Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service

by Raymond L Jennings

  Major Strieger smiled at Cyndora. “I know as an assistant you’re required to serve the general without question, but I’m sure that a resourceful young lady like yourself will be able to make her feelings known.”

  “Of course, Ma’am, I know I’ll be able to come up with something. If I’m having difficulties could I contact you for support?” she asked with an equally sweet smile.

  “I’ll provide any help I can, Cyndy. I can call you Cyndy?”

  The redhead nodded her assent. “I’d like it very much if you called me Cyndy, Ma’am.”

  “Just comm me. I know I’ll be able to find some pilots to help you.” They stood staring down balefully at the general.

  Crineal held up his hands. “Ok, Ok, I’ll behave, I promise”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” muttered Strieger. Cyndora nodded in agreement. “I’ll leave him to you then, Cyndy. Call if you need anything.”

  “Will do, Ma’am,” she said as Strieger turned and left. Cyndora moved her attention back to Crineal. “You’re an idiot, Crin. What were you thinking?” She helped to wrestle his boots off.

  “I know. I didn’t think I’d be this weak. I promised the major that I’d work from here for the next few days. I need to build my strength back a bit. I guess.”

  Cyndora looked at him sternly and then bent to give him a kiss. “You need to take care, Sweetie.” Her worried look gave him more pause than any amount of scolding would.

  “I will, I promise. I thought I should hold a dinner party in a couple of days,” he said, trying to change the subject. “I’ve not held one since before arriving back in Earth orbit.”

  “Sounds good, just make sure you rest during the day so as not to be over-strained, though.”

  “I will. Maybe in three days. That would put it between patrols. Let’s see, I owe Strieger a dinner. Would you like it if I invited Feldea?” Crineal asked thoughtfully.

  “That would be great, I can catch up with her then,” she beamed at him.

  “Hmmm… Saphya would be good, too. She’s due up and you already met her. Hmm… I think I’ll invite one of the new pilots as well. That will round it out nicely.” He looked at her. “And Cyndy?”

  “I know, Crin, wear the hostess outfit,” she finished for him with a smile.

  “Oh yes, that, but although I want you to serve food I also want you to eat with us and not act like a waitress.”

  “Are you sure? Won’t it cause problems?” She looked worried.

  “With who? Strieger, Fel and Saphy already know you and the new pilot officer won’t say boo to a goose. Right now he salutes if someone even mentions my name,” he reassured her. “Then you can sit and just chat with Fel and whoever else you want.”

  “Thanks, Sweetie. I like the major, too. She looks out for you.” Cyndora kissed him again.

  “She likes you, too.” He looked up into her eyes. “And I like you just a little bit, as well,” Crineal said, his own eyes a sparkling blue, pulling her down to him for a more thorough kiss. Cyndora snuggled up to him to return the attention and Crineal started to feel much better.

  Crineal spent the next day in his quarters as he had promised, apart from accompanying Cyndora to the gym. He sat on the sofa with his feet up working through his data pad, all the while watching the ongoing reports of Hera Squadron’s patrol. Cyndora took an hour to go and visit her friends in the rec dorms and Crineal sent out the dinner invites. She came back to relate the news that assaults on recreation assistants were now almost nonexistent and the people in the rec dorm had asked that Cyndora pass on their thanks to him. After the trial of Del’Tarim no one was going to risk hurting an assistant apparently. He sighed with relief when Hera finally landed after a quiet patrol with no mishaps. Not that he had any doubts in Strieger’s abilities. He just worried when he wasn’t there. Thinking about it, he realized it was kind of silly. There were eleven other squadrons that went out regularly without him. Why should it be different for Hera? He shrugged to himself. Hera was his squadron and he felt the ties to it just a little more closely. With his pilots safely down he turned off his data pad and settled down for a little nap before dinner.

