Running With Argentine Read Free

the priority - the ore extraction just makes a good
excuse.”
     
    Argentine knew that the chief needed every bit of
maintenance time he could scrounge… The Pelican wasn’t a new ship and the
captain would much rather be racing off somewhere acting important than give
him the downtime that he, and the ship, needed.
     
    When he’d first come aboard the Pelican it’d taken him a
while to figure Chief West out. It was immediately obvious that the ship’s
engine room was better cared for than most in his experience, but the chief
himself was an enigma.
     
    For example, while there were several approved uniform options,
he always chose to wear his white coveralls. It was certainly acceptable for
the heads of departments to wear white, but it was a practice more commonly
adhered to on larger ships - and seldom for engineering. Working with equipment
is, well… a messy business. Since most engineers tended to be of the hands-on
variety they typically wore dark gray.
     
    Not only did Chief West wear white, his uniform was always
impeccable. Argentine belatedly realized that it was one of the reasons the
chief got away with his brashness; Political Officer Bloomington mistook it as
a loyalist’s esprit de corps. Argentine suspected that it had far more to do
with his desire to primp than anything else.
     
    He’d almost, once again, misjudged the chief when he
discovered that one of the engineering crewmen was somewhat of a savant. Rory
had an awkward country bumpkin way about him, but he was a natural on anything
mechanical.
     
    Once Argentine realized that Rory was as bad at the theory
side of things as he was good at the mechanical side, it all made sense. The
chief and Rory made for a very good team.
     
     
    ΔΔΔ
     
     
    They were both
sitting in Chief West’s cabin when he pulled a small crystal decanter from his
locker.
     
    He splashed a bit of the amber liquid into two different
snifters.
     
    “This is almost the last of it, Argentine,” he said.
     
    First Officer Argentine picked up the glass and inhaled the
mild fumes of the cognac. He didn’t know whether to curse the Chief or thank
him for introducing this rare pleasure in life.
     
    “Can’t you get anymore?” he asked.
     
    “I can’t get any more of anything,” he responded. “My
requisition requests aren’t just ignored, they’re not even acknowledged
anymore.”
     
    “How did you ever get around to being able to requisition
cognac anyway?”
     
    “Oh, you know. Do a favor here, help someone else there… It
all works out.”
     
    As old friends often do they remained silent for a while.
     
    “Argentine, I need to ask you a question.”
     
    The raised eyebrow invited him to continue.
     
    “No, I’m serious. I need you to think about your answer and
for once in your life not be flippant.”
     
    “My goodness,” said Argentine. “This sounds stellar in its
importance.”
     
    “Well, it is. I’m very concerned that something is going to
happen.”
     
    “So what’s your question?” he asked.
     
    “How many people on this ship do you really trust?”
     
    That was a sobering question. After giving it due
consideration Argentine responded, “Oh, I suppose there’s three people I feel
completely good about, maybe four. Why?”
     
    “Who are they?”
     
    The chief obviously wasn’t afraid to push.
     
    When Argentine hesitated he continued, “Can I assume that
I’m one of them?”
     
    “Very well, if you must. I’ll give you that. I trust you.
There, I’ve said it. Is that really what you wanted to know?”
     
    “No. Keep going. Who else do you really trust?”
     
    “Well, there’s Sami and Janet…”
     
    “Oh for the love of… Sami is a good kid but Janet, really?”
     
    “What’s wrong with Janet?” he asked
     
    The Chief highly suspected that Argentine was just yanking
his chain with this one but it was too important a subject to just let it
slide.
     
    “There’s nothing wrong with her… If