“Well actually,” said the Chief still standing in the corridor, “I thought you might like to get a bite to eat, maybe look around a bit.” They both agreed since they'd had little more to eat than power-bars and water. The Chief pointed at their sidearms, “You can absolutely keep those, but leave them here in your quarters, OK..?”
The Chief gave them a little tour on their way down to the mess hall, describing the areas they could visit and the ones that would be prohibited or dangerous. She looked so much different without her helmet and armor, they almost didn't recognize her. She was stunning. Nina was blatantly staring when Lisa elbowed her as discreetly as she could. “Layora,” began Lisa, “I couldn't help but notice that when I spoke with Commander Ribundell on the comm, you seem to bear a striking resemblance to each other...”
“We're from the same place - although she's taller than I am... and a couple years older,” she paused and looked at them, “don't ever tell her I said that,” she laughed, “the older part I mean.”
The mess hall was open - it always was, but they were in the middle of shifts and between meals so the selection was limited, the next serving over four hours away. Still, what was available smelled good and they eyed the glass cases. The only crew in the hall eating, were the members of the landing party and security team, sitting together eating and chatting, waving them over to join. “Anything good left?” asked the Chief.
“They're making some killer sandwiches, Chief.” He waved, “Go get something and come sit with us...” Gus was divided, follow Lisa and Nina or stay where there was the chance of some food falling on the floor. His stomach won and he sat with the crew members who already had their food.
Walking over to the food line, Lisa elbowed Nina again, “You gotta stop staring at people,” she whispered, “they will notice...”
“But he's blue...” whispered Nina, excitedly, “this is amazing...”
The Chief put her hand on Nina's shoulder from behind, surprising her, “Missy, you're going to see all sorts of things that are different from what you're used to at home, everyone who travels off planet for the first time, experiences it...” She gave Nina a friendly little squeeze, “Pace yourself, honey.”
The sandwiches were delicious and it was the first real food Lisa and Nina had eaten in almost twenty-four hours. Gus' amicable personality allowed him to make quick friends with almost everyone he met, including one man in particular behind the mess hall counter. He let Lisa know he would always put some leftovers aside for the dog, that she could come to him whenever she needed some. He seemed to take great pleasure in feeding Gus.
Lisa, Nina, Layora and Gus were the only diners left in the hall and nobody was talking much, but Lisa was aware that Nina couldn't stop looking at Layora's shining all-black eyes. And it seemed that Layora was aware but unconcerned, smiling... maybe she was used to it. Layora politely excused herself so she could go write her reports, and drop off a sandwich to Truck in the infirmary, leaving Lisa, Nina and Gus alone.
Lisa sipped her juice looking over at Nina who stared off at the wall. “What is with you...?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don't give me that innocent crap, what the hell was that? You stared at her like you wanted to eat her or something...”
Nina blinked hard looking down at her empty plate, “Something about her eyes... my God, she's beautiful...”
Lisa raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, OK... she's attractive I'll give you that...”
Nina sighed, “It's more than that...”
Lisa's eyes opened wide, “Holy shit,” she whispered, “You have a crush on her, don't you...”
“Yeah...”
“What the hell..? I'm not good enough?”
Nina smirked at the implication, “Don't be silly, you're not wired like that...”
“And she is?” whispered Lisa.
Nina nodded. “Uh huh.”
“How can you tell?”
Nina shrugged, “I just can.”
“And since when have you been wired like that?”
Nina shrugged, “I don't know that there was ever that eureka moment... I think it was a slow realization that this was my normal. I've dated guys, they're fine, but I never really felt that was my place, my comfort zone... it never felt right. I always felt like there was something missing.”
“What about living with me, what was that?” asked Lisa sipping her juice.
“Well once we had met and I knew your family, it was convenient and comfortable... I felt like a member of the family and I quickly grew to love you dearly, but as the best friend I've ever had... like a sister. And I would never ever want to jeopardize that.” She looked Lisa in the eyes, “I haven't, have I?”
