Hartman’s question filled in the gaps for me. So that had been Remus. Admiral Remus, rather. I didn’t really approve of that change, Remus was a good soldier…but he lacked the nerve and steel. Being at that rank had broken stronger men than him.
“Can’t say I saw him. It’s pretty crowded in here,” I lied, almost on reflex. People, even veteran soldiers were often unnerved by just how observant I could be. I pegged it as an unfortunate consequence, for not all things were meant to be noticed. And it was a sense which was nearly impossible to shut down now.
Hartman looked terrible, although it’d not be immediately evident. The change in posting had definitely left her softer around the edges, and judging from the outburst moments earlier, she was not coping with it too well. Of course she wouldn’t. We were frontline soldiers, Command had chosen the wrong girl for the right post.
“You’ve gone soft, Captain.” A lie had to be followed up with a diversion. Sometimes I hated myself.
I turned towards Harrison. “The Captain and I have plenty of history.” Engage all parties simultaneously; do not let them spot the chink. “Mostly it’s her nearly getting me killed more times than I can count,” I smiled faintly, it was true after all.
Although that reminded me of the last time she’d nearly gotten me killed, a rainy night on Los Angeles. My smile disappeared. I lit another cigarette, needed it to tell this particular story.
“You remember Los Angeles and Arden, Captain?” I said. It was a rhetorical question, She probably remembered every KIA under her command. I took a drag and let the moment settle in.
“We repaid the debt in full,” Momentarily I debated discussing the finer details of that operation. It was not a matter of classification or secrecy, word got around regardless of that. It was just caution, particularly regarding Harrison. He was an unknown. I settled on a compromise.
“It’s a long story, but we managed to trace that gang’s operations planetside and eventually to a Flagship running under the radar in Kepler. A cruiser called Calabria. We caught them unprepared, disabling the ship.”
It had been fairly textbook, once we knew the ship’s patterns, where it vented heat and where it skirted under the radar, a Cruiser Strike Group had found it almost painfully easy.
“Captain Ashfield and I led the strike teams into the ship’s interior. Our intention was to capture as many of the crew alive as possible, and hand them over to the Police for due processing.”
I set my cigarette down.
“Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of the issue we were unable to take any prisoners.”
What that actually meant was that Ashfield and I had agreed that an example needed to be made. We were both old hands and understood the importance of sending a very clear message. No surrenders were accepted, and the ship and it’s deceased crew had been left to drift in space, distress beacon active. That would either enrage the enemy or make them wary. Either outcome gave us an advantage.
“So what that means is you owe me, Hartman….again,” I said, smiling faintly.
