First Post|Previous Post|Next Post
They were saved from futher awkwardness by a genteel ringing of a bell, followed by the voice of the Marine sentry at the door to Jack’s quarters, cracked and tinny through the intercom, “Mister Barus to see the lieutenant, sir,”
“Mister Henreid’s compliments, sir,” said the midshipman on being admitted. He stared hungrily at the banquet before him: high living and a general lack of planning meant that the midshipman’s berth was already reduced back to standard ship’s rations, and the sight of so much food - real food - drove the master’s mate’s message from his mind.
“Yes,” prompted Lieutenant O’Brian.
Barus jumped, saluted, and began the message anew. “Mister Henreid’s compliments, sir, and there is an unknown vessel off the port bow. He said, nothing on the I-F - um -”
“The I-F-F?”
“Yes, sir, and doesn’t respond to voice transmissions either.”
“Beat to quarters,” said Lieutenant O’Brian, standing, and Stephen noticed that he seemed to swell in size as he stood. “Gentlemen, ladies, forgive me for cutting this short.”
First Post|Previous Post|Next Post
No comments:
Post a Comment