"Olympus Beckons - Part 2"
The Zeus arced through space, curving smoothly away from the two contacts now receding in the aft viewplate, and Captain Frobisher had to stifle the grin that threatened the mask of calm authority that any Captain worth her salt worked so hard to maintain. The last exchange with the Commander of that Syndicate bucket of bolts had been pretty lively and the stirring among the bridge crew when the destroyer cleared for action and brought her guns online was palpable.
She herself didn't give a shit about a handful of two-bit hookers on the lam from some spaceport out on the arse-end of nowhere. The poor bitches were probably running from a crappy existence taking it up the butt on a daily basis from a bunch of sweaty spacers. If they escaped that and found a better life then good luck to them as far as she was concerned, but plotting the intercept and running to action stations was too good a drill to miss, especially if the threat looked real. That was the only way to properly test the mettle of her crew under stress, outwith actual combat that is.
Besides, it neatly distracted her XO. Damon was a decent officer, hardworking and competent, but the man was a plodder. He was determined enough, and she was pretty sure he was no coward. Once given a task he would diligently carry it out, but he had no bloody flair! And God, he was dull. She sniffed,
"At least he's good looking. I think I'd have thrown him out the airlock by now if not for that. I wonder if he's fucking anyone? I wouldn't mind taking him for a ride, that's for sure. I bet I could put a smile on that handsome face."
She chuckled at the thought and then sighed,
"Ah well, back to the loneliness of command I guess."
Oblivious to her musings the man in question looked up from his board, "Something wrong, Captain?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she dismissed the lascivious thoughts tickling her imagination, "The gun crews did will clearing for action, but the damage control parties were a tad slow. I think a few drills might be in order, don't you agree?"
The man braced himself, and gave the only answer he could, "Of course, Captain, I'll schedule them immediately."
"Very good," she paused, and pursed her lips, "let them know I'm considering a twenty-four-hour shore-pass for the most effective team."
"Are you, Captain?"
She chuckled, "Of course, never promise your crew anything you don't at least try to deliver, Damon."
"I could just administer punitive discipline if they don't improve."
The bridge was crowded with consoles, numerous tactical viewscreens, gunnery computers and all manner of gear that one would expect to find on the command deck of a warship, as well as a dozen spacers who were within easy hearing range.
Knowing they were listening she sipped her coffee and paused for a moment, before turning to eye him, "You think that's the best way to go?"
To give the man his due he at least took a moment to consider before replying, "Perhaps not, but it is an option."
"Indeed it is, Damon, indeed it is. But carrot first, and then, if that doesn't work, we turn to the stick as necessary."
"As you say, Captain."
Nodding she turned away, "Helm, put us back on course to follow the residual ion trail we detected earlier. Sensors, anything new?"
The scantech looked up, "It's still there, Captain, looks like a high energy turn sunward. From the particle density I'm guessing they're maneuvering to scoop plasma."
The XO made a disgruntled noise, "Once they start skimming the outer corona the solar winds will disperse the trail and the radiation will mask them. They'll be impossible to track. Given that, perhaps it's time to call it a day?"
"Hell's teeth, give me strength..."
Tugging the sleeve of her uniform tunic she turned back to the man, "There's more than one way to skin a cat, Damon."
"But..."
A raised finger silenced him, and she turned to another of the bridge crew, "Nav, a theoretical problem for you."
Lieutenant Selene Collingwood, the tall fair-haired woman who served as senior navigator aboard ship looked up from her console. She was a slender creature, with the delicate, almost elfin frame of a woman who had been born and raised on a low-g world. Frances knew she loved nothing more than a mathematical problem to tantalise her. She also possessed something of a predatory nature, and the Captain was seriously considering transferring her to tactical. It would be a decent career move, but her absence in Nav would be felt.
She was also another figure who sometimes intruded on the Captain's dreams, usually wearing nothing more than a smile.
The navigator gave her an alluring look, "Yes, Captain?"
"Oh, dear Gods..."
"Ahem, yes, Selene," she rose from her command chair and moved to the nav console.
"Assuming our target vessel penetrated the outer corona at the point where our sensors lose their ion trail, and they then proceed on a run to skim plasma on the same orbital vector. And assuming what with them being pirates and all, that they have somewhat neglected non-combat maintenance and so operate their scoops at say... eighty percent efficiency. Then use those parameters to calculate their most likely exit point and trajectory, please."
The woman tilted her head as she looked at her commander for a moment before pointing at her console, "Already done, Captain. It's only an estimate, obviously, but their emergence point should be about there."
Selene grinned, "Already done, you say?"
"Yes, Captain, I anticipated your request based on the likelihood you would wish to continue the pursuit. I can show you the calculations if you like."
"You should have joined the Navy."
The navigator shrugged, "They wouldn't have me, Captain. I couldn't pass the physical. They said I was too... frail."
"Hmm, well, their loss, and my gain. I'm certainly glad to have you."
The navigator beamed, but there was a definite note of mischief in her voice, "We'll see, Captain."
Frances turned to the XO with a grin, "Flair."
"Beg pardon?"
"I said we'd best mind solar flares. I want a high-speed intercept course to that nav point. If the corona hides them then it'll do the same for us. Take us down if you please."
The man frowned, "At high speed the radiation and other particles will impact the screens, Captain."
"Will they hold?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then carry out the order, please."
He snapped to attention, "Aye, aye, Captain."
A couple of hours later she was standing in line at the dispenser hatch in the ship's galley. Normally she took her meals alone in her somewhat cramped quarters, or maybe sharing a dinner with her officers in the wardroom. But occasionally she liked to eat with the rest of her crew in the mess-deck. It was good, she thought, for the spacers to see her eating the same food as them, and maybe even bitching about the same shitty rations. She could never be one of them, of course, but it was no bad thing to at least appear human, sometimes.
Which was why she looked up from her tray at the cook's mate before pointing at her plate, "What's that supposed to be?"
The man grinned, "Why, corn-bread, Captain, I think... It's good for you."
She held up her cup for a refill as she turned to the rating behind her, "Looks like something that evolved in our reactor and crawled out through waste disposal. You think this is even edible?"
"Well now, Captain, I wouldn't like to say."
She grinned, "At least the coffee's good."
The cook piped up, "Best thing on the ship, I brewed it myself."
Sipping the steaming brew, she nodded in satisfaction as she looked about the messdeck, surreptitiously gauging the mood of her crew, before turning back to the next spacer waiting to be served. He was a younger rating, and quite the handsome fellow, she grinned, "Steve."
The man blinked, "Uh, Captain?"
"How's the wife?"
"She's um, fine, ma'am. Thanks' for asking."
"Uhuh, heard you had another kid. You must have been busy last time you were on leave."
The man blushed, "Um, well, you see..."
"And does the missus know about that piece you were seeing on Ramases II? Or the tart on Exeter Station? The one you bought flowers for?"
Laughter erupted along the line as the man goggled, "You know about that?"
An engineers mate slapped him on the back, "Don't you realise, the Captain knows everything!"
She sniffed and smiled at the stocky woman, "Oh, not everything. I mean I definitely don't know about the still hidden away beneath the engineering subspaces down on deck three. I mean, if I knew, or found out about that, then I'd probably have to speak to the XO, and then God help the poor sod he decided was responsible."