Lisa shook her head, “Pssshh,” she waved, “no, we're OK.” She shifted in her seat, her voice quiet, “But I think you need to be really careful here... we don't know what the ramifications of this could be. We don't know how long we'll be here. For now, this is home, and we don't know these people yet, we don't know anything about them, we don't even have any friends here. I don't want to sound like a mother hen, but we need to be careful.”
Nina nodded, “You're right, of course.”
Nearing exhaustion, they decided it best to return to their quarters and get some much needed sleep. Standing at the open door to their room, Lisa decided to go visit the infirmary and check on Truck and the other man she had heard was injured, before going to sleep. She knew she would not sleep well without doing so. Nina showered and put on silk pajamas, looking forward to sleeping in a real bed, albeit a rather small one. Gus curled up on the floor between the beds, sound asleep.
When the door chimed, she rose right away, recognizing it this time, “Did I lock you out, or did you forget the code...?” She padded over to the door and palmed the button, the door disappearing quietly into the wall.
Standing in the corridor but very near the door, Layora looked left and right, up and down the corridor, then back at Nina. Her black eyes blinked as if she was considering something, studying Nina's face. She leaned in and gently taking hold of Nina's face, pulled her close, kissing her softly at first, then with heat. It lasted what seemed like minutes, but was over too soon. “Is that what you were wondering..?” Layora asked.
Nina's heart hammering, panting, her mind racing, fingertips buzzing, nodded silently.
Layora smiled, “Good...” her hands still holding Nina's face, she ran her thumb across Nina's lips. She stepped slowly back, smiling seductively. “Sleep well...” she said, walking away.
CHAPTER NINE
UFW FREEDOM, LONGREACH SYSTEM: PROBLEM CHILD
The mess hall was almost full as the galley worked diligently to feed a hungry crew. Commander Paul Smiley sipped his coffee, having already finished his breakfast as Jack sat himself at the table, an extra slice of bacon hanging from his mouth like someone smoking a cigarette, “Mmmmm, bacon...” he mumbled.
It was one of the few wonderful comfort foods that translated well from one culture to the next without deviating in some odd or horrific way. You had to be careful what you asked for or what you ate... some things might look the same, the name might sound the same, but might translate in a universal dictionary to something you'd rather not know ever existed as a meal or as a dish.
Take the rather simple but familiar and loved, mac and cheese... When Jack had mentioned it in passing to the head chef, Marna, she immediately agreed mag and cheese would be a fine addition to the menu as long as she could get all the ingredients. Jack never caught the distinction between the names and simply assumed they didn't currently have the macaroni needed for the noodles - because they certainly had enough cheeses. So a week or two later, a few days after a food resupply, there it was... nice warm bowls of friendly mag and cheese in the serving line. He almost couldn't wait till he got to the table, but he managed. A little salt, a little pepper, and Jack, Paul, Brian and Mike all tried it together... the smooth, squishy, cheesy... Their faces wrenched in seve
re distaste, they all spit the concoction back into their bowls - and none too discreetly. To be honest, it was monstrously disgusting. The outer creamy cheese fooled you into thinking it was the same comforting, happy food of your childhood, only to reveal upon chewing, the dirty, sodden, underbelly of nasty, smelly feet. Dry heaves were a natural reaction for all four of them and it took them each, an entire glass of juice to neutralize and wash away the taste. For a moment, there was a tipping point where it could have gone either way. It turns out, the mac they had hoped for, being macaroni, translated to mag, being maggots. And not just any maggot mind you, but the special white ridgeless maggots. It seems they are prepared by pouring a container of the maggots, into a container of cheese. The maggots, over a period of a day or two, eat their way through the cheese and now fully stuffed, are ready to boil. Once cooked, add your cheese sauce, stir, then serve. The partially digested cheese inside the maggots ferment to what was supposed to be a delicacy. Just the thought of it could still make any one of them wretch as a reflex.
Paul was offhandedly reading flight reports on his e-Pad, “How's the omelet?”
