He stood, addressed the Mess, and picked up his gavel.
"Ladies and gentlemen." His voice was filled with energy. "I invite you all to join me in the wardroom for cigars and brandy." He rapped the gavel twice, signaling the closing of the Mess.
Lieutenant Rogers took his cue and called the room to attention. The head table stood and proceeded out of the main doors, led by the admiral. Once the admiral's party had exited and the doors were closed, Rogers dismissed the room and reopened the doors. Alex found the closing and almost immediate reopening of the doors amusing, but tradition was tradition, after all.
* * *
McLaughlin and Higgins met up again and reclaimed their corner, drinks in hand.
"Steely sure knows how to give a speech. I don't think I've seen a room so keyed up and ready for a fight since Ross 128." There was still some pain in her voice as she said this. The same pain flashed across Higgins' face for a brief moment.
"You can say that again." He looked even more roguish than usual with a cigar in his teeth, a smile across his face, and a snifter of brandy in his hand. "By the time he was finished, the major seated at my table looked like he was ready to take on a company of Sallys in nothing but his shorts and a vibro-knife."
"I know what you mean. I wanted to climb back into the cockpit of a Loki myself." She reached up and fingered the black wings on her chest absently, a wistful look on her face.
"I'd rather have the shorts and vibro-knife, myself."
"That's a sight I would like to see. It would make for one hell of a picture on the Officers' Club wall." She laughed heartily at the thought.
"You're evil, you know that?"
"What? This is a surprise to you?"
"No, not really."
"So"—she changed the subject—"it looks like the admiral accomplished his goal. Morale certainly seems to be improved. Passions are definitely running high."
"Speaking of passions"—his voice dropped to a whisper—"I've had two inquiries this evening as to your, um, shall we say, your social availability."
"Oh, Jesus!" she muttered, eyes rolling. "We're in the middle of a war, and I have an independent command. What the hell kind of relationship do they think I could have? Besides just sex, that is."
"And what's wrong with that?" he inquired innocently.
"You know I'm not like that. I'm no prude, but, damn, at least a few dates and maybe a dinner or two, and not in the Officers' Mess, would be nice. Besides, I'm also not oblivious to the fact that I look like a teenager." Exasperated, she continued. "I swear, sometimes it seems all I attract are perverts with a slight predilection for pedophilia." She looked sharply at her XO. "Okay, Commander Cupid, what did you tell them in regard to my 'social availability'?"
"Hey, I'm many things, but Cupid isn't one of them." He had his hand on his chest, sounding as if he were lecturing. "I told them that if they wanted to know the answer, they should ask you the question. I'm your executive officer, not your father."
"Thanks," came her sarcastic reply. "So, what you're saying is that I can probably expect at least one or more passes tonight." She arched her eyebrow and fixed her eyes on him. "You know, you could've just told them I was unavailable."
"I could've," he agreed, "but do you think that would stop them from trying?"
"No." She sounded resigned. "Well, at least tell me this—were they good-looking?" She finished half the brandy in her glass while waiting for his reply.
"She was," he said, smiling around his cigar again, "but he wasn't anything to write home about."
"Well, at least I'm forewarned."
"That's my job—keeping my captain updated with all the current intelligence."
"Somehow"—it was her turn to smile—"I don't think that extends to inquiries into my social availability. But I appreciate the intel nonetheless."
He nodded as she squared her shoulders as if preparing for an assault of proposals.
"Admiral on your six"—he indicated over her shoulder with his drink—"and closing fast."
"You sounded like a Valkyrie rider there for a minute." She grinned at him.
"Perish the thought." He shuddered.
Alex let out a little chuckle as she turned to face the approaching admiral.
"Nice speech, sir," Higgins said by way of greeting as the admiral joined them.
"Thanks, Greg." He took the cigar from his mouth and turned to Alex. "And what did you think of it, Captain?"
"I liked it. Very powerful, very inspiring," she replied honestly. "I was just telling Greg here that I have not seen anyone this keyed up since before Ross 128. I think we would jump to the Sally home world tonight if you asked."
"I'm flattered by your support, Captain, but I don't think we will be jumping that far anytime in the near future. In fact, I don't think we'll have to worry about tangling with the Sallys anytime soon."
Alex and Greg both looked at the admiral, perplexed.
"Inside information, Admiral, or a hunch?" asked Alex.
"A bit of both, to tell you the truth." He snagged another brandy from the steward who approached them. "From what I have seen, it looks like things will be quiet for a while, and I don't think that the Sallys are ready to try anything. They've been going pretty strong for the last year, and I would guess that they're taking this time to rest and rearm as well."
"From your mouth to God's ears, sir," Greg said. "Lord knows we could use the break."
"Yes, everyone has been wound a bit too tight lately." His mood was somber. "Just look at the two of you."
Again they exchanged questioning glances.
"Us, sir?" they both said as one.
