Still playing with this one… Comments/recommendations appreciated!
Morgan stowed his sniper rifle in its proper place in the armory rack, scratched an itch in his beard, picked up the debris from the rifle cleaning, and dropped it in the burn bin as Top Sergeant London strode into the armory. “Gah, you stink Sergeant Diederik. What the hell did you and Alesander roll in?”
Morgan slumped on the bench, taking a long drink from the electrolyte bulb. “Top, it was a hundred ten out there, no wind, not enough liquids, and we spent two damned days in that concealed hide up on the mountain. Didn’t see shit to shoot at either.”
London shrugged. “Well, it was fitty-fitty which side was going to get action. I figured you’d get plenty the way the operations order was laid out. Anyway, we were OPFOR, so we didn’t really have control.”
Corporal Alesander, short, squat, black-haired with two days of beard, stumped in, racked his rifle and sat down across from Morgan. “Top, you fucked us. Opposing force my ass. We never even saw a scout. Maurice and Archie got nine kills, resupplied, and a nice, shaded hide. Why don’t you like us?”
London’s grin was feral at best. “Well, you two are the colonel’s golden boys.” He pointed at Morgan. “Just look at the good sergeant. Doesn’t he look like a poster boy for the reserves? Bright blonde hair, beard, blue eyes, slim, fit, why he’s a vid star, doncha know.”
Morgan surged up off the bench, glaring at London, who took a step back. “Top, we do our drills. You know our scores are better than anybody else in the batt. Yes, we saved the colonel’s life during the Gamma Five excursion when he was a major. Yes, he knows who we are by name. Why do you have a hard on for us? You’ve never been in combat with us!”
“Don’t have to be to know sleazebags like you that trade on their laurels with the brass.” London bristled. “Get cleaned up and fall out for formation in thirty. I’ll be back to see if your weapons are actually clean.” With that, he stomped out of the armory, leaving Morgan and Jess staring at one another.
Diederik looked up at the overhead and finally said, “Jess, I’m wondering if staying in the reserves is worth it. Six years active, and now four here on Epsilon Prime and I’m still a sergeant and you’re still a corporal.”
Alesander got up slowly. “I know, Morgan. I know. But it’s still extra money, and,” he grinned, “We still get to play with our toys. It was odd that we never saw the OPORD though. That normally comes through intel.” Turning toward the door, he added, “I’m for the shower and a clean uniform. You and I both know London is going to fail our weapons, so we’ll have to come clean them again, so I’m going to keep this uniform handy.”
“Yeah, that asshole will find something to gig us on.” Jeff is right, intel is part of our jobs. And since Top took over, we’re not seeing as much as we used to. I think I need to look into that a little deeper.
***
At zero seven on one day, Morgan stepped through the door into the operations center for Epsilon Stellar Shipping. Zagros pulled the headset off, unfolded from the command chair in front of the system holo tank, and said, “All quiet over the weekend, but you’re going to be busy today!” He smiled, letting his fangs show. “And the boss is on the rampage over the German again.”
Morgan glanced into the holo tank. “What now?” He only saw one orange track coming from the Centauri Republic.
“Two extra days in the Centauri sector, claimed he had tuning problems with the drive.”
“So whatever scam he was running either took too long, or he had problems collecting?”
Zagros shrugged both sets of shoulders. “No idea.” He grinned again. “But you get to deal with it, and the boss.”
Morgan slipped into the chair and grimaced. “Oh, thank you.” Slipping on the headset, he felt the click as his neural lace connected to the system. He glanced up to see Zagros wave as he headed for the door.
An hour later, he felt a tap on his shoulder and surfaced from his concentration on ship movements and coordination. Looking up, he saw Milagro Chin, ESS owner glaring at him.
Chin snapped, “I want the German gone! No more…never again.”
Morgan nodded. “Gone. Got it, Mr. Chin. I need to coordinate with Stellar Expediters for the Sol emergency shipments, but the German will not get another contract from us.”
Chin straightened and pushed his graying long black hair back over his forehead. “There is issue?”
“Too many ton equivalent units, staggered deliveries, not enough hulls unless we hold to fill. Also, possibly some bulk versus TEU issues. I need to coordinate that with SE’s folks to minimize the holds.”
Chin mumbled, “Sorry I ever stepped off the bridge. Easier…Now, too many…” He shook his head and added, “Do what you need.” Puffing out his chest, he strutted out of operations, leaving Morgan and the others looking at each other.
Morgan finally said, “Somebody get SE on the line. Shikary, find somebody to take the German’s load when he gets here.
