Colonel Son Joo introduced Chief Engineer Shee’Rah to the commanding officer of the “Odysseus”.
“This is Leuftenant Pierre Ketteridge, commander of the Yamal Class mercenary cruiser. You saw it earlier parked out on the north deck.”
Shee’Rah eyed the grizzled 50-something Imperial Navy officer with a judgmental eye.
“You’re a bit old for a junior officer, aren’t you, Ketteridge?” she asked.
Ketteridge grumbled something about a line of coke awaiting his attention on the instrument panel of his ship.
The colonel spoke, “Ah….the Odysseus has a reputation for the riffraff crewmembers that are consistently boozed and drugged up.”
Shee’Rah raised a questioning eyebrow.
“…which is probably why they were the only cruiser unwisely volunteering for this duty supporting you. Wiyao’s pirates are quite notorious in the Trojan Reaches.”
“This human officer and his ship will do,” Shee’Rah said. She just needed a cruiser’s bulk and spray of triple laser turrets to help protect the little 300-ton Sobya. They would have difficulty.
“We’ve recruited a naval crew that’s probably seen more court martials than combat?” Ave asked the Aslan engineer upon her return from Colonel Son Joo’s office.
Shee’Rah snarled, “Do you have a better idea, Widowmaker?”
Ave laughed and tossed her hair, accidentally spilling her gin-and-tonic, “On the contrary! I like my men like I like my weaponry….loaded and at my fingertips. Bring it!”
Tiny looked at D’irt, “I would say that there is not much value in a drunken human crew trying to hit the broadside of a Nishemani Corsair.”
Ave interrupted. “Bring on the sailors! Woohoo!”
She slammed another drink and made a contorted face. “What in the HELL was that concoction?! That didn’t taste like gin.”
Tiny smiled, “That was D’irt’s urine sample. I recently started monitoring the performance of his fifth kidney.”