by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
Jebbson squeezed his way through the half-closed door of the officers’ wardroom, Sergeant OidaMetra following directly. A fellow officer handed him a towel to wipe some of the fresh grease from his hands and face. It did little for the globs that were caked in the major’s long, curly, blonde locks.
Captain Bedan wrinkled up his face in mock disgust. “When I asked you to check out the engine room and inform me as to what you found, I didn’t expect you to bring your discoveries back with you! I certainly hope your arrival here is to deliver us good news and not because you’re looking for pleasant conversation.” He asked an orderly to bring the major and equally filthy sergeant something to drink.
As the orderly passed through the door, Oida stepped back to let him by. She winced in pain, lowering her hand to her hip. Jebbson turned to assist her, but she motioned him away.
“Your leg?” Bedan asked, concerned.
Oida nodded as the pain eased. “It’s alright, Sir, just caught it wrong. I keep forgetting it’s not fully healed.” She pointed toward Jebbson. “The doctor here says it will take months before it does. Says to live with it and grit my teeth.”
Bedan stared at Jebbson. “Is that so?”
Jebbson grinned. “Everybody’s gotta take a turn at cleaning the calf pens. Whatta ya gonna do, cry over it?”
Bedan puzzled a moment. Only Jebbson understood what he meant and Bedan didn’t want another lesson in old culture just now. He moved on to other matters. “So tell me why you’ve honor me with your visit.”
Still grinning, Jebbson explained, “Well, Captain, the crew has managed to reinstall the port cooling pump in the starboard compartment. We have both the number three and one boilers on line and the starboard engine has been cleaned and repaired to as good as new. The remainder of the needed repairs to the engine room should be finished in two or three weeks.”
Bedan was pleased. “Major, would you be so good as to relay my sincerest thanks to the crew for all the stalwart efforts they have displayed. If the other repairs are speeding along as quickly, I believe we may be ready for deep space in a month.”
Jebbson agreed but cautioned, “She’s been busted up pretty bad, Sir. Even with all our efforts, the Shikkeron will be sluggish and vulnerable. We can’t chance a fight. Major Ardon tells me there’s a safer way - a slow, safer way. Maybe it would be wise to give it some consideration.”
Bedan still stung from Darla’s implications as to the quality of his leadership. He wanted to prove his prowess and cunning. Ardon, a man with no naval experience, had saved the Shikkeron and its crew from destruction. Bedan wanted his turn. He could feel jealousy growing in his heart.
‘Be afraid of poor leaders.’ That’s what Darla had said. ‘Poor leaders...’ Was he a poor leader, or just a slow, clumsy one? A good leader didn’t allow his heart to rule the day. A good leader, if he was somewhat slow of wit, would seek sound advice from those in the know.
Bedan played with his empty cup. He finally looked up at Jebbson and calmly nodded. “Good idea, Major. I will make a note to gather all the senior officers before we depart to discuss our plans. Better a live dog…”
The orderly returned with some cold drinks. He addressed the room. “Mess will be in thirty minutes. The cook has found some fresh fruits and vegetables growing in the nearby fields. She promises a fine repast.”
Jebbson gulped his drink and hurried toward the door. “Clean hands and a washed face make a fine meal more tasty. See you in the mess.” He darted out of the room.
Bedan laughed out loud. He stood and took Oida’s hand. “Let me assist you, Sergeant. Seems our hero abandons us at the slightest hint of danger.”
Oida thanked the captain for his assistance. She limped through the door and down the hall toward the washrooms, Bedan holding her arm, chattering about some nonsensical adventure he was once on.