Watching the surely mechanic storm across the deck shouting Jeff recalled he had no more idea of where he was than the grease monkey knew who he was. After a number of failed attempts, he eventually caught the arm of a passing deck hand asking, “Where am I?”
“Sir?” the deck hand answered perplexed.
“Ship crewman, what ship?”
“UES Victoria Sir!”
“Victoria,” Jeff muttered under his breath letting the deck hand go on his way, “Styles ship.” Looking back on his hasty decision that day Jeff would admit he’d behaved quite irrationally. Nonetheless, hindsight being twenty-twenty, he found himself rushing across the deck. He got lost a couple times in the labyrinth of corridors that were the bowls of the vessel. But a helpful yeoman finally directed him to the bridge. Combined with the sting of the thorough ass kicking his squad just received, the gnawing feeling of being left hung out to dry he and the Tungsten’s crew developed was stoked into a white hot rage.
Storming onto the bridge, fists clenched at his sides, Jeff scanned the busy center. Consoles and screens decorated the walls and a much more subdued, though no less frantic, dance of commands as opposed to bodies permeated the room. His target was easy enough to find. Sitting with steepled fingers a few meters behind the helm console, Captain Styles focused his attention on the large view screen adorning the far wall. Moving to confront the man Jeff dodged the small redhead he remembered from the funeral. In a brash manner he extended a hand toward her index finger up saying, “One moment sweetheart, I need to talk to the captain.” Her shocked gasp at his impropriety eluded him.
“Captain Styles?” Jeff bit crossing his arms and glaring at the old man.
Styles waved a dismissive hand at him and said, “Mister Tyler status.”
As if his irritation at being ignored wasn’t enough, his redheaded pest was latching onto his arm seething, “Lieutenant!”
Wrenching his arm away Jeff made a show of forcefully clearing his throat repeating sternly, “Captain Styles!” The wide brim of Styles hat sat low on his brow shadowing his eyes. Undeterred by the heated glare the captain directed at him Jeff continued, "Sir, I’m at a loss to understand what the hell your strategy is for winning this war. First, you shuffle us off to some backwater trade route. I got the feeling for a while there you thought you were doing me some kind of favor. Can’t let the great Russell Grant’s boy get his ass shot up on the front lines.”
“Lieutenant,” the red head barked once again trying to seize his arm.
Jeff ignored her efforts speaking over her protest, “But then we started getting in scraps. A lot of them. Sure they started small, or is, ‘isolated,’ the going term? But it picked up, fucking fast at that. We didn’t hear a peep out of you or your Goddamned battle group for months!”
“That’ll be enough Lieutenant!”
“I’m feeling a little fucking unappreciated by the service right now. Being left out to dry, used as bait, whatever you want to call it. We lost a lot of good people out there. Not only today, but yesterday, and the day before that, and the week before. You get me Sir? These people will never see their families again! If this is how you manage your fleet then it’s no wonder my father died under, unusual, circumstances.” Reaching into a pocket inside his flight suit Jeff pulled out his father’s dog tags. “You recognize these? Yeah. I bet you do. Care to explain to me how they got in that envelope you son of a bitch?” Silence answered him. “The powerful and almighty Captain Gunther Styles has nothing to say,” Jeff scoffed. “That’s rich. Maybe my little shit of a brother Alex was right. That all you military types can take your bloviating and shove it up your ass.” In a callus gesture, Jeff unceremoniously raised his hand giving Captain Styles the finger punctuating his rant.
The only sound to be heard on the bridge when he finished was that of the life support system and computer stations. Every eye on the deck was directed at Jeff. Having said his peace, Jeff began to feel it. He went too far and he knew it. The captain cleared his throat and in a voice that seemed completely unfazed said, “Captain Miller. Please escort Mister Grant to the brig.”
“Aye-aye Sir,” announced the large marine that was suddenly standing at Jeff’s side. Grabbing his arm roughly, the large dark man pulled Jeff from the bridge while the red head began lashing him with a string of obscenities sharp enough to shave with.
