The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [76]
As expected, Narsanyala nodded once more in approval.
The aquatic, Qoh—or was it Qam—pressed his face against the transparent tank and loosed a series of mournful whistles that caused everyone to face him at once, since aquatics rarely spoke. He’s correct, Qoh articulated, in the only language he was capable of producing. Since his pacing was much slower than Shresht’s, Degra had no trouble translating this time. They won’t find what they’re looking for ... Let them keep searching.
His statement caused an outburst of defiant chatter from the insectoids.
We’re growing tired of your excuses! Shresht complained. Dark, slender limbs flailing, wings fluttering, he turned to Degra in subtle acknowledgment of what none of them would openly admit—that the primate had the most influence of them all.
Finish the weapon ... quickly! Shresht threatened. Or we’ll destroy the Earth ship, whether this council approves or not!
Degra said nothing; he was used to Shresht’s temperament, and any efforts on his part to reassure the insectoid would be ignored or brushed aside. The weapon would be done when it was done—and that would be soon enough.
In the meantime, Degra was counting on the fact that even human persistence could not overcome the dangers of the Orassin distortion fields.
“Is this seat taken?” Reed asked.
He stood in the Enterprise mess, tray in hand; at the table before him, Major Hayes and a few of his officers were having lunch.
They rose, to the sound of chairs skittering rapidly backward, and stood at full attention as if ready for review.
“Sir,” Hayes said.
Only one open place remained, between Corporals Chang and Romero; Reed settled into it. At once, the others retook their seats with admirable military precision. Romero did so with a twinge of difficulty; he’d taken a blast in the thigh back on the mining planet.
Reed directed a faint smile at them all—but the MACOs remained still, poker-faced, hands in their laps. “As you were,” the lieutenant said.
He expected them to continue eating—but everyone stayed motionless. With a sigh, Reed picked up his own fork, and stabbed the piece of chicken on his plate; only then did the others pick up their utensils and recommence their meals.
Reed remembered Chang and Romero, both of whom had volunteered for the rescue operation, but there was a face at the table he didn’t recognize—a decidedly feminine one. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said.
Hayes remedied the situation at once. “Lieutenant Reed,” he said. “Corporal McKenzie.” Once again, no first names were involved. Reed was beginning to think that in order to become a MACO, one had to surrender one’s given name.
“Corporal,” Reed said, extending his hand. McKenzie was a small, slight woman, sharp-chinned and lean, but she returned Reed’s grip with impressive strength.
“Sir,” she said.
He felt he should say something more—pleasure, or charmed—but the MACOs would probably deem it inappropriate, too civilian. He broke off contact, then turned to the dark-haired Romero, who was making swift work of a nicely British meat-and-potatoes lunch. “Good to see you up and about, Corporal.”
Romero shrugged. “Wasn’t that serious, sir.”
Ah, yes, Reed thought, “Ever Invincible.” Can’t admit we’re human ... Even so, he was grateful to the young man for his bravery under fire.
Romero continued. “Anyway, your CMO’s very good at his job. A little strange—but pretty good.”
“Doctor Phlox, yes.” Reed smiled. “I must agree with you on both accounts there.”
An awkward silence passed. Finally, Major Hayes asked, “What’s our heading now, sir? I understand the coordinates the Xindi gave us didn’t exactly pan out.”
Interesting, Reed thought, that Hayes managed to stay so informed about what was happening aboard Enterprise. Technically, there was no liaison other than the Captain with the authority to share this kind of information with the MACOs—a situation which would need to be remedied. “No,” he admitted glumly. “We’re heading further into the Expanse.” He paused. “You might want to prepare