Recruiting Drive: Jethro 4 (Jethro Goes to War)
Page 59
He looked around, suddenly realizing the bridge was one of the highest points in the park. “Got a thing for altitude?”
“No, sir I don't have an atit …,” she paused and looked at him again. “Um, ah, that is to say …,” she stiffened to attention. “Sorry, sir.”
“At ease, Lieutenant, after all, you are off duty as you mentioned before and out of uniform.” He nodded to her feathered jacket.
She looked down at the jacket and flushed. “What, oh this? Sorry, it's habit. You should see what the wind walkers wear.”
“Wind walkers?”
“Um,” she pulled her hair back and put it in a ponytail as she looked away. “Pilots of a sort, sir, air balloon pilots. I believe they are dirigible actually. They wore/wear bird costumes with ribbons on their arms.”
“Interesting,” he said picturing the image.
“The ribbons are for judging air speed and direction, sir,” she explained, looking down and stroking one gently.
“Ah, so they aren't ornamentation. I had wondered at that.”
“No, sir.” she blushed a little and rubbed the side of her cheek. “My parents were … um ….”
Protector flashed the bio of the girl on his retina. The fact that her parents were dead in an air crash was highlighted.
“I'm sorry about your parents. I believe they would’ve been proud of you for this.”
She looked away, torn between embarrassment and clearly upset. “They wanted me to follow in their footsteps. Not be a messenger.”
“Some parents and some people can be that way. They want to continue a tradition. It takes time for them to realize you are making your own path and following your own dream. I'm sorry they never got to realize that.”
She didn't say anything, just bit her lip. He smiled a little. “I believe had they known how good a pilot you are and the opportunity and responsibility that you were given, they would’ve approved, young lady.”
“Thank you, sir.” she choked out.
“Carry on, Lieutenant,” he said as he moved off. “Oh.” he paused and turned back to her. She turned, shoulders hunched. “I heard you've put in for a transfer to a fighter wing.”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded mutely. He smiled as Protector fed him the notes in her jacket. “I think I can approve it on a couple of conditions.” Her eyes widened in a sudden burst of surprise. “You need to build your team skills. Learn to work with a wingman. Second, work on your communications skills as well. Third, your implant accessing needs work.”
She nodded. “I know, sir.” She grimaced. “That part I'm still not comfortable with,” she admitted.
“You might want to reconsider a fighter wing and opt for a recon slot. That might better suit your temperament. Most people can't handle long stretches of patrol without much action. With your gliding experience, I believe you could.”
She nodded dutifully. “Yes, sir.”
“It's also a solo slot. Well, you and an A.I.”
“Thank you, sir. I'll consider it.”
“You do that, Lieutenant. You do that.”
“Thanks again, sir,” her face blossomed into a smile. He chuckled and nodded as he turned and left.
“Three in one outing. You're going to start a reputation at this. People are going to lay in wait for you here,” Protector said amused as he made his way to the restaurant.
“They can try, but I'm going off world tomorrow remember?” He looked from Protector to Sprite's image as she linked into his implants once more.
“True. But they don't know that, sir,” he answered. “I'm curious about how many people will lay in wait for you tomorrow anyway?”
He snorted. “I wish they would just go through the proper channels.”
“Which is a problem. People in command get someone halfway decent, train them up to a functional level; they don't want to lose that and start over again.”
“Retention.” he sighed for a moment, hand on the door handle to the restaurant. “I get it. I know. But if someone is more in tune with a preferred slot then they should be guided to that slot not just stuck into any available empty slot and then forgotten about.”
“Point,” Sprite said on his HUD as he opened the door and then stepped aside politely for the couple exiting. They nodded and smiled slightly as they passed.
“Write me a note. Get someone to look into it. I don't want this to become a problem or a lever.”
“Lever?”
“Someone stuck in a dead-end job, angry about missed opportunities, real or imagined, and someone using that as lever to gain influence or information.”
“Point. Another thing to point out to the intel wannabees.”
“True.” he nodded to the maître d’. “One.”
“Yes sir, admiral, right this way.” the man waved. Irons nodded politely and followed.
You can read more when it comes out in the winter of 2015-2016!