"Yes, you." His smile was back. "Both of you. This is a Dining-In, a gathering of your fellow officers and friends, and yet here you are, Captain McLaughlin, in attendance, armed."
Alex put her hand to the small of her back, feeling the pistol in her belt, and blushed guiltily.
"Ah, y-yes, sir," she stammered. "Sorry, sir. The standing order on my ship is to be armed at all times, and, well, I've just gotten used to carrying it."
She was blushing darker than her hair now, and he could see Higgins starting to blush and fidget.
"You carrying, too, Greg?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yes, sir."
"I see." He looked from one officer to the other then back again. "May I ask why you have that order in effect on your ship? It's your prerogative, of course. You are the captain, and it is well within the regs, but I must admit that I'm curious as to why."
"The Thor, sir," came her immediate reply. She still looked embarrassed, but not apologetic. He was right; it was her ship, after all.
"The Thor?" Puzzled for a moment, he remembered. The carrier Thor had been lost to enemy action. Enemy boarding action. The reports from the survivors told the story of how the marines had put up a valiant defense, but there were too many areas of the ship to defend, too many Xan-Sskarns on board, and not enough bodies to do the job. If the rest of the crew had been able to mount even a minimal resistance, the Thor might not have been lost. He nodded his understanding.
"I would say that you were paranoid, Captain." He grinned at them both again. "You, too, Commander. But then again, in this case I suppose that there really are things out to get you."
They all laughed at that. Alex extracted her case and retrieved a cigarette. The admiral's expression changed from puzzled to quizzical.
"Cigarettes, Captain?" he asked. "From what I've seen of your proclivity for smoking, I would have thought that you would enjoy a good cigar. They are Cubans, after all."
"I do enjoy a good cigar, sir, and Cubans have always been, and are still, the best." She looked around at the room. "But with the fact that I look like a teenage schoolgirl, coupled with my knowledge of the personality of my comrades here, I'm of the mind that a cigar might be a tad too Freudian for them."
They all chuckled at that. A guilty look came over her face, and she leaned in close to t
he admiral.
"Besides, sir"—she patted her jacket, indicating the pocket inside—"I took a couple for the road."
"Good for you. I hope you get a chance to enjoy them later. Now, it's getting late, and we'll be wrapping the evening's ceremonies up soon, so I need to circulate a bit more before I retire." With that, he smiled at them both one last time and turned to leave.
"Good evening to you then, sir," Alex called to him as he turned, "and thank you."
He looked over his shoulder and saw that she was thanking him for more than just the party. Higgins nodded in assent with his captain.
"You're welcome. Captain. Commander." And with that he disappeared into the crowd and smoke.
Chapter Six
USS Asgard
October 7, 2197
2312 z
Groombridge 34
"Attention on the flight deck," rang out over the Asgard's hangar bay. "Mjölner shuttle preparing for launch. All passengers please report to number two lift."
"Well, Alex," Captain Zimmer said as she extended her hand, "it was great to see you again. Maybe next time we'll be able to spend more time catching up."
Alex took her hand and began to shake it.
"I hope so, Alice," came her sincere reply. "It was good to see you, too. You take care out there."
"I will, and you do the same." She turned to Commander Higgins, standing behind her. "You take care, too, Commander, and try to keep her out of trouble if you can." She was smiling, knowing that if Alex was intent on getting into trouble, no one would be able to keep her out of it.
"I'll try, ma'am," he replied straight-faced. "Have a safe trip back to the Mjölner, Captain Zimmer."
With the party over, Greg was back to being the highly competent officer that he was. They watched as Captain Zimmer threw them both a jaunty salute and jogged over to her waiting shuttle. She was followed by the flight engineer, and the hatch closed. The shuttle taxied forward into the lift alcove directly in front of it, and a hatch slid up from the deck behind it, sealing it in. The speakers came to life once more.
"Mjölner shuttle in the bay."
Alex and Greg stepped over to the bulkhead and out of the way of the flight crews getting the visiting officers' shuttles prepped for launch.
"Mjölner shuttle launching."
With the bay depressurized and open to vacuum during flight operations, the sound of the shuttle launching did not transmit down to them, but they did feel the vibration in the deck as the engines powered up to full throttle and shot the shuttle out into space.
Alex and Greg leaned against the bulkhead and enjoyed a companionable silence. While the flight crews were busy getting multiple shuttles ready for launch, and the hangar-bay speakers were announcing shuttle statuses every few minutes, there was no point in trying to have a conversation, so neither of them missed the hatch to their side opening and a seaman apprentice stepping into the bay. He looked around as if this was the first time he had ever been there. His eyes finally settled on the wall of equipment lockers that they were standing near, and he headed in their direction. As he approached, he noticed the two senior officers standing casually against the bulkhead and froze for a moment. They could see his discomfort around high-ranking officers and shared a small smile. Here was someone else who squeaked. By an unspoken agreement, they remained where they were but did not stare at him. He was going to have to get used to officers at some point in his career, and he might as well start now.