***
Fingers laced behind his head, Jeff lay staring at the ceiling of his small bleak cell. It had been almost twenty-four hours since his less than admirable confrontation with Captain Styles. Plenty of time to reflect on his choices. He hadn’t realized before being left in here to cool his heals how much of a hot head he’d become of late. Sure every pilot developed some amount of arrogance and insubordination could be tolerated to a degree. Call it battle fatigue, PTSD, shell shock, they all meant the same thing. Whatever it was that tripped the switch, he was damn well certain of one thing. He’d stepped far, significantly too far over the line.
Stretching, he was grateful to at least have gotten the opportunity to shed his flight suit. The way that feisty red headed commander screamed at him he was grateful for any additional comfort he could get. Judging by the way she tore into him up one side and down the other he recanted his impression of her as being stiff. “Who the hell do you think you are Lieutenant?” he remembered her screaming. “I’ll have you know I’m XO of this vessel, and I’ll not have you calling me ‘sweetheart!’ And that crap you pulled with the captain! You’re lucky I don’t shove my foot up your ass Mister as I have little patience for cocky and arrogant fighter jocks. I know your type Grant. Insubordinate, loud mouthed, full of crap! I’d have you drummed out of the service if it weren’t for the fact we need pilots! Now get your ass moving you slack jawed shit before I tell this marine to smack that smug ass look off your face!”
“And to think I called you cute,” he said to himself recalling his conversation with Curtis the night before the big guy shipped out.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice rumbled deeply as if summoned by Jeff’s thoughts. “I’d heard that a young and particularly foul mouthed lieutenant had gone to the bridge yesterday to give the captain a piece of his mind. Now, I said to myself that sounds a lot like a trouble making cadet I once knew in the Academy. But that can’t be. Jeff Grant learned not to do stupid shit like that when he pulled a similar stunt with the Commandant. Had to be given a particularly embarrassing lesson on respect to his superiors, himself, his uniform, the service. ‘No way,’ I said, ‘Jeff Grant already learned that lesson the hard way.’ So I had to come down here and see this rash pilot for myself and wouldn’t you know it? I find Jeff Grant cooling his heels in Victoria’s brig.”
“Curtis,” Jeff said with a smile sitting up. Leaning over he looked past his friend at the guard hunched over a security console near the outer hatch. “You let this knuckle dragger in Dela Pena?”
The man’s gaze didn’t waver from his terminal screens, but he did call over his shoulder, “My job's to keep you in here Lieutenant. Doesn't say anything about keeping him out.”
Jeff shook his head with a smile as Curtis’ baritone laugh vibrated the air. “He’s an all right guy,” Jeff said standing. “Son of a bitch took my smokes though,” he raised his voice making sure Dela Pena heard him. “And you!” he indicated to Curtis with a wave of his hand, “I would’ve thought they’d kick you out by now.”
The typical wide smile splitting Curtis’ face only grew larger as he blurted out a loud guffaw. “After what you pulled you’d be lucky to get off that easy.” The jovial twinkle in his eye gave Jeff the impression that no time had passed between them at all. “It’s good to see you Jeff. I’m happy they didn’t beat that attitude out of ya.”
“You too Curtis,” Jeff answered pushing a hand through the bars to be engulfed in Curtis’ giant dark paw.
“They tell you how long you’re in here?”
Jeff shrugged and stretched his arms above him. Grasping the ce
ll door, he took a brief look around his cage before leaning forward. “As long as it takes I guess. That XO is a ball buster. Screamed at me the whole way here and for a while there I thought she meant to stay and nag me to death.”
“Commander Thomas ain’t so bad; you just have to get on her good side.”
“Yeah, how’d you manage that?”
“I avoid her!” Curtis laughed. “Not even sure she knows I exist. What’s one more pilot on a ship this size?”
“Too late for that,” Jeff said with a smile. “I think she’s got a stick shoved up that tight little ass of hers. And I’m afraid she means to pull it out and use it on me.”
“She’ll forget about you in time if you don’t go around saying shit like that. Or pull any of your famous stunts!”
