Makepeace by Anna Butler

Author:Anna Butler [Butler, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

31 - 37 Quartus 7490: The dreadnought Caliban

At least Sioned and Powell were friendly.

Bennet wasn't blind to the fact that the only two prepared to cut him any real slack were the people who had known him before he came aboard. The Caliban's officers were a difficult bunch.

If he sat in a quiet corner of the OC and watched them, they were, to the last one, thrumming with excitement and energy. They formed little groups, sitting with their heads close together, gossiping and laughing, the members of the groups shifting and coalescing again. All of them open, laughing, talking over each other and laughing again, with big sweeping arm gestures and animated, wide, easy grins. Classic stuff. The attitudes of those without a care in the world and eagerly anticipating what was ahead. These weren't people who were reflecting on being behind enemy lines with all the risks and dangers that entailed. These were people relishing the task before them. The ship was on silent running now, on alert, and the pilots sat out their duty hours in the launch tubes and ready rooms, and still they grinned and laughed. Even when told this was a rescue mission, they grinned and laughed. They were enjoying themselves. Thrilled, about being behind enemy lines, taking to heart the Warwick dictum of pushing the Maess hard.

Unless Bennet joined them.

Then the grins faded; still there, but not as open, not as wide and unguarded. They closed down the expansive body language, closed in on themselves. They had taken Warwick's injunction not to ask questions as a reason for not speaking at all, mostly, past the common courtesies or polite conversations about Tierce, say, and the chances of favourite teams in the various leagues. On his second evening, he was such a blight on their spirits he spent half an hour listening to a cacophony of throat clearing and watched the pained grimaces as the group he was with tried to find something to say. Their relief when he left was palpable. The instant he made his excuses and walked away, the babble of conversation behind him started. Pointed. Exclusionary.

Was every smile as derisive as Kit's?

Consequently, he jumped at Sioned's invitation to have lunch, three days after his arrival. At least she would talk to him.

“I’m sorry I haven't seen much of you.” She said, hooking her arm through his as they walked to the commissary. She was warm against his side, in close. His arm brushed against her breast. “I was on swing shift until we switched to alert. I’m on the second shift now. There's nothing worse than swing for socialising. You're working while everyone else is having fun, and by the time you come off duty at midnight, most people are winding down for bed. Hate it.”

“Being on alert is an improvement?”

“But it is, Bennet! It's more exciting. It means we're on our way and things can only liven up.” She pointed out a quiet corner table. Once there, she signalled a steward for service, and sat opposite him, regarding him for a moment.

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