In the Blink of an Eye

by Mark Dutkiewicz

  The captain waited for the hatch to hiss closed before saying, “That was quite a performance you gave yesterday. Not that I’m condoning it.” Taking on a more relaxed stance Styles leveled those keen eyes of his on Jeff. “Brought back memories of when your father was your age. He was as strong willed as you are. Brash and boisterous. Did you know at one time he actually boasted that he could win this war by himself?”

  “That’s the rumor I’ve heard.”

  Styles laughed at that. “Son, it’s no rumor. Sometimes I got the feeling he had a death wish. Diving headfirst into a sortie, giving the enemy everything he had. I owe him my life.” The captain fell silent for a moment, his eyes drifting to some memory. “I did my best Russ,” he added in a near whisper.

  “Sir?” Jeff asked. Styles didn’t respond, instead continuing to stare off at his unseen daydream. “Captain?” he once again addressed the extended silence.

  Styles coughed reasserting his gaze on Jeff. Clearing his throat he said, “I’m sorry Commander. Please forgive an old man’s reminiscing. At any rate, I believe I owe you an apology.” Jeff opened his mouth about to ask what he meant. The captain seemed to anticipate the question continuing, “For treating you like a child. For taking the words of a dying man at face value, and not truly seeing what he actually meant.

  “When those bastards hit us out by Gliese Four One Two Russ was on his way to the bridge. We suffered a broadside during the initial strike. The computer detected a hull breach along the starboard bulkhead and sealed the passage. Would have been a simple matter to patch the hole, it wasn’t very big. But I didn’t have the time. We were caught off guard, taking heavy fire and woefully outnumbered. I called in whatever birds we could and ordered an SLD jump. It wasn’t until after that I found out he’d been locked in the corridor. And far too late to do anything about it.” The captain paused, visibly collecting himself.

  “When I got down there it was a race between the quickly venting atmosphere or the radiation as to what would kill him. We were separated by the hatch and all I could see of him were his eyes pressed up to the porthole. It was the only time I’d ever seen fear in them. I tried to reassure him. That we’d have the breach sealed and get him out of there. He didn’t buy it.” A wry smile decorated Styles face. But it was purely cosmetic. The captain’s voice weakened a touch saying, “He said to me, ‘Bullshit. We both know I’ve got five minutes at best.’ I wanted to blow the hatch and pull him out. Too hell with the risk it would pose to the ship. But he stopped me. Pounding on the hatch he commanded my attention and rasped through the thin air, ‘Gunther, you watch over my boy. You watch over him and make sure he pulls through this.’ I’ve carried those words like an open wound ever since…” Styles trailed off with the hint of a tear threatening to escape his eye.

  “What I hadn’t understood that day,” he continued after a deep breath, “is that he wasn’t asking me to coddle you. I thought I’d be doing him a favor trying to get you to resign. I had you pushed extra hard during your training. Put unreasonable barriers to getting you cleared for combat duty. Hell, I put you about as far from this Goddamned war as I could without making it obvious. And for that I apologize. You are your own man and Russ made that clear to me long before that day, that there was no changing your mind. No. Russ understood what you are and what we’re up against. And all he wanted me to do was make sure you were ready for it, and do everything in my power to get you to the finish line alive.” With a hint of a laugh he added, “I guess I succeeded. In a roundabout way. Everything I did galvanized you.”

  Straightening his jacket, the captain finished saying, “That will be all Commander. Lieutenant Ranson will fill you in on shipboard operations. Things are a bit different on Victoria than they were on the Tungsten. Collect you gear and try to take your ease for the rest of the day.”

  As the captain turned to leave Jeff spoke up, “Sir?”

  “Yes Commander?”

  “Thank you for the story Sir. I appreciate the honesty. However,” Jeff paused not sure how to ask the question. He’d lambasted the man without even knowing him. Without all the facts and felt a pang of guilt that his father would have been severely disappointed in him. He settled on just being direct saying, “but it doesn’t explain the dog tags.”

  A knowing smile graced Captain Styles’ lips. “Son, your father hasn’t worn those things in years. Said there was no point to it since he never had the chance to get off the Goddamned ship anymore.”

