HMSS Hephaestus
Manticore Planetary Orbit
Manticore Binary System
May 21, 1906 PD
brandy bolgeo’s earbud beeped a priority attention tone, and she frowned as she tapped to accept the connection.
“Lieutenant Bolgeo,” she said. Whoever had pinged her knew that already, but there were formalities to observe.
“Lieutenant, this is Commodore Allenby,” a voice said, and Brandy’s eyes narrowed. Allenby was Hephaestus’ executive officer. Why was someone that monumentally high in the space station’s food chain personally coming?
“Yes, Sir. What can I do for you?”
“Do you have someone down there you can turn the duty over to for a half hour or so?”
Narrowed eyes turned into a frown. It was barely ninety minutes till the end of her current watch, and she was up to her elbows—figuratively speaking—in HMS Trident’s hydroponics power systems. She and Senior Chief Stúdlin were closing in on the infuriating glitch that had landed the tin can in the yard, and she hated to break off now. More to the point, though, this close to the end of her normal watch, what could be so urgent—or pressing, at least—for Commodore Allenby to be interrupting it?
“I do, Sir,” she said a bit slowly. “My watch ends in about ninety minutes, though, Sir,” she pointed out.
“I understand that. I really need to see you in person as soon as possible, though. So, if you can, I need you to hand over to someone else and report to my office.”
“Of course, Sir. I can be there within ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be fine. I’ll see you then.”
Brandy grimaced, trying to think of anything she might have done that required intervention from on high, and especially intervention that couldn’t wait another hour and a half. Nothing came to mind, though, and she pinged Joseph MacCann, the junior-grade lieutenant she was supposed to be mentoring.
“Yes, Ma’am?” he replied in her earbud from the other side of the repair bay, where he and Stúdlin were monitoring the output signals of the control circuits she’d been testing.
“Just got a call from on high, Joe,” she said. “Dunno why, but the XO wants to see me. So looks like you’re in charge until Lieutenant Commander Higman turns up.”
“Uh, yes, Ma’am.”
She heard the trepidation in his reply and smiled. Not all that long ago, she’d have sounded just as nervous as he did.
“The senior chief will keep you out of trouble, Joe,” she assured him.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
He sounded much more cheerful, and her smile deepened. She waited for a slow five-count and her smile turned wicked. Then—
“Just remember, though,” she said in her sternest tone, “he’s only a senior chief. You’re the officer in charge now. So make sure you don’t break anything while I’m gone!”
“Yes, Ma’am!” he said so quickly she could almost see him popping reflexively to attention.
She was still chuckling when she stepped into the lift car and tapped her destination code.
* * *
“Lieutenant Bolgeo is here, Sir,” Commodore Allenby’s yeoman said into his hush mic. He listened for a moment, then looked back at Brandy.
“He’s expecting you, Ma’am. Please, go on in.”
He tapped the stud that opened the door to Allenby’s office, and Brandy marched in and came to attention.
“Lieutenant Bolgeo reporting, Sir,” she said.
“Stand easy, Lieutenant,” Allenby said. The XO was a quiet, intense-looking redhead with a face that was naturally designed for smiling. There was no smile on it today, Brandy noted.
“In fact,” he continued, “have a seat, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
She settled into the indicated chair a bit tentatively. Despite her best effort, she knew there was an edge of apprehension in her expression, but she called it firmly to heel and cocked her head attentively.
“I wanted to see you in person, because there are some things that you just don’t throw at good officers cold over the com, Lieutenant,” Allenby said after a moment. “Especially not at officers who’ve already had the kind of war you’ve had.” He raised a hand as he saw the alarm flicker in her eyes. “This is not an ass-chewing!” he said quickly. “In fact, we couldn’t be happier with your performance here on Hephaestus. And I promise it’s not bad news about your family.” He shook his head. “Your dad’s an old friend, though, and that’s another reason I wanted to tell you this in person.”
“Tell me what, Sir?” Brandy asked when he paused.
“It’s about Timberwolf,” Allenby said in a suddenly bleaker tone. “I hate like hell to have to tell you this, but she got hammered last month. We just found out. It sounds like the Peeps were probing the Grendelsbane perimeter, and her division got jumped by a light-cruiser squadron.”
Brandy’s face tightened, and he sighed.
“We don’t have a complete report, but she got hit hard. Heavy casualties, I’m afraid. And the initial damage survey doesn’t sound good. In fact”—he met her eyes levelly—“I don’t think she’s repairable. I could be wrong about that, but even if I’m not, the truth is that at her age they probably won’t return her to service, anyway. Not in anything remotely like an immediate time frame, at least. It just wouldn’t be cost-effective, given how strapped we are for yard space and personnel right now. Which means you won’t be taking over her engineering department after all.”
Brandy’s stomach clenched. She’d never even seen Timberwolf, and yet in her own mind, the destroyer had already been “her” ship. Its complement had already been “her” people. And now this! First, Cassandra, and now Timberwolf . . .
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Allenby said compassionately. “I know how much an officer like you must have been looking forward to the new slot, the new challenges. But even though we haven’t heard anything officially from BuPers yet, I’m pretty sure there’s already a message somewhere in the queue telling you you won’t be reporting aboard Timberwolf. I just wanted to make sure you heard it from a live human being first, before the new orders came at you with no warning.”
“I appreciate that, Sir. A lot,” Brandy said quietly, and she did.
“I know how disappointing it must be,” Allenby said. “On the other hand, while it may be cold comfort just at the moment, I’m confident BuPers will find a new slot for you pretty damned quickly. God knows we’re all running too hard to leave an officer of your ability sidelined any longer than we can help! And I know what you really want at a time like this is shipboard duty, not getting stuck in a repair yard somewhere. From what I’ve seen so far, I expect Admiral Cortez thinks that would be a better use of your time and services, too. In the meantime, though, I guarantee you Hephaestus will be glad to have you for as long as we get to keep you.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
It wasn’t as if there were anything else she could’ve said, and she tried to put at least a little enthusiasm into her tone. From Allenby’s expression, she’d been less than completely successful, but he only nodded.
“I think you can probably take the rest of your watch to process this, Lieutenant,” he said. “And, again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
“I understand, Sir. And thank you for telling me in person.” She managed a smile. “I know you can’t have enjoyed it.”
“If our positions were reversed, Lieutenant, I’m sure you would have done the same thing. And probably not enjoyed it one bit more.”
“Probably not, Sir. And I know you’ve got a lot of other things on your plate, so I especially appreciate your making time for this.” Brandy inhaled deeply, then stood. “Permission to withdraw, Sir?”
“Permission granted, Lieutenant. And, if I may make a suggestion, I’d recommend screening your father. He’s been there and done that a time or two, and right this minute, I can’t think of a better person to talk this out with.”
“Now that, Sir, is a very good suggestion, I think. Thank you.”
She braced to attention again, briefly, then turned and walked out of the office.