Blood Impulse

Part 18.4 - A MANUFACTURING WORLD

Halogen Sector, Battleship Singularity

Ensign Walters had already taken his post on the bridge by the time the Admiral got there. "Sir," the navigator called, "there has been an adjustment to our course. The log indicates no note of it."

By his count, "Fifteen degrees to starboard, correct, Ensign?"

Walters pushed his glasses up his nose to hastily check his readouts, "Yes, sir."

"As ordered then," he said, "Ensign Dellaroux must have forgotten to log it. I called it in at the end of her shift." While none of that was technically accurate, he could see Walters visibly relax. The poor kid must have thought it was a malfunction with the navigational systems – something that was potentially deadly for a ship if not caught and corrected. "What is the destination of our newest course, Ensign?"

"The Centaur System in the Archer Sector, sir." It was a direct path from their current position to that solar system, though it remained many sectors away.

"Sagittarion," Zarrey groaned, staggering onto the bridge with an especially pungent cup of coffee. "Last I checked two task forces had been sent out there. That's six battleships. What kind of idiot put us on a course to go there?"

"I did," the Admiral said, watching Monty easily slide in at the weapons console. Behind him, Jazmine stumbled over to his post at the helm. Judging by Jazmine and Zarrey's slow movements and shadowed eyes, a party celebrating their separation from Command had been thrown somewhere on board – probably in the ship's bar he pretended not to know about.

"Oh," Zarrey said, checking his tone. "Why would you do that?"

Let's find out. "Call Ensign Smith up here," he ordered the comms officer. Sagittarion was her home planet. She might have some useful insight into the situation. The Admiral didn't address Zarrey or Jazmine's obvious condition. A hangover wouldn't kill them, but it would certainly hurt like hell if emergency maneuvers became necessary.

Robinson and Galhino came in next for the shift change, not so subtly rubbing each other's hands. Zarrey tried several times to quietly get their attention, but they were lost in their own little world whispering softly to one another.

The Admiral gave them a few minutes, waiting for Ensign Smith to arrive. But even after all the other stations had changed hands to the day shift, they remained thoroughly distracted. Well, infatuated might have been a better description. "Lieutenants."

Galhino and Robinson sprung apart like a mine had gone off between them. The terror was clear on their faces. "Sir?"

He checked his watch idly, "Your shift started ten minutes ago. Try to arrive on time."

"Yes, sir," they said, sneaking relieved glances to one another. "It won't happen again." The pair split ways immediately among a small chorus of snickers.

"Heh," Zarrey said with a wink, "Seems like ours wasn't the only party that happened last night." He looked expectantly to the person next to him, waiting for a laugh. Unfortunately, that happened to be the Admiral, and he received only silence, his joke wasted. "Dammit, you never laugh at anything."

"Perhaps because you are not as funny as you think you are, XO," the Admiral replied stonily.

"I'm funny," Zarrey promised. "Owens thought my joke was hilarious." He looked over to the nearby yeoman. "Right?"

"You're a pig." Rolling her eyes, Owens threw his copy of the situation report at him.

The thick packet of papers knocked Zarrey's mug easily from his hands, splashing the contents onto the radar console, again. "No!" he cried, grabbing up his cup, "My coffee!"