  Pilot Officer Hartmann felt both exhausted and elated. He’d finished his first real patrol, but man, eight hours in the cockpit. How did the regular pilots look so fresh? He flopped down into an easy chair in the pilots mess and turned on his data pad. He was panic stricken to see a message from General Crineal in his in-box. Oh crap, he must have screwed up yesterday when he and Gyr had been interviewed, or maybe something on patrol today and the general already knew about it. The man was supposed to have ESP or something. Steeling himself he opened the message and found not a reprimand or transfer order but… a dinner invite? He stared worriedly at the screen trying to puzzle out what it meant. Maybe someone was having a joke at his expense? Yeah, he thought, one of the other pilots was hazing him.

  “What’s up, Pilot Officer?” a voice asked, breaking him out of his contemplation of the message. Hartmann looked up to see one of the other pilots, a thin-faced man, looking down at him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He finally remembered his name, Staller.

  “Oh nothing, Sir, I think someone is playing a joke on me. I’ve got an invite for dinner with General Crineal.” He looked dubiously back at the pad.

  “Ah… you got one early. Lucky you. It’s not a prank. The general has dinner with four or five pilots every couple of weeks. We each get to go a couple of times a year.”

  “Oh… really?” Hartmann studied the message again. “Wear appropriate dress. What does that mean?” he asked, looking worried again.

  Staller plucked the data pad out of his hand and scanned the message. Usual format, he thought, informal dinner party and then realized that the newbie hadn’t spotted the informal bit. He cleared the message from the screen and handed the pad back to the pilot officer. “Well, you’ve been invited to have dinner with a general. What do you think ‘appropriate’ means?” he asked him pointedly, taking great care not to actually lie.

  Hartmann’s face cleared. “Yeah, right, full dress uniform then. Gotcha. Thanks, Lieutenant.”

  “You’re welcome, Pilot Officer,” and Staller turned away before Hartmann could see the big smile appear on his face.

  Feldea had replied to Crineal’s invite and asked if she could turn up a little early so she could catch up with Cyndora. He had said yes and so the next evening, a good forty minutes before the official invite time, the door chime sounded and Crineal answered it to find Feldea there in her undress uniform with a clothes bag over her shoulder. “Hi, boss, I’m not too early, am I?”

  “Evening, Fel, and no, you’re fine. Come on in.” Crineal wasn’t even in uniform, just a shirt and uniform pants. He liked these dinners to be completely informal so everyone could relax. No ranks, no sirs or ma’am’s, no proper uniforms. “Cyndy? Would you mind taking Fel’s jacket and hanging it up, please?”

  “Sure, Crin,” Cyndora said whilst giving Feldea a hug.

  “So what’s in the garment bag, Fel?” Crineal asked whilst Cyndora took her jacket.

  “I got a sari when I was on leave. I thought Cyndy might like to see it.”

  “I’m sure she would. Were you planning to wear it for dinner?”

  “I’d just brought it to show Cyndy but that would be great fun. You’re serious?” Feldea’s face lit up

  “Well, you know I like these things casual and I know how much you like clothes so… I don’t see why not.”

  “Great, come on Cyndy, you can help me get changed.” Crineal watched with amusement as they disappeared into his bedroom giggling. They reappeared twenty minutes later with Cyndora changed into her hostess outfit and Feldea followed her out wearing a stunning, deep blue sari with gold trim. The material wrapped around her waist, up around her torso and then over her left shoulder, leaving her right shoulder bare, before completing a long drop over her left arm.

  “Very pretty, Fel, both you
and the sari,” Crineal complimented her. Feldea blushed and behind her Cyndora raised an eyebrow at him. Crineal thought she looked just as pretty in her blouse, skirt and nylons.

  “Thanks, boss, they had the most amazing colors and patterns, but I liked this one the best.” The door chimed again, interrupting her, and Crineal answered it to find Strieger and Saphya had arrived together.

  “Ladies, come on in,” Crineal said hospitably.

  Strieger took one look at Feldea and turned on Crineal. “Wait, you didn’t say anything about dressing up,” she said accusingly.

  He held up his hands in self-defense. “Not my fault, Fel bought it along to show Cyndy. I figured she may as well get some use out of it.”

  “Hummph, next time I’m bringing a dress to wear as well then,” she said grumpily.