Moments later, Shikary said, “SE for you, Morgan. I will work on the German’s cargo.”
He touched his headset and said, “Morgan Diederik ESS. To whom am I…”
Laughter interrupted his words. “Morgan, so official today. Are you still playing soldier?”
Shaking his head, he saw the woman on the other end of the comm. “No, Kirsten, I’m working.” Long glossy black hair, laughing green eyes, petite, with a beautiful smile. He made his voice severe, “And so should you be! We have…issues we need to work out.”
“Oh, we do, do we?”
He could almost see her eyebrow arching as she said it, and he chuckled. “Not those issues. I’ve got hull problems with the emergency shipments to Sol.”
A half hour later, they’d worked out enough compromises that only two ships would have to wait twelve to eighteen hours between unloading and loading to get everything on the way and meet the delivery schedule. He pushed the revisions to the tank, copied Mr. Chin, and finished the rest of the normal coordination issues with the ships, cargoes, destinations that had piled up.
By nineteen, he was yawning and ready to call it a day when Zagros strolled back in. “Nothing hot. The German knows he’s gone. Chin commed him directly. As far as we know, nobody from Centauri is after him.”
Zagros laughed. “Good! The Sol shipments?”
“Sorted. Earth’s atmosphere is finally responding to the terraformer’s attempts to raise the temperature and get them out of the incipient ice age. These shipments were mostly GMO’ed food stuffs that will grow in colder temperatures, so we had a bulk versus weight issue.”
Zagros cocked shoulders on one side. “So, loading issues, yes?”
Morgan laughed. “Not really, your folks huddled up, set up a line, and hand loaded the sprouts into the shipboard racks quicker than any machines could have done.”
The rest of the week passed quietly, or as quietly as it could with Mr. Chin for a boss. By five day, Morgan was ready for some relaxation, after effectively a dozen days in a row of work. Jeff had messaged him that the gang was going to be at Taverna at twenty, so he ran by his two bedroom flat, quickly showered, and changed into what he thought of as ‘business casual’.
A dark gray shirt over deep blue pants, sliding his stinger pistol around to the four o’clock position as he loaded his pockets with what was jokingly referred to as pocket lint. His ID chit, credit chits, and his micro comm minimized the bulk as he slid his earbuds in, knowing the Taverna would be noisy. The last thing he did was to pop two anti-hol tabs. Huh, this new version tastes like peppermint.
An autocar ride later, he stepped into the wall of noise that was the Taverna on a five day night, and chuckled. “Oh, it’s going to be one of those nights.” Stopping by the bar, he grabbed a beer and peered into the back of the Taverna. Seeing a hand waving, he made his way to the back corner furthest from the stage and saw the rest of the gang had taken over two booths and a table.
He looked but didn’t see Kirsten and bit his lip as Jeff got up. “She’s here, just in the little girl’s room with Lissa and Rusico.” Jeff pointed to the booth on the left. “That one is ours. Back to the wall. This week has sucked and I’m gonna tie one on!”
Morgan cocked his head. “What happened?”
Jeff growled, “Politics and bullshit. We were upgrading the official city net, and the comptroller didn’t want her precious stuff touched by us unclean tech types.”
Snorting, Morgan said, “I’ll bet I know how that ended!”
Jeff shook his head. “Still hasn’t. She unplugged her entire division from the net!” He grimaced. “And refuses to reconnect it. We can’t do shit until it’s back online, but my bosses wanted everything done by close of business today. Needless to say, that didn’t happen—”
The three ladies came back, interrupting Jeff’s tirade, with Kirsten, in a dark gray shift, brushing his lips and she slipped her arms around him. “Glad you made it. I was wondering, it’s been almost two weeks.”
He murmured, “You knew I had duty last weekend, and we never have time to meet up during the week.” He kissed her soundly, to applause from Jeff, Lissa, and Rusico, who squealed and reached out to grab a man walking by.
Jeff and Lissa, both of them dressed in blue outfits, slipped back into the booth and Morgan and Kirsten sat down, with all of them watching Rusico. Redheads and their green dresses… She turned, pulling him around, and said, “Hey, this is Tomas, he works with me at the hospital.”
The muscular dark haired man ducked his head. “I…well, I used to be a nurse, but now I’m a radiologist.” He smiled at Rusico. “Tomas Howard.”
Rusico laughed. “Doctor Tomas Howard. And he’s a good one!” She hugged him possessively. “And we miss your humor and lifting ability.”
Tomas shook his head. “That is why you really liked me. I could lift the patients.”