Jack nodded, “Real good, we must've gotten fresh eggs...” he looked up to see a silly expression on Paul's face, “shut up, I don't want to know what kind of eggs they are.”
Paul went back to the e-Pad, smiling, “OK, your funeral.”
“Fuck you.”
Paul looked back up, “Have you noticed any problems with Zulu One?”
Jack shook his head, “No, why?”
“Says here on the last flight out it seemed to be running hot and using a lot of fuel, they cut their patrol short to bring it in to refuel...”
Jack sipped his tea, “That's not good. Wait, was that the one I used the day we took out that cruiser?”
“Hold on...” Paul paged through the reports back a few days. “Looks like it.”
“Hmm, I did push it pretty hard that day...”
“Think maybe you burned the forcing cones?”
Jack nodded wiping his mouth with his napkin, “Good possibility.”
Paul shook his head, “Dude, it's not a fighter you know...”
Jack smirked, “Yeah, I think I remember a little bird telling me something like that.”
Paul typed on the e-Pad, pulling Zulu One off the flight line, requesting engine forcing cone and burner inspection. “So I heard your sister got picked up..?”
“Yeah,” replied Jack, “how did you hear...?”
“Girls talk...”
“Dammit Alité,” Jack wasn't really angry... well maybe a little. He could admonish her in her absence; it wasn't as likely in her presence. She was a hard woman to be angry at, or stay angry with. Besides, he knew she probably did it with all due innocence.
“And they talk to other girls, who talk to other girls, who talk to their guys, who...”
“OK, OK,” waved Jack, “I get the picture. So how much did you hear?”
“Widespread destruction, a giant crater, piles of sticks, scattered bricks, pulverized glass dust, everything gone, vaporized, nothing left but scorched sand and a smoking hole in the ground...”
Jack stared at him, emotionless, one eyebrow raised, “You done...?”
“Barely made it out alive...” continued Paul, fighting a grin. “I guess the important thing is that your sister is safe...”
“Seriously, stop...”
Brian sat down across from Jack next to Paul with his tray, a stack of steaming pancakes on his plate. “What are we talking about?” he asked, popping a piece of breakfast sausage into his mouth.
“Jack's house,” volunteered Paul.
“Ew yeah,” said Brian before sipping his coffee, “I heard, lost it all, huh? Sorry to hear it Skipper, that was a nice place...”
“Wait...”
Walt was walking by, headed back to the bridge with a breakfast pastry and a rather large coffee, “Jack, I'm sorry to hear about your place, so sad. It's a good thing your sister got out before an explosion like that though... Keep your chin up, eh?” he strolled off with a respectful nod.
Derrik Brighton and Duncan Taylor sat down at the table with their breakfast trays, “Sorry to hear about your house Captain,” offered Derrik, “stiff upper lip, mate.”
Duncan reached for the salt and pepper, “Why what happened to his house..?” He looked at Jack, “What happened to your house sir?”
“You didn't hear..?” asked Jack.
“No sir.”
Jack looked at Derrik, “Who'd you hear it from?”
“Maria...”
He looked at Brian, “And you?”
“Seeta told me...”
“Who told her?”
Brian shrugged, “Don't know, I didn't think to ask. One of the other girls, I guess.”
Jack looked at Paul, “How'd you hear?”
“Myomerr told me - by way of Maria.” Paul smiled, “So I assumed there was a little exaggeration involved...”
Jack smirked, “You assumed right. Anyone else seeing a pattern here?”
Paul sipped his coffee trying not to smirk, “Is she still trying to get even with you for the whole brig incident...?”
Jack leaned back in his chair, “Arroyo...” he sighed, “ the girl just doesn't know how to let things go.” He leaned back forward again, “Maybe we need to arrange a return visit to the brig...”
Derrik almost snorted coffee through his nose, “You wouldn't...”
“Yeah he would...” countered Paul.
“He absolutely would, “ confirmed Brian.
