by Chris Fox
“What the hell were you thinking?” Nolan demanded, something hot slithering into his vision. “We could have all been killed. You abandoned your command during combat.”
“What the hell were you thinking, sir,” Dryker corrected mildly. He set his now-empty plate on top of a nearby monitor, then turned back to Nolan. “You came to us from Fleet Command, did you not?”
“Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Nolan said. He was aware of the heat in his voice, aware that he was addressing a superior officer.
“It has everything to do with the situation,” Dryker said, narrowing his eyes. “I wanted to see what you were made of, Commander. You have precisely zero combat experience. You were too young to fight in the Tigris war, and your resumé says you’re an analyst.”
“That’s why I have such an issue with your behavior,” Nolan shot back, rising from the captain’s chair. “If I’d frozen up, we’d all be dead. You were reckless, sir.”
“Was I?” Dryker said, rolling the words around as if he were trying to decide if he liked the way they tasted. “I won’t have an officer on my ship who can’t fight, Commander. You’re green, and you need experience. Guess how you get that experience?”
Nolan was silent for a moment as he considered his reply. He didn’t have time before the captain plunged ahead.
“You know who I am. You know what I did in the war,” Dryker said, folding his arms as he speared Nolan with his gaze. “I needed to know that you were competent, and that you could think on your feet. I was close enough to resume command if you couldn’t handle it.”
“I still disagree with the decision,” Nolan protested. He wasn’t quite ready to let it go, but didn’t know what he could accomplish by pushing the issue.
“I know. I disagree with you being posted here in the first place, but we’re the 14th. We haven’t seen new equipment since before the Tigris war. We work with what little Fleet gives us,” Dryker said. He gave a heavy sigh. “I’ve read your dossier, Commander. I know what they say about you. That you can’t keep it in your pants, and getting caught with the wrong admiral’s daughter is how you lost your cushy Fleet gig and ended up here.”
“Respectfully, you can go frag yourself, sir.”
“Well, you’ve got some fire at least,” the captain said. He turned to Juliard. “Lieutenant, have Hannan’s squad head to the shuttle bay. The commander will be joining them for a little jaunt to the planet.”
“Jaunt to the planet?” Nolan found himself asking. He clenched both fists, willing himself to take deep breaths.
“That’s right,” Dryker said, turning back to him. His brown eyes bored into Nolan. “You’re on a combat vessel now, Nolan. You don’t get to push paper and chase skirts. We work for a living out there. You’ve been trained as an OFI field agent, so this should be a cake walk. We were called here to investigate the sudden silence of the Mar Kona colony. It’s high time we were about that, wouldn’t you say?”
“Sir, is it wise to have command personnel leave the vessel?” Nolan said, in one last attempt to get the captain to see reason.
“We do things differently out there, Commander,” Dryker said, leaning in close. Now his breath smelled of fake eggs and coffee. “You’re going planet side, because we want someone with command authority in a position to react quickly. We don’t know what to expect down there. Now get your ass off my bridge and down to the shuttle bay.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, and Commander?” Dryker said as Nolan moved for the hatch.
Nolan paused.
“Nice work. You’ve got a real head for tactics.”
