Witch Of The Federation (Federal Histories Book 2)

by Michael Anderle

  Her meditation over and Lars gone to find breakfast, Stephanie had time to think, and her thoughts immediately wandered to Todd. She wanted to know how he was doing and to see him laugh when she told him she’d blown up a mountain. He’d get a real kick out of that.

  She dressed and stepped out of her room. To her surprise, the common room was empty, but she assumed that was okay. The team had been tired after their run through the rebel base.

  At the common room’s computer console, she ran a query search for Todd. When she couldn’t find him, she frowned. She hadn’t thought his mission had been that secret and he certainly wasn’t.

  It took a few moments for her to decide what she wanted to do next. She typed his name into the system once more and waited, but again, it drew a blank.

  “Fine,” she muttered and brought up a schematic that provided a basic floor plan for the deck she was on. Not all the spaces were marked, but there was enough that she could work out that what she was looking for wasn’t on this deck.

  “Hmmm. If I were a security section, where would I hide? Somewhere near Security? Probably not near the mess and maybe not near the forward deck...”

  In the end, she wondered where Lars and her coffee were and if she could get back from the unlabeled area near the brig before he returned.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” she decided and headed out the door, wishing she could take her HUD.

  It would look funny and she didn’t, but she took a moment to memorize where she needed to be as best she could before she left.

  The guard outside the bulkhead leading to the unlabeled section of the schematic was a dead giveaway. When she made to touch the door panel and move past him, he put his hand out. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you don’t have permission to enter this section.”

  She grimaced. “Is there someone I can speak to? My name is Stephanie Morgana.”

  The guard cleared his throat and touched the comm in his ear. “Sir, there’s a Stephanie Morgana outside. She’d like to speak to someone… Yes, sir.”

  He lowered his hand and gave her a nervous smile. “The lieutenant commander will be here in a moment.”

  Stephanie gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  There was an awkward silence, and she looked around at the bare corridor walls. She was tempted to lounge on them but wanted to make a good impression so she didn’t.

  While she waited, she decided to treat this as a business meeting. When the lieutenant commander arrived, she looked at him and glanced pointedly around at the corridor. “Is there somewhere private we could speak?”

  “Right this way,” he said and led her to a door set slightly back and to the right. On the map, it had been labeled as a meeting room. Now, she understood why.

  The officer ushered her in and pulled the door closed behind them before he offered her a seat. “Lieutenant Commander Cunningham,” he said by way of introduction. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Morgana. How can I help?”

  She took a deep breath and made sure to project a pleasant persona. “My friend, Todd, was injured in an operation at Sanmar’s Rest.”

  “Yes, I am aware of that operation and its survivors.”

  Her ears pricked up at the plural, but she forced herself to focus on Todd. “I’ve tried to locate him in the system so I can contact him and see how he’s doing, but I can’t find him. Am I doing something wrong?”

  Color touched his cheeks and he shook his head. “I don’t think so, why?”

  “Because I can’t find him or any mention of the operation, and I don’t know why. What happened out there?”

  Cunningham’s face reddened and he cleared his throat and leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. “I can’t help you with what happened to Todd or how to get in touch with him, but I can assure you that he’s okay.”

  Her face fell. “Can you tell me when I can talk to him?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, then.” She rose from her seat and took a step toward the door. He cleared his throat and she stopped.

  “Can you tell me where your escort is?”

  Stephanie frowned at him. “My escort?” At his nod, she replied. “They’re fetching breakfast. Why?”

  “Because none of you should roam the ship without one.”

  “I thought we were guests.”

  He blushed again, rose from his seat, and moved around the table to offer her his arm. “You are guests, and as such, you should be escorted so you don’t run into any trouble.”

  Stephanie was about to say, “Like Vishlog,” but she bit her tongue. It would probably be better if she didn’t remind them of that incident. She still didn’t like the idea of being followed around the ship, so she looked at his offered arm and patted him on the shoulder.

  “Thank you, but I found my own way, here. I can find my own way back.”

  She went to open the door for herself, but he beat her to it. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

  A faint stirring of anger pushed through and she put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

  That stopped him, but he shrugged and looked at his watch. “Better than finding my own damn coffee for a change? And getting to do that in the company of a pretty lady? I don’t think so.”

  Stupidly, she actually blushed at his blatant excuse-making and flattery and gave in. “Fine! You can take me back to my room, but only if we pick the coffee up on the way.”

  He smiled at that—a genuine smile—and offered her his arm once more. This time, she took it and kept her smile in place as they walked back to the team’s quarters.

  She didn’t forget the coffee either, picked up enough for everyone, and insisted on carrying the tray herself. “You have escort duties,” she told Cunningham when he went to pick it up, “and you really shouldn’t have your hands full when you need to keep an eye on me.”

  “Now, now.”

  They reached the team’s rooms in time to hear Lars shouting.

  “What do you mean, she isn’t here?”

  Stephanie turned to Cunningham. “You’d better let me handle this.”

  He looked at her and very deliberately knocked on the door.