“Curtis, I’m offended,” Jeff playfully scoffed. “Whatever would give you the idea that I’d do anything to irritate a superior?”
“Well let’s see,” Curtis began, “there’s the time you reprogrammed the environmental controls in the Commandant’s office, hacked into his military file and listed him as deceased, spiked all the meals at the Officers’ dinner with those hot peppers from Delta Vega, or when you altered the gravitational controls on his car two days before graduation.”
“Whoa, hey now!” Jeff feigned anger. Waving an accusatory finger at the large man he added, “That last one you did!”
“Bullshit!” Curtis called him out, “It was your idea. And you didn’t deactivate all the security cameras.”
“Well, I told you the guard was coming,” Jeff replied innocently. “You forgot to pull down the visor on that stolen flight helmet. Not my fault they saw your face on the security tape.”
Curtis stared at him a moment tapping a thick finger on his arm. His eyes narrowed and Jeff threw him his most innocent smile. Unable to keep up the act a snort escaped Jeff from the snicker he’d been suppressing. Curtis doubled over in laughter saying, “Those were some good times.”
Wiping a tear from his eye Jeff mirthfully added, “Remember that time you, me and Laura went to the zoo? I really should have picked up those stupid wax penguins. His office looked like a glacier!”
“You mean Laura, myself, you, and Jessica don’t you?”
“Not cool Curtis. That’s a mistake I’ve already paid for.”
“Hey, you brought it on yourself. Consider it payback for hanging me out to dry over that car incident.”
Jeff opened his mouth and stopped short ultimately saying, “Fine.” He drifted off a moment reminiscing about the woman. “She was fun though,” he said with a lecherous grin.
Curtis laughed at him once more, “Same old Jeff. Only remembering the good parts.” With heavy sigh he continued, “Damn, this is exactly what I needed.” His voice took on a more serious tone. “I can’t remember the last time I had a good laugh like that. It’s just been so…crazy lately. The damn Drac never let up. Every day we’re following sensor echoes, or beacons, jumping from system to system, sometimes three or four in a day. It starts wearing on you. Not being able to tell Laura what’s going on has started weighing on me. It’s just nice to see a familiar face I can talk to.”
“I know what you mean,” Jeff sympathized, “I feel the same way.” Not wanting to discuss the damn war Jeff shifted the conversation pressing Curtis for news of his life. The dark man’s smile was back with a vengeance announcing excitedly that Laura had a baby boy. He’d found out she was pregnant mere weeks after starting flight training. Unfortunately, his mood quickly turned dour once more as he lamented being so far away. Jeff reassured the big guy reminding him about Laura’s exceptionally large family and insisted the navy would be sending them home for a breather in no time. After that, the conversation bounced around topics. Stories about new and old friends, different pieces of news from home they’d heard. The reunion released months of pent up tension from Jeff’s shoulders and he couldn’t recall a time inside the last year he’d felt this relaxed.
Of course the sound of a powerful voice bellowing, “Captain on the deck!” spoiled the moment. Jeff reflexively snapped to attention facing the entering party. Flanked by the feisty XO and the large dark marine who too recently, and roughly, escorted him down here stood Captain Styles as stoic and reserved as the day he first met him. Though barely more than a year had passed, the captain’s bold muttonchops carried considerably more grey. His eyes however were as keen as ever.
“At ease Gentlemen,” the XO said with a scorn directed at Jeff. A scowl decorated the milky complexion of her face which was starkly contrasted by the fiery mane that framed it. To tell the truth it looked more like a pout. She stood barely as tall as the captain’s shoulders and almost appeared as if Styles were her father come to set down some rules. The illusion was broken by the close fitting grey uniform she wore accentuating her feminine physique.
Styles glanced at Curtis saying, “You’re dismissed Lieutenant.”
Sharing a brief look with Jeff Curtis replied, “Sir!” before showing his respects as he left.
Jeff watched quietly as his friend retreated from the room. A sense of envy filled him at the man’s freedom. He was no stranger to being disciplined, but being called down by the Commandant for juvenile pranks was a far cry from being stared down by the skipper of a warship ten plus light-years from Earth. Refusing to give in to the nagging dread that his career just might be over, Jeff stood rigidly, back straight, arms clasped tightly behind his back and head held high in defiance of the weighing stare Captain Styles threw upon him.
