“Assigned to Avenger,” he said, trying to sound as tired and bored with lines as she did.
The ensign nodded. “I heard she did okay yesterday. Not too many losses.”
“Lucky me,” he groused. “I was in a sweet deployment in Tokyo when they decided I needed to grab my gear and come out here. No idea who I pissed off.”
“Well, everything seems to be in order, Lieutenant Barstow, thank you,” she said blandly, already looking past him to her next check-in.
“Ensign, can you answer a question for me?”
Her eyes returned to his. She seemed to really see him for the first time, and his disarming smile easily pushed aside her boredom with duty. “Of course, sir, I’ll try.”
“Why were we rerouted to a civilian port and not simply shipped directly to Churchill?”
“Ah, sir, you haven’t heard?”
Codeine calculated whether his ignorance of whatever she was talking about would seem odd. He decided to risk it. “Heard what?”
“About the court-martial.”
He nodded, feigning recognition. “Oh, that. Right.”
“Between that and security after the Swarm attack up top,” she said, jerking her thumb toward orbit, “Churchill is severely restricting traffic. Rear Admiral Pierce is strict when it comes to regulations. Everyone’s being dumped here first, sorted out, and sent on smaller shuttles. Makes for less bodies passing through so fast up there.” Then she noticed his insignia and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Well, you’re security, right Lieutenant? And they’re being extra cautious delivering personnel now. I mean, now that’s irony, huh?”
Codeine flashed her his best sardonic grin. “You said it.”
“Hey, can you two make moon eyes off duty? I got places to be. There’s a war on, y’know.”
“Sorry, Captain!” called the ensign.
“I’ll just get out of your way,” said Codeine with a wink. He moved past her, careful to brush by just a little closer than he needed to. Behind him he heard the impatient captain clamoring again and grinned, knowing the ensign was watching him walk away. Sometimes his job could be just plain fun.
* * *
“You’re not on the duty roster. In fact, you’re not on the crew list at all.”
Codeine shrugged in the airlock of the shuttle attached to Avenger’s secondary hull. This Rear Admiral Pierce really was a stickler for procedure. They were checking details on both ends of the trip. He’d been counting on the chaos of the attack to slip aboard. “I don’t know what to tell you, Chief,” he said. “My orders specified I deploy with all speed to—”
“What’s holding up the line?” asked a marine master sergeant behind him. She sounded tired and ready for a shower.
“Sorry ma’am!” called the deck sergeant. “A little data snafu.”
“Well un-snafu it! I’ve gotta download some data of my own, if you know what I mean.”
Codeine laughed amiably with the handful of other replacements still behind him in the shuttle. “Maybe my transfer orders got dropped in the chaos? Lots of info moving between here and Earth in the last forty-eight hours.”
The chief grunted. “Maybe. Still, I got orders.”
“Do your orders include swabbing the deck?” called the marine. “Cuz they’re about to.”
The chief winced.
“Look, I don’t want to cause trouble,” said Codeine. “How about you make a note and let me on? Follow up after things settle down a little bit.” The chief looked him in the eye, and Codeine shrugged again. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Actually, we all are. To Veracruz, and within the hour.”
“All the more reason to move along!” called the master sergeant behind Codeine. She’d begun bouncing where she stood. “And speaking of movements….”
Making a noise that said he didn’t get paid enough to swab shit off a deck, the chief backed up and waved Codeine through. “I’ve scanned your orders into the official record. We’ll sort it out ASAP.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
“Yeah, thanks Chief,” said the marine, following in close order. “Better have me on the list or its pickup duty for you.”
Codeine left the two of them to their procedure and made his way without haste aboard Avenger. The first thing he should do as a newly billeted officer was report to the officer of the day and find quarters.
“Lieutenant?” he asked a thirty-something woman. “Where can I find the OD?”
She considered the question. “Probably down on G-deck. You a newbie?”
“Aye.”
“Best get down there and get your gear stowed,” she said. “We’re shipping out as soon as we’re resupplied.”
