Starfire
Copyright© 2025 by Mark Randall
Chapter 17
Thad was jolted awake by the irritating and insistent buzzing of his doorbell. As he slowly realized what the racket was, he was even more confused. He didn’t have a doorbell. Getting up, his confusion got worse, that is, until he remembered that he was in his new quarters.
Stumbling to the door, he pulled it open to the grinning face of Paul Holt.
“Good morning, sleepy head.” He said. Stepping around Thad, he walked into the room. Close behind him was Stewart Gladding. Thad’s attention was diverted to the world-class shiner that Gladding had.
Before he could say anything, Paul spoke up. “Nice digs, Thad. I guess rank has its privileges.”
Finally finding his voice, Thad demanded, “What are you doing here, Paul?” Then turning to Gladding, “And you, where did you get that black eye?”
Paul was chuckling, “One thing at a time, Thad. You need to get ready for a fun-filled and action-packed day. You have an urgent meeting with the Captain, Commander Olivet, and Grandmother Seward’s assistant. I wouldn’t take too long about it. They were rather insistent that you get there as soon as possible.”
When Thad stepped out of the shower, Paul and Gladding were waiting for him, a fresh uniform laid out for him. “OK, Paul, can you fill me in on this. What is the Captain mad about? And I still haven’t heard about your black eye, Gladding.” This last was directed at Stewart.
“Well, Thad, it seems that Slugger here and a group of your pilots and a group of Blue squadron pilots got into a, shall we say, animated discussion in the pilots’ lounge last night.”
Gladding visibly winced at the Slugger name.
“Oh damn, I did not need this”, Thad mumbled to himself.
“Yeah,” Paul said, “I’ve been ordered to escort you to Commander Olivet’s office personally.”
Expecting the worst, Thad asked. “Was anybody badly hurt?”
Paul was enjoying the situation and replied, “Not really, Slugger here seems to be the worst from your crew. Max’s people are a different story. Seems there are a couple of concussions and one nasty case of testicular trauma.”
Thad gaped, “What? What is testicular trauma?”
“How about it, Slugger? Want to field that one?”
Blushing bright red, Stewart blurted out. “I didn’t mean to do it, Sir. It’s just that he kept pushing me around, calling us names, and I guess I just blacked out for a moment. The next thing I know, Buchanon was on the ground, grabbing his crotch. After that, things got kinda confusing.”
Paul was grinning and said, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Slugger. From what I saw on the tapes, he probably deserved it.”
Gladding was obviously uncomfortable, “Sir, I wish you would stop calling me that. It’s embarrassing.”
Turning serious, Paul said, “Mr. Gladding, I’d get used to it if I were you. The entire ship is going to be talking about you and your kick. I imagine that by dinnertime, people will have forgotten your real name.”
By this time, they had reached the Air Boss’s office. Stepping into the outer office, Mrs. Johnson looked up. “Ah, Lieutenant Sawyer, glad to see you again. Are you ready for this?”
Seated off to the side was Max Eastman. Max was not happy. Mrs. Johnson continued, “OK, Gentlemen, I’ll let Commander Olivet know that you’re here.” She picked up her phone and, after a moment, said, “They’re both here, sir.” She paused for a moment, then said, “Yes, sir.”
Hanging the phone up, she looked at the two pilots. “Gentlemen, the commander will see you now. Good luck.”
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