  “That I can’t wait to see.” Crineal smiled at her. “Cyndy? Would you mind taking the jackets? I’ll pour some wine for everyone.” Saphya was busy getting Feldea to do twirls so she could admire the sari; the copper-haired lieutenant was in heaven. Crineal handed drinks to the three young women first and then took one to Strieger. “I think you’d look adorable in a white version of that,” he said to her, indicating Feldea’s outfit.

  “Why, Crin, you’re not ready to dump Cyndy for me already, are you?” she teased him.

  “You know I’m not. That doesn’t stop you being attractive though.” He raised his voice a little. “Saphy? Try not to drool on Fel’s dress please? She’ll only charge me for the cleaning.” Saphya stuck her tongue out at him. “So, anyone want to bet against Pilot Officer Hartmann turning up at nineteen hundred hours on the dot?” he asked the group.

  “Aww c’mon, boss,” Feldea complained. “Even the rigged bets that Mus and Stall set up give you a slim chance of winning at least.”

  As the time counted down Crineal positioned himself by the door and waited. At precisely nineteen hundred the door panel chimed and Crineal opened the door. He stood there for a moment as he took in the sight of Pilot Officer Hartmann in full dress uniform, complete with academy ribbons, white gloves and peaked cap. He blinked at the young man standing before him rigidly at attention and saluting. The white of the jacket and pants material was almost blinding and Crineal wondered how many times Hartmann had cleaned it in the last two days.

  A look of uncertainty passed across the pilot officer’s face as he took in Crineal’s out of uniform state. “Good evening, Sir. Am I too early? I can come back,” he said nervously.

  Crineal was trying hard not to laugh and waved him in “Not at all, Pilot Officer, please come in.”

  Hartmann stepped through the door and looked in confusion at the ladies arrayed around the room. Strieger and Saphya without jackets, never mind dress uniforms, Cyndora in her blouse and skirt and Feldea in the blue and gold sari. He felt conspicuously overdressed and his face turned red.

  Crineal stepped up behind him. “Pilot Officer? Would you mind telling me what your friends call you?” he asked gently.

  The young man turned to face Crineal and from behind him came a giggle from Feldea. The other women were doing their best not to laugh, too. “Uh… my friends call me Hart, Sir.”

  “Cyndy? Would you mind taking Hart’s jacket, please? It’s way too warm for dress uniform.” As Cyndora helped the confused youngster out of his formal jacket and also took his cap and gloves, Crineal continued, “These dinners are very informal, Hart. Let me introduce you. This is Stri, Saphy and Fel, the lady taking your jacket is Cyndy and you can call me Crin.”

  “Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” Hartmann replied. This is going to be a long night, thought Crineal and stood patiently looking at the pilot officer. Finally it penetrated the young man’s mind. “Oh, sorry… Crin,” he said hesitantly.

  “No problem, you’ll get the hang of it. Tonight there are no sirs, ma’am’s or rank. Just try to relax. I do have one question, though. Why did you decide on full dress when the invite was labeled as informal?”

  “Well, Sir, I mean, Crin, I was in the mess when the message arrived and Lieutenant Staller came over… ”

  Strieger groaned and Crineal held up his hand to stop him. “Say no more. The lieutenant is known for his… humor. I did tell you to ask your flight leader if you had any concerns.” He patted him on the shoulder consolingly. “You’ll learn. Now, let’s find you a drink.”

  Finally they were seated at the table eating a soup appetizer and Hartmann was starting to relax a little. Cyndora was seated at one end, nearest the kitchen with Feldea to her right and Strieger to her left. Crineal was seated at the other end with Saphya on his left and Hartmann on his right.

  “So Hart, how did you find your first patrol?” Crineal asked between mouthfuls.

  “Tiring, Sir… Crin, we never did anything that long at the academy. I can see how much I have to learn. I couldn’t believe how everyone else kept that tight a formation.”

  Strieger spoke up. “You did fine, Hart, and yes, flying isn’t all about fancy combat acrobatics. Close formation work can save your life in a scrap just as well as a good jink.”

  “And how did you like leading Delta, Saphy?” Crineal asked turning to the woman next to him.

  She smiled back at him. “It keeps you on your toes, Crin. Watching the rest of the flight, watching the flight’s position in relation to the squadron, as well as keeping yourself in place. I loved the challenge.”

