Rogue Powers by Roger Macbride Allen

Author:Roger Macbride Allen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction

* * *

The informal rituals of morning—breakfast getting ready, coffee brewing, a brightly lit wardroom—cheered the group, relaxed and revived them, just as Mac had intended. And a change of scene from the room where they had seen the tape of the worms didn't hurt either. Everyone was surprised to find they had an appetite.

The breakfast table was more conducive to light banter and jokes than to political talk. Even Captain Driscoll relaxed a little. "You're not a captain yet,' she said to Mac, "so I can still order you around. I’ll take four eggs, over easy."

"Three eggs for me," Pete said. "Sunny-side up, and don't break the yokes."

"Two for me, soft-boiled," Randall put in.

"Civilians and everybody who doesn't outrank me will get scrambled eggs and like them," Mac said warningly. "The boss, I have to take care of. And you can all make your own toast." Mac enjoyed cooking, and he was good at it, or at least good at producing simple, hearty fare. His scrambled eggs turned out to be a huge omelet with half the contents of the refrigerator thrown into it, good enough to tempt Driscoll into changing her mind about taking her eggs over easy.

It was good to see old friends again, even in the midst of war and politics. No one wanted to mix business talk with the meal anyway, so Mac spent most of the meal catching up with Randall and George, hearing about Bandwidth and how they had figured out Capital's sky—and trying not to think about Joslyn. Randall wanted to hear about the court-martial, but Mac was quite firmly not interested in discussing it.

Finally the meal was over, the dishes cleared away, and the five of them sat and talked over one last cup of coffee. There was a lot of news, a lot to think on.

"Mac," Captain Driscoll said. "When your captain's bars come through, would you mind terribly hanging them up for a while? Very temporary, a brevet demotion?"

"What? Now what have I done?"

Driscoll smiled and shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's my problem. If we're going to have half the ships in space descending on us, this base has got to be run right. And Commander Ortega, my executive officer, got killed on the Imp. I want you in there as a brevet commander, my XO, until we can get things a bit sorted out. It's no time to bring in an officer who doesn't know the layout. You know the base, the way things run, who the right people are—and you're a name, and people will listen to you, respect you. I need you, at least until the fleet sails. Then you'll be wanted there, with the fleet. Will you do it?"

Mac sighed and stared at his coffee. He was just starting to get used to the idea of being a captain, the respect, the rank and privileges. And, though he had never been overly ambitious about rank, there wasn't a naval officer anywhere who could hear the word "captain" without thinking "admiral.

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