Manxome Foe: Chapter Seven

    It was times like this that Spectre had to admit being the CO of a space ship was just cool. The ship was in deep transit, the massive screens set to forward view, he had a cup of coffee in one hand, the other wrapped around the back of his head, his feet propped up on the edge of the tactical station and was just watching the stars. The warp system, product of some ancient and powerful civilization that man wot not of or whatever, cycled the ship in and out of warp at a very high frequency. The frequency was adjusted so that the only thing that could get in or out were certain wavelengths of visible light. None of them could be used for high energy weapons, so it was a sort of screen against attack. But it did let in all that glorious starlight. And the ship moved so fast that the stars, almost imperceptibly, moved across the view. He could sit for hours and watch as the stars slowly slid across…

    “Whatcha doin’?” Miss Moon said from over his shoulder.

    His ears had caught the subtle clack, clack from high heels so he didn’t quite jump out of his skin, much less spill his coffee. But he did get a shot of adrenaline to the heart.

    “Jesus,” he barked. “Where’d you come from?”

    “Just walking,” Miriam said. “Pretty. Whatcha doin’?”

    “Expectantly awaiting any emergency that may occur on my watch, Miss Moon,” Spectre said, wincing internally at the pompous answer.

    “I’m bored,” Miriam replied. “I’ve been all over the ship. I talked to the Marines but they just wanted to talk about guns and I talked to some guys working on a pump but they wouldn’t let me help then I talked to a guy in the missile room. He was the nicest. He never left until the end of his watch.”

    “If it was the missile watch, he couldn’t,” the CO said, wincing again at the image. Camp Watch, located in the much reduced Sherwood Forest, was required to stay in place and watch the missile board. In the event of an emergency, he was the closest missile tech to the weapons and the first responder. It was possibly the most boring of many many boring jobs on the ship, nothing but sitting or standing in front of a bunch of lights, hoping that none of them went yellow or red.

    While Miss Moon must have felt like a visitor from heaven at first, someone to talk to…

    “How long were you there?” the CO asked.

    “Oh, pretty much the whole watch,” Miriam replied.

    Twelve hours. Miss Moon, when she got in one of these moods, talked so fast you couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He’d better find out if last shift’s Camp Watch needed to be tranked.

    “I’m afraid to ask, but what did you…?”

    “Pretty much my whole life story,” Miriam replied. “I was born in Waycross, Georgia, which is right down by the Florida border…”

    “Before you repeat yourself,” Spectre said, quickly, holding up his hand. “I have a really great idea. You wanted to help the machinist mates with a pump? You like mechanisms?”

    “I love taking things apart!” Miriam said, smiling.

    “Can you put them back together?” Spectre asked.

    “Usually,” Miriam said. “Sometimes I have some parts left over but…”

    “Great,” the CO interjected. “COB!”

    “Sir?” the Chief of Boat replied.

    “You are now officially in charge of Keeping Miss Moon Occupied,” the CO said. “Make it so.”

    “Yes, sir,” the COB said, trying not to sigh. “I knew you were going to say that.”