“You have a point,” he admitted and let Felix show Stephanie where to change.
Once she was dressed, she emerged to find the crewman responsible for the incorrect filter had been found. He stared morosely at the damaged filter. “I’m sorry, Fee. You told me, and I didn’t get it.”
“And do you get it now?” Stephanie demanded.
“Maybe…” he muttered, and she glared at him.
“You’ll need to do better than that if you want to stay.” She stabbed a finger at the filter. “Tell me why that one’s the wrong thing for that duct.”
To her surprise, he was able to describe exactly why it was the wrong one for the filter, right down to the difficulties of installation he’d obviously encountered.
“So you’d know you had to check the next time,” Stephanie concluded, and he nodded, his face red. “How about how not to install the incorrect filter in the first place?”
“Um…”
She was about to reprimand him again when Felix set the correct filter down beside it.
“How about now?” the lead technician asked.
Logan was silent as he compared the two filters. Finally, his brow cleared. “Oh…”
“Oh?” Stephanie pressed and made him explain what he had seen that would prevent him from repeating his mistake.
“Good,” she said when he’d finished. “Now, I want you to write it all down. I want a report on my desk by the end of your next shift that explains what mistake you made, why it was a mistake, and how you’ll avoid making it in the future. Once that is done, I want you to create a tutorial and checklist to help anyone else doing this job to avoid making the same mistake. Am I understood?”
“Yes. Yes, ma’am,” the crewman answered, clearly shocked. He darted a glance at his supervisor, and she nodded in agreement.
“I like the idea. I want a copy on my desk at the end of your next shift.” She turned to Stephanie. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“I’m glad to be of help,” she told her and followed the captain from the room.
When the last of the team had left, Felix looked at Logan and breathed a very long sigh of relief. “That could have gone a lot worse,” she told him, and he nodded.
“I think I’d have preferred it better if she did shout at me,” he replied, his face longer than it had been when Stephanie had seen him staring at the broken filter.
She gave his shoulder a shake. “Be glad. At least this way, you’ll learn something. I was only gonna have you count the spare nuts, bolts, and screws—and maybe arrange them in order of size and point of origin. A paper is much better, don’t you think?”
Logan nodded hastily. “Oh, yeah. Much better. I only want to not have to face anyone ever again.”
Felix laughed. “That’s only your ego talking. You’ll be fine and it could have been worse.”
He looked at her as if unable to imagine how, so she spelled it out for him.
“Yeah. If she hadn’t been here, we’da had to size check the entire crew to find someone who fitted through that hatch and then we’da been late—and that man hates being late more than anything else.”
Logan paled. “I’ll be in my cabin if you need me,” he told her. “I gotta get this paper written.”
She gave him a sharp look. “It’s your off-shift. Make sure you get some sleep.”
“Okay, boss.”
The woman watched him go and considered how fortunate he was that the captain hadn’t fired him on the spot. If Logan was lucky, the man would be too busy to remember him until he’d had time to redeem himself.
Down the corridor, the inspection tour continued. Stephanie followed Emil to the hangars so she could meet the crew doing the unloading.
“I probably should have shown you through here, first,” he admitted, “but I wanted to start the tour off on a high note.”
“Starting with the engines was perfect,” she reassured him. “Besides, there are elevators at that end, so it’s more logical than it seems.”
He relaxed and they moved to the loading dock.
“More missiles?” Stephanie asked.
“These are the last of what we were promised,” he confirmed. “Besides, you can’t ever have too many missiles, isn’t that right, Ebony?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the ship retorted, and Stephanie had the impression there was a story behind the exchange.
No doubt it would come out later, maybe after the man had time to get to know the team better. She followed the captain and admired the smooth way the crew moved the missile crates from the hold to the waiting low-loaders. As she walked closer, heads turned toward her and disaster struck.
One of the low-loader operators glanced away from the mini-crane at the wrong moment. The crewman on the equipment looked away from the low-loader and his controls and grasped the wrong stick.
The crate he was lifting caught on the edge of the hatch as he swung it out and started to spin, which pulled the crane off-balance and drew the operator’s attention to the task at hand. His stream of panicked invective made the low-loader operator turn, and he startled at the sight of the out of control crate.
His hand jerked against the controls as he scrambled back in his seat in an effort to avoid the crate that swung toward him, and the low-loader jerked forward. The unsecured load shifted and one of the crates slid off and clipped a second loader.
That one nudged the unstable mini-crane and proved the last straw. It tilted, and the operator on the other equipment tried to jump to safety.
His knee caught the steering wheel and he fell across the console and struggled to regain his feet as the crane came down.
Stephanie didn’t have time to think, only to act. She snapped one hand forward and used magic to stop the crane’s fall at the same time that she twisted the wrist of the other hand and create a domed shield over the low-loader and its stricken operator.
“Vishlog!” she shouted, and he and Lars raced forward. The guy on the low-loader was okay, but two of his colleagues had rushed in to try to pull him out. Another ran to the shuttle, and a third had thrown himself against the crane in an attempt to stop it falling.
