Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service (28 page)

Pilot
Officer Hartmann felt both exhausted and elated. He’d finished his first real
patrol, but man, eight hours in the cockpit. How did the regular pilots look so
fresh? He flopped down into an easy chair in the pilots mess and turned on his
data pad. He was panic stricken to see a message from General Crineal in his
in-box. Oh crap, he must have screwed up yesterday when he and Gyr had been
interviewed, or maybe something on patrol today and the general already knew
about it. The man was supposed to have ESP or something. Steeling himself he
opened the message and found not a reprimand or transfer order but… a dinner
invite? He stared worriedly at the screen trying to puzzle out what it meant.
Maybe someone was having a joke at his expense? Yeah, he thought, one of the
other pilots was hazing him.

“What’s
up, Pilot Officer?” a voice asked, breaking him out of his contemplation of the
message. Hartmann looked up to see one of the other pilots, a thin-faced man,
looking down at him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He finally remembered
his name, Staller.

“Oh
nothing, Sir, I think someone is playing a joke on me. I’ve got an invite for
dinner with General Crineal.” He looked dubiously back at the pad.

“Ah…
you got one early. Lucky you. It’s not a prank. The general has dinner with
four or five pilots every couple of weeks. We each get to go a couple of times
a year.”

“Oh…
really?” Hartmann studied the message again. “Wear appropriate dress. What does
that mean?” he asked, looking worried again.

Staller
plucked the data pad out of his hand and scanned the message. Usual format, he
thought, informal dinner party and then realized that the newbie hadn’t spotted
the informal bit. He cleared the message from the screen and handed the pad
back to the pilot officer. “Well, you’ve been invited to have dinner with a general.
What do you think ‘appropriate’ means?” he asked him pointedly, taking great
care not to actually lie.

Hartmann’s
face cleared. “Yeah, right, full dress uniform then. Gotcha. Thanks,
Lieutenant.”

“You’re
welcome, Pilot Officer,” and Staller turned away before Hartmann could see the
big smile appear on his face.

Feldea
had replied to Crineal’s invite and asked if she could turn up a little early so
she could catch up with Cyndora. He had said yes and so the next evening, a
good forty minutes before the official invite time, the door chime sounded and
Crineal answered it to find Feldea there in her undress uniform with a clothes
bag over her shoulder. “Hi, boss, I’m not too early, am I?”

“Evening,
Fel, and no, you’re fine. Come on in.” Crineal wasn’t even in uniform, just a
shirt and uniform pants. He liked these dinners to be completely informal so
everyone could relax. No ranks, no sirs or ma’am’s, no proper uniforms. “Cyndy?
Would you mind taking Fel’s jacket and hanging it up, please?”

“Sure,
Crin,” Cyndora said whilst giving Feldea a hug.

“So
what’s in the garment bag, Fel?” Crineal asked whilst Cyndora took her jacket.

“I
got a sari when I was on leave. I thought Cyndy might like to see it.”

“I’m
sure she would. Were you planning to wear it for dinner?”

“I’d
just brought it to show Cyndy but that would be great fun. You’re serious?”
Feldea’s face lit up

“Well,
you know I like these things casual and I know how much you like clothes so… I
don’t see why not.”

“Great,
come on Cyndy, you can help me get changed.” Crineal watched with amusement as
they disappeared into his bedroom giggling. They reappeared twenty minutes
later with Cyndora changed into her hostess outfit and Feldea followed her out
wearing a stunning, deep blue sari with gold trim. The material wrapped around
her waist, up around her torso and then over her left shoulder, leaving her
right shoulder bare, before completing a long drop over her left arm.

“Very
pretty, Fel, both you and the sari,” Crineal complimented her. Feldea blushed
and behind her Cyndora raised an eyebrow at him. Crineal thought she looked
just as pretty in her blouse, skirt and nylons.

“Thanks,
boss, they had the most amazing colors and patterns, but I liked this one the
best.” The door chimed again, interrupting her, and Crineal answered it to find
Strieger and Saphya had arrived together.

“Ladies,
come on in,” Crineal said hospitably.