  The team leader answered and jerked it open with a look of fury on his face. “Yes!”

  His expression cleared when he saw her, then clouded when he saw who she was with. “What’s she done this time?”

  She interrupted him. “I brought coffee.” She stepped forward, forcing Lars to step back, and blocked him with her body as she turned to the officer. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. I appreciate your help.”

  Before he could reply, she reached out and gently but firmly closed the door in his face. Lars stared at her.

  “That was the head of their intelligence section. What did you do?”

  “I tried to find out how to contact Todd. He told me I couldn’t.” She frowned. “He also said I shouldn’t move around the ship unescorted.”

  “Too darn right you shouldn’t.”

  “He said none of us should go unescorted.”

  The other guys in the room groaned.

  “You know what that makes us, don’t you?” Marcus demanded.

  Stephanie shook her head. “No.”

  “Almost secured guests,” Frog said brightly.

  “As in prisoners?” She didn’t like that idea.

  “No, as in guests,” Marcus told her. “Prisoners get locked in.”

  Frog came over and gave the tray a hopeful look. “Is that from the officer’s mess?”

  After breakfast and a morning going over their gear, Lars, Johnny, and Marcus headed out to get lunch. It was no surprise to find three bored-looking marines waiting for them.

  “It’s about time you guys decided to head for chow,” Docherty told them.

  “How’d your evening go?” Lars asked, and the marine laughed.

  “Wattlebird will think of something to get us back.”

  Th
e conversation cut off as the guys shut the door and Stephanie sighed. “Sorry, guys.”

  Frog waved his hand at her. “It’s not your fault. We’re all troublemakers here.”

  “I thought we were troubleshooters, Marcus.”

  “Yeah, well, when we can’t find trouble to shoot, we go make some. It’s easy.”

  “I only wish I could speak to Todd.”

  “Sorry. Can’t help you there.”

  She sighed and began pulling energy in, making sure she’d recovered from creating a volcano. When she’d done that, she sat on the couch in the common room, a cat on either side of her, and flicked through the onboard entertainment.

  There wasn’t much. She’d barely settled on a re-run of an old movie classic when the others returned. Aside from the marines, they weren’t alone.

  “I’m Captain Shale. Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Do we h—” Stephanie began, but Lars cleared his throat and she fixed a bright smile on her face. “No. Go ahead. Please, join us. I’m sure the boys brought enough for a guest.”

  The captain smiled. “If they didn’t, I did,” she said and stepped clear of the door so a steward could push a fully laden trolley through.

  He set it in the middle of the room, saluted, and left. Frog lifted the cover and whistled. “This is sooo mu—”

  Marcus smacked him on the back of the head.

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said, and the woman turned to the trolley and filled a plate.

  “Let’s talk while we eat.”

  Despite her words, there wasn’t much conversation for the first few minutes after they’d all found a place to sit. When her plate was almost clear, Stephanie broke the silence. “So, what brings you here?”

  The captain glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. “That intel you pulled. We’ve worked through enough of it to know there’ll be another pirate attack, and this one looks major.

  She leaned forward. “Do you know where?”

  Captain Shale sighed. “Yes, but we can’t get there in time.”

  Her disappointment must have shown on her face because the captain regarded her solemnly for a long moment before she continued. “But we do think we can get you there.”

  She jumped up immediately. “Great. When do we leave?”

  The woman raised a hand to signal that she should sit again.

  “We have two problems,” she said, as she complied. “Firstly, the only ship we have that can make it there in time is an experimental one, and secondly, it’s much faster than anything in the rest of the fleet.”

  “So?” She couldn’t see a problem with either of these things.

  The captain sighed. “So not even the fastest corvette could keep up with you, and the Washington Revere isn’t that. You’d reach the attack coordinates in time, but you’d be without any back-up.”

  She paused to let that sink in. “Would you be willing to see if there is anything out there and if you can, protect their targets or track where they go if you’re outgunned? R&D would have my hide if they lost their ship on a suicide mission.”

  Frog rolled his eyes. “Sure. Let’s not worry about the contractors you send into the—” Lars cleared his throat and his teammate stopped, looked at him, and amended his planned finish. “The trouble. But R&D, well, we can’t upset them.”

  The captain smiled and shrugged. “It is what it is,” she told him, and her smile widened when he groaned.

  Stephanie leaned back in her chair and rested her plate on her lap. She moved her gaze from one guy to the next and received a slight nod from each before she focused on the next.

  When she reached Vishlog, he shrugged. “I go where you go, boss.”

  She turned her attention to Shale. “We’ll do it, but you’ll have to negotiate with Elizabeth Smith for the total charges for all of this, provided that we live—and I think she’ll charge you if we die, too, so be prepared.”

  The captain nodded, her face serious. “I think the Navy can handle that.”

  Frog sputtered and Marcus elbowed him in the ribs. Stephanie didn’t comment, and the rest of the team waited for the captain to continue.

  Shale looked at her. “You’ll go under the same conditions as before,” she warned, and she grinned.

