Minh cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I haven't had time. Between qualifying, learning everything there is to know about flying off this ship, the fighters, and Paula following me around I've barely seen my rack, let alone the bridge.”
“Paula's been following you?” Captain Valance asked.
“Oh just showing me around and making sure my pilots and I don't miss anything on preflight inspection,” Minh stood and was on his way out of the room in one hasty, fluid motion. “Speaking of which, I have to get going. Good luck today.”
“Good hunting,” Oz called after him. “He's in his glory here Jake. Making him Wing Commander after he qualified and placed at the top was the best move you could have made.”
“I've never seen him this alive,” Jake agreed. He stood and straightened his long coat. It was an unnecessary gesture since the weight of it drew it back down into shape. “There was no better choice though. After qualifying he managed to kick the crap out of every pilot's scores then lead them on more successful simulated strike and defence missions than all the score leaders combined. All that practice while he was adrift worked out for him.”
“I know, now he just has to prove himself in the field. He's not the only one. This'll be my first real turn at running the flight control deck.”
“I'd rather have you no where else. You have experience and training at commanding a carrier. Besides, I noticed you staring at the flight control deck, I know it's where you want to be.”
“Still reading my mind after all these years. I missed working with you Jake.”
“You know, commanding this ship felt like work until you came aboard. If there's anything you ever want to do here, just say the word.” They shook hands firmly, a spontaneous gesture that expressed the feeling of camaraderie that had been growing ever since the pair began working together aboard the Triton. “Let's get to the bridge.”
Chapter 3
The waves lapped gently at the bottoms of Ashley's bare feet as she dangled them over the edge of the old bioplastic dock. A lazy breeze caught strands of her long black hair as she gazed out over Lake Chalmers. She sat at the broad end, at the edge of Master Gamrie's estate where she could just barely see across it to the tall vertical hydroponic farm on the opposite shore. They were almost like trees, their weathered and pockmarked surfaces had turned light brown and green with age.
Getting daily chores finished quickly enough to get away from the main house was hard, time alone was rare. The cool water tickled her toes and she smiled, marvelling at the perfect blue sky. There was tall green grass behind her, she could hear the wind hiss through it as the breeze turned into a mild gust.
“Ashley, time to get up,” Stephanie interrupted.
She didn't open her eyes, rolling over onto her stomach and sighing instead.
“You wanted to be up in time for the first broadcast, remember?” Stephanie reminded as she opened the privacy curtain.
“Good dream,” Ashley murmured. “Your timing sucks.”
“When did you start sleeping in the lower berth? I had to look you up on my comm.”
Ashley sighed again and sat up. Her head brushed the bottom of the bunk above. “Couple days ago. Haven't slept this well since the Samson. Between the bunks and morning yoga with the Chief I've never felt better. Still want more sleep though.”
“I thought you liked your quarters, especially after taking the trouble to decorate.”
“They're pretty, but it's too quiet on the Officer's deck. It's like sleeping in a tomb.”
“I got used to it, you should give it a chance.”
“You have Frost to keep you warm at night.” Ashley pulled a thin towel from a shallow overhead drawer and swung her legs out from the middle bunk.
“Might want a shirt?”
She waved the advice off. “No one cares here, 'sides, I've got shorts on and a towel.” She snapped the waistband of her small black shorts as she dropped down.
The main pilot's berthing was a labyrinth of bunks stacked four high. Each one had storage space under the mattress, overhead and at the foot, and a seven foot tall human could sleep easily, as long as they didn't sit up. Blue and red privacy curtains stopped as much or as little sound as the occupants liked and in an emergency each bunk could seal perfectly, saving the sleeper from sudden decompression if the air were to evacuate the berthing.
Ashley had moved in. All her essentials were packed into the bunk along with a few towels from the officer's quarters and some leisure clothing she'd collected from her time on the Samson. The pilot's berthing had been one of the first sections of the ship to employ the new, reprogrammed, cleaning bots. Ashley stepped around one of the three centimetre thick circular bots as it made its way down the corridor. When it finished the floor it would make its way up the bunk sides, buffing and scrubbing silently as it went.
Stephanie followed her between the bunks. Most of the privacy curtains were closed, it was just before most people would be waking for morning shift. One young pilot who was just waking up, his arm hanging over the edge of his bunk, got an eyeful and averted his gaze as soon as he noticed Stephanie walking behind Ashley, scowling at him.
“You really like it down here?”
“You really like Frost waking you in the middle of the night?”
“Sometimes. When he doesn't have bar breath.”
“Well, until I have someone to remind me that I'm not alone in the middle of the night I'll like it down here. Besides, I get to know the new pilots, they're nice too.”
“Of course they're nice, you're the Master of the Helm. Your walks to the shower in shorts and a strategically placed towel must be a real hit too.”
“I don't think anyone really notices since most are from the military or big industrial frigates. There's no privacy there. Besides, after growing up with even less privacy I don't even notice. Hi Jordan,” Ashley waved as she passed a pair of young officers. The one who had two wings stretched across his cuffs smiled at her as she went by.
Stephanie couldn't help but play mother hen to her best friend occasionally. Ashley still assumed most people were good at heart. In the case of the pilot who she'd acknowledged on her way through the crowded berthing it seemed she was right, he didn't so much as break eye contact as Ashley passed by.
“How was patrol?” Ashley asked over her shoulder.
“Didn't happen. We came out of the wormhole late.”
“Don't worry, you'll be out there soon.” They passed into the group lavatory. There were two dozen unisex toilet stalls to one side, sinks and hygiene product dispensers on the left and a honeycomb of shower stalls at the end. In the centre were several pillars where the less modest crew members could shower without privacy. She flipped her light blue towel to Stephanie, who was already dressed in her black vacsuit uniform and armed for duty as Security Chief.
Stephanie cleared her throat. “Really? You're not even going to use a stall?”
“What? You were in the military, from what everyone says this is par for the course.”
“You're the Master of the Helm, an officer.” Stephanie shook her head. “What's the point of all the extra hours unless you at least get a divider while you're in the sonic.”
Ashley shrugged and stepped into a stall, snapping off her shorts. “As you wish miss manners. Incoming!” She flicked the undergarment over the semitransparent divider at Stephanie, catching her in the side of the face.
“Nice. When I was in the military they gave us three minutes to shit, shower and get in gear on a good day. You should feel lucky Captain didn't just file us in with the rest of the crew when his old chums came aboard.”
