Crisis by David Drake

Author:David Drake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Event Horizon Publishing Group
Published: 2019-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

The second meeting in Bear Country went much smoother than the first, and Talley was glad that he had taken the “nice guy” approach with his command team. Huntley, his X.O., had sounded more military in calling the officers to attention, and Purvis had been persuaded to keep Chief Commissary Officer Ruel busy elsewhere. The cargo officer was busy preparing an onboard inventory, and in a few minutes he’d begin an inspection of the ship. In the meantime, two things bothered him: first, that he had forgotten to ask about towels; and second, he had the horrible feeling that he had met the galley slave before.

Executive Officer Huntley, clipboard tucked into the crook of his arm, knocked on Talley’s door before he could brood himself into gut-rumbling misery about where he and Thelma Ruel might have met in the past. Pulling on his cap, Talley started out on his inspection tour of the FCTV 621-J. As they walked down the gangway toward the forward crew quarters, he and Huntley fell into casual conversation.

“Tell me, Huntley,” Talley began, “how long have you been in Fleet?”

“Oh, about two years, sir. Joined up at the tail end of the last big war against the Khalia, although I didn’t see any action. I’ve been stuck in transport all along.” Huntley sighed, and Talley couldn’t tell if his exec really was disappointed with his career or was putting him on.

“Spent all your time with the 621-J?” Talley asked.

“The which, sir?–Oh, yeah. No, I was transferred to the Veg-o-matic a little over a year ago.”

Talley stopped and turned to Huntley. “What do you mean ‘the Veg-o-matic’?”

”Well, sir”–Huntley’s face began to redden slightly–”that’s what the crew and everybody calls this ship. The Veg-o-matic, sir.”

“Huntley, why is this ship called the Veg-o-matic?” Talley could tell from the pained look on Huntley’s face that he wasn’t sure that it hadn’t been a mistake to let slip the ship’s nickname.

“Because, sir,” Huntley’s voice dropped, and he avoided the commander’s eyes, “it’s got Veg-o-matic drive.”

Instinctively Talley loosened his belt a notch to relieve the pressure on his lower regions.

“Mr. Huntley,” he began, “I’ve shipped out with Fleet for nearly two decades, and in all that time I’ve never once heard of ‘Veg-o-matic drive.’ So what I’m going to do”–he could feel the pressure in his stomach beginning to build–“is take one of these little blue pills, and ask you to tell me all about it. Okay?”

Huntley gulped as Talley swallowed the pill.

“Sir, I’m not totally conversant with the entire process. I think it might be better if you talked to Lieutenant Bermann. She knows all about veg-o–er, ah–this stuff.”

The agony in Talley’s lower abdomen was reaching critical mass, causing him to clench his teeth In an attempt to control himself.

“Fine,” he managed in a strained voice. “Let’s go see the lady.”

Flight Information Monitoring Officer Nancy Bermann had been on the FCTV 621-J since its launch at the peak of the Khalian offensive.

“It’s really simple, sir. During the Iast war we lost a lot of equipment to the Khalia.

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