negligence. He wouldn’t see any prison time, he’d been privately assured of that; instead he’d be allowed to slink back into anonymity at the University of North America.
“Sir?” The young lieutenant at the desk addressed John. “You can go in now.”
“Thank you,” he said as he approached the door, forcing the butterflies in his stomach to be still. He walked into the office, determined to fight one last time for the honor of his crew.
“Sir, Captain John Thompson reporting as ordered, sir.” He saluted as he stood at attention on the plush carpet surrounding the large walnut desk.
“At ease,” Banks ordered. He gestured at the chair to John’s left. “Take a seat.”
Fleet Captain Banks brought his fingers together under his nose and stared at John. “Try as we might, the officers in charge of the hearings have yet to find a single crew member involved in the incidents during the Firestorm’s latest mission willing to put the blame on you.”
John winced. Those poor, loyal kids.
His heart swelled to hear of their unstinting loyalty, but also bled for the consequences of their actions.
“We tried everything. Even your transport pilot was willing to accept demotion and a transfer into the quartermaster’s department rather than tell us what we wanted to hear.”
John shot to his feet. “You demoted him? How dare you?” Blood rushed to his face, and the roar of his angry pulse thundered in his ears. “Lt. Ryan risked his life to save me on the planet, and you have the gall to demote him and take away his opportunity to fly? You should be awarding him a medal, not kicking him in the groin.”
“Sit down!” Banks shouted. John obeyed, still fuming. “We didn’t demote him. Fleet Captain Brooks needed to test the lad’s loyalty, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re an enigma.”
John stared at the superior officer in stony silence.
Banks sighed and continued. “Half the fleet officers in HQ weren’t even aware you were on the ship, let alone captaining the damn vessel. Your return to active service came as a surprise to a lot of people, and many of those people don’t like surprises. In addition, you instituted some policies and procedures which, while effective, contradicted the SOPs a number of fleet captains banked their careers on creating. In short, you were an enigma and a threat to the status quo.
“As I said though, no one is willing to pin anything other than exceptional leadership and dedication in the face of extreme adversity on you. Either you’re the real deal or you’ve managed to bribe your entire crew to keep silent.”
John snorted in disgust at the backhanded compliment.
“I want you to stay on in the UESF, John. I could use a good man here at HQ.”
His snort turned into an awkward cough at Banks’ words.
Banks paused while John collected himself. “You’d continue as a fleet commander, working in the intelligence department under my direction.”
John shook his head in disbelief. First they tried to crucify him, now they wanted him to head up the entire intelligence department?
“If that doesn’t suit you,” Banks tried again, “I’m sure we could find you a post more to your liking that would maximize your skills and expertise.”
The dilemma he’d wrestled with from the moment he woke from the coma resolved itself with crystalline clarity, sending a shi
ver up his spine. John stared straight into the fleet captain’s eyes and said, “I want the Firestorm. I want permanent command of the ship and her crew.”
If Banks was surprised by the demand, he didn’t show any sign. “A reasonable request. Are you certain you don’t want a job here at HQ?”
“Yes, sir,” John replied. “My talents could be best used in active duty on board a UESF vessel.”
“I see. And what if I told you the Firestorm was not available, but another ship, the Gallant, was?”
“I would wish you good day, and be on my way back to Vancouver on the next shuttle.”
“Why?”
“That’s my ship. I know it. The crew knows it. You know it.”
“I can’t have officers making ultimatums, John. Service in the UESF means going where you’re posted.”
“Then you’re not going to like my next demand,” John replied.
“Oh?”
“I want to pick my crew. I want complete autonomy to determine who will fill the current vacancies on the roster.”
“That’s unheard of,” Banks blustered.
“You asked me what I wanted.” John leaned forward and put his arms on the fleet captain’s desk. “I’m too old to play these games. I have a life outside the UESF waiting for me. I don’t need to jump through hoops and beg for scraps from fleet officers like you and Brooks. If you want to use my skills, you’ll have to pay my price.”
Banks glared at John. His lips thinned to invisibility.
John took the silence for “no,” stood, and saluted. “If that’s everything, sir, I think I’ll be on my way.”
Banks sighed and scrutinized his fingernails. “Very well, Captain Thompson, let me make this official. You are hereby cleared of all charges and accusations against you and your conduct within the UESF. You will be exonerated at the hearing at sixteen-hundred hours. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.” John turned and walked toward the exit.
“Oh, and one more thing, Captain,” Banks called. “Don’t steal all the best officers from the rest of my fleet when you fill your roster. I need one or two competent people on the other ships.”
* * * *
“Lt. Santiago,” Fleet Captain Banks called as she tried to slip through the crowd leaving the final hearing. The captain had been found innocent of all charges, for which Rebeccah was glad, but she had no desire to linger on the UESF grounds any longer than necessary. She wanted to say goodbye to John before he disappeared, but Banks seemed determined to thwart her plans.
“Sir?” she asked, stopping and saluting. She moved against the flow of the crowd, deference to his rank making her go to him. As she reached him, the crowd dwindled to a trickle. She was alone in the grey hallway with the man who’d tried to destroy the reputation of her captain. She was surprised to realize she still thought of John in that way; her captain.
“Lt. Santiago, I am pleased to inform you that you have been chosen to serve as the Firestorm’s XO.” A hint of a smile ghosted across Banks’ face, shocking Rebeccah almost as much as his words. “The job is yours, Commander.”
“Sir? I was under the impression I was back in the diplomatic corps unless I indicated otherwise.”