  Jeff watched the man walk from the room and a warm sensation came over him. As if his father shared one last embrace. Of course it was short lived. As Styles stepped over the threshold Kami’s acerbic voice was grating, “Gunther, I must protest!”

  “Easy Kami, I have my reasons…” their conversation cut off as the hatch hissed closed.

  The reality of what just happened was beginning to sink in. And Jeff had a lot of thinking to do. He was rifling through the contents of the guard station desk when Dela Pena returned. “Where the hell did you hide my stuff you brig gremlin,” Jeff said to the man.

  “With an attitude like that Lieutenant, I have a feeling I’ll be seeing more of you,” Dela Pena snidely replied. Pressing his thumb to a small plate on the lip of the desk a drawer below it popped open. Lifting out a small bowl he dumped the contents out.

  Jeff scooped up the items, pausing to rub a thumb over the smooth surface of his father’s dog tags. Shoving them in a pocket and thumbing open his cigarettes Jeff said, “Pleasure doing business with you.” Lighting the stick, he inhaled gratefully and strolled from the room.

  “Sir!” a pretty voice called him out, “There’s no smoking in the passageways. It’s against regulations.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Jeff breathed a cloud turning to put a face to his new agitator.

  A wide smile, which lit up the dark tilted eyes of a young woman, greeted him. “You must be Lieutenant Commander Grant.”

  “You caught me,” Jeff laughed taking another drag.

  “Great. Lieutenant Emily Ranson,” she said extending a delicate hand towards him, “Senior Flight Operations Officer.”

  “Pleasure,” Jeff said gently taking her hand. Sneaking a quick look over her, he found everything about the small lieutenant was delicate. Skin like porcelain, thin diminutive frame—accentuated by the close fitting uniform—and a small heart shaped face framed by a short and shaggy cut of brunette hair. Jeff caught himself smiling at the dark pools of her eyes.

  A shy smile graced her lips and she quickly broke the gaze rifling through the papers she was carrying. “Says here you’ll be in compartment one two zero eight.”

  “A lieutenant delivering cabin instructions,” Jeff mused. “Tell the captain he shouldn’t have. Victoria’s bigger than the Tungsten, but I’m sure I could have figured things out. This seems a bit below your rate.”

  Brushing a wisp of hair from her forehead Emily laughed, “Normally a yeoman would, but since we’ll be working so closely the captain wanted to give you a head start.”

  “And a lovely head start it is,” Jeff said coyly. Sweeping an arm out to gesture down the passage he added, “Well then. By all means, lead the way milady.”

  A small giggle that could only be described as cute massaged her voice. Hugging the dossier to her breast she began walking down the hall. “You’re nothing like Kami described.”

  “Probably still sore at me for calling her sweetheart,” Jeff said falling in at her side. “Is she always so sour?”

  “Kami? No she’s not sour. Just very rules oriented. She’s actually quite friendly when you get to know her.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Jeff muttered.

  “I’m sorry Sir?”

  “Nothing. Just looking forward to getting to know the XO. I have a feeling she’s going to be my new best friend.”

  Jeff wasn’t sure if it was his tone or if she saw something in his eyes. But Emily shook her head as if anticipating some kind of mischief brewing inside him. “I
have a feeling things are going get quite interesting around here.”

  During the elevator ride the petite lieutenant gave him a short briefing on flight operations onboard Victoria. Most of it was rehash with a few subtle differences thrown in. She followed that with what amounted to a guided tour of the ship. Officers wardroom, locker rooms, gym, flight deck, Victoria was closer to a city than the Tungsten ever was and felt a hundred times as large. Finally making their way to the pilot’s quarters two faces he never expected to see again manifested before his as if from the eternal ether.

  “Skid, Apple,” he called excitedly breaking into a sprint.

  “Knight!” Joanne cried hurrying towards him James close on her heals. The three collided in a celebratory hug immediately talking over one another.

  Whistling shrilly James proclaimed, “This demands a drink!” and all but pushed everyone, Emily included, towards the Pilot’s Lounge.

  CHAPTER 10:

  MEETING THE CREW

  “To the Diamondbacks,” James announced holding his glass high. “We were a rough and tumble group of misfits. But we got the job done and took a shit load of toads with us!”

