"Doohan, James & Stirling, S M - Flight Engineer 02 - The Privateer 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doohan James)

The Privateer: The Flight Engineer, Volume II

Copyright (c) 1999

CHAPTER ONE

It's a formality, Commander Peter Raeder thought. The fix is in. It's not
a real Board of Inquiry any more, much less a court martial. I'm the hero,
not the goat. He supressed an urge to rub his midriff. Then why does my
stomach still hurt?

Of course, there was the previous visit to this self-same courtroom not so
very long ago. Then his second in command, Second Lieutenant Cynthia
Robbins, had been suspected of sabotage and murder, and he, too, was
looked on with a gimlet eye. The look of the polished dark teak of the
high table at the other end of the room, the scent of wax, and the
ever-so-slight rustle of the crossed Commonwealth and Navy banners behind
the senior officers spelled danger to his subconscious now. In fact, the
sensation wasn't altogether different from the way he'd felt in a Speed
when the compensator started going collywobble and the lock-on alert said
a Mollie interceptor was targeting him. . . .

Back before I lost the hand, he thought. Though there had been a lot more
in the way of combat stress than he'd anticipated, when they made him a
flight enginner. Raeder shifted in his seat.

Just a few weeks later the room still boasted the same lustrous mahogany
paneling, the same painting of a space battle on the back wall, flanked by
the starred flag of the Commonwealth and the blue and black flag of Space
Command. The row of stern senior officers seated behind the sturdy teak
table in their comfortable leather chairs still faced the smaller table
with its single unpadded seat. All too reminiscent of that previous
occasion.

Well, some of the faces have changed.

And this time he had a personal reason for anxiety. After all, he had left
his post in the middle of a battle with the Mollies and their alien Fibian
allies.

And you can never be too sure that the powers that be won't decide to make
an example of someone, despite things turning out right in the end, Raeder
mused. Someone like me, for instance. It wasn't that he didn't want to
obey orders. It was just that he kept being the one on the spot who knew
what his commanders didn't. . . .

The fact that he looked a little like a recruiting poster-square chin,
blue eyes that the newsvids insisted on calling "volcanic," black hair,
pale complexion-didn't help either. He looked like a self-centered
hotshot, you had to admit that.