"What the hell is that jarhead doing!?" came a roaring voice.
Commander Ian "Hangman" Kaufman, commander of the air group, stepped up behind the tech in "the tower" overlooking the hangar bay. While it was actually just a room that overlooked the hangar bay where, from behind the transparent wall, one could observe the entire bay, long-standing naval tradition dictated that this control room be called "the tower" after its predecessors of the old wet navy, where the CAG lorded over his domain. Kaufman bent down over the shoulder of the tech and jabbed his finger at the tracking screen, pointing at the approaching assault shuttle.
"Commander," Petty Officer First Class Foster started, sounding clueless, "I have no idea. He didn't say anything before he started, and I don't see anything else within a hundred thousand kilometers of him."
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking up at the long-range sensor return. "That sure as hell looks like evasive maneuvers to me."
"Looked that way to me, too, sir. That's why when he started, I started running full sensor sweeps and informed the alert pilots to stand by." The petty officer was referring to the flight teams that were waiting on the flight deck next to their Valkyries, ready for launch within moments of getting the word of an attack. Their job was to intercept anything incoming and keep it busy long enough for the rest of the squadron to launch.
"Good man." He put his hand on the petty officer's shoulder in approval. He turned to another tech sitting at a communications terminal and called out to him. "Find Captain Mathews and let him know what his pilot is up to." Captain Mathews commanded the company of marines deployed aboard the Fenris.
"Sir, I have an incoming transmission from the shuttle," the com tech called back from his post. "The pilot reports that everything is fine and that he is merely practicing his evasive maneuver skills, per Captain McLaughlin's suggestion." He was grinning by the time he finished his report. The CAG and the sensor tech both chuckled.
"I bet the XO is loving that," Kaufman said sardonically.
"Should I inform the deck officer that he may want to have a maintenance crew standing by for a cleanup in the shuttle?" the petty officer at the communications station asked, amusement lacing his voice.
"No, contact the shuttle's crew chief. It's a marine boat—let the marines clean up any mess." He was grinning wickedly at the thought of being able to stick it to the marines.
"Yes, sir!" the com tech replied enthusiastically.
"What's their ETA?" Kaufman asked as he turned back to the sensor tech.
"Seven minutes, sir."
Once again, Kaufman spoke, this time with no trace of humor in his voice.
"Inform the deck officer that we have an incoming assault shuttle and to prep for retrieval."
"Aye, sir, inform the deck officer to prep for retrieval," the com tech repeated back to the CAG, then turned to his board and began speaking quietly into his headset.
"I'll be down in the bay to welcome the captain home," Kaufman called over his shoulder to the room as he walked out the hatch.
"Aye, sir." The response chased him down the passageway.
* * *
"Shuttle now on lift two and descending," a voice called out from the speakers in Fenris' hangar bay. Twenty seconds later, a low vibration could be felt in the front of the bay as the lift settled in the tube. After the pressure equalized, the lift-tube doors cycled open and the shuttle taxied out, following the hand signals of a deckhand, and into its designated space.
"Shuttle has now arrived. The captain is now aboard," came the announcement as the shuttle settled on its landing gear and the passenger hatch opened.
Captain McLaughlin stepped down the access ladder and turned to see Commander Kaufman standing at attention, saluting.
"Welcome home, ma'am."
"Good to be home, CAG," she said warmly, returning his salute.
"We saw your final approach." Amusement colored his voice. "I told the shuttle crew chief to be ready for a possible cleanup."
"Good thinking, CAG." She smiled. "But that won't be necessary this time."
"Really?" He sounded shocked as she nodded her assent. "So, how's the XO?"
"The XO," came a weak voice from behind them, "is just fine, thank you very much. I just need something to settle my stomach." Commander Higgins worked his way down the access ladder unsteadily and walked toward them, swaying slightly. As he reached them, Commander Kaufman could see that he looked somewhat green.
"Well, it's zero four thirty, so the mess hall is just opening," Kaufman said as he turned and led them across the bay to a hatch leading to the lifts. Higgins groaned at the thought of breakfast.
"The mess hall it is, then, Ian," McLaughlin said cheerfully, eliciting another groan from Higgins.
"You don't have to eat, Greg. Just have some juice to settle your stomach," Ian said as they reached the lifts. "By the way, what'd you do to piss off the captain?"
"What makes you think that I did anything?" Greg asked, leaning against the side of the lift.
"Well, that marine flying the shuttle called in and said that he was practicing his evasive maneuvers per the captain's suggestion. So, if it wasn't his idea, and the captain is the one who told him to do it, that leaves only one suspect as to the reason why." Ian looked closely at Greg, waiting for an answer to assuage his curiosity.