“Bloody hell,” said Derrik, his British accent getting heavier, “I had to listen to her bitch about that for weeks... I'd really rather not do that again”
“We haven't had any drama lately,” said Paul, “this might be fun. What would you charge her with?”
Jack shrugged, “Would I have to charger her with something?”
“It would look more official if there was a charge,” volunteered Duncan.
Derrik stood up from the table, preparing to leave.“Where are you going?” asked Paul.
Derrik held up his hands, “I want to honestly be able to say I didn't know anything about this...”
Jack shrugged, “Fair enough.” Waiting until Derrik cleared earshot, the others moved closer. “So what kind of charge?”
“How about sedition?” suggested Duncan, gesturing with his fork, “If you didn't define it, it's pretty generic, it covers a pretty broad spectrum of things that fall under the category. And it could be written off as a misunderstanding when you are prepared to let her off, so there's nothing on a permanent record.”
Paul grinned, “I like the way he thinks...”
“Me too,” Jack nodded. “Good job Duncan; you have a bright future as an advanced tactical bullshitter.”
Brian grinned, rubbing his hands together, “I want a ringside seat for this... how're you gonna do this?”
Jack rose from the table, “I have to go talk to a friend...”
“The Marines?”
“Something tells me Sergeant Alaroot might enjoy this,” he finished off his juice. “So where's Ms. Arroyo now..?”
Paul tapped his finger on the edge of his e-Pad, “I put her out on a patrol, she needed some flight time... should be back in an hour or so.”
Steele smiled wickedly, “Perfect. Anyone who wants to see this might want to pull up a chair on the flight deck when she comes in.”
■ ■ ■
“Sergeant...”
“Captain,” Sergeant Alaroot extended his hand and the men shook, “what brings you down here? C'mon in... just catching up on a little news...” he closed the InterGal News Network program he was watching on his comm-pad.
“A couple things Dayle,” he handed the Sergeant an envelope, “your new markers came in, you've been promoted to Warrant Officer... congratulations.”
“From Gunny to Warrant Officer?” he tore open the envelope and poured the contents into his hand, the collar markers
dropping into his palm. “They skipped a few didn't they?”
“Yeah, they want an officer in charge, shipboard. So you're it. I couldn't get them to go as far as a Second Lieutenant though, sorry about that.”
Dayle Alaroot frowned, staring at the markers lying in his hand, “This is legit?”
“One hundred percent,” replied Jack. “And you should take your old stripes and pass them on to one of your people, your choice. Let me know who, so I can update UFW Command and get the changes recorded.”
Dayle rolled the markers around in his hand, “Never thought I'd make officer, nice pay grade...” he glanced up, “it does come with the pay grade, right?”
Jack smirked, “Of course.”
“So, you said there was a couple of things...”
“Yeah, a little favor...”
Dayle shook his head, “Here it comes... you've been promoted, now we're sending you to the pits of hellion...”
Jack laughed out loud, “Holy shit, that's funny.”
“Glad you think so.”
“Dayle, do you like practical jokes?”
Dayle's face went stone cold, “As long as they're not on me...”
“No it's not,” Jack waved him to sit down. “You know Lieutenant JG Arroyo, right...?”
“Sure...”
■ ■ ■
To stay clear of any possible collateral damage, or actually becoming collateral damage, Derrik lead a patrol of four Lancias out towards the gate to Irujen. His flight launched about ten minutes before the previous flight was due to recover, a standard overlap for the Freedom's fighter umbrella.
Standing in the Freedom's flight tower overlooking the perpetual motion machine called the flight bay, Jack and Paul stood with their backs to the glass, reviewed the big map of the system they were in. Like many systems, Longreach didn't have any habitable planets. There may have been one sometime in the past, but in this system's life cycle, not any longer. As with the life cycle of deep space, it could develop a suitable planet in the future, but time out here was not measured in centuries, millennia or ages... it was measured in aeons.
Wings of Steele - Flight of Freedom (Book2) Page 14