Codeine nodded as she moved past, intent on her own pre-voyage duties. He decided to take a while to get to G-deck. The closer they were to shipping out when he introduced himself to the OD, the less inclined they’d be to put him through the ringer like the deck chief had.
A good hunter was a patient hunter, Codeine knew. He didn’t mind waiting till his target stepped into his crosshairs. Sooner or later, they always did. Until then, he’d play his part as a straight-laced lieutenant intent on doing his duty.
And bide his time.
Chapter 13
Britannia Sector
Churchill Station, Upper Orbit, Britannia
Guest Quarters
The clock buzzed, shaking Laz awake. He blinked sleepily and registered just how hot it was under the covers. Then a grin spread across his face as he remembered. It had been even hotter last night.
Addison Halsey’s arm lay across his chest. The alarm hadn’t woken her. No surprise there. She’d been drunk and playful and full of fire last night, just like back at Fleet Academy. All sense of the proper starship captain in her early forties had fallen away with seemingly little effort, as had her uniform. She’d made love to him like it was her last night in the universe.
Pierce. An idiot with too much braid, too much power was all he was.
Laz glanced down at Addie’s tussled hair, reached up to brush it from her temple. Her sleep had been deep once they’d exhausted themselves. She looked so at peace lying in his arms. No Swarm. No responsibilities. No court-martial. He took her wrist between his thumb and forefinger and lightly lifted it.
“No need,” Addison sleep-mumbled, her eyes still shut. “I’m awake.”
“Sorry about the alarm,” said Laz, letting her arm return to his chest. He liked it there. “I’m supposed to report to Independence by 0900 hours.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “What time is it?”
“0830.”
“Ah.” Her lips stretched into a smile. She seemed to be remembering last night too. “Plenty of time, then. That was nice, by the way.”
“What was?”
“Your stroking my hair.” Addison nestled her head in the crook of his arm and opened her eyes. “You need a shave, Lieutenant.”
“Right. And it’s 0831 now.”
She furrowed her brow and pouted like a little girl told it’s too close to dinner to have a cookie. “You in a hurry to leave me, Laz? Get what you want and then—”
“Don’t even kid about that, Addie.”
Her playful smile returned. “Sorry. I’m in a dark humor kind of mood.”
Now it was his turn. “After last night?”
“Ha!” she said, reaching under the covers. “Despite last night, you stallion you.”
“No-no, now, no time for that. I have to report.”
The pout of the little girl denied returned. “What kind of a pirate are you?”
Laz sighed. “The retired kind.” He pulled the covers away and shivered when the cool air hit the sheen of sweat covering his body.
As he stood up, she made cat noises. “Nice six, Lieutenant.”
“Stop it,” he teased. But if he were honest with himself, Laz reveled in every moment. Because soon the memory of their time
together would be all he’d have. Maybe all he’d ever have, given the war. This might be the last time they’d ever see each other. That thought—more than the war, more than her trouble with Pierce—scared the hell out of him.
“Oh, all right,” she breathed, sitting up and putting the heel of her hand to her forehead. Her hangover looked to be in full control. “I think I liked you better when you were a scoundrel.”
“Me too, sometimes. When are you due in Pierce’s office?”
“1100 hours. But I want to say goodbye to Noah and Sam. And I need to visit my crew in the Infirmary in case.…” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t have to.
“It won’t stand, Addie,” said Laz, pulling on his trousers. A shower would have to wait. “Kilgore won’t let it stand.”
Addison moved her head in a noncommittal way. “Maybe, maybe not.” She began putting on her Fleet-issued underwear. “But I’ve got things I want to do before I have to face Pierce.” Looking around, she asked, “Is there a brush around here anywhere?”
* * *
The hug lasted longer than she’d intended, but not long enough. When she finally released her old roommate, Sam Avery tried to inject strength and hope into her eyes.
“I’ve submitted my official log to Admiral Pierce and CENTCOM. So has Noah. Both have input from John Richards. It would be obvious to a first-semester midshipman that it was your action that saved the sector. Pierce will have to see that. And if he won’t, CENTCOM will.”
