Polaris Read Free

But nothing came to him.
    â€œWould you like to know our course and speed?” said Holmes after a moment, mocking him.
    â€œOf course,” said Hamlin.
    â€œShip is on course two-four-zero, twelve knots, depth seven hundred feet,” he said. “Rigged for general emergency. The port nonvital bus is deenergized because of the fire in the motor generators. I’m guessing about half our lights are out. Sierra One, our shadow, is still behind us, about one mile abaft.”
    â€œOK,” Hamlin responded.
    Holmes looked at him in disbelief. “Did you just say ‘OK’?!” He looked to Moody for affirmation, and then back at Hamlin. “How about, ‘I am ready to relieve you’? That’s the customary phrase at this point.”
    â€œI am ready to relieve you,” he said.
    â€œNo, you’re not,” said Moody, stepping forward suddenly. She looked him up and down impatiently. “You’re hurt worse than you look, aren’t you?”
    â€œMaybe,” said Hamlin.
    Holmes sighed loudly in disgust.
    Suddenly Moody turned and slapped Holmes across the face, stunning them all. “I’ll relieve you, Frank, how’s that? Go belowdecks and eat, or read a comic book, or whatever it is you do in your free time, you weak son of a bitch.”
    Holmes trembled in rage and shame.
    â€œGo!” she said. “Now! I relieve you! I have the deck and the conn.”
    Holmes stormed out of the control room, leaving the two of them standing there.
    She stared at Pete with concern. “You always were tough,” she said. “Don’t risk the ship on it.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    She looked around to verify that no one else was in the control room, and leaned in. “I love it when you call me that,” she whispered in his ear.
    She then stepped back. “Now get yourself to sick bay, Hamlin, and pull yourself together.”
    He waited a moment before responding. “Yes, ma’am.”
    *   *   *
    Moody exhaled deeply as Hamlin walked out of the control room. Could she trust him? She’d seen the gun in his hand, seen Ramirez dead at his feet. Still, he seemed off, perhaps hurt worse than it appeared. She would ask the doctor after he’d had a chance to look him over; maybe he’d medicate him with something. If the drugs were good enough, maybe they could all use a dose. For now, she knew only the next step in the patrol order, the one thing the captain had shared with her, and he’d done that only when he had to. But it was a doozy: they were going to drive through the old Pacific degaussing range. Ever since she found that out, she’d been trying to figure out what it meant for the rest of their mission.
    And she could only guess, because no one would tell her.
    But now Hamlin wouldn’t have any choice. He would have to show her the complete patrol order so they could fulfill the mission. And Hamlin should trust her, shouldn’t he? She’d thwarted those two traitors, one of whom Pete himself had killed.
    From the beginning, she hadn’t known what to make of him. Maybe it was a natural by-product of him being on the ship the least amount of time—a few weeks, when Frank, the next-newest crew member, had been onboard for two solid years, never stepping outside the hull that entire time. They all knew each other like one big dysfunctional family, living in a house with no windows that they could never leave.
    But it was more than that: Pete was opaque. He wasn’t quite Alliance, and he wasn’t quite Navy. But the simple fact was now she had to trust him.
    And surely he could see that she had only one goal: the mission. And beyond that, the Alliance. It was all a big joke to McCallister and Ramirez, always had been, a punch line. The Alliance officers like her and Frank, with their coloring-book training and their in-depth knowledge of Alliance dogma. Moody could debate