As he arrived at the first locker farthest from them, they could see why he looked so out of place on the flight deck: he wore the ratting tab of a radar tech. He looked at the two officers again, squared his shoulders, came to attention, and saluted.
"Good evening, ma'am. Good evening, sir." He rendered the appropriate greeting of the day to each of them. A little overly formal, addressing them both individually, but correct all the same.
"Good evening, Seaman." Captain McLaughlin returned his greeting just as formally, her hand rising to the brim of her beret sharply and quickly snapping back down. Greg gave him an appraising glance, then gave him a smile and a slight nod in the way of a greeting.
The seaman stood there at attention, seemingly not sure of what to do next. He could have continued on with whatever task had called him to the flight deck after greeting them, but he seemed not to know this. Higgins turned toward McLaughlin so his head was facing away from the stiff seaman. He smiled and mouthed the words "Squeak, squeak, squeak." She felt the corners of her mouth attempting to tug upward in a smile. She came to the seaman's rescue.
"Carry on, Seaman." Her voice held none of the humor that was evident on her face.
"Carry on, aye, aye, ma'am," the seaman barked out and then bent down to the first locker, looking relieved.
The two of them remained where they were, watching small groups of officers depart from one waiting area or another and board waiting shuttles as the overhead speaker announced them. As they quietly admired the well-choreographed moves of the crews on the flight deck, the seaman proceeded to open a locker and thoroughly search it before closing it, opening another, and beginning to search again. After the seaman was two-thirds of the way though the lockers, Captain McLaughlin looked quizzically at her XO. He raised a puzzled eyebrow as well. Curiosity overcame her, and she stood away from the wall and addressed the seaman.
"Excuse me, sailor, but what exactly are you looking for?" Her question startled the seaman into attention, facing the locker he was searching.
"Ma'am?" came his nervous and confused response.
"At ease," she said gently, trying to set his mood at ease as well. "I was just wondering what you were looking for."
He looked at her questioningly for a moment, and she could see him searching for the best way to answer her.
"Ma'am, I'm looking for five meters of flight line."
"Did you just say you were looking for five meters of flight line?" she asked incredulously. Alex did not know what kind of response she had expected, but that most certainly was not it.
"Yes, ma'am." The seaman was now back at attention, looking even more nervous.
"And can you tell me why you need five meters of flight line?" Her voice was tinged with amusement now.
"Ma'am, my section head said that we would need it to help recalibrate the point-defense radar to detect incoming ships." His tone was no longer nervous or questioning, but deadly serious. Here was a man on a mission of vital importance.
Commander Higgins began to shift away from the bulkhead and open his mouth. With a slight shake of her head, she stopped him. His brows furrowed in confusion, but he didn't argue and settled back against the bulkhead.
"Well, Seaman"—she sounded every inch a captain now—"I don't believe what you're looking for will be found in these lockers. I suggest you go ask one of the other seamen over by those Valkyries if they know where you could obtain five meters of flight line." He looked over at the crews she had pointed at, then turned back to face her as she continued to speak. "Besides, you wouldn't want to just walk off with something from another department. It's always wise to ask someone where something is located and if they can spare you any, understand?" Both her suggestion and explanation were gentle; she didn't want this sailor to think she was lecturing him, but merely providing friendly advice.
"Ah, yes, ma'am, I understand." For the first time, he did not seem overcome by nerves, and his answer was more relaxed.
"Now, carry on with your task and remember what I said." She gave him a friendly smile.
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." His voice came out in clipped tones again, but this time she could not hear any fear or wariness behind it. He stiffened to attention once more and saluted her again. She returned his salute just as crisply as before. He did a sharp about-face, then broke into a trot across the bay toward the Valkyries at the other end.
"Sharp kid. He'll do well once he gets a bit more experience under his belt," she said as she turned back to face her XO.
Greg started to open his mouth to speak again when he was interrupted, this time by the overhead speakers.
"Attention on the flight deck. Fenris shuttle preparing for launch. All passengers please report to lift number one."
"That's us." She started to trot toward lift one. Greg pushed himself off of the bulkhead and headed toward the waiting assault shuttle. She slowed as she approached the shuttle so he could catch up, allowing them to arrive at the same time. Because military protocols called for the shuttle passengers to board in reverse order of seniority, she did not want to arrive at the shuttle first and have it seem that she was waiting on him. It was unnecessary and would be embarrassing for him as well, and they had been together too long and through too much for her to purposefully embarrass him, especially in front of strangers. He nodded his thanks to her, returned the flight engineer's salute, and boarded. She looked over to the other end of the bay and could just make out the seaman talking to several others clustered around one of the Valkyries and saw that several of them seemed to be laughing. She smiled.
Ragnarok-ARC Page 6