“Remove it,” Turner said, dropping the report back on to his desk. “As far as anyone is concerned those men were Imperial asylum seekers fleeing their system's civil war. They stole three ships and ran the check points in the Alba system before jumping to Temper. Their ships were destroyed after they failed to identify themselves upon request to a Naval patrol unit, which they had also attacked.”
“Yes, sir. I'll have that updated for the final report,” Parks assured him.
“Ensure it is, as well as the traffic and activity record at Alba.”
Parks nodded.
“And have someone take the Knights aside and ensure they do not repeat what they heard. I don't care who you get to do it: yourself, Meyers, Hawke, or whoever. Just make sure the message is clear. We need all our bases covered on this one.”
Parks nodded again. “I'll have it done as soon as we've wrapped this up, admiral.”
“Good. I have to leave soon to meet with those clowns in Office and I don't wish to spend any more time with damage control,” Turner growled once again, as if blaming Parks for the presence of the offending sentences. “Now, before all of this crap started, I believe you said that you had some news for me?”
“I do,” Parks said with a wry smile.
Turner scowled at the commodore's sudden bright face. “I hope it's good news, Commodore.”
“It's very good news, Admiral - Intelligence have finally managed to locate Dragon.”
IX
— Poker, Rumours and Whiskey —
The Officer's Club at Mandelah Naval Base was filled to capacity. Most days the Club was not as packed as it was tonight, but the actions of the White Knights two days previous had set in motion a series of rumours that had resulted in as many service personnel squeezing themselves into the building as possible.
Word of mouth had spread that a pilot named Kelly (first name unknown) had engaged and taken down two enemy starfighters, making their way through Confederation space. The exact identity of the “enemy” did not seem to be known and neither was it important. By further word of mouth it had become four enemy vessels, who were en route to torpedo Spirit Orbital. Kelly had been patrolling on his own when he had encountered the enemy, and had therefore been unable to fall back on any wingmates for assistance (at this point Kelly had also been identified as a man, or “one hell of a guy”). In the end he had become the sole responsibility for the defence and evacuation of a heavily packed naval transporter that was acting as the enemy's secondary target.
Even with the records available showing the true nature of events, Kelly Taylor had not breathed a single word of correction to anyone; anything for a party.
The drink was flowing quite freely that night, with much singing and dancing. The pool tables were receiving a great deal more attention than they would normally, with various wagers being played out non-stop. A tall, skinny man by the name of O'Reilly was enjoying a lot of success with the cue, many challengers attempting to break his winning streak and soon parting with their cash.
With everything going on Estelle wondered just who was watching how much everyone was drinking. Certainly not Captain Meyers, who had been absent from the base for the past two days, disappearing straight after the Knights had returned from their patrol. Earlier on she had seen a couple of the more senior officers perched on stools by the bar, making sure their people didn't overdo it; but they were not exactly enforcing the usual rules of responsible alcohol consumption on the others.
“... of all the places that we could have wound up in. Kelly?” Estelle said, raising her eyes from her glass and discovering Kelly to be preoccupied. “Kelly?”
The brown haired girl turned back to Estelle. “Sorry, Estelle, what did you say?”
“Too busy in your own little world, as usual,” Estelle muttered, wishing her friend would listen to her ranting so she could get it off her chest. “Sometimes I think you really are just like your sisters.”
Kelly recoiled on her stool. “Oh, thanks, Estelle. Thanks a lot,” she said, sounding both hurt and angered by Estelle's words. “I thought if there was just one person in this world who wouldn't continue to bring that up, it would be you. Why people constantly feel the need to judge me on that, I'll never know.”
* * *
A gathering of eight men and women, standing not too far from Estelle and Kelly's table, lowered their drinks to watch the scene unfolding.
“What's going on?” asked a man to the group, noting the scowl on Kelly's face.
“The neurotic one and the spoilt one are fighting,” one of his drinking companions answered.
“That doesn't surprise me,” said another. “I don't think there's a single person on the base that de Winter hasn't picked a fight with.”
“What exactly is her problem?”
“Ego,” a woman put bluntly.
“That Kelly Taylor?” one of the other men asked, with a nod of his beer bottle.
“No, that's de Winter. Taylor's the one having a go.”
“Oh.”
“Why, do you like that?”
“She's not bad.”
“Don't bother. I share quarters with her. Really full of herself that one. Kelly's nicer, even if she's quite dizzy.”
“Could someone explain to me why she is even here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well if I were her, I wouldn't be here. I'd be spending all that money her father's got.”
“You know, you're a real credit to the service.”
“No, I'm just making a point. You probably would too.”
“Like her sisters?”
“You know, I heard she hates them?”
“No, she doesn't hate them; they just don't get on.”
“Tell you what, I wish my Dad had done that.”
“Done what?”
“Been a galactic commodities trader.”
“It wasn't her Dad, it was her great, great grandfather or something like that.”
“You wouldn't be able to do it these days anyway. The market for that sort of thing was only around for a short time before all the larger corporations started to get in on the act. He was a smart man, you got to give him that.”
