The Siren, the General's Daughter Book One (13 page)

“Yeah, we need to talk with him about setting a better example,” Michael snickered.

Dr. Quimby grinned. “Go for it. That old geezer can still kick my ass, especially in that mood.”

“Chicken shit.”

“Nah, self-preservation. Night son, sleep well.”

***

Sam woke early the following morning, disoriented for a moment while looking about her bedroom. She opened her windows to let in the cold morning air. She was the morning person, loving the sprays of sunlight on her face while her brother loved the quiet of the night and the sprinkling of stars. Probably one of the only differences they had. She recalled her conversation with him from the night before. Still in her pajamas, she brushed her teeth then sauntered across the hall to Michael’s room. He was still asleep. With a wicked giggle, his sister threw open the curtains and, without mercy, jumped on top of him.

“Hey! You little shit, you wait, I’m gonna get you!” Michael yelled, racing after her down the stairs. It was like old times as they loudly tore around the living room, jumping over the furniture and yelling at the top of their lungs. “I’m gonna hurt you! Get over here you little brat!” Michael shouted, chasing her around the couch.

“Gooooood Morning! You can’t catch me,” she shrieked, laughing and dodging as he dove for her.

“What the
hell
is going on here!” Scott shouted, rubbing his head.

Dr. Quimby also appeared at the top of the stairs. “Cut it out, you two! I told you to be quiet and let Scott sleep,” he shouted, stomping down the stairs.

Ignoring them, Michael made a grab for his kid sister, catching an armful of air as she rolled away.

“
Freeze!
Now,” Scott shouted at the top of his lungs. Both froze. “You are both grounded through this weekend! Hear me? To your rooms!” Scott yelled.

Sam marched straight over to her uncle, hands on her hips and looking up fearlessly into his scowling face. “With all due respect, SIR, you are being a butthead!” she shouted back. Dr. Quimby and Michael looked at each other before both quickly retreated upstairs where it was safe.

“What did you say to me, young lady?”

“I said that you are being a butthead,” she repeated herself in a quieter, calmer tone.

Scott grabbed her arm, half-dragging, half-carrying her to the couch. “I will
not
tolerate disrespect!” he roared, flipping her across his lap.

“I wasn’t being disrespectful! You told me I could tell you when you were being a butthead, and you are!
Hey
!” she yelped, trying to escape him as he skinned her pajamas and panties down.

He landed a heavy smack across her bottom. “I said you could tell me respectfully!” He smacked her again. “Not shout in my face.”

“You were shouting first! OW!”

“Of course I was! You two woke me out of a sound sleep. With a headache.” He smacked her a fourth time.

She squealed. “With a hangover you mean! Whatever happened to you providing a good example! OOOOWWWW!”

Scott paused, watching her wiggle across his lap. He administered one more smack and stood her up. “Do you remember how to make French toast?” Sam nodded, wiping her eye where a tear had threatened to escape. He ruffled her messy hair. “Go on, then. With coffee. An entire pot, please.”

Sam nodded, dodging his hand as she adjusted her clothes and scurried past him. Scott plopped onto the couch, head in his hands, rubbing his aching temple.

“Is it safe to come down?” Dr. Quimby asked.

Scott shot him a bird. “Your daughter has a big mouth. Thanks.” He accepted the Excedrin and glass of water. “Tell Michael to get his ass down here with the family. I’m reneging on the restriction.”

“Like you could really keep a 22 year old in his room?” Dr. Quimby chuckled, elbowing his friend.

Scott grunted. “If I confine a man to quarters, I expect obedience. I don’t care how old he is. MIKE!”

“Scott, you do know you can be a total asshole when you have a hangover, right?”

“So I’ve been told. No, she didn’t say I was an asshole, she called me a butthead. She also said I was a bad example. She’s right, damn it.”

“Here’s your coffee, Uncle Scott.”

“Thank you. Mmmmm, perfect. You are the only one who can make it right. Come here,” he said, pulling her onto his lap after setting the cup down. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s ok. I did raise my voice to you,” she shrugged.

Scott kissed her cheek. “With good reason.
Mike!
” he shouted