Greg looked up at the captain and met her gaze as she stood there, smirking slightly. Ian looked back and forth between the two and saw that he was missing something very interesting.
"Oh, I bet this is good." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Greg straightened and tugged his uniform jacket into place. He was about to speak when Alex beat him to it.
"CAG, who's scheduled for the next patrol?" she asked quickly.
"The next patrol?" He sounded confused at the sudden change of topic. He closed his eyes for a moment, pulling up the duty roster in his mind. "That would be Lieutenant Commander Grant and her wingman, Lieutenant Patterson, ma'am."
"Good." She turned her gaze back to her XO and smiled, her voice still sweet and innocent. "Commander Higgins, you may want to think long and hard before you answer Ian here. You wouldn't want to go for a ride with Barbie, now, would you?"
"You wouldn't!" He sounded scared, and she cocked her head at him. "You would." He sounded defeated and turned back to the now disappointed-looking CAG.
"Ian, the captain and I were merely discussing the deficiencies in the education system back on Earth, and how it can affect shipboard life."
"Riiiiiight." he knew it was the best explanation he was going to get. The captain and XO were too close for him to be able to worm it out of the XO later, especially with the captain's implied threat. From the way she looked, it had to be something embarrassing, which was reason enough not to push matters. He respected Alex McLaughlin too much as his captain and friend. "Well, if the captain doesn't want to talk about it, then we won't talk about it."
Alex nodded her thanks as they entered the mess hall and went directly to get their drinks. They filled their glasses and headed for a side table near the hatch. As they were settling in, Commander Heron entered, walking right past them with her face buried in her pad.
"'Evening, Heron," Alex called out.
Dropping her pad to her side and looking around, Heron's eyes found the three of them sitting in the booth. She looked down at her watch and then back up.
"Don't you mean 'good morning,' ma'am?"
"Maybe for you, Heron," put in Greg as he yawned, "but for some of us, this is still evening."
"I see. Just get back, did you?" she called back as she poured herself a drink.
"Yes, about fifteen minutes ago," said Alex. "The Asgard's nice, but there is no place like home." She took out her cigarette case and opened it. She offered it to Commander Kaufman, and he smiled as he took one and lit it.
"Thanks, Cap'n." He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Speaking of the Asgard," Ian went on, "How was the party?"
"It was nice. The admiral gave one hell of a speech," Alex said, lighting her own cigarette. "He passed on some very interesting info." She looked around the table for something to flick her ashes into. There were no ashtrays on the table, as smoking was not permitted in the mess under normal circumstances. While she would not have broken that particular reg had there been anyone in the mess, the compartment was deserted, and, well, it was good to be the captain. Kaufman downed his coffee and pushed the empty cup across to her.
"Really?" Heron asked. "Like what?"
"Well," Greg began, but was cut off by a high-pitched whistle emanating from the intercom built into the table. Reaching out, he keyed the mike open. "Commander Higgins," he said professionally.
"Commander, this is the Officer of the Watch, Lieutenant McKeenan. May I speak with the captain, please?"
"This is McLaughlin. Go ahead, Lieutenant." She, too, was all business.
"Ma'am, we're getting something very strange up here on the long-range sensors, and I thought you might want to know," Lieutenant McKeenan said. Of all the nearly eight hundred men and women on the Fenris, McKeenan was easily the most no-nonsense, straight-laced, and regulation-oriented. Despite this, he was a supremely competent junior officer who had a good reputation aboard ship, somehow not letting his dedication turn him into a martinet.
"What do you mean 'strange,' Lieutenant?" she asked.
"That's just it, ma'am. We're not sure. It looks like—" He stopped mid-sentence, then spoke to someone on the command deck. "I want confirmation on that, Ensign, now!" All four of the officers sitting around the table sat up a bit straighter. That outburst had been totally out of character for McKeenan.
"Lieutenant, what's going on up there?" Alex put her drink down and extinguished her cigarette inside it, not liking what she heard emanating from the speaker.
"Confirmed!" came a shout from someone on the command deck.
"Lieutenant McKeenan, report!" She was standing, and the rest of the officers were getting to their feet, not liking what they heard, either.
"Oh, shit!" they heard McKeenan exclaim. All four officers stood looking at one another, shocked at what they had heard from the prim and proper lieutenant.
Alarms began to howl throughout the ship. The four officers had already began sprinting for the hatch seconds before the lieutenant's voice, once more sounding like the voice of the highly competent junior officer that he was, exploded from speakers throughout the ship.
"General quarters, general quarters! All hands, man your battle stations!"