“Idiot,” Frog muttered and sprinted forward.
He slid to a stop beside the guy near the crane while Lars swung toward the two who had targeted the low-loader driver. Vishlog pounded into the crane Stephanie had frozen in mid-fall.
He threw his weight against it and heaved it upright while Frog yanked the man out from under it. Lars began to drag the other two free as soon as there was enough space for him to reach them. Once he had a firm grip on each, he gritted his teeth and pulled.
A startled scream was all the warning he had before Bumblebee nudged his hand aside and opened his mouth.
“You’re a bastard, you know that?” he told the cat but relinquished his hold and let the big beast drag the man free while he concentrated on the other one. Frog joined him and the two men were soon clear.
As soon as the crane was upright, Steph dropped the shield over the low-loader and focused on the dangling crate.
“Get the driver,” she called to Vishlog as she began to wind magic around the load.
He tapped on the driver’s capsule, but the man ignored him, ran his hands over the controls, and shut the machine down. When that was done, he simply sat and stared, looking through the glass but not seeing a single thing beyond it.
The Dreth stopped knocking and turned the handle on the door. To his surprise, it turned, and he was able to open it. He leaned into the cabin, curled a hand around the driver’s arm, and guided him to the group where he settled him beside his colleagues.
The captain finished speaking into his comms and came over. “I should have called ahead,” he said ruefully.
Stephanie finished steadying the load and settled it beside the low-loader. Once it was on the ground and the crane stable, she set about straightening the rest of the mess.
By the time the medics had arriv
ed, she’d restacked the low-loaders and was checking the crewmen for injuries.
“I don’t think it’s anything I need to intervene with,” she told them. She glanced at the captain. “The boys and I can finish off here if you tell us where to go.”
Frog snorted, and she glared at him. “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean I’m saying what you think I am,” she snapped.
“I’ve called in one of the other teams,” the captain told her, “but thank you. We appreciate the offer.”
He took the time to speak to each of his men and conferred with the medics. When he was done, he surveyed the now-tidy hangar and nodded to her. “The relief crew will arrive shortly. Shall we?”
She whistled to the cats, and they rose reluctantly from where they’d made themselves comfortable between the injured men.
‘You know they’ll be spoiled rotten,” the captain told her. “We may have to issue orders…”
“It probably won’t do us a lot of good,” she responded and laughed when the two cats stopped long enough for another round of ear scratches. “But we can try.
The remainder of the tour went off without a hitch, and the team soon settled into their quarters. It didn’t take Lars long to find his way to the gym where the Marines were working out. It took him even less time to identify a couple of familiar faces.
“Docherty!” he cried when he caught sight of the Marine corporal sparring across the room. His cry distracted the man at exactly the wrong moment and his opponent sank a fist into his stomach and punched him in the side of the jaw.
The man went down like a sack of shit, and the Marine who had floored him looked up at Lars and grinned. “Thanks!”
The guard shook his head, and Docherty groaned.
“Dammit, Sarge. Didja have ta?”
“I dunno, Doc. You reckon you can follow my orders, yet?”
“Let me think about—oof!” He curled around Tomek’s boot and Lars stared.
“He’s still making his mind up if I deserve to be his senior,” the sergeant explained and put his boot on Docherty’s head. “I may have to use him to scrub the ship’s latrines if he doesn’t give in, soon.”
“You and who—” the other man started, then stopped.
Tomek shrugged and caught the look on Lars’s face. “I dunno. Some Marines are harder to housebreak than others.”
“You done, yet, Tomek?” came in familiar tones, and Lars turned.
“Captain Sartre! What are you doing here?”
The Marine took one look at Lars and his face broke into a grin. “Well, Lars, it seems the Navy thought it had to send a contingent of Marines along to keep its Witch from getting into too much trouble.”
“Yeah, and?” he prodded.
“Well, they decided it had better be a team drawn from those who’d already served with the Witch and who knew what to expect.”
“And it had to be you guys.”
“And us,” another familiar voice added, and Harrison stepped into view.
Lars broke into a laugh. “Man, you guys must have pissed off all the wrong people.”
“Tell me about it,” Anders muttered when he appeared with Spizoni.
“Well, at least I have someone else who can babysit Frog,” he told them.
“Hey!” Frog protested, and they all turned to look at him.
One of the female Marines smirked. “I’ll babysit him anytime,” she whispered, sotto voce, to her neighbor.
“You can get in line,” the woman quipped in response and they laughed as Frog turned as red as a brick.
“Why?” Spizoni asked and ignored them. “What’s he done to piss the Witch off this time?”
“Oy! I’m right here.”
“I thought there was an odd smell,” Cotterslie interjected and appeared on the other side of Tomek.
Lars looked at the sergeant pinning the hapless man to the floor. The corporal grabbed at his ankle, and he shifted his weight. Docherty froze.
“I’m sorry,” Lars said, “but I don’t remember your face…”
Tomek shrugged and his victim slapped the mat with his hand.
“Uncle.”
Tomek looked down. “I’m the boss?”
“You’re the boss.”
