“Skipper,” Wright began as he pushed the alloy door in. “Sorry to barge in on you during paperwork hour.” He gestured behind him. “I wanted to introduce you to Captain Shikoba.”
A petite woman of no more than thirty strode through the opening and came to attention. “Captain Isabella Shikoba reports as ordered, ma’am.” She stood ramrod straight.
The effect reminded Tehrani of a cadet review, and she raised an eyebrow. “At ease, Captain.”
“She’s our convoy liaison officer,” Wright explained. “And will be helping us corral the freighter commanders.”
“Ah.” Of course he’d want me to meet her. “Please, sit down, both of you.” Once they did, Tehrani pressed on. “We trained for this sort of thing, of course, but with TC Merchant Marine spacers. They’re practically an arm of the CDF.”
Shikoba smiled. “Not flesh-and-blood independent ship drivers convinced that the military is out to control them.”
Tehrani laughed, as did Wright.
“I’d say that sums it up,” she said. “How are you doing so far? Getting buy-in?”
“Lots of jostling for position. The captains with bigger ships want special privileges. It’s like herding cats.” Shikoba wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather be over here, fighting the League.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Tehrani replied. She stared at the younger woman. “Is this your first assignment on convoy duty?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Shikoba glanced away. “The last liaison officer for this route was killed in action a week ago.”
Silence descended over the small room.
Wright pursed his lips. “Well, that was before the Zvika Greengold arrived.” Though his voice was full of bravado, it sounded forced. “You ask those Leaguers at Canaan what happened when our pilots got them in their sights.” He glanced at Tehrani. “We’ll be jumping to New Washington shortly, ma’am. Picking up the convoy there on the outskirts of the Lawrence limit.”
Tehrani nodded. “Very well. Captain, have you decided what ship you’ll be making your home on in the fleet?”
“One of the bulk-cargo freighters, ma’am. It has an upgraded tactical network interlink,” Shikoba replied. She shifted. “Of course, half the other ships claim we’re showing favoritism to the company that owns that particular freighter.”
“You’ll never make everyone happy. Until we pull their collective posteriors out of the fire, the civilians will whine and complain every chance they get.”
Shikoba laughed politely. “As you say, ma’am.”
“I don’t recognize the symbol on your country flag, Captain. What’s it from?” Tehrani asked.
“Oh.” She touched the patch. It consisted of two bears with an eagle superimposed on them. “It’s the Inuit flag, ma’am. We have a small planet toward the border. Not much compared to Churchill or New Washington. But it’s ours.” Shikoba flashed a grin. “Aleut is a borderline ice world—which suits us just fine.”
“You’re going to have to tell me more about that one of these days. But now, I’m afraid I have to get back to clearing my backlog of clerical work.” Tehrani stood.
Both Wright and Shikoba immediately got up. “Thanks for taking a few moments, ma’am,” Wright stated. “I’ll show Captain Shikoba back to the hangar deck. She’ll be transferring ships between jumps.”
“Thank you, XO. I plan to be on the bridge when we jump out of New Washington.”
“Excellent, ma’am.” Wright gestured to the door. “After you, Captain.”
Justin was in something of a foul mood. He’d hoped their trip through New Washington’s solar system would give him enough time to at least take twelve hours of shore leave and see his family. No such luck—they would barely be in the system for six hours and never close enough to the inner planets to make a trip by shuttle possible. Instead, he got to sit through Major Whatley’s combat space patrol briefing. So he sat in one of the leather chairs in the Red Tails’s ready room along with a few dozen other pilots. The difference was that his chair had CO stenciled into the back of it. I’d much rather be seeing Michelle and Maggie.
“Thank you for coming, everyone,” Whatley began as he touched the controls on the podium. The lights dimmed, and the holoprojector came alive with a 3-D image of the Greengold. “I’m going to spend the next thirty minutes educating you all on how we protect a convoy with one escort carrier, one destroyer, and a frigate since the rest of the battlegroup was assigned elsewhere.”
Somewhere in the back of the room, someone with a voice Justin didn’t recognize yelled, “With the Boars! Brrrrrrt!”
Would someone burst those guys' bubble already? Justin kept silent, waiting for Whatley to do just that.
He didn’t disappoint. Whatley raised the lights, staring directly toward where the Black Hogs pilots sat together. “Who the hell said that?”
Silence was the only reply.
“Who’s the red-bellied coward that won’t own up to what you said?” Whatley thundered. He waited a few seconds. “Either stand up and say it to my face, or I’ll PT your entire squadron until you’ve got blisters on your hands and feet from running and doing pushups.” His tone of voice left no room for interpretation of whether he was serious.
One of the Boar pilots got to his feet. “Uh, I did, sir.”
“That’s the last time I hear your ridiculous sound effects in my briefing, Lieutenant. Do you get me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I didn’t hear you!” Whatley shouted.
“Sir, yes, sir,” the unlucky pilot yelled.
“Sit down.” Whatley took a moment then dimmed the lights. “What I was about to explain to you is that we’re going into a convoy escort mission with limited resources. We will only have one element of each type of small craft in our inventory in space at any given time. Being overwhelmed could happen quickly, and if it does, civilians die. Our objective is to keep that from happening.” He turned back toward the pilots. “Above all, you have to work as a team. Watch each other’s sixes, and remember that together, we’re more than the sum of our parts. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” Justin shouted, joined by dozens of the others.
“Good. Now, pay attention.” The holoprojection shifted to a
