Read Online No Honor in Death by Eric Thomson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eric Thomson
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frustration and humiliation on the doctor. Paranoia was an ugly thing, but she wasn't exactly helping her First Officer.
"However, be that as it may, the sickbay passed muster."
"Very well, Captain," Pushkin replied, angrily entering her comments into his personal computer, for the ship's logs. "I'll return to engineering then."
"Problems?"
"Nothing that can't be fixed, sir," he replied, a touch savagely.
"I'll be in my ready room. Please advise me when the next department is ready for inspection."
For a moment, Pushkin looked at her, as if gauging the sincerity behind her peace offering. Then he replied, in a slightly calmer tone, "Aye, sir. I will."
A tray of hot food was waiting when she got to her ready room. She took a sip of the scalding hot coffee and grimaced. It was bitter and burnt, very different from what the shiny urns on the Victoria Regina had chugged out watch after watch.
The food, when she took her first bite, wasn't much better. Siobhan had eaten worse, but never aboard a warship. She was pleased with her decision to sample the lower deck galley’s food. Now she knew she had another problem to deal with, one which had a direct impact on the crew's day to day morale. All she needed to bring the food question to its inglorious but all too logical conclusion, was to discover that the grub in the petty officers mess and the wardroom was better than this. Somehow, it would fit with Helen Forenza's instinctive snobbery. But hunger was strong enough to make Siobhan eat every bit.
She slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes, relishing the freedom from pain and hunger. Her enjoyment lasted but a few minutes, until the ship demanded her undivided attention again. No wonder I’m starting to look like the Crone of Chronos. No rest for the wicked.
"First Officer to Captain."
Siobhan sighed and sat up, touching the intercom pad.
"Go ahead, Mister Pushkin."
"Second Officer reports the security division ready for inspection, sir."
"Good," Siobhan nodded. She'd been wondering whether her initial impression of Lieutenant Drex would bear out. Now she would see. "I'll meet you down there."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Pushkin was waiting by the hatch leading to the ship's small brig and security office. He still wore his dark scowl, but was beginning to look frazzled. Dunmoore was ironically pleased by his overworked appearance. It made a satisfying contrast to his bitter demeanour when they first met. As she approached, Pushkin touched the door's keypad and came to attention. Siobhan nodded at him and stepped through. Drex, in immaculate shipboard uniform, like the four bosun's mates standing behind him, called his spacers to attention.
"Security division ready for the Captain's inspection, sir."
"Any problems to report, Mister Drex?"
The Second Officer's angular features remained impassive. "None, sir. All small arms and battlesuits are operational, ammunition stocks are full, and security systems are functioning. I suggest the Captain visits the brig and security centre first, then the arms locker."
"Very well, Mister Drex. Lead on."
He was true to his word. The facilities were spotless, his bosun's mates sharply turned out and it was clear that he took great pride in showing her that he had not let his department go slack.
The ship's bosun, a Chief Petty Officer Third Class, waited for them at the arms locker with another group of mates. CPO3 Foste was a tall, whip-cord thin woman with closely cropped hair, intense black eyes and hawk-like features. For a moment, Siobhan was struck by her resemblance to Drex, even though they differed physically in every respect. Then, it occurred to her that the resemblance was due to their precise, hard-nosed attitude towards their jobs. Nevertheless, it was an interesting observation, and it was heartening to see that Helen Forenza hadn't been able to break everyone’s spirit.
The small arms she
"However, be that as it may, the sickbay passed muster."
"Very well, Captain," Pushkin replied, angrily entering her comments into his personal computer, for the ship's logs. "I'll return to engineering then."
"Problems?"
"Nothing that can't be fixed, sir," he replied, a touch savagely.
"I'll be in my ready room. Please advise me when the next department is ready for inspection."
For a moment, Pushkin looked at her, as if gauging the sincerity behind her peace offering. Then he replied, in a slightly calmer tone, "Aye, sir. I will."
A tray of hot food was waiting when she got to her ready room. She took a sip of the scalding hot coffee and grimaced. It was bitter and burnt, very different from what the shiny urns on the Victoria Regina had chugged out watch after watch.
The food, when she took her first bite, wasn't much better. Siobhan had eaten worse, but never aboard a warship. She was pleased with her decision to sample the lower deck galley’s food. Now she knew she had another problem to deal with, one which had a direct impact on the crew's day to day morale. All she needed to bring the food question to its inglorious but all too logical conclusion, was to discover that the grub in the petty officers mess and the wardroom was better than this. Somehow, it would fit with Helen Forenza's instinctive snobbery. But hunger was strong enough to make Siobhan eat every bit.
She slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes, relishing the freedom from pain and hunger. Her enjoyment lasted but a few minutes, until the ship demanded her undivided attention again. No wonder I’m starting to look like the Crone of Chronos. No rest for the wicked.
"First Officer to Captain."
Siobhan sighed and sat up, touching the intercom pad.
"Go ahead, Mister Pushkin."
"Second Officer reports the security division ready for inspection, sir."
"Good," Siobhan nodded. She'd been wondering whether her initial impression of Lieutenant Drex would bear out. Now she would see. "I'll meet you down there."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Pushkin was waiting by the hatch leading to the ship's small brig and security office. He still wore his dark scowl, but was beginning to look frazzled. Dunmoore was ironically pleased by his overworked appearance. It made a satisfying contrast to his bitter demeanour when they first met. As she approached, Pushkin touched the door's keypad and came to attention. Siobhan nodded at him and stepped through. Drex, in immaculate shipboard uniform, like the four bosun's mates standing behind him, called his spacers to attention.
"Security division ready for the Captain's inspection, sir."
"Any problems to report, Mister Drex?"
The Second Officer's angular features remained impassive. "None, sir. All small arms and battlesuits are operational, ammunition stocks are full, and security systems are functioning. I suggest the Captain visits the brig and security centre first, then the arms locker."
"Very well, Mister Drex. Lead on."
He was true to his word. The facilities were spotless, his bosun's mates sharply turned out and it was clear that he took great pride in showing her that he had not let his department go slack.
The ship's bosun, a Chief Petty Officer Third Class, waited for them at the arms locker with another group of mates. CPO3 Foste was a tall, whip-cord thin woman with closely cropped hair, intense black eyes and hawk-like features. For a moment, Siobhan was struck by her resemblance to Drex, even though they differed physically in every respect. Then, it occurred to her that the resemblance was due to their precise, hard-nosed attitude towards their jobs. Nevertheless, it was an interesting observation, and it was heartening to see that Helen Forenza hadn't been able to break everyone’s spirit.
The small arms she
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