“What are they fighting about?”
“I don't know and I don't care.”
Several of the group turned their backs on the two women, going back to what they had been talking about before they had been distracted. One only half turned back, leaning ever so slightly in the table's direction, intrigued to hear what had riled Kelly so much.
* * *
“I can't help being who I am, Estelle. I didn't ask to be born into my family,” Kelly was continuing her rant, Estelle not saying a word. “And I'm not like Susan and Gemma at all. If I was I wouldn't be here for a start. I'd be being snapped by photographers falling out of cars and nightclubs, so drunk I don't know what day it is; working my way through some football team; or joining the ranks of the no-knicker club. You know my sisters don't even know what I do? I've been with the CSN for nearly ten bloody years and they think that I'm a soldier, part of the Mobile Infantry.
“And speaking of which, you need to stop trying to make up for what happened to Jed. At least he wasn't killed and could walk away from it...”
Kelly stopped talking as the sentence left her mouth, instantly regretting her choice of words. Estelle and her brother had both taken up military careers at the same time, Estelle joining the CSN and her brother the CMI. Her brother had lasted only two years before he had returned home. An accident during a live fire exercise had resulted in a bullet shattering his knee cap and leaving him with a permanent limp. Estelle's family had been unable to afford the corrective surgery.
She looked uneasily around the Officer's Club for a moment, before turning back to Estelle. In for a penny, in for a pound; she may as well get it all out now. Better Estelle hear it from her than somebody else,
“Yes, okay, I know I can be flaky sometimes, but the others have accepted t
hat and I don't see why you can't. And to be fair, I think that I do make up for that in the cockpit.
“Look, you need to stop wanting so much, so quickly. You said you want to one day command your own carrier, or battleship or whatever; but if you keep on making enemies here then you're not going to get there, because people will find you difficult to work with. Haven't you noticed how everyone in the dorm tip-toes around you? Doesn't that bother you? I mean, what the hell, Estelle, are you going to be a bitch your whole life?”
Estelle said nothing.
Kelly plunged on further. “And to be honest, we have had a rather intense few weeks with the training, the back and forth transfers from Gabriel, to Temper, to here, and then the constant up and down to the station. And let's not forget the little incident a few days ago. I think we deserve to let our hair down from time to time. Lieutenant.”
Her tirade over, Kelly started to wonder if she had taken things a bit far, Estelle still saying nothing, looking anywhere but at Kelly. She caught the eyes of a group of people standing nearby, who were quick to look away. The two women sat in silence for a time, looking anywhere but at each other and playing with their drinks.
“Sorry,” they both said at the same time.
“I'm sorry,” Estelle said again, sweeping her hair out of her face. “It's just that...”
“You don't want to be here,” Kelly filled in for her.
“I look at all of this,” Estelle gestured around herself. “And I wonder where I went wrong. We've just gone from being the pick of the best to some dingy backwater system, shut away from the other squadrons, to a place where very little happens. There don't seem to be any prospects for promotion, getting out or even any real recognition. I almost feel like the only thing left for me to do would be to quit.”
“Quit?” Kelly said, stunned.
Estelle shrugged.
“Estelle, look, it's just a transitional period. We're not going to be here forever,” Kelly said. Despite her words Kelly knew that Estelle would never quit, the woman was far too proud to do something like that. She'd sooner die than admit it to her family or herself. “For now this is just something we have to do. Listen, why don't you come running with me and the boys tomorrow, instead of bothering yourself with so much flag duty. It will help you to keep your mind off things like that.”
Estelle opened her mouth to answer and then fell quiet. Kelly watched her, stirring her straw through the clutter of ice cubes, being all that now remained of her cocktail.
“Yeah, okay,” Estelle said. “I guess I have been neglecting all you guys recently.”
“Good, good,” Kelly smiled. Estelle smiled back. Satisfied that even though she had been treading on very thin ice she had made her point, Kelly relaxed more. She once again looked over in the direction of Dodds, Enrique and Chaz who were sitting not far from them, on a long couch in the corner.
Estelle began to chuckle. “Don't stare at him, Kelly.”
“I wasn't,” Kelly said. “I was just wondering who was winning their game.”
“Hmmmmmm.”
“Don't you sometimes miss being with Dodds?”
“My drink's all gone, Lieutenant,” Estelle said, crunching at the ice cubes with her straw.
Kelly smiled. Estelle was playfully abusing her position. She stepped off her stool. “Same again?”
“Same again. And stop looking over there,” she added as Kelly walked back to the bar.
* * *
Estelle did, however, look over herself. She had noticed how Chaz was sitting with Dodds and Enrique, and a number of other servicemen, merrily enjoying the game. His usual cold demeanour seemed to have evaporated tonight, making him a lot more approachable. Even so, she could tell he was still keeping things close to his chest. Tonight he was neither being too quiet nor too loud, either of which could cause one to stand out. He was acting like a real blend-in, instantly forgettable. He also appeared to be drinking at a modest pace; and disguising that well too.