As the night wore on, the conversations ran, as always, in random directions, until Tomas mentioned that he was also a reservist and told them a story from the past weekend. “It was really odd, we were getting ready to pack up when the top kick from…three twenty fourth, I think, came in and talked to Top Bedford about how he was going to get rid of a couple of malingerers he had. He mentioned they’d been stuck out on a hide for two days, and didn’t do anything, so he was starting a documentation trail to…”
Morgan glanced at Jeff and saw his face go blank. Yeah, he’s talking about us. What the hell? Documenting that we did nothing? Hell, that asshole put us out there. Now I wonder if that’s why we’re not seeing all the intel feeds all of a sudden. I need to get home for a weekend. Morgan made a hand signal to Jeff to be quiet, and sat back as Tomas finished his story. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kirsten cock her head at him, just as the band leader said, “Anybody want to hear Torch?”
Kirsten groaned. “Not tonight. Please, not tonight. I want—”
Her plaint was interrupted by the crowd chanting, “Torch, Torch, Torch.”
Morgan chuckled as he got up. “Your fans await, my dear.” He held out his hand to her to help her out of the booth, but she slapped it away.
She got up and hissed in his ear, “You’re going to pay for that, Morgan Diederik! She stalked toward the bandstand, shaking her head ruefully, even as she waved to the chanting crowd.
Morgan sat back with a smile, knowing what was coming as Tomas turned to the bandstand. “What is going on? Torch?”
Lissa smiled. “You’ve never been here when she sings, have you?” Tomas shook his head, and she continued, “You are in for a treat! Kirsten underwent operatic training, graduated with a dual degree in music and math, and can sing anything!”
Tomas asked, “Why do they call her Torch?”
Rusico snorted. “She specialized in ancient music. Sad, romantic, lost love, things like that. And she sang in three operas her senior year. Aida, Tristan and Isolde, and…”
Lissa said, “Oh, oh, and The Merry Widow!”
Tomas’ reply was interrupted by the band starting up with an old song, and Kirsten’s voice ringing out over the entire bar.
A half hour later, Jeff poked Morgan, “You hear what she’s singing? Losing that loving feeling? Man, you better do something about that.”
Morgan nodded. “I know, I know. It’s…complicated.”
“Well, you better uncomplicate it before she walks away. Lissa says she’s not happy.”
Blowing out a breath, Morgan nodded. “Soon.” I need to go home next weekend. And I need to buy a present for Marie for graduating from her residence program. Morgan figured it was close to the end of the band’s set, and headed for the bar, knowing Kirsten would want a drink.
Kirsten came back to the table and slipped into the booth. “I need a drink! Gah, I sounded like crap!”
Morgan slid the drink in front of her and said, “No, you didn’t! You sounded great as always!”
“Did not!” She tossed off half the drink and shuddered. “I’m gonna have words with Tris over his music choices! I swear, he cannot, cannot stay on tempo on the ballads!”
Tomas slowly clapped. “I…have never heard such music, and your voice!”
Kirsten nodded. “It’s old stuff, from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Very few know it anymore.” She chuckled. “As far as the voice, it’s all about projection.”
Lissa snorted. “And you have perfect pitch, bitch! Remember, I was in the same damned classes with you!”
Kirsten laughed. “Oh Lissa, you are…”
“Not as good as you, which is why I was always the second singer!”
The two of them chorused, “But we had funnnn!” And collapsed laughing as they toasted glasses.
Morgan and Jeff just shook their heads and didn’t bother responding, knowing it was safer to keep their mouths shut.
A few minutes later, Kirsten leaned over and whispered, “Can we leave, please? I…don’t want to sing anymore tonight.”
Six day morning, Morgan watched as Kirsten slipped his shirt on before she left the bedroom, humming a popular song. I need to just give her the ring and get it over with. She knows I love her, and I’m pretty sure she loves me. But…the whole family thing…I gotta go talk to mom and dad before I go any further.
Seemingly moments later, Kirsten padded back into the bedroom, two cups of coffee in her hands. He stretched, and both felt and heard his back pop as she sat his cup on the nightstand next to the bed. “Here you go, sleepyhead. Coffee, black, strong, and hot. And I get the shower first!” She grinned as she set her cup down, stripped off his shirt, and dashed for the fresher.
Morgan hitched himself up and leaned against the headboard, slowly sipping the coffee, and pondering what he should do next. He glanced at the nightstand where the ring sat in the top drawer, temping him to propose today. I…gotta talk to the folks.