  “Hear! Hear!” the table called and Jeff added, “And to Spanky. Whose ugly mug I didn’t expect to see again in some time. He’s as much of a misfit as the rest of us.”

  Laughter soaked the reply of, “To Spanky!”

  What could almost be described as a shy smile split Curtis’ face. Raising his glass now the big man said, “And let’s not forget Lieutenant Emily Ranson. By far the cutest flight operations officer in the fleet.”

  “To Emily!” the cheer followed and the infectious laughter seemed to spread throughout the room.

  Giggling, the diminutive lieutenant said, “You’re too kind Lieutenant Johnson.”

  “Just didn’t want you to feel left out,” Curtis declared, “Especially since you’re going to have to deal with Knight over here.”

  Emily turned her tilted eyes on Jeff, who blushed slighted in anticipation of what she was about to say. Raising her glass now she cried, “To Knight. The new commander of the Yellow Jackets.”

  Curtis spit out his drink coughing, “You’re the new commander of the Yellow Jackets?”

  James hot on his heels called out, “Barkeep! Drinks are on Knight!” Exuberant whistles erupted from the surrounding tables. Everyone loved hearing someone else was picking up the tab.

  Jeff hid his embarrassment behind his glass. After taking a long swallow he looked up asking, “You guys see anyone else from the Tungsten? Sunshine? Six-Pack?”

  Grim faces stared back at him and a dark mood formed over the table. A sour pit settled in Jeff’s stomach when James threw back his drink and leveled a somber look upon him. “They didn’t make it,” James answered quietly. “I don’t know what happened to Sunshine. Saw his name on the casualty list. And Six-Pack—”

  “Six-Pack had three toads on his tail,” Joanne cut in, “and another batch angling for him. I tried to come around, tried to get in behind them. There was so much traffic. I had contacts converging from all directions and a bolt tore a hole through one of my wings; the power of it threw the razor into a wild spin. Took everything I had to correct it.” She scoffed with a hint of a forced laugh, “I’m lucky to be alive. When I recovered I saw the old codger blow two out of the sky. But the rest…” Joanne sharply inhaled finishing in a whisper, “They tore him to pieces.”

  Everyone at the table was silent a moment, absorbed in their drinks. With a pang of guilt at dredging up the arguably grisly memory Jeff breathed, “I’m sorry Apple.”

  “Don’t be,” she bit, quickly draining her glass. “He was a jackass.” Losing people in combat wasn’t new to any at the table. But watching someone being butchered was something you never really got used to. Squeezing her eyes shut Joanne stood abruptly asking if anyone needed another round.

  “I’ll have another,” Curtis quietly muttered.

  “Right. Spanky wants another. Anyone else?”

  Jeff nodded respectfully and James answered with a muted, “Thanks Apple.”

  “That’s so sad,” Emily said as Joanne walked to the bar. “I had a hard time adjusting to hearing things over the radio…” she choked up. “But to see it. I can’t imagine.” Jeff ran a reassuring hand over her shoulder. Shrugging it off Emily stood excusing herself. “I still have flight plans to coordinate for tomorrow.”

  Jeff opened his mouth to apologize for ruining the mood. But Emily was swift in her exist wiping a tear from her eye. Turning back to James he said quietly, “Skid, if I had known. It’s hard to see people die. Even assholes like Six-Pack.”

  “Leave it be Knight,” James breathed. “We all deal with things in our own way.” Throwing an arm over the back of his chair he turned looking at Joanne. “She’ll come to terms. Apple’s a tough girl.” Shaking his head, he turned back. “Anyway, what’s done is done. I don’t want to hear any more about it. Besides, we’re still alive and you just got a kick ass promotion.”

  Curtis grunted at that, “Styles has lost his damned mind.”

  “Jealous Spanky?” Jeff grinned at his friend.

  “Oh hell no,” Curtis was quick to defend. “You got no idea what kind of rabble rousers are on the Jackets.” Pointing a finger across the room he said, “See that little guy? That’s Alan Jacobs. We call him Teak. As pilots go he’s pretty skilled. But he’s got that little man Napoleon complex. Always trying to prove he’s the best. Bit of a showboat too. Was bounced around a bit before landing on the Jackets. Scuttle has it the only reason he’s still here is nobody else wants him. Fool seems to wear it like a badge of honor too.