“Captain Miller,” Styles said somberly, “you may release the prisoner.”
Pulling a key card from his pocket the marine stiffly marched forward to swipe it over the security terminal. The cage door buzzed as it retracted and the marine stomped to about face awaiting further instruction like some flesh covered robot. Miller was arguable the stiffest jarhead he’d ever seen. The captain dismissed the giant asking him to inform some lieutenant in the hall to remain there. Jeff missed most of the exchange as Commander Thomas gruffly announced, “Front and center Grant!”
Jeff stepped forward smartly squaring his shoulders to stand under the captain’s thoughtful gaze and the commander’s disgruntled scowl. “Lieutenant Jeffery ‘Knight’ Grant,” Styles began, “Diamondback Squadron Delta Flight Commander. Graduated from the UECN Academy May twenty-four,
twenty-two seventy-three. Not the best disciplinary record with a penchant for getting in trouble, but possessing remarkable talent and initiative. Son of Commander Russell Grant a highly decorated veteran and more importantly a close and dear friend of mine. Apart from your skills you share little in common with that legacy Lieutenant.”
"Sir," Jeff said feeling a bit of contempt at the less than flattering comparison, “permission to speak candidly?” Styles answered with a reserved nod. “First off, Sir, my father taught me to be true to my convictions. Anything less would be a lie to my constitution. That being said, Sir, I am not my father. I’m my own man, here for my own reasons. If those reasons fall in line with your needs, then fine. Otherwise, don’t patronize me with veiled insults about not living up to his name or with any preferential treatment in some kind of attempt to alleviate any guilt you may have over his untimely departure.”
"You remember who you’re talking to Mister," Thomas bit. “Russell Grant was a great man. You might look like him and share his name. But I will not stand by while you besmirch his memory!”
“Calm down Kami,” Styles attempted to diffuse the riled up executive officer.
Unfortunately for Jeff, his stubbornness decided that very moment to once again push the envelope of propriety. “Yes, calm down Kami,” he parroted the captain.
The XOs brow knit into a dangerous glare while a rictus sneer crept up her lip. “The name is Kameryn you insolent shit. And you will refer to me as Commander—”
“That’s enough!” Styles said sharply. Kami immediately straightened and began smoothing her jacket. Jeff himself, head whippi
ng towards the captain, hadn’t realized he’d taken a step towards her. Quickly correcting himself he once more squared his shoulders at attention.
Something akin to a smile graced the captain’s lips. “You’ve got heart Lieutenant,” he continued, “much like your father. However, Russ wasn’t so colorful in his expression. You also have a natural talent when it comes to combat and all the reports I’ve read regarding you from Tungsten’s skipper tell me that you’re a born leader. Therefore, despite your rough demeanor I’m promoting you to lieutenant commander. At zero-six-hundred tomorrow, you will assume command of the Yellow Jacket squadron.”
Taken aback by the unexpected turn of events Jeff and Kami echoed one another saying, “Excuse me Sir?”
“You heard me Commander. Captain Williams is commander air group. He’ll fill you in.”
“I…beg your pardon Sir. But I thought I’d made it adamantly clear that I have no desire for preferential treatment.”
Styles surely was smiling now. “I assure you Commander, this is far from preferential. The Yellow Jackets have a reputation for being a motley crew. And I think you’re just the rogue to bring some semblance of order to them. Do not make me regret this decision Mister Grant.”
“Yes Sir…I mean, no Sir. I mean…thank you Sir,” Jeff stammered at the unexpected news.
“Very well,” the captain said turning to Kami. “Now that that’s settled could you excuse us for a moment Commander? There’s some personal business Mister Grant and I have to discuss.”
Kami shot a piercing glare at Jeff before mumbling, “Yes Sir,” to the captain. On her way from the room she paused to stare down Dela Pena making it clear that he was being dismissed as well.
In the Blink of an Eye Page 10
