Bellson looked stricken. “Yes, of course. But, here, let me get it cleared out. I just sort of started using it after Betty left, and — oh, here, I’ll take those.” Bellson scooped the towels out of Shaughnessy’s arms and tossed them on the lower bunk. “Really, I’ve been on the schedule every day and things just sort of got away from me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Shaughnessy said, starting to suspect that the condition of the stateroom wasn’t at all unusual. A small price to pay for all this privacy, though, and she’d find a way to put up with the mess.
“So. Where are you from? Did you find the Ready Room already?” Bellson pulled out a chair from under her desk, turned it around backward and straddled it. “You a good stick?”
Shaughnessy laughed. “Slow down. I just got here.”
Bellson looked chagrined. “Sorry.
Bellson was a good six inches taller than Elf, and for a moment, Elf felt a flash of jealousy. Bellson had long hair pulled back in a twist that her flight helmet had destroyed. A long strand of shiny black hair hung down and clung to her worn flight suit. Her eyes were a dark, deep brown with a hazel tint to them. She was built like a race horse, long and rangy, but strong. She had a presence about her that seemed to suck all the air out of the compartment. Elf felt she herself might as well have been the same color as the paint.
There was no way Bellson would ever be called cute. Striking, beautiful, stunning even — but not cute. No, cute was reserved for people her own size.
“So how’s the squadron?” Elf asked. “You like it here?”
Bellson shrugged. “It’s about like any other squadron.”
Not good. Not good at all. “I met the XO,” Elf said. “Good guy.”
“If you like the type. A little too pleased with himself, if you ask me. But he’s the XO, so you have to get along with him. The skipper’s sort of a pain in the ass, too. He’s a fuss budget, but he and the XO go way back, so they stick up for each other. Once they get something set in their minds, there’s no changing it.”
“Like what?”
Bellson looked peeved. “Like if they decide you’re not a hot stick, there’s nothing in the world that will change their minds. They start telling these stories from their first cruises, like they were some sort of super heroes or something.”
“Ah.” But they are, in a way. Don’t you know who they are or what they’ve done?
“Things were better when Tomboy was here,” Bellson continued. “At least she knew the whole woman thing. You didn’t get all the bullshit you get now.”
“She was a pretty tough officer herself,” Elf said without thinking.
Bellson’s eyes narrowed. “You knew her?”
Damn. I wasn’t going to mention all that.
The decision not to mention her enlisted background was something that Elf had arrived at gradually. It wasn’t like she was going to try to hide it or anything. It was just that it wouldn’t be the first thing she talked about. She was part of this world now, and she was going to have to get used to it. Talking about her enlisted days would be like Bird Dog and Gator talking about their nugget cruises.
“Yeah,” Elf said. “I went to the Academy from the Fleet. From Jefferson, actually.”
“So you knew all these guys before,” Bellson said.
“Bird Dog and Gator, yeah. And Tomboy. Back before she married the admiral.” A lump started in Elf’s throat. How she’d looked up to Tomboy back then!
“Well, excuse me, then,” Bellson said, her voice cold. “If I’d known you were so buddy-buddy with them, I wouldn’t have talked about them like that. So are you going to trot right back to them and tell them what I said?”
“No! Why would I do that? Listen, we’re not old buds or anything like that. I just knew them, that’s all. They probably didn’t even know my name.”
Just then there was a knock on the door. Lobo pushed it open and poked her head in. “You ready for some chow?”
“Sure.” Elf felt a faint sense of relief. “You want to come?” she asked Bellson.
“No. Thanks.” Bellson’s voice was colder than it had been before. “I’ve got some things to do.”
“Oh, join us, Lieutenant,” Lobo said, her voice level.
“Thanks, ma’am, but I really do have some things to take care of.” Bellson’s voice was surly.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Lobo said.
“Yes. Very sure.”
“Come on, then, Elf. If you’re late for chow, they run out of ice cream.”
Elf followed Lobo down the passageway, worried. Was Bellson going to be a pain in the ass to live with? Did she have some sort of gripe with Lobo? And was Elf going to get caught in the middle?
They went through the speed line, taking hamburgers and fries, and then found spots at a long table half filled with aviators. Lobo introduced her around, and there wasn’t a time when Elf could reasonably ask her what was going on between her hero and her roommate.
Finally, when they’d done, Lobo shoved her chair back and said, “Come on, Elf. You’ve got an appointment with the skipper, and then with CAG. You’ve got time to get back to your stateroom and get a clean shirt. You’ve got catsup on that one.”
Elf looked down and searched for the catsup. Lobo roared as did the others. “Fish, fish — God, don’t tell me you’re that gullible about everything,” Lobo said, slapping Elf on the back. “Come on, nugget. Let’s go.”
“So you and Bellson aren’t great friends, I take it,” Elf said as they started down the passageway.
“Why do you say that?” Lobo asked.
“It just looked that way.”
Lobo walked on for another fifty feet before she stopped abruptly and turned down a short passageway to the right. It was far less crowded than the main one. “Let’s just say I don’t approve of what Bellson does when she’s not flying,” Lobo said. “In the air, she’s fine. It’s when she’s on the ground that she’s a problem. You want to get off to a good start around here, don’t become good buddies with her. Keep your distance. Because, sooner or later, she’s going down for a fall, and you don’t want to get sucked down with her.”
“Take a fall? For what?” Elf asked.
Lobo just shook her head. “Just stay out of it, Elf. Keep your eyes open and make your own decisions. There’s been enough gossip passed around about me that I know what it feels like. You make up your own mind once you get to know her.” Lobo turned and led the way out into the passageway. Elf followed, wondering if the two-man staterooms might have more disadvantages than she’d first thought.
“I don’t know, Andrei.” Yuri Maskiro stared down at the plate before him as though its contents were of critical importance. While the rare steak and lightly steamed fresh vegetables were far beyond what most Russians would ever experience, they certainly did not warrant the degree of attention he was giving them. “Yes, what you’re proposing is theoretically possible. But, to undertake such a thing — well, you must realize, if caught, we’ll be executed.”
“We won’t be caught.” Korsov reached across the table to pick up another crisp bread stick. He broke it open and smeared fresh butter across the exposed bread. “Besides, our planning will include deniability. Should anything be detected, it will simply be blamed on someone else. Trust me, I do know how to set those things up.”
“So did Kreschenko.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Yuri did not answer. Not that he needed to. Both of them knew what had happened to the last naval officer who’d tried to engineer a military coup against the current government. The execution had been public, but the torture preceding it hadn’t.