  “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  The woman pushed to her feet. “I’ll need time to sweet-talk R&D into handing over their baby—and to convince them you don’t need a passenger from their department. And I need a requisitions order for the equipment you need. The marines stationed outside will take you to Stores for that.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her mind racing.

  “Is there anything that comes to mind?” the captain asked as Bumblebee butted Stephanie’s hand.

  “Armor,” she told her. “Especially for the cats.” She glanced at Vishlog. “And our Dreth. What he has needs replacing.”

  For a moment, the warrior looked like he might protest, then he nodded. “Armor,” he agreed.

  Frog jumped in. “And guns.”

  Stephanie nodded and pointed at him. “Good call. We’ll need guns—lots and lots of guns.”

  Eight hours later, in the ready room adjoining the shuttle bay, Stephanie pushed her cape off her shoulder. Elizabeth had negotiated a uniform upgrade and sent the programs for the replicators to copy.

  Now, instead of the previous gray-blue, she wore pure black and she liked the change. She liked it on the team, too. “You guys look really good.”

  Lars smiled. His all-black outfit matched Stephanie’s right down to the crest above the left pocket. “Yeah, but it’s black.”

  She grinned. “Don’t you know? Every witch wears black. It goes with our eyes when we get pissed off.”

  Around them, the guys checked each other’s armor, and two of them examined Vishlog’s. The Dreth stood patiently while Frog pulled a strap tight.

  “Are you sure that’s meant to be there, Vish?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Yes. It is for the weapons’ harness.”

  “Weapons’ harness?” His teammate tugged on another strap. “I thought this was the weapons’ harness!”

  Vishlog laughed. “Yes, but that one is for the other weapons’ harness.”

  Frog turned to Stephanie and Lars. “Moo-oom, I want two weapons’ harnesses, too!”

  The team leader looked at him, then at her, and tried for his best ‘Dad’ tone. “Look, Frog. I thought we agreed. You can have two harnesses like your brother when you’re big enough to carry the same weapons he does.”

  As if on cue, Johnny and Avery picked up one of the Double Saber Gatling Guns and carried it to Vishlog. “When do you want this loaded up?”

  Frog gaped at it and stamped his foot. “It’s not fair!” He pretended to wail and managed a credible pout before he cracked up laughing and helped the others attached the huge weapon.

  When they were done, the Dreth strode to the bathroom door and looked into the mirror. “I look good.”

  Johnny wolf-whistled and Frog cat-called, and he swatted at both of them before he looked at Stephanie. “How are the cats?”

  “They’re getting better,” she replied and whistled.

  Bumblebee and Zeekat stood and bounded to her. Their armored feet clattered across the floor, but the animals moved easily inside it. What they wore had been modified from old models of service K-Nine armor.

  It had still taken an intensive three-hour training shift in the VR pods for them to be able to fight in it, but they’d learned, especially when Stephanie had stepped in. The two felines had been so busy trying to protect her from virtual monsters that they’d forgotten they were even in armor.

  They hadn’t even protested too strongly when they were settled into the real thing. Marcus eyed them dubiously. “How does that even work?” he wanted to know. “It’s not like they can bite anything from there.”

  Stephanie laid her hand over the auditory sensors modeled into the set. “It uses a little virtual pro
gramming so the cats don’t know it’s the suit doing the biting but have the sensation of doing it themselves. It’s the same for the claws.”

  Frog came to stand beside Marcus. “So, no teasing the kitties, huh?”

  “Not while they’re in this,” she told him.

  “Not if you like your nuts in one piece,” Johnny added. He looked at Stephanie. “Honestly, those two fight dirty!”

  As soon as they were ready, the team headed to the shuttle, where they found the rest of their requested kit. Their two pilots were already settled in and doing pre-flight checks. Wattlebird waved his hand to the side so they could see he knew they were aboard.

  “How’d your night out go?” Frog called, and the wave turned into a one-fingered salute.

  Snickering, they turned to the equipment crates.

  “I thought we told them we could do our own piloting,” Lars grumbled.

  Wattlebird confirmed he was hooked into their comms. “Well, you know how us Navy folk are. We simply don’t trust a troop of mercenaries—”

  “Consultants!” Stephanie snapped.

  “Hooligans!” the team chorused in response.

  She glared at them. “Not helping here.”

  The guys laughed and dug into the crates. Frog almost had a fit.

  “Oh. Dear. Lord!” he breathed as he set the lid back. He reached into the crate and pulled something out, handling it with the reverence usually reserved for holy relics.

  “What?”

  “You asked for guns that shoot themselves and the Navy came through!”

  “What do you mean?” Stephanie demanded, but he was busy plugging a programming stick into his HUD.

  “Hey, Johnny, come over here. This is right up your alley. You, too, Vish. I’ve seen how you fly.”

  The team crowded around until Lars sent them to check the contents of the other crates.

  Admiring whistles and exclamations of delight punctuated the next few minutes, and she simply stood back and watched them work through the gear like a swarm of kids let loose in the middle of a pile of presents.