Strieger
took one look at Feldea and turned on Crineal. “Wait, you didn’t say anything
about dressing up,” she said accusingly.

He
held up his hands in self-defense. “Not my fault, Fel bought it along to show
Cyndy. I figured she may as well get some use out of it.”

“Hummph,
next time I’m bringing a dress to wear as well then,” she said grumpily.

“That
I can’t wait to see.” Crineal smiled at her. “Cyndy? Would you mind taking the
jackets? I’ll pour some wine for everyone.” Saphya was busy getting Feldea to
do twirls so she could admire the sari; the copper-haired lieutenant was in
heaven. Crineal handed drinks to the three young women first and then took one
to Strieger. “I think you’d look adorable in a white version of that,” he said
to her, indicating Feldea’s outfit.

“Why,
Crin, you’re not ready to dump Cyndy for me already, are you?” she teased him.

“You
know I’m not. That doesn’t stop you being attractive though.” He raised his
voice a little. “Saphy? Try not to drool on Fel’s dress please? She’ll only
charge me for the cleaning.” Saphya stuck her tongue out at him. “So, anyone
want to bet against Pilot Officer Hartmann turning up at nineteen hundred hours
on the dot?” he asked the group.

“Aww
c’mon, boss,” Feldea complained. “Even the rigged bets that Mus and Stall set
up give you a slim chance of winning at least.”

As
the time counted down Crineal positioned himself by the door and waited. At
precisely nineteen hundred the door panel chimed and Crineal opened the door.
He stood there for a moment as he took in the sight of Pilot Officer Hartmann
in full dress uniform, complete with academy ribbons, white gloves and peaked
cap. He blinked at the young man standing before him rigidly at attention and
saluting. The white of the jacket and pants material was almost blinding and
Crineal wondered how many times Hartmann had cleaned it in the last two days.

A
look of uncertainty passed across the pilot officer’s face as he took in Crineal’s
out of uniform state. “Good evening, Sir. Am I too early? I can come back,” he
said nervously.

Crineal
was trying hard not to laugh and waved him in “Not at all, Pilot Officer,
please come in.”

Hartmann
stepped through the door and looked in confusion at the ladies arrayed around
the room. Strieger and Saphya without jackets, never mind dress uniforms, Cyndora
in her blouse and skirt and Feldea in the blue and gold sari. He felt
conspicuously overdressed and his face turned red.

Crineal
stepped up behind him. “Pilot Officer? Would you mind telling me what your friends
call you?” he asked gently.

The
young man turned to face Crineal and from behind him came a giggle from Feldea.
The other women were doing their best not to laugh, too. “Uh… my friends call
me Hart, Sir.”

“Cyndy?
Would you mind taking Hart’s jacket, please? It’s way too warm for dress uniform.”
As Cyndora helped the confused youngster out of his formal jacket and also took
his cap and gloves, Crineal continued, “These dinners are very informal, Hart.
Let me introduce you. This is Stri, Saphy and Fel, the lady taking your jacket
is Cyndy and you can call me Crin.”

“Yes,
Sir, thank you, Sir,” Hartmann replied. This is going to be a long night,
thought Crineal and stood patiently looking at the pilot officer. Finally it
penetrated the young man’s mind. “Oh, sorry… Crin,” he said hesitantly.

“No
problem, you’ll get the hang of it. Tonight there are no sirs, ma’am’s or rank.
Just try to relax. I do have one question, though. Why did you decide on full
dress when the invite was labeled as informal?”

“Well,
Sir, I mean, Crin, I was in the mess when the message arrived and Lieutenant
Staller came over… ”

Strieger
groaned and Crineal held up his hand to stop him. “Say no more. The lieutenant
is known for his… humor. I did tell you to ask your flight leader if you had
any concerns.” He patted him on the shoulder consolingly. “You’ll learn. Now,
let’s find you a drink.”

Finally
they were seated at the table eating a soup appetizer and Hartmann was starting
to relax a little. Cyndora was seated at one end, nearest the kitchen with
Feldea to her right and Strieger to her left. Crineal was seated at the other
end with Saphya on his left and Hartmann on his right.