“Yes, well apparently someone is impressed with your service record. You were requested for the position. The captain wasn’t prepared to entertain any other candidates.”
“Sir, I’m flattered, but I don’t think--” Eyeing the fleet captain, she asked, “Sir, who is the new captain of the Firestorm?”
She assumed the announcement of new crew appointments had been delayed because of the hearings, but Banks’ offer aroused her suspicions.
A tiny smile crossed his face again. “I believe you are already acquainted with him,” he said, gesturing at someone over her left shoulder with a flick of his chin. Spinning around, she came face to face with John.
“Lieutenant,” he said, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face.
“Sir.” She snapped to attention and saluted; her twenty years of disciplined service the only thing keeping her from reaching out and grabbing him in a fierce bear hug.
“I take it Fleet Captain Banks has informed you of my request?” John asked.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, trying to keep the goofy grin bubbling up from her chest off her face.
“The lieutenant was just about to inform me of her decision,” replied Banks.
Both men stared at Rebeccah.
She schooled her features into what she hoped was a somber, serious expression. “Sirs, I agreed to serve as the Firestorm’s XO on a temporary basis. In fact, my agreement was to serve in that position for the same duration Captain Thompson served as CO.” She looked back and forth between the two men. “If he is remaining aboard as the captain then it is only right I uphold my end of the deal.” Her stomach did flip-flops and she took a calming breath. “Sirs, it is with great honor and pleasure that I accept the position of executive officer on the Firestorm.”
“Excellent,” Fleet Captain Banks spoke first. He whipped out his personal computer and said, “Now if you would sign here, we can make the promotion official.”
Rebeccah signed off on her reassignment as John said, “Congratulations on your promotion, Commander, and welcome aboard.”
John and Rebeccah stood at attention and saluted as Banks took his leave of them, muttering something about bureaucrats and policy concerns. Turning together, they began to stroll down the empty corridor.
“Let me buy you dinner to celebrate your promotion,” John said as they stepped into the late afternoon sun. “We can use the time to discuss crew placements and the repair schedule.”
“Actually,” she said, pausing on the path, “I have a question I need answered first.”
John stopped and folded his hands behind his back. “You’re going to ask me why I’m staying on.”
She shook her head. “More than that, sir. I want to know why you’re choosing to serve in a corrupt organization where your dedicated service was not only questioned, but attacked and maligned.”
John laughed. “That’s a bit strong, don’t you think?” He resumed walking down the path, and she hurried to get in step. “Every organization and system contains varying levels of corruption. While the goals of those involved in our last mission are disturbing, they’re also not surprising. War is big business.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The way I’m looking at the situation, I’m aware the threat exists and I want to do everything in my power to see it thwarted. The best place for me to do so is here in the UESF, not hiding on some university campus.”
“But what about the hearing?” she asked. “The fleet officers, Banks and Brooks in particular, did everything in their power to find you guilty of gross negligence! How can you work for them after that?”
“The hearings are standard procedure when there’s loss of life in a combat situation,” he replied. “As for Banks and Brooks, you’ve got them wrong.”
Rebeccah doubted that. She’d been there as they accused him of ludicrous acts; she’d been interrogated herself several times over the whole thing.
“How’s that?” she asked with more than a little dose of sarcasm in her voice.
“They weren’t trying to convict me,” John replied.
Funny, that’s exactly what it looked like to her.
“They were trying to prove my innocence.”
“Really.”
“Treason is a horrific crime, one no commander wants to ever have to contemplate searching his command for.” He stopped and gazed at her with his deep brown eyes. “They needed to prove beyond all doubt my actions were correct and appropriate for the situation. They needed to prove to themselves they could trust me. That they could trust my word about such a terrifying thing.”
In a sickly twisted way, that almost made sense.
She nodded, accepting his answer for now. Despite her misgivings about those in power, a sense of peace and “rightness” settled over h
er as they walked along the pedestrian byway.
“So,” she said, smiling up at him, “where are we going to celebrate my new promotion?”
He arched an eyebrow in response, and tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “If I remember correctly, there’s a little Italian restaurant not too far from here. Mangia Bene, I think it’s called.”
“No,” she cried. “Bene’s way too expensive.”
“Nonsense,” he replied. “Besides, you’re going to more than earn the cost of a meal.” He grinned.
“What do you mean?”
“Tonight we celebrate. Tomorrow we put your incredible research skills to work. I’ve been given carte blanche with regards to filling out our crew roster, and I intend to use it.” He smiled down at her. “I expect you to search the UESF database and find the best and brightest candidates for each post.
“Oh, and we have to have everyone in place in less than nine weeks when spacedock is ready to ship the Firestorm out again. Plus, as XO you will be in charge of overseeing a large portion of the repairs, crew training and familiarization, and tackling all our resupply issues.”
He’d done it again, made his plans based on predicting her response. Somehow this man seemed to know her better than she thought she knew herself.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“I think that will do to start,” John replied dryly as they approached the entrance to Mangia Bene. “Think you can handle it?”
She pretended to mull it over. “That depends. Do you think you can put up with my detailed reports?”
John laughed and looked her over appraisingly. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. Smiling, he said, “I think I can handle anything you throw my way.”
* * * *
Mangia Bene boasted the best food, best wines, and best music on the east coast. Low, yet warm, lighting created the illusion of privacy between the luxurious tables. A band played in the corner, their music loud enough to be enjoyed by the couples moving around the small dance floor, but not so loud as to interfere with the quiet conversations taking place throughout the dining side of the room.