Keelhauled

[Jane Hartman]

Keelhauled

Jane Hartman

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Jane Hartman had a dozen things she should have been doing. Rivers's patrol report perched atop her desk like some small predatory animal, competing with overdue personnel files for attention. Two transports in 108 squadron were scheduled for refit, and she didn't have ships to spare replacing them. Lakewood was recovering from combat damage, the Hellfire Legion were active in Cortez again, and her social life had more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese on a firing range.

And all of it meant as much to her as a drop of water meant to the ocean. Ellington had found Normandie.

Hartman refreshed the screen on her desk for what must have been the twentieth time that evening. There was still no word from Pine Ridge, Ellington's carrier. It was understandable. Pine Ridge undertook long deployments and restocking, even at a well-supplied shipyard, was no small undertaking. It didn't make the waiting any easier.

So, she busied herself with the small things.

She paced to the other side of the office, eyed the petty officer manning the desk outside. Petty Officer Molloy was a tall man, build like a rabbit and with the same air of constant surprise. When she was first appointed to flag rank Hartman had loathed the idea of an aide. Couldn't see the point in dragging a perfectly capable sailor away from duty to do her paperwork for her. Six weeks of doing it alone had quickly changed her perspective.

Hartman coughed to avoid startling him, and immediately felt like an idiot for it. "Any sign of Commander Valentine?"

"Nothing I've heard, ma'am." Molloy tapped his keyboard. Personnel reports flashed onto the screen alongside security checkpoints, pulsing a gentle amber. "No, still nothing since you last asked."

"How long ago was that?" It felt like hours.

"About three minutes, ma'am." Molloy said, deadpan. "Do you want me to check again in another sixty seconds?"

"No-one likes a smart-ass." Hartman turned back for the office. ""Lieutenant Commander Lewis?"

"Still waiting, ma'am." Molloy didn't bother calling Lewis' name up. Chances were that it wouldn't show up anyway, not without Morse or Davie's authentication codes. She'd already tried. "I'll let you know when they're here."

"Appreciate it, Petty Officer." Hartman sealed the door behind her and returned to Rivers's report. Thirty seconds later, Molloy’s voice crackled over her intercom.

"Still no sign of Valentine, ma’am." Molloy’s grin didn’t show on the intercom, but Hartman could see it all the same. She rolled her eyes skyward and killed the connection.

OOC: | Hullo folks. Post order for this one’ll be Hartman, Lewis, Valentine. It's set on the same evening as the patrol into Bretonia. |

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