She moved the system into an editing mode and started to make changes. “Someone who didn’t have half a damn clue as to what the hell they were doing.”
The chief’s eyes almost came out of her head. “Hold it. I said, hold, ma’am. That is a state-of-the-art system and you can’t just—”
“Sure I can.” Dar’s hands moved in a blur. “State of the art? Gimme a break, Chief. Figures the Navy’d still be using a system prototype designed by a half-baked sixteen-year-old code jockey with an affinity for COBOL.” She made a last change, then saved and recompiled the program. “There.” She reset the system with a set of keystrokes and watched as it reinitialized. She was rewarded with a steady login screen and a slate of green lights, which flickered across the top of the machine with a set of satisfied clicks. “Hoo yah,” Dar muttered softly, for the first time in a very, very long time. She got startled looks from the sailors, but she ignored them as she stood up and relinquished the terminal. “All yours.”
“Ms. Roberts,” the chief’s voice was very cold, “a word with you over there, please.” She turned and walked into the nearest simulator and waited for Dar to follow her, then she shut the door and spun the wheel, locking them both inside.
IT WAS AN engine room, Dar realized as the door slammed shut and she felt the air compress around her. Her pulse jumped and she went still, grabbing hold of the sudden panic that gripped her guts.
“Was that necessary?”
The chief studied her intently for a moment. “Who in the hell do you think you are?” she barked, advancing on Dar and making the small space even smaller. “I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut in there!”
Dar felt her temper rising. “Back off, Chief,” she warned, edging away from the angry woman.
“I most certainly will not back off.” Daniel poked her sharply. “I’ve about had it up to here with you, Roberts, and I am not going to put up with one more minute of your kiss-my-ass attitude!” Her voice got louder, ringing off the metal floor and walls as she backed Dar against the wall.
The room closed in on Dar, and a wash of blood and energy swept over her, warming her skin with startling rapidity. “Back off!” she repeated, the pitch of her voice dropping.
“You listen to me! You either decide to keep your damn mouth shut,” Chief Daniel forged on, “or I’ll—”
She never really saw it coming. One moment her civilian victim was pressed against the wall, the next moment the chief was on the ground, her skull ringing with the contact against the grill floor, with Dar 106 Melissa Good Roberts’s forearm pressing against her chin and a pair of wild blue eyes boring into her like searchlights.
The chief was no coward, but she’d seen that look before, and she had the sense to realize the dangerous situation she’d initiated was rapidly getting beyond her control, so she did the only prudent thing left to her. She let her body go limp, secure in her own tough condition but not stupid enough to challenge the youth and strength she felt crouched over her.
“Back off,” Dar whispered, seeing red for the first time in a long time.
“All right,” Chief Daniel answered, just as quietly. “Easy.” Slowly, the pressure on Daniel’s throat lessened, and Dar eased back away from her, the taller woman’s body rising to a balanced stance, her hands balled lightly into fists that looked fully capable of doing some damage.
It was not the reaction she’d been expecting, having figured Dar for the loudmouthed type that turned into a puffball when blown on hard enough. Her angular features, now settled in darkly savage lines, struck a sudden chord of familiarity but the chief knew she didn’t have time to figure out where from. “Okay, just relax, all right?”
Dar leaned back against the console, the intense surge of adrenaline still making her heart race and causing faint twitches to shiver up and down her arms and legs. It was the closest she’d come to losing control in half a lifetime, and it scared her a little, to know just how easily the chief had triggered that. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she told the sailor, who slowly sat up and was rubbing her head. “I’m not one of your recruits, and if you ever do that again, I’ll knock you right through that damn bulkhead, you got me?”
“Think you could?” the chief asked softly.
“Yes,” Dar answered with utter sureness. “When my daddy taught me to fight, he made sure of that.”
Daniel studied her for a long moment, then she sighed and got up, rubbing her elbow where it had slammed against the floor. She turned a console chair around and sat on it, resting her arms on the back and gazing at Dar. “All right.” She nodded slowly. “I thought we had an understanding that you wouldn’t spout off in front of my staff.”
Dar let her hands rest on her thighs, her heart finally slowing to its normal pace. “I said I wouldn’t give an opinion.” She skirted the issue.
“I didn’t.”
The chief snorted. “Saying a kid designed the sim wasn’t an opinion? Bullshit.”
“I was the kid,” Dar replied simply. Then she got up and walked over to the hatch, taking a breath before she spun the wheel and released the catches, allowing it to swing inward. The air outside rushed in, and she stepped out of the simulator with a sense of relief to face round, wide eyes that rapidly found other objects to look at.
Then she realized they’d all been watching everything on the Red Sky At Morning 107
monitors. Without a word, she walked past them and into the hallway, desperate for a moment of peace and quiet and a cup of Navy coffee.
THE OPERATIONS MEETING had been underway for ten minutes or so before Kerry entered, giving everyone a brief, distracted nod before she took her seat at the head of the table and ran her eyes over a freshly printed agenda. The staff all started warbling at once.
“Kerry, that circuit you were escalating came in.”
“We’ve got six mainframes stuck in customs in Mexico. Midwest OPS wants to know if you can help.”
“The coffee machine just exploded.”
Kerry’s head jerked up at the last statement, and she peered across the table at Enid Petrofax, the MIS coordinator. “What?”
Enid scratched her jaw nervously. “Didn’t you hear the bang? The machine just exploded. We’ve got espresso grounds from the main door to the bathroom.”
Everyone was silent, exchanging startled glances. “Ah.” Kerry sat back. “Well, have we called the company? How in the hell could that thing explode? I realize it’s steam powered, but good grief!”
“Well.” Mark had entered and was now approaching the table, his entire shirt front covered in dark brown liquid and grounds. “I gotta tell ya, that was the stupidest thing I ever saw.” He held up a piece of round metal. “Damn hot chocolate top musta fallen in the espresso handle. It blocked the steam.”
“Ew.” Kerry winced.
“That wasn’t the stupid part.” Mark glared dourly around the table. “We need to find out what technognorp kept pressing the brew button when nothing was coming out.”
Kerry covered her eyes. “Oh, good grief.” She peeked between her fingers at the muddy-looking MIS chief. “Mark, go change. Enid, call Laurenzo Brothers if you haven’t already, and put a note out to the building to remind them we’re a technology company and should act like it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Enid made a note on her pad. “María already called Laurenzo Brothers. She’s got a cousin that works there.”
“Unbelievable.” Kerry shook her head. “Okay, now...what was that about Mexico? Those aren’t the mainframes for the university project in Illinois, are they?”
John Byers, their Midwest operations manager, nodded glumly.