“So
Hart, how did you find your first patrol?” Crineal asked between mouthfuls.

“Tiring,
Sir… Crin, we never did anything that long at the academy. I can see how much I
have to learn. I couldn’t believe how everyone else kept that tight a
formation.”

Strieger
spoke up. “You did fine, Hart, and yes, flying isn’t all about fancy combat
acrobatics. Close formation work can save your life in a scrap just as well as
a good jink.”

“And
how did you like leading Delta, Saphy?” Crineal asked turning to the woman next
to him.

She
smiled back at him. “It keeps you on your toes, Crin. Watching the rest of the
flight, watching the flight’s position in relation to the squadron, as well as
keeping yourself in place. I loved the challenge.”

“Saphya
did a good job, Crin,” Strieger grinned mischievously at him. “We didn’t even
notice you weren’t there.”

Feldea
momentarily broke off her conversation with Cyndora. “Don’t listen to her,
boss. We all missed you.”

With
the soup finished, Cyndora cleared the plates away with Hartmann gallantly
giving her a hand. They came back with dishes for the main course. “We’re
having a traditional English meal tonight,” announced Cyndora. “Roast beef with
Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes, a selection of vegetables, gravy and the
option of mustard or horseradish sauce as an accompaniment.” Once all of the
serving dishes were on the table, the six of them helped themselves and started
to eat. The four pilots watched how Crineal and Cyndora took the crispy batter
shells of the puddings and filled them with gravy before they followed suit.

After
a few minutes of enjoying the dinner Crineal broke the silence. “Saphy, I’m
kind of curious how Cyndy managed to acquire an exercise escort whilst I was
injured?”

She
looked a little guilty and Feldea and Cyndora giggled at each other. “Would you
believe it was a complete coincidence, Crin?”

“Well,
I might, but unfortunately for you my injuries didn’t affect my mental
capacity.”

“Darn,
well it’s sort of Fel’s fault,” Saphya started.

“Hey,
don’t bring me into this,” the copper-headed woman next to her protested.

“I
went to visit our little clothes rack here,” she said, pointing at Feldea with
her fork, “when I got back from leave and she had to tell me about that cretin Del’Tarim
and how much Cyndy was looking after you and stuff.” Crineal wondered what else
was covered under ‘stuff’. “So I cornered Mus and he admitted he knew a couple
of the marines detailed to watch over you both and I got him to arrange for the
guards to buzz me whenever Cyndy left your quarters. As we were all still on
leave I had a pool of pilots I could organize into shifts to be available as an
extra escort for Cyndy. From what Fel had said I didn’t want anything happening
to her.” She bent her head to her food, trying to avoid looking at Crineal.

Crineal
studied her for a moment. “Why do all the women in my squadron have such a
profound interest in my private life?” he inquired good-naturedly.

Strieger
gave him an evil little grin. “Why, Crin, I thought you knew? We all think of
ourselves as part of your private little harem and we’d do anything for you.” She
fluttered her eyelashes at him coquettishly. Hartmann choked on the mouthful of
food he was swallowing and Crineal went almost cross-eyed with a sudden vision
of the four women at the table arranged around his quarters in various states
of undress just waiting on his whim. He did notice that Fel was blushing a
little, though, so maybe Strieger wasn’t completely wrong.

“I’ll
get you for that, Stri,” he said with an air of mock menace. “As for you,
Saphy, I don’t know whether to put you on a charge or commend you for
initiative and organization and make you a flight leader,” then he smiled at
the lieutenant. “But really, I do appreciate the thought.”

From
there the conversation moved on to how everyone had spent their leave, the
sights they had seen on Earth and the clothes that Feldea had bought. Finally,
they all sat around sipping their preferred after dinner drinks, full and
relaxed. Even Hartmann had unbent a little and joined in the chat.

Eventually,
Strieger checked the time and sighed, putting her cup down. “Well, Crin, it’s
been great as always. Thank you for being a lovely hostess, Cyndy, but I need
to get some sleep so I can start preparing for our next patrol in a couple of
days.”