***
Summers sat in the CO’s chair watching the bridge crew work, keeping tabs on the ship’s systems. Everything seemed orderly and under control, now that she’d lectured them on proper conduct. A military starship was meant to be an efficient machine, and, in the navy, such casual, inappropriate behavior was enormously unacceptable. She’d always assumed the Intelligence Wing held to even higher standards; after all it was harder to get into, but now she knew better. The Nighthawk was a disaster. More disorderly than a pirate ship.
The most insufferable of them all was the egomaniacal commanding officer. A rash, careless young boy who lacked the experience and wisdom of a professional captain. His cocky recklessness was exactly the kind of attitude that would put them all in danger, and his methodology was questionable at best.
How he’d won two Silver Stars and two merit medals was beyond her. Luck, or maybe he’d taken credit for someone else’s work. Too bad she’d never know for certain. Most of the details of Calvin’s missions were classified beyond classified, leaving her unable to reconcile the on-paper genius with the brash, arrogant youth she saw in the flesh. Whatever he was, he was a real brat. And, unfortunately, a pleasant-looking brat.
Strong jaw, bright blue eyes, uncontrolled sandy-colored hair. She was even jealous of how it looked so perfect with—no doubt—zero effort. He wasn’t pretty enough to be a model, but the slight roughness to him made him seem even more attractive. And something in his eyes glowed. He wasn’t large or significantly muscular, but still firm, well toned, and athletic. Enough to look good with a shirt off. Someone who kept himself in shape but didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. He also had good height and hygiene. And he had this pleasant smell about him. To her, every man had a unique smell, and his was a good one. And she hated that. Because he didn’t deserve to be attractive. She could imagine him stealing the hearts of young women because he was deceptively nice looking. And then turning around and breaking their hearts. Why is it the jerks were always the good-looking ones?
She wasn’t going to let Calvin charm her. If anything, she’d be even harder on him. Because Calvin knew he was attractive. And he let it, and everything else, go to his head. He was a spoiled young boy who’d been handed everything in life, including this ship, his medals, and his good looks.
No, no, no. She would stop thinking about him. Calvin was three years younger than her. A child. And she wasn’t going to let a child manipulate her, or take advantage of her, or use her. Not after Asari Raidan’s betrayal. Oh, no, Summers would never allow a CO to keep her in the dark again. If only she’d been more vigilant then, she might’ve prevented the whole disaster. But she’d let her feelings cloud her better judgment, and now she bore the penalty … a guilty conscience… because she hadn’t recognized Raidan for the snake he’d turned out to be.
And maybe that’s what bothered her most about Calvin. He was too similar to Raidan. Both began their careers as young prodigies, shooting up the ranks with medals and awards heaped upon them. Neither were willing to compromise, and they both had egos the size of planets.
But they had their differences too. Raidan was older and more seasoned than Calvin and more cunning. Raidan had managed to keep his thoughts and plans far enough below the radar that even Summers had been completely blindsided by his betrayal. Calvin, however, seemed impulsive and without subtlety. He was like a younger, stupider version of Raidan. But enough similar to make Summers feel guarded around Calvin. Like his blue irises could cut through her armor and read her thoughts. He was smart. But, she reminded herself, she was smarter. And despite having to work alongside this Calvin Cross, she would find Raidan and see that he got what he deserved. She was the swift, merciless sword of justice.
The elevator door slid open, and Calvin came onto the bridge. He didn’t even have regulation attire on, for goodness’ sake! Instead of his uniform, he wore a T-shirt and jeans, and looked disheveled, having made no effort to clean up his appearance since she’d last seen him. And he looked distracted too. Whatever the priority one message had been, it’d shaken him up quite a bit. She wished she’d heard it and wanted to find out what it was. In a way she considered it her duty to find out.
When Calvin reached her, she gave up the command position, but he didn’t sit there. Instead he called out to the helmsman, a woman about Calvin’s same age—whose cropped uniform and relaxed posture implied she was as irresponsible as the rest of this gang of maniacs.
“Sarah,” said Calvin. “Change course. New heading Tau System. Deepest safe jump.”
The crew was surprised, but they complied without question. “Sure thing, Cal,” the helmsman said as she plotted the new course.
It was like fingernails scraping slate to hear such casual chatter on the bridge. “Lieutenant Commander,” said Summers, both liking and hating the fact that she outranked him. “That’s off mission.”
“I realize that, Commander. But thanks for pointing it out.” Calvin walked toward his office dismissively.
“Sir, with all due respect,” said Summers, “you owe us an explanation.”
“No, I don’t. I’m the captain.”
How dare he dismiss her like she was just some trophy “officer” and not the XO! “We need to be hunting down Raidan. If this diversion is on mission, then I need to know your latest intel, and you need to make a report. But if it’s off mission, then it violates Statute 36-C. Which more or less states nothing trumps the assigned mission.”
“Almost nothing.”
“Is this a life-or-death emergency?”
“Maybe.” Calvin shrugged. “I really don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Breaking mission like this is a serious offense.”
“Can’t you put away the rule book for two minutes, Summers?” said Miles, the idiot defense officer.
“Stay out of this, Second Lieutenant,” she snapped at him. It was bad enough coming from the CO, but she definitely wouldn’t tolerate sass from the likes of this oaf.
Miles muttered something under his breath that sounded like a pejorative. Very disrespectful. Calvin really didn’t know how to keep his crew on a leash.
“Lieutenant Commander,” said Summers. “We can’t afford to give Raidan any more of a head start than he already has.” She wasn’t about to let Raidan slip through her fingers because Calvin wanted to make a tourist stop in the Tau System. And if he had a good reason to go there, some kind of new intel—which he probably did—she wasn’t about to be left in the dark. Not again. Never again.
“Summers, Raidan is long gone from Aleator anyway. We’ll go there and search for clues, hoping we get lucky. But, by now, it makes almost no difference when we get there.” He shrugged and reached his office, pausing to turn around and address the helmsman.
“Let me know the minute we arrive at the station.” Even though his words were directed at Sarah, his gaze was locked with Summers’s. “And, Sarah, don’t let anything less than rockets from an enemy warship slow us down or change our course.” He smiled cautiously. “Also, from now on, all flight paths must be approved by me. Standing orders.”
“Understood,” the helmsman said.
Calvin nodded and disappeared into his office.
Summers stored this away in her mind, adding it to the running tally of things she would include in her first report. Admiral Harkov would not be pleased.
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 12