  “The big blonde guy next to him is Jason Baker. He’s called Gunsmoke and doesn’t seem to give a damn what you think of him. Smokes like a chimney and is one of those guys that just lays it out there with a cowboy’s bluntness. I’ve seen stones with more personality, and in a fight he’s cold and calculating. Been on Victoria barely six months and has already racked up over fifty confirmed kills.”

  “I see,” Jeff said with a smile. “What about the mop top?”

  Curtis craned his neck searching the room for Jeff’s target. With a laugh he said, “That’s Mako. Not on the Jackets. Don’t know much about her other than the innocent look is an act. She’s got a devil may care attitude and stares death in the face daring it to make the first move.” Pausing to sip his drink he added, “She’s also a bit of a flirt.”

  Jeff smiled at the description. “Sounds like my type,” he joked.

  Curtis barked a loud guffaw. “Your type is anything with a pulse that wants nothing to do with you!”

  “That which is not worth working for has no value,” Jeff replied blithely.

  “Oh Christ, not the quoting bullshit,” Curtis laughed.

  “That’s not a quote,” Jeff defended.

  Curtis snorted in derision. “Bullshit. And you read too much.”

  “The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read,” Jeff channeled Mark Twain swirling the ice in his glass. “And that by the way was a quote you illiterate.”

  “Never pegged you for the cultured type,” James broke in with a laugh. “You always seemed too juvenile for it.” Turning to Curtis the lieutenant continued, “Tell me about this quoting business.”

  “It’s nothing,” Jeff deflected.

  “Bullshit,” Curtis called him out. “You’ve been pulling that tired routine to get numbers as long as I’ve known you.”

  “Then why don’t you get Mako to come over here so I can prove you wrong.”

  “Call his bluff Spanky,” James encouraged. “I want to hear Don Juan spout some sonnets.”

  “First off it’s pronounced Jew-On, secondly—” Jeff couldn’t finish as Joanne returned sliding glasses onto the table.

  “You boys picking on Knight?” she sassed finding her seat.

  “Not at all,” James cracked. “As a matter of fact, Knight here was about to demonstrat
e some pickup routine Spanky was telling me about.”

  “Ooh! Who’s the lucky girl?” she purred.

  Curtis answered her by whistling loudly. “Hey Mako!” he called, “There’s someone over here who wants a word with you.”

  A collective cry of, “Whoa!” circulated through the room. The woman turned to look at Curtis. With a shake of her curly bonnet she prowled more so than walked to the table and dropped herself in the large man’s lap. Wrapping an arm about his neck she throatily voiced, “Changed your mind big guy?”

  Curtis gestured across the table with his head, “Knight here’s your customer.”

  Turning, she bit her lip making an obvious show of running her eyes up and down Jeff. “Oh,” she said sounding a touch disappointed. “He’s too pretty for me.”

  Curtis laughed. “Yeah, he is at that. But he’s the new commander of the Yellow Jackets and—”

  “In that case,” Mako voice took on a sultry sound, “I guess I can make an exception.” Slinking around the table she slid up to sit upon it. Looking deeply into Jeff’s eyes and taking his drink she took a sip. “I do love a man who enjoys whiskey,” she said licking her lips.

  “You’re right Curtis,” Jeff said returning Mako’s easy stare. “She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture,” he quoted Cyrano de Bergerac.

  “Pretty words from a pretty commander,” Mako teased. “So. What was it you wanted sugar?”

  “Spanky tells me you’ve got what I’m looking for.”

  Mako giggled softly. “He’s right,” she said coyly, “But can you handle it?”

  Jeff threw his best roguish smile at her. “Why don’t you meet me in the squad room at zero-six-hundred and find out?”

  Mako caressed his cheek; a devilish look lighting up her brown eyes. “Whatever you want sugar,” she said in a sultry voice. Leaning in she kissed him firmly before picking up his glass taking another sip. Making a show of wiping a drop of whiskey from her lips she slipped off the table. “I’m looking forward to it.”