shipmaster | MOM Inbox

It's really terrible, those months between jobs.

You started it, didn't you.

good intelligence casts a wide net

GOD bel. why. what is the fascination with someone like me.

you can't ask questions like that after I've already turned out the light

you're the one who texted me asking for a date at 2 AM

the light was on, then

so turn it back on, admiral thorne

see what I do for you

it's entirely owed. Waking me up, starting that ludicrous pool. Why me?

[Bel, now with the light woefully sending sleep stealing light through the room, toys with their comm, thinking about how to answer this. They did wake him up at 2 am. But then, so has Miles woken Bel up. Routinely.

They could write an essay here. Hell, it sounds like a great time to try out that mental interface crap that the comm is supposed to have, just to really top off a night of poorly thought out plans.

They lift a finger, sliding it over the glass to send a love note so peculiar, it could only come from one of Miles' Dendarii.]

Because an Admiral is his Fleet. And you're the first time anyone's ever loved it.

There's something to that.

[ Oh. That one, simple note does more than a long missive would have, anyway. He can't help but cradle the comm close to him as heat suffuses his cheeks. ]

It won't be the last, now.

[Bel lay back, with that quiet reminder that things are over. Will have been over for years, possibly, when they go back.

Elena was a damn good Admiral. Studied under Tung, with a strong eye for strategy and more sense than should be wasted on a mercenary crew... Quinn would be good as well. Far more in the little Admiral's pace, she would take the wilder missions, and be more sensible in other ways.

But it would be different, the electric spark of possibility, of Nexus changing events would simmer out and steady into what it had been. What it needed to be: taking the usual jobs for the usual pay, to keep everything floating.

Three years, Miles had vanished for the first time, not a single word back. No missions, no orders, not even a status or position check. They'd wondered what they were doing, what had drawn them so deeply that this arm was left to hang.

Things would go well. They'd probably actually live to retire, with a cushy pillow of funds.]

Oh, it'll be fine.

I damn well hope so. It would be a waste otherwise.

[ He can't sense what's going on in Bel's head, but ... well, it's not hard to guess at the shape of it. ]

You're going to be so deep worrying about your own ass, dear. As you should.

Just so. Here or otherwise. Lost to the maelstrom of politics...

Fortunately, you've enough charisma or luck to have a few rocks to shelter against, here and there.

Ah, not luck. Good people.

Damn straight.

[Bel could leave it there... but they haven't quite felt like sleeping yet and the light is back on.]

Tung used to comment on that. Said it was your best quality when [How DID he put it... oh yes.] your alligator mouth overloaded your mosquito ass.

[ That seems like precisely something Tung would say. Miles claps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. ]

Meaning I've bitten off more than I can handle? Or that I suddenly sprout enough teeth to defend myself from the people I've annoyed?

Knowing him? Column A, Column B.

Ha. It does seem like him.

... Whether the date works out or not, we should still get dinner. This is a whole new side of the Dendarii.

Decanting the info on the one here, or are you just enjoying the wealth of information that comes from being outside of the chain of command?

A little of both. We'll swap stories.

You're on.

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dendarii - 2016-12-09 22:26 (UTC) - Expand

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shipmaster - 2016-12-09 22:52 (UTC) - Expand