Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [70]
“Me? No! I’d tell you anything I knew. I don’t want to know any secrets, not ever. Secrets can get you killed. I never want to be the only one-” “Okay, okay” Stiles pushed himself off the helm and
uncracked his tingling arms from around his fibs. “I’ll keep you in protective custody until I can communicate with somebody about you… if you’ll just… quiet down a little. We’ll assign you a bunk… Travis, uh… get some crew up here to clean up all this broken plastic and chips.”
“Oh, I’ll do it!” Hashley dropped to his knees fight where he was standing and began swiftly plucking the residue of damage off the deck and stuffing it into his pockets. “I love to help. Sitting in quarters while everybody else is working, that’s just not for me. I’m an action kind of man.”
“Yeah… Travis, take us back over the Neutral Zone border and… hold position in case they need us again. I’ll be in my quaffers.”
With icy hands clenched, Stiles paused in the dimness of his quarters and closed his eyes. The computer had clicked and whirred, but it had provided only poor answers. A thousand memories shot back as if rocketing from yesterday instead of-what was it, now, fourteen, almost fifteen years ago? Didn’t seem so long. The door chime sounded. For a moment, he thought of not answering. “Yeah.”
The panel opened and Travis looked in. “Hey, Lightcudder. Can I interrupt?” “Sure.”
Travis came all the way in, carrying a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a particularly concerned expression he was trying to disguise as something else. He stood at the door for a moment as it closed behind him. “You all fight, Eric?” he asked.
Warmed by the solicitous effort, Stiles tried to appear relaxed by brushing the remains of his breakfast toast off his desk chair. “Eh, I guess so. Sit down, Travis. And I, in my infinite wisdom, shall sit also.”
He slumped into the chair, and put one boot up on the edge of a drawer that wasn’t quite closed and his elbow up on the desk. Depositing the hot chocolate on the desk near Stiles’ resting hand, Travis sat down on the bunk. The quarters were too small for two chairs, so the bunk was almost constantly rumpled, being used more often as a couch than a place to sleep. “Ship’s secure. Jeremy’s handling the damage we took-it should be repaired in about twenty minutes. And Ansue Hashley’s crawling around the chambers sucking up damage with the shoulderheld vac.”
“You guys are getting the process down fast with these new kids.”
“That’s what we do. The fight’s still going on, but the destroyers seem to have it locked up. The Romulan fighters are trickling away one by one. I think they’ll leave us alone.”
“Good;’ Stiles muttered. “I need to be left alone.” As Travis planted both feet and leaned forward, Stiles quickly amended, “No, no, I don’t mean you.”
The door chimed and Greg Blake poked in when the panel opened. “Eric, okay if we shut down the warp injection system so we can flush the lines?”
“How many of the Romulan fighters are still in the vicinity?” “Only about four now.” “‘About’ four?” “Guess I better check.”
“Guess you better. But listen, hail Captain Sattier and make sure we’re not pressuring her by staying in the vicinity. If she needs us to bear off, we’ll move out before we shut anything down. Be nice about it.” “Will do. Sorry to interrupt.” The door panel slid shut again.
“You never try to push, do you?” Travis observed. “That’s why all the captains appreciate you so much.” “It’s just that I’m sweet and polite and I know my place.” “Know your place… ?”
“Sure, think about it. CST’s are usually commanded by the guys who couldn’t qualify to run the glory machines, so they get out among the starshippers and try throwing their weight around. They’re impolite. They take it out on the captains, who they think surpassed them. I’m just not like that. I try to be accommodating and patient and helpful without being ub-ob-what’s that word you used last week?” “Obsequious?”
“That’s it. I’m satisfied with what I’m doing. Remember when we got assigned the CST duty? The team