No Honor in Death by Eric Thomson Read Free Book Online Page A

bastard."  Guthren, dependable, loyal and a true friend.  Someone to watch her back aboard this treacherous ship.  "Sit, Chief.  Sorry I can't offer you a celebratory libation."
    Guthren shrugged.  "All ye have to do is breathe in deeply.  With the booze sloshing around this tub, I figure a body could get a good hangover without the joy of oblivion."
    "That bad?"
    The Chief's eyes roamed the cabin, briefly touching the ancient ship's clock on the sideboard, one of the Captain's few personal belongings that had survived all these years.  Its face bore the outline sketch of a gaunt knight on horseback, holding a long, thin lance.  The clock was a gift from the crew of that scout ship, presented by Petty Officer Guthren to the skipper on the day the old Don Quixote was decommissioned and sent to a fiery grave.  The Don had been a happy ship, a family.  He grimaced, facing Siobhan again.
    "Bad ain't the word, skipper.  I came aboard last week, the day the old skipper walked down the gangplank, to replace a drunken idiot of a cox'n.  With any luck, he'll finish the war in a psych ward dirtside.  Man had a lot of ghosts riding him, not least the ghost of Captain Forenza.  Whole ship is filled with those ghosts.  What crew ain't drunk is catatonic.  Tried to kick some sense into the non-coms, but they were past the point of caring.  Just waiting for a transfer, waiting for the crew to be broken up.  Officers, well..." he shrugged.  "Spent the last few days getting settled and digging up some dirt on this here tub.  No joy on the grapevine.  People don't want to talk.  When I found out you were coming in as skipper, I figured I'd better wait before really tearing into things.  No point in sorting out the non-coms if the officers aren't gonna play."  His smile came back.  "Though now that you're aboard, skipper, we can turn this thing back into a warship."
    Siobhan tried to match his smile.  Guthren's presence aboard did much to lift her spirits, but his words dampened most of that.  The Cox'n was a man of the old school.  Tough, hard-nosed, brutal if necessary, but honest.  And loyal, she reminded herself.  That counted for so much.
    "We will, Chief."  She sighed.  "We will."
    Guthren frowned briefly.  He remembered Dunmoore as a fire-breathing damn-the-torpedoes kind of officer, one of those who would win the war for the Commonwealth.  There was little of the old Dunmoore in the face of the tired, worn-out woman sitting across from him.  Except in the eyes.  They still burned somewhere deep within.
    "What have you been up to lately?" Siobhan asked, massaging her temples.  Wanting to discuss anything but the Stingray
    "This and that, skipper.  I got my Chief Third stripes thanks to you after we left the Don Quixote ,"  they didn't exactly leave the scout ship, more like scuttled it into a star, "and spent two years as Cox'n on the Shantung corvette.  Then they had me posted as company commander at boot camp, Fleet School Wyvern.  Not exactly my first choice.  I tried out for the special ops group and made it through training.  Spent six months with a team out on -" he paused, suddenly embarrassed.  "Anyways, from there it was a quick jump to Chief Second and a posting here."
    "A good way to spend a war, Chief."
    "Aye.  Heard that you had a good run too, 'specially on Sigma Noctae Colony.  Spec Ops Command use that one as a training problem," he beamed proudly.  "A one-woman strike."  His face hardened quickly however.  "Anyways, I figure we both learned enough in the last while to take this bunch on and kick some serious butt.  I'm ready to start the moment I walk out of here."
    Siobhan nodded.  "I've started already.  Have you met Petty Officer Zavaleta?"  She went on to describe her encounter with the man in excruciating detail.  Guthren grunted.
    "Zavaleta is a waste of rations from what I've seen and heard, skipper.  A bully who should never have gotten his stripes.  He must