“I’m your boss?”
He groaned. “Fine. Yes! You’re my boss.”
“You know you keep what you kill, don’t you?” Sartre said and peered down at Docherty. The sergeant looked alarmed.
Before he could protest that he didn’t actually want what he’d ‘killed,’ another new face joined them. Pepper-haired and craggy-faced, he proffered his hand. “Captain Moser. I came aboard with the sergeant here.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Call me Alf, or Moser if you’re not comfortable with that…Captain only if you must.”
“I’m Lars. Head of the Witch’s protection team.” He paused and looked around, relieved to see his men had gone to stand quietly to one side. “Come and meet the rest.”
“Docherty, look after the sergeant, or you and I will have a chat on the mats,” Sartre told his man and Tomek lifted his foot.
Docherty rolled to his feet. “Sir, yes, sir,” he responded, snapped a salute, and looked at Tomek. “Sergeant.”
Lars led them to one side where Vishlog and more of the team had gathered and gradually, the gym returned to normal around them.
The team leader glanced to where the two cats had sprawled under the benches, screened by the team and the Marine contingent that had gathered around them. Those who had fought beside them against the rebels or acted as Frog’s protection in the VIP scenario were happy to catch up.
One by one, the team drifted out to mingle with those training, while a small core of Marines remained with Lars and Vishlog. The cats stayed quietly with them and obeyed Vishlog’s hand signal to stay low.
Frog lingered on the edge of the crowd and watched the door. When he saw Stephanie arrive and start warming up at the edge of the sparring mats, he moved over to stand closer. It didn’t take the Marines nearest her very long to notice.
“Who let the fresh meat on this flight?” one asked and didn’t bother to keep her voice down.
The Witch didn’t appear to hear her. She’d turned to talk to someone and had her back to them. He pursed his lips as the woman’s male colleague frowned. “Does she work in the kitchens? How about crew support?”
The woman snickered. “I don’t know where she comes from. She’s new, is all. Trust you to be interested.”
The guy eyeballed Steph before he glanced at his colleague. “You have to admit, she is cut.”
Frog sidled up to them. “Are you checking her out?”
They both shrugged and nodded, and he curled his lip.
“Well,” he told them, “you might want to put your Mark-1 eyeballs back in their sockets. That’s your boss.”
“No way,” the guy asserted and his gaze drifted to her again.
The woman shook her head. “The boss doesn’t wear jumpsuits.”
That time, Stephanie did hear them. She turned and walked closer so they could get a closer look at her face.
“Oh, shit.”
Frog patted them both on the back. “Huh. It’s been nice knowing you,” he told them and retreated. “Do you want to give me your dog tags so I know how to spell your names correctly?”
“Our names?”
“Yeah, you know, for your graves.”
The woman opened her mouth to respond but her retort was preempted by a resounding crack from nearby.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Gasps of shock spluttered around them as the shot rang out and Stephanie was lifted and thrown back by the force of the impact. As she did so, Frog turned and raised his hands before him to deliver a stream of blue energy across the room
It pounded into one of the Marines who was turning his blaster on himself. The energy hurled him from his feet and the weapon careened from his hand. A commotion erupted from beh
ind them.
“Stay!” Vishlog roared as the two cats leapt out and thrust aside those who’d stood in front of them.
As the Marine fought to regain his footing, Frog faded and Stephanie stood in his place. She didn’t try to stop the cats but she did throw a second burst of magic to create a field of blue over the fallen Marine seconds before they reached him. This did not stop them, however.
Bumblebee bit down on the blue but couldn’t penetrate. Zeekat landed on the shielding over the Marine’s stomach and proceeded to try to claw his way through it. Bee screamed in frustration and his partner raised his head, roared, and sent Steph a ferocious glare.
Vishlog hurried over to them, but she didn’t notice. Rather than pay them any attention, she hurried over to where her mirror image attempted to roll slowly to her feet. Before she managed it, that Stephanie had become a very irritated Frog.
“Goddammit,” he said and coughed as he clutched his chest. “That is gonna leave a mark—and I have holes in my armor.” He glared at her as she arrived. “No one ever tell me,” he groaned and reached under his jumpsuit, “that my tits aren’t big enough.”
She stared at him and he managed a grin as Lars stretched a hand out to pull him up.
“They stop bullets,” he explained when he saw the look on her face.
Lars dragged him to his feet.
“I told you so,” he said and turned to her.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “You sure did.”
She looked around as the gym erupted in chaos.
“I thought you said these guys were vetted,” Sartre snapped at Moser.
The man glared in response. “They were, but you know the system’s not perfect.”
“I know. He’s not one of mine.”
“Or mine. That one’s new.”
The Marines who had fought with Stephanie or run protection with Frog surged forward to clear the area around her, the team, and the downed Marine.
“Is anyone else carrying?” Docherty demanded and surveyed the others.
Several of them shook their heads and raised their hands to show they were empty.
“No one leaves!” Tomek’s voice bellowed. “Ebony, lock us down.”
Witch Of The Federation III (Federal Histories Book 3) Page 51
