your day, but I got outvoted. Ladies and gentlemen, I will now turn the floor over the Command Centurion Keller for your briefing.”
Jessica stepped in from the side hall and surveyed the group as she walked to the lectern. They scrambled to their feet in surprise as their commander walked in.
Iskra was a little taller but very blond. The assembled crew represented about every ethnicity in the Republic, bound together by service and experience. Most of them scowled at her. She returned the favor.
Darya Lagunov was in the third row, next to a short, dark, curvy woman who was at pains to ignore the tall, blond viking of a giant on her other side. Similar dynamics played out around her. They had obviously been together long enough to develop cliques, but not long enough for feuds.
Jessica let her scowl embrace them all for a few seconds, and then smiled. That seemed to unsettle them even more.
She found Jouster , Senior Flight Centurion Milos Pavlovic, the Flight Commander, seated off–center in the second row, about three meters away. He certainly looked the part of a hot–shot pilot and erstwhile ladies’ man. Brown hair, blue eyes, lantern jaw. Exuded a raw sexuality. Noble–born from one of the bluest of the blue–blood clans. A man born with a silver spoon in his mouth and all the advantages money and connections could bring.
Jessica was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt just from his service record. He should have gone into command, and would probably have been serving as executive officer on a cruiser now. Instead, he liked to fly, and was really good at it.
He was just now coming to his feet, well after everyone else. Jessica let her smile settle on him. That chip on the shoulder was the reason he was stationed clear the hell out here, instead of on the main frontier. That, and a history with the daughters of Fleet Lords.
It was a shame that First Lord Kasum had been unwilling to provide her a better Flight Commander. Or, as he had explained it, “There isn’t a better flyer out there. And I don’t have time for you to break a new leader in.”
“Be seated,” Jessica said quietly into the silence. She waited for them to settle and the coughing and rustling to stop.
“To make Simeon interesting for you,” she purred, “you’ll land short, run the range on guns alone, engage every target, and you won’t be done until there are kill–hits on everything in scan range.”
Jessica waited for the sudden surge of noise to die down. She watched Bitter Kitten turn to her compatriot with an evil, victorious smile. She imagined bets were going to be settled after this.
The young man in front raised his hand to get her attention.
“Yes, Jouster?” she inquired.
“Just how short were you planning to execute the jump, commander?” He managed to combine bored, sarky, and superior all in one tone.
Truly, a marvel of a man. However could she resist the raw charisma of his money and breeding? Gosh, princess. Watch.
“We’ll come out of Jumpspace a light hour out after our second exit, get our bearings, and jump again, Jouster ,” she replied, mimicking his tone almost perfectly. Others in the room noticed before he did. “The entire wing will execute a crash–launch when we come out at the entry to the range and go about your business.”
“Crash launches are dangerous, commander,” he scowled as he spoke, glancing about for support from his mates. The room seemed poised with anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but she certainly had their undivided attention.
Jessica refrained from smiling. She would probably look like a cat if she did right now.
“War is dangerous business, Centurion,” she replied with a verbal whip–crack. “I’d rather you made your amateur mistakes on a safe range than when it counted. Any other questions?”
One of the older pilots raised his hand. Holly Dyson had a shaved head, lanky build, and a handlebar mustache. And a reputation in the fleet
Jessica stepped in from the side hall and surveyed the group as she walked to the lectern. They scrambled to their feet in surprise as their commander walked in.
Iskra was a little taller but very blond. The assembled crew represented about every ethnicity in the Republic, bound together by service and experience. Most of them scowled at her. She returned the favor.
Darya Lagunov was in the third row, next to a short, dark, curvy woman who was at pains to ignore the tall, blond viking of a giant on her other side. Similar dynamics played out around her. They had obviously been together long enough to develop cliques, but not long enough for feuds.
Jessica let her scowl embrace them all for a few seconds, and then smiled. That seemed to unsettle them even more.
She found Jouster , Senior Flight Centurion Milos Pavlovic, the Flight Commander, seated off–center in the second row, about three meters away. He certainly looked the part of a hot–shot pilot and erstwhile ladies’ man. Brown hair, blue eyes, lantern jaw. Exuded a raw sexuality. Noble–born from one of the bluest of the blue–blood clans. A man born with a silver spoon in his mouth and all the advantages money and connections could bring.
Jessica was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt just from his service record. He should have gone into command, and would probably have been serving as executive officer on a cruiser now. Instead, he liked to fly, and was really good at it.
He was just now coming to his feet, well after everyone else. Jessica let her smile settle on him. That chip on the shoulder was the reason he was stationed clear the hell out here, instead of on the main frontier. That, and a history with the daughters of Fleet Lords.
It was a shame that First Lord Kasum had been unwilling to provide her a better Flight Commander. Or, as he had explained it, “There isn’t a better flyer out there. And I don’t have time for you to break a new leader in.”
“Be seated,” Jessica said quietly into the silence. She waited for them to settle and the coughing and rustling to stop.
“To make Simeon interesting for you,” she purred, “you’ll land short, run the range on guns alone, engage every target, and you won’t be done until there are kill–hits on everything in scan range.”
Jessica waited for the sudden surge of noise to die down. She watched Bitter Kitten turn to her compatriot with an evil, victorious smile. She imagined bets were going to be settled after this.
The young man in front raised his hand to get her attention.
“Yes, Jouster?” she inquired.
“Just how short were you planning to execute the jump, commander?” He managed to combine bored, sarky, and superior all in one tone.
Truly, a marvel of a man. However could she resist the raw charisma of his money and breeding? Gosh, princess. Watch.
“We’ll come out of Jumpspace a light hour out after our second exit, get our bearings, and jump again, Jouster ,” she replied, mimicking his tone almost perfectly. Others in the room noticed before he did. “The entire wing will execute a crash–launch when we come out at the entry to the range and go about your business.”
“Crash launches are dangerous, commander,” he scowled as he spoke, glancing about for support from his mates. The room seemed poised with anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but she certainly had their undivided attention.
Jessica refrained from smiling. She would probably look like a cat if she did right now.
“War is dangerous business, Centurion,” she replied with a verbal whip–crack. “I’d rather you made your amateur mistakes on a safe range than when it counted. Any other questions?”
One of the older pilots raised his hand. Holly Dyson had a shaved head, lanky build, and a handlebar mustache. And a reputation in the fleet
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