She could not figure the man out and had heard from Enrique about how he had hacked the Ray's on-board comms systems to hook into the Merekat. Nothing more had been said, Estelle withholding his actions from the post-patrol report. In any case, she was beginning to wonder just who Parks had assigned to her wing. As she waited for Kelly to return she did her best to watch the group of men without making it too obvious.
* * *
“You in, Chaz?” Enrique asked as he shuffled the cards once again.
“Sure.”
“Dodds?”
“Yeah.”
“How about you four? Who are you again?” Enrique asked the men sitting on the couch opposite him. They burst out laughing.
The group were playing poker, with Enrique acting as dealer. For the most part they were playing for fun, but one of the four men that Dodds, Enrique and Chaz sat with had decided to sneak a bottle of whiskey in with him, intending to use it as an ice-breaker. The strong liquor had now taken on a new role as a penalty for anyone who played an appalling hand. This was becoming quite a regular occurrence for Enrique, who had failed to beat any of the other players in the last few rounds.
“You know, mate, if this were a casino you'd be looking for a new job round about now,” Dodds said.
“Dude, how much you 'ad?” asked the first man.
“Too much already by the looks of things,” the second man said. “Clearly can't hold his drink.”
“Oh, I can,” Enrique defended himself. “I'm not that drunk.”
“Okay, so what's our names again?” the first man said.
Enrique paused for a moment. Dodds watched him thinking, stealing a glance at Chaz who was taking a relaxing swig from his beer bottle.
“Tell you what,” Enrique said. “Why don't I just call you Crew Cut, Tubby, Irish and Shy Boy.”
The four men exchanged incensed looks.
“Well, you can't say they're not accurate,” Enrique slurred a little.
“Oi,” began Tubby, glaring. “My name's Ian.”
Dodds reached out and put a hand on Enrique's shoulder. “No harm, boys,” he said, giving his friend's shoulder a little squeeze to stop him saying any more. “Just some friendly nicknames, that's all.”
“And besides, I've lost weight recently,” Ian grumbled.
“Where did you get Irish from? The whiskey?” the one Enrique had christened said.
“Your accent,” Enrique said.
“My accent?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm Scottish, you cretin! I'm a McLeod!” the man growled.
“What should we call you two then?” Crew said.
“Hey, wait, I know these two,” McLeod interrupted. “You're Simon Dodds and Enrique Todd: The Odd Brothers.” A quizzical look crossed the faces of his three companions. McLeod elaborated, “These guys were pretty much inseparable at flight school. Never used to be far from one another. We ended up calling them the Odd Brothers because they were so much like family.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Dodds said, holding up his hand as if to brush away the conversation and the embarrassing memories that it invoked.
“Weren't you dating that girl, Esther or something? The one who thought the sun shone out of her arse?”
“Estelle. Yeah, that one,” Dodds admitted, seeing McLeod look around briefly in the direction of the woman sat at a table by herself. “But, no we're not seeing each other any more. She said she didn't have time for me and wanted to focus on her career.”
“Shame,” McLeod observed.
“Why is she like that? So self absorbed, I mean,” Crew asked.
“She wants to make something of herself,” Dodds started.
“Yeah, that's obvious,” Crew scoffed.
“No, that's not what I mean. She doesn't come from a particularly well off family,” Dodds said. “She was born on one of colonies on Tilli; so you know how it is out there. They never had a lot of money and had to get by mostly on state benefits. Her parents worked whenever they cou
ld find it, but again, you've heard how it is there. She quit school early so that she could try and help bring in some cash, but it didn't make a whole lot of difference. They couldn't even up sticks: they couldn't afford to settle down anywhere else, let alone afford the cost of transport in the first place. So, she joined the Navy to prove to her family and herself that she was worth more than all of that. She sends most of the money she earns home to them.”
“Ah,” McLeod said.
“Hmmmm,” Dodds added. Whilst he was aware that he had just dished out a great deal of very personal information about a friend to a group of men he didn't know, he was only trying to defend the Estelle that he knew better than others.
“Still,” McLeod said, glancing back over to Estelle, who was taking a glass from Kelly, “Shame to have let that one go.”
“Oh, she's been known to change her mind from time to time,” Enrique said, with a grin.
“Well, at least until the next morning,” Dodds finished. He then wagged a finger at McLeod. “Getting back to things: Yeah, I sort of remember you now too. Been a long time; nice to see you again.”
“Yeah, you too,” McLeod said. “Drink this.” He thrust a whiskey glass, half filled with the neat liquor, toward Dodds.
Dodds withdrew and directed it towards Enrique. “You came up with the names.”
Enrique reluctantly took the glass and downed it in one, coughing a couple of times before handing it back. “After this round I will be passing the dealing over to my good friend Dodds here,” he drawled, scooping his beer off the table and knocking back a good amount of the contents. “I really hate whiskey,” he said to Dodds.
“Aw, God no, come on,” Ian said.
At first Dodds thought that the man was unset that he was not going to get a chance to see Enrique make a speckle of himself. He then saw that the eyes of the four opposite him were looking not at Enrique, but to his left.
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