“'Virtually' isn't very reassuring,” she mumbled as she leaned back, eyes smoldering. Luckily only Dakson heard her and shook his head slightly to caution her.
'Did you really expect a different answer this time?” the Chief asked.
'No, but it is still fucking stupid. I don't really think anyone will show up, but just because I am sure of that, I don't want that to jeopardize everyone on this planet. My opinion is not worth billions of lives.'
Chief Dakson smiled, 'That's why I love you, ma'am, no pretensions about the intrinsic worth of your opinions!'
Lieutenant Pipkin rolled her eyes but smiled at the same time. 'I keep you around to keep me grounded, not give me a big head...'
They were distracted from their private conversation by their companions pushing back their chairs and standing up, talking trivialities with their neighbors as they made their way toward the door. Dakson and Pipkin joined the exodus from the captains conference room.
“Have you found something for our cadets to occupy their time with?” Pipkin asked.
“I think I will have them on the upper level cleaning out cobwebs to finish out the day. I gave them the morning off with some training and a long lunch so I have to do something to convince them I'm not really a nice guy.”
They continued to talk about unimportant topics until they got into the car and it started on its way back to the flight line. Inside the vehicle they let their true feelings cloud their faces, both knowing what the others' thoughts of the Captain's opinion were without either of them having to give voice to them.
The short ride passed in companionable silence as they both chewed over the days events. When the car arrived at the main hangar, they got out, nodded to each other, and went their separate ways once they entered the building, she toward her office and him toward the training shop.
As the chief came around the side of the damaged spacecraft in its cradle, he saw the two cadets standing at their ease in front of the shop door. He consciously straightened himself up and cleared his face, putting on his work mask – cheerfully and distantly efficient. As the young men saw him coming they straightened up into parade rest and watched him approach.
“Okay boys, are you ready to earn your keep? Let's go, I'll show you where the cleaning locker is and we will get you started up top.”
Chapter 2: The Darkening Sky
Cadet Brison dragged himself out of the transient barracks rack, groaning as his sore muscles protested his every movement. Bleary eyed he shuffled across the open bay berthing to the closets, giving Cadet Walkers' rack a vigorous kick as he stumbled by. He ignored Walkers' mumbled complaints as he opened his locker and grabbed his towel out of the back and threw it over his shoulder, then took his shower kit off the top shelf.
“You would think after months of working through everything Driscol and Waugh could throw at us, we would be over this damn soreness,” complained Walker behind him.
“No kidding... But, then, we weren't spending ten hours a day either hunched over a broom or with our arms above our heads.”
“Maybe we should suggest this place to them as a torture pit. Have them send the screw ups here for a week.”
“Not a bad idea,” Brison responded as he walked out of the room on his way to the shower. As the door closed behind him he heard the bed creak as Walker finally got up. Shuffling down the passageway he shook his head. These last three days certainly weren't what he expected when he got the assignment here. Sweeping the endless concrete of the hangar or clearing cob webs out of the maze of rafters above that same expanse of floor certainly had nothing to do with familiarizing himself with a fighter and it's operations. He was still brooding about the injustice of it all as he entered the shower room, shucked his clothes, and eased himself into the soothing flow of water. Though, as the hot streams of water massaged and worked the tensions out of his aching neck and back, he did have to admit that the bathing facilities certainly beat the crap out of what he had to use over at the recruit training center barracks. And he didn't have Chief Driscol and Petty Officer Waugh in his face all day every day. He also had to concede that it was certainly more pleasant to share a room with only one other person than a hundred other smelly, grumbling, pissed off men and women.
By the time he shut off the water and stepped out to dry himself, he was feeling much better. Brison was almost smiling as he thought about being able to work around the majestic bulk of the fighter sitting in it's maintenance cradle in the center of the hangar bay. By the time he had finished toweling himself off, getting dressed, and packing his toiletries, he was smiling. He left the head with increased vigor in his stride, almost bouncing as he entered his and Walkers' room – his obvious anticipation of the day earned him a sour scowl from his room mate.
“I don't see what there is to smile about, asshole,” Walker said by way of greeting, and bent back to finish tying his boots.
Ignoring the other cadets' grouchiness, he pulled his dungarees and boots out of his closet and began climbing into uniform. “You should start taking your showers in the morning.”
Walker finished up with his boots and stood up, turning his usual morning glare back to Brison. “Why, so I can be as cheery as you afterward? No thanks. It is indecent to act that way in the morning.”
“Whatever, man,” Brison snapped at Walker as he pulled on his own boots, “You just want a reason to complain everyday.”
With a small chuckle, Walker reminded him “Like I need an excuse to complain. It's every cadets job to anticipate a terrible day, that way we are pleasantly surprised if anything positive happens.”
“Yeah, and how is that working for you?”
“Nothing has ruined my day by pleasantly surprising me yet!”
Both men left the berthing, laughing softly, and made their way down to the hangar deck.
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