Halsey nodded her appreciation. “The thing that bugs me the most? This is taking me out of the fight.”
“Not for long, I have no doubt,” said Noah Preble, approaching. “Sam’s right. This is a goddamned drumhead drama. Admiral Kilgore is already on her way here, in fact. She’ll straighten things out in due course.”
“I hope so,” sighed Halsey, looking at the smartband on her wrist. “I’ve gotta go though, guys. I want to visit the Infirmary before I have to deal with Pierce.” She started to turn away, then stopped and returned her eyes to both of them. “You both be safe. Bring your ships home. Bring your crews home—and yourselves. Don’t make me have to break out of the brig to come save your asses. I’m in enough trouble as it is.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Now, that’s a plan I hadn’t thought of.…”
“Try not to ding up that new ship too much, Avery.” Halsey threw her a lopsided grin as she walked off. “And for the love of God, don’t show pictures of your loved ones to anyone! In the vids, that’s always when the hero bites it.”
Avery chuckled after her as she and Preble watched Halsey go. Sam’s bright smile faded quickly. “I think I’m more worried about what Pierce is going to do to her than I am about facing the Swarm again,” she said.
“I wouldn’t worry about Addison Halsey,” said Preble. “She can take care of herself. And, speaking of the Swarm….” He began walking toward the berths where Independence and Avenger were docked. Avery followed.
“Yeah, I know. We’re resupplied and ready to leave orbit. Are you sure about this mission to the outlands, Noah? Something feels sketchy about leaving Britannia with only two heavily damaged warships to defend her.”
“Admiral Kilgore is on her way with the Intrepid. Apparently the Russians are sending a fleet to help defend the Shipyards.”
“The Russians?” asked Avery, incredulous. They’d helped out a month ago, true enough, but everything she’d heard indicated they’d returned to their state policy of not playing well with others. She waited as a pair of crewmen passed them in the corridor, then whispered, “Ivanov has signed up for the IDF after all?”
“Don’t think so,” Preble replied. “Seems like the same terms as before, from what Kilgore said in her transmission. But right now, we’ll take all the help we can get.”
Avery flashed a beggars-can’t-be-choosers expression. “How are your replacements?”
“Green and shivering,” groused Preble. “But the Swarm will knock that out of them soon enough.”
Their paths ahead were about to diverge, leading each to their own ship, so before they had to part, Avery touched Preble’s arm. “Fair sailing, Captain Preble. Keep the wind at your back.”
Preble inclined his head. “And to you, Captain Avery. We leave orbit in ten minutes.”
“Aye, sir.”
They shook hands hard and went their separate ways.
Bridge, ISS Avenger
“Enjoy some downtime, Lieutenant O’Brian?” asked Avery as she exited the lift.
“Captain on the Bridge!” said the comms officer. “And yes, ma’am. Got halfway through another sea adventure!”
Avery shook her head as she stepped down into the pit. While everyone, including her, had been out drinking and decompressing their after-battle jitters away, Bernie O’Brian had lost himself in one of those ancient novels of sailing ship battles he loved so much. She marveled sometimes at just how much of that tradition still remained in the service nearly a thousand years later. Only the technology had changed. And they sailed the Milky Way now, not the Seven Seas.
She scanned the Bridge as final preparations were being made to depart Churchill Station. “Where the hell is Malcolm?” asked Avery as she sat down in the captain’s chair. “He should be here overseeing operations. Comms, page the commander.”
“Aye, ma’am,” said O’Brian, flipping a switch. “Commander Brent, report to the Bridge. XO, please report to the—”
The lift doors swept apart, and out stepped the commander. Avery turned to him. He just stood there a moment. His eyes look a little wild, she thought. Too much drinking and decompressing, I guess. Maybe O’Brian’s way was better.
“Malcolm?”
The lift doors began to close again, and the commander reached out his hand to prevent them doing so. His gaze shifted to the center seat on the Bridge. “Captain,” he said, staring hard at her.
