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“Thankyou for letting me call Jeremy earlier. That was most helpful as we’ve continued our investigation.” Miranda was pleased that she was no longer forbidden to use him as a resource.
“It would have helped if you’d mentioned the true level of your team’s clearance sooner.” Captain Brightman was leading the team belowdecks.
Miranda must remember to be more careful in her own future self-education though. There were whole segments of knowledge that Jeremy had pursued recreationally that she’d never expected to be relevant. But he was no longer at her side. She hesitated long enough to pull out her notebook and make a note to brush up her knowledge of high-power lasers.
She was almost run over.
The ship was almost as busy belowdecks as it was above. And as confusing. Miranda hurried after the captain because, if she was swept aside, she feared she might never be found again.
“I had thought that was obvious by the fact that we were assigned to this investigation. Do you often have uncleared guests boarding a recently attacked ship of war?”
“No. I don’t think so. But I’m new to this.” The captain opened a door and led them inside the compartment. “I’ve been in this compartment twice in my life, and now it’s mine. That’s more than a little scary.”
“Scarier than an attack on your ship?”
Captain Brightman laughed briefly but it seemed as if it was a rough sound, like the way coarse sandpaper would feel against her hand. A very unpleasant sensation.
“No, not that scary. But I was trained for that. I wasn’t for this,” she waved a hand.
The captain’s in-port cabin was quite sumptuous. Captain Brightman had said that when they were at sea, this cabin was primarily used for entertaining. While at sea, the ship’s captain typically resided in the small cabin directly behind the bridge. At the moment, that no longer existed.
The big cabin was decorated in a style befitting the ship’s namesake. The highly polished dark wood flooring and wainscot paneling provided a lushness that her own home’s rough Douglas fir paneling didn’t. The oriental rug and brocade armchairs made a properly commanding setting. The captain’s desk stood before a large portrait of the twenty-sixth President.
“Doesn’t he look oh-so-ready to beat someone with a big stick for hurting his ship?” Andi whispered to her.
Painted in browns, he stood with a hand on a stairwell newel post and a fist on his hip holding back his jacket. He stared out of the portrait. She found his gaze unnerving, despite knowing he’d been dead for over a century. She slipped out her personal notebook and inspected the emoji page.
“I think it is moredeterminedthanangry.”She turned the page to Andi. “See, the straight line of the mouth. The forward-focused eyes without any eyebrow motion.”
“Could be. Could be.”
Captain Brightman waved them to sit around a long mahogany table. The Executive Officer flown over from theCarl Vinsonhad taken over deck operations and they were downstairs for a meal and a meeting.
“We now have limited video satcon available, Captain,” an orderly told her.
Miranda’s team, the captain, and Susan with Sadie beside her filled less than half of the table.
The table hadn’t been preset, the servers had to reach awkwardly between people to do so. Everyone sat in exhausted silence. Their postures of sagging shoulders and drooping eyes confirmed Miranda’s assessment by matching her emoji page.
Several minutes passed before they were served individual tureens of French onion soup accompanied by fresh-baked garlic bread. The massive impact of flight operations had apparently had little effect in the operations belowdecks.
“Sorry for the delay, Captain,” the head server bowed slightly. “We lost an entire shift from the main galley during the attack.”
“Carry on, sailor.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Miranda was cutting an arc in the crisped Parmesan and Swiss cheese crust with her spoon when the large television screen at the head of the table lit up with Drake’s and Roy’s faces.
Captain Brightman pushed to her feet and saluted, as did Susan and Andi. There was a loud clatter of dropped silverware.
Unsure of her own correct action, Miranda noted that Holly stayed seated and simply waved, so she did the same. It felt awkward to do it with her off hand, so she switched her grasp and waved with the other hand.
“At ease, everyone.” The President hadn’t stood, though he had saluted back. “I know you’re pressed for time, so feel free to eat while we talk.”
“Yes sir.” Captain Brightman sat far straighter than she had moments earlier.