  “Saphya did a good job, Crin,” Strieger grinned mischievously at him. “We didn’t even notice you weren’t there.”

  Feldea momentarily broke off her conversation with Cyndora. “Don’t listen to her, boss. We all missed you.”

  With the soup finished, Cyndora cleared the plates away with Hartmann gallantly giving her a hand. They came back with dishes for the main course. “We’re having a traditional English meal tonight,” announced Cyndora. “Roast beef with Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes, a selection of vegetables, gravy and the option of mustard or horseradish sauce as an accompaniment.” Once all of the serving dishes were on the table, the six of them helped themselves and started to eat. The four pilots watched how Crineal and Cyndora took the crispy batter shells of the puddings and filled them with gravy before they followed suit.

  After a few minutes of enjoying the dinner Crineal broke the silence. “Saphy, I’m kind of curious how Cyndy managed to acquire an exercise escort whilst I was injured?”

  She looked a little guilty and Feldea and Cyndora giggled at each other. “Would you believe it was a complete coincidence, Crin?”

  “Well, I might, but unfortunately for you my injuries didn’t affect my mental capacity.”

  “Darn, well it’s sort of Fel’s fault,” Saphya started.

  “Hey, don’t bring me into this,” the copper-headed woman next to her protested.

  “I went to visit our little clothes rack here,” she said, pointing at Feldea with her fork, “when I got back from leave and she had to tell me about that cretin Del’Tarim and how much Cyndy was looking after you and stuff.” Crineal wondered what else was covered under ‘stuff’. “So I cornered Mus and he admitted he knew a couple of the marines detailed to watch over you both and I got him to arrange for the guards to buzz me whenever Cyndy left your quarters. As we were all still on leave I had a pool of pilots I could organize into shifts to be available as an extra escort for Cyndy. From what Fel had said I didn’t want anything happening to her.” She bent her head to her food, trying to avoid looking at Crineal.

  Crineal studied her for a moment. “Why do all the women in my squadron have such a profound interest in my private life?” he inquired good-naturedly.

  Strieger gave him an evil little grin. “Why, Crin, I thought you knew? We all think of ourselves as part of your private little harem and we’d do anything for you.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him coquettishly. Hartmann choked on the mouthful of food he was swallowing and Crineal went almost cross-eyed with a sudden vision of the four women at the table arranged around his qua
rters in various states of undress just waiting on his whim. He did notice that Fel was blushing a little, though, so maybe Strieger wasn’t completely wrong.

  “I’ll get you for that, Stri,” he said with an air of mock menace. “As for you, Saphy, I don’t know whether to put you on a charge or commend you for initiative and organization and make you a flight leader,” then he smiled at the lieutenant. “But really, I do appreciate the thought.”

  From there the conversation moved on to how everyone had spent their leave, the sights they had seen on Earth and the clothes that Feldea had bought. Finally, they all sat around sipping their preferred after dinner drinks, full and relaxed. Even Hartmann had unbent a little and joined in the chat.

  Eventually, Strieger checked the time and sighed, putting her cup down. “Well, Crin, it’s been great as always. Thank you for being a lovely hostess, Cyndy, but I need to get some sleep so I can start preparing for our next patrol in a couple of days.”

  Hartmann stood as well. “I should get going too, Sir.” He was wondering how he was going to explain the dinner to Gyr, who had forced him to promise to tell her all about it. She wouldn’t believe a word.

  Crineal rose and shook Hartmann’s hand. “Thank you for coming, Hart. We look forward to inviting you again.” He turned to Strieger and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek “You can bring a dress to wear next time, Stri. Or I can have Cyndy loan you one of her uniforms, if you really want to join my harem?”

  Strieger hit him, careful to make sure the blow landed on the right arm. “In your dreams, but I will bring a dress.”

  The major and the pilot officer departed, leaving Feldea, Saphya and Cyndora still chatting to each other. Crineal was starting to feel a little tired but joined in the talk and at last Feldea went into the bedroom to get changed and she and Saphya left after a hug and kiss from both Crineal and Cyndora. Wearily he made his way into the bedroom and sat down to take off his boots. Cyndora followed him in.