Mutiny Read Online Free Page B

and large ears that were cupped forward and could hear very little that happened behind them.
    "Who is this?" said the Polonoi in heavily accented Terran.
    "Our new Second Officer, Commanded Podok," answered Sokolov.
    "His name?"
    "Commander Wilson Cole," said Cole.
    Podok stared at Cole expressionlessly for a long moment. "I have heard of you, Commander Cole."
    "Nothing too terrible, I hope?"
    "You were in the process of being relieved of your command when I heard it."
    "The fortunes of war," said Cole with what he hoped was a friendly smile.
    Podok made no reply.
    "Well, Commander Podok," continued Cole at last, "I look forward to working with you."
    "Do you?" replied Podok.
    It was Cole's turn to stare silently at the Polonoi.
    "Have you any business here on the bridge?" asked Podok after almost a minute had passed.
    "I'm just acquainting myself with the ship before I take charge during blue shift," said Cole.
    "I file a duty report at the end of white shift," said Podok. "I will remove Forrice's clearance and add yours, so that you may access it."
    "I gather nothing's happened for the past hundred or more days," said Cole. "Why don't you just tell me if something changes?"
    Podok stared coldly at him. "I file a duty report at the end of white shift," she repeated. "I will add your clearance so that you may access it."
    "I'm incredibly grateful," said Cole sardonically.
    "Good," said Podok seriously. "You should be."
    She walked over to a computer console and began to work.
    "Come on, sir," said Sokolov. "I'll escort you to the airlift."
    Cole nodded and fell into step.

    "What do you think of our Commander Podok, sir?" asked Sokolov with a grin when they were out of earshot.
    "I think there are worse things than a shooting war," replied Cole.

 

    After word came that his cabin was once again fit for habitation, Cole entered it, found his single piece of luggage sitting on the floor next to his bed, and opened it. There were five uniforms and a civilian outfit, not much to show for eight years in the military. He owned three pairs of shoes, one pair of boots, a week's worth of socks and shorts, and some toilet items. He was surprised to see that he possessed more hand weapons than uniforms.
    After he'd put his gear away, he decided to take a nap and instructed the computer to awaken him ten minutes before white shift ended. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he felt more stiff than rested when the computer woke him an hour later.
    He made his way to the bridge, decided to wait in the corridor until it was exactly 1600 hours, then walked forward, traded silent salutes with Podok, and watched the Polonoi make her way to the nearest airlift.
    "May I have your attention, please?" he said in a loud voice, and the three other occupants of the bridge turned to him. "I'm Wilson Cole, the new Second Officer. I'll be in charge during blue shift from now on. I'm not much for formality; you can call me Commander, sir, Wilson, or Cole—whatever makes you happy." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Since we're going to be working together, I'd like to know your names and duties."
    Before anyone could speak, Rachel Marcos walked onto the bridge, and the Molarian sitting at the gunnery station got up, saluted, and left. Rachel immediately went over and took his place. "I'm sorry, sir," she said. "But—"
    "No explanations are necessary— today" said Cole. "If it happens again tomorrow, you'd better have a good one. I know your name. Would you please define your duties for me?"
    "All of them?"
    "No. Just when you're stationed on the bridge."
    "I'm the weapons officer, sir," she replied.
    "What does that involve?"
    She smiled. "For the past four months, just about nothing, sir."
    "So I gathered." He turned to the Officer on Deck. "Your name?"
    "Lieutenant Christine Mboya, sir."
    "Your duties?"
    "They've never been clearly defined, sir. I am at the disposal of yourself, the pilot, and the weapons officer,