Fire Ant (The Navy of Humanity: Wasp Squadron Book 1) by Jonathan P. Brazee

Author:Jonathan P. Brazee [Brazee, Jonathan P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Semper Fi Press
Published: 2018-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Beth leaned against the passageway bulkhead, eyes closed. That had not gone well.

She’d never made it to chow. She’d remembered that the command master chief had told her to check in after the synch, so she’d stopped by her office, expecting to leave a message, but the master chief was there and called her in. For a good hour, Beth had sat quietly in the chair across from the squadron’s senior enlisted sailor, a member of the squadron’s “Big Three” of commander, XO, and command master chief.

Most of the time had been spent with the master chief telling Beth about herself and her philosophy on life. The master chief was a glass-half-empty type of person who seemed to believe that sailors did best when their feet were held to the fire. Beth knew the type—people suspicious about the motives of others—and she didn’t exactly mesh well with them.

At first, Beth just sat there, nodding, as the master chief when on. She had authority over Beth, true, but as a pilot, Beth thought she’d be somewhat protected from her control. At least, that was how PO1 Muhamed, back at Type School, had explained the dynamics of the new enlisted pilots.

Listening to the master chief, though, Beth wasn’t sure that would be the case.

After giving Beth her history, she made it clear that she owned Beth. Sure, as a pilot, Beth would be working directly for her flight commander, Lieutenant Hadley. However, “to be 100% clear,” when she was not actually flying, Beth belonged to her.

Through other comments, it also became 100% clear that the master chief did not approve of enlisted pilots, and even more disapproved of Beth’s unorthodox jump from spaceman recruit to petty officer third class. Comments such as “Don’t think you’re going to sit on your ass and escape normal duties,” and “I’m putting you on the watch list starting the day after the next exercise’s endex,” pretty much made the woman’s point.

Beth thought the master chief would keep going, but a call came in that required her attention, so with an “I’m watching you, Dalisay,” she let Beth go. Too late for chow, though. The station was small enough that it didn’t have 24-hour service, and Beth would have to wait until midrats to calm her angry belly.

She took ten deep breaths, calming herself. She’d been up against far more in her life, and she wasn’t going to let an asshole, even one with power over her, affect her. Pasting a smile on her face, she went next door to the CO’s office to retrieve her seabag, entered the space designator that the master chief had given her into her wristcomp, then dragged her seabag, following the path to her quarters. She started to buzz the entry button, in case her new bunkmate was inside, but thought screw it and waved her wrist comp over the access, opening the hatch.

The space was a little bigger than her quarters at HB: about ten feet deep and five feet wide.

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