“Are you all right, Commander?”
Brent stepped stiffly from the lift without answering. It was like the laundry detail had put extra starch in his uniform.
“Aye, ma’am. I’m fine.”
But he didn’t sound fine to Avery. He sounded detached. And his eyes looked like he’d taken a fistful of amphetamines.
“Commander, are you quite well?” she asked.
Brent took his seat next to her. “As I said, ma’am, I’m fine.” With his captain’s gaze appraising him, the XO cracked his neck and attempted an amiable grin. It seemed forced. “I think I just slept wrong, ma’am. Nightmares.”
Avery’s expression became sympathetic. After the battle they’d just been through, different people dealt with compartmentalizing their emotions during the course of their duty in different ways. Some got drunk afterward. Some lost themselves in a novel. Some had bad dreams.
“How many pills did you pop to get up here this morning?”
Brent looked at her, his eyes still wide. They reminded her of propped-open windows.
“Just one, ma’am.”
“Dozen?”
“Pill, Captain.” He didn’t seem to register her attempt at humor. “Just the one pill.”
Leaning over for the sake of discretion, she asked, “Can I assume you’re capable of performing your duties, Malcolm?”
His expression flashed anger. “Ma’am, I can absolutely assure you—”
Avery held up her hand. At least he was feeling normal enough to take offense at her implication. “Very well, XO. If that changes, you’ll let me know.”
“Of course, Captain,” he said tautly. “Helm, prepare to release docking clamps. Lay in a course for Outpost Heroic One.”
As her XO went through the preparations to leave orbit, Avery sat back in her chair. Her eyes turned to the viewscreen, but her ears remained focused on Brent’s voice as he checked in with each duty station. Something wasn’t right with him. And she had no idea what the wrong was.
“Lieutenant O’Brian,” she said mechanically. “Signal Independence. We’ll follow
her lead.”
“Aye-aye, ma’am.”
“Mr. Brent?”
“All stations report ready, Captain,” said her XO, his voice sounding nearly normal now.
“Very well. Mr. Hathaway, let’s get where we’re going.”
“Aye-aye, Captain,” replied the helmsman.
Chapter 14
Britannia Sector
Churchill Station, Upper Orbit, Britannia
Rear Admiral Sir Henry Pierce’s Office
Addison hated waiting. Had ever since she was a little girl and her father was overdue—as he almost always was—to pick her up for the weekend. Some part of her had always dreaded the possibility that he might not show up at all. That rarely happened, but her father’s near-perfect track record did little to assuage her little girl’s fears as she sat, waiting for Pierce to summon her.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. 1115 hours. The military was known for launching on time, whether that be missiles or courts-martial. And Admiral Pierce’s reputation for running his day like an exercise from the service manual was well known. Something was up.
The door to the office opened and Pierce’s aide, Commander Shays, poked her head out. “The admiral will see you now, Captain.”
Halsey stood up, pressing her tunic just a little bit straighter. Whatever she thought of the admiral himself, whatever she thought of the charges—it was time to get serious. Time to put the sass aside. She entered Pierce’s office keenly aware of the marines standing at attention as she passed between them.
“Come in, Captain Halsey. Have a seat.”
Not Pierce’s voice. A woman’s. Pierce sat scowling behind his desk, his gaze roaming over Halsey’s uniform. He had the expression of an academy upperclassman searching a plebe for demerit-worthy infractions. The admiral reached out and turned the video monitor on his desk to face her.
“Admiral Kilgore.” Halsey’s acknowledgment was muted by surprise. She glanced at the nearest chair but refrained from sitting. “I’d prefer to stand, ma’am.”
“As you wish,” replied Kilgore. The meta-space transmission fritzed a bit, then stabilized. “Forgive the informality of my attendance here. I’m en route from Earth to coordinate the Russian contribution to Britannia’s defense force. And I didn’t want to miss this meeting.”
Legacy Fleet: Avenger (Kindle Worlds) (The First Swarm War Book 2) Page 8
