Luisa Kamajeck, XO-as-was, eyed the reflection the polished chrome doors of the lift showed her. Her uniform was pressed until the creases could have cut the unwary, her boots polished to a mirror gleam. Look as hard as she could, there was no speck of lint or stray hair needing to be brushed away.
Ready.
Ready to face the men and women Pilot'd left to take care of her hangar here in Torrinos when she'd kited off to the Republic, getting on for ten months ago now.
Men and women who'd known her as the XO, their XO.
Past is past, Lulu, Luisa told herself. Can't be picking and choosing when it comes to working or not working. And the cool metal of the doors showed her a woman who was no longer young enough to be on anyone's list down at Labor Hire.
As was blindingly obvious to anyone who had eyes to see.
And Pilot, silly, sweet-natured Pilot, was foolish, but in some ways was no fool.
So Luisa Kamajeck got a charity job back in the State, make-work keep-busy, supervising the engineers who had nothing but routine maintenance to do on the old Duty's Call, the Fortune's Fire, and the Fleet Fortune, keeping an eye on cargo-crews stacking discarded ammunition in piles and moving it to the other side of the hangar and then unstacking it and starting again.
Better than she could have expected, given how things had gone, even if the charity stuck in her throat.
Learnt long ago, Lulu, when something sticks in your throat there's nothing to do but swallow hard and choke it down.
Only way to get on in this life, that was. And there was Jamie to think about. Like to leave that boy with more of a start in life than I got.
If I can do that, I've done all right.
So she'd swallow Pilot's charity and like the taste.
And do a damn better job than she could expect, too.
The lift doors hissed open and Luisa strode out onto the hangar deck, not giving her knees a chance for any Spirits-damned complaining.
"Fore!"
Something small and white whizzed past her face too fast to be identified, shot into the lift and bounced off the back wall to roll to a stop at her feet.
Luisa looked down at the golf ball and then up at the man hurrying towards her holding what she thought, from her limited holo-viewing of the sport, was probably some sort of five-iron or ten-iron or Ancestors-fuck-me-iron for all she cared.
There were others behind him, holding golf sticks as well, a litter of little white balls at their feet, and beyond them Luisa could see what she thought was probably a land-car, or had been, before someone had turned it on its side and taken the wheels off and prised out the engine to spread over the deckplating. That wasn't entirely unexpected. Engineers. Have to keep them busy or they get into all sorts of trouble.
Cars, shuttles, the Chief Medical Officer ...
The man with the golf-stick came to a stop and gave what Luisa judged to be a grade-A half-assed salute. "Ma'am," he said. "Sorry about that. We did put up a sign saying - "
Luisa gave him her best stare, the one she reserved for Chief Engineers caught shtupping the CMO or for the perpetrators of half-assed salutes, and his voice trailed away. "You put up a sign, did you?" she said dryly.
"Ma'am, yes'm - "
"Stand at attention when you talk to me!"
That got every one on the deck standing up straight, Luisa noted with sour satisfaction.
"Get those things out of my sight and - not you! You, Corporal ... " She had to peer to read the tag stitched over his pocket and cursed, once again, the impartial humiliations of age. "Corporal Massek! You will come with me to the hangar office and show me what I am sure will be immaculately maintained records."
Ten minutes later, Luisa reflected that it was a good thing she hadn't been expecting the records to be immaculate. Because I'd sure as shit be disappointed.
The haphazard filing and the significant gaps were no more than she'd expected. The papers she discovered in one of the drawers with the neat letterhead of what claimed to be a private security company, contact frequency the very office she sat in, were more of a surprise.
The porn stash in the filing cabinet she took for granted.
"You've had a lot of latitude here, Corporal Massek," Luisa said flatly. "Hasn't been anyone paying much attention to the Torrinos hangar in quite some time."
Massek, Luisa was pleased to see, was still rigidly at attention, eyes fixed on the wall. "Yes'm!" he said.
She slapped the folder in front of her closed. "That's over now."
"Yes'm!"
"I want the whole crew here assembled on the deck in fifteen minutes, on duty, off duty, I don't care. If they don't fall in they can pack their gear, understood?"
"Yes'm!'
Luisa looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Well?"
"Uh ..." He glanced at her nervously. "Well, uh, what?"
"Well snap to it, Mr Massey!"
Massey left so fast he careened off the door-frame.
Alone in the office, Luisa permitted herself a small, a very small, smile.
Make-work charity job, hey?
We'll see about that.
Three hots and a cot is nothing to turn your nose up at, not at your age, Lulu.
And it's still better than you ever thought you'd have, once upon a time.
Swallow hard. Learn to like the taste.
She levered herself to her feet, cursing her knees, and headed for the door.
After all, it's only charity ...
If I don't earn it.
And Lulu Kamajeck had earned everything that'd come to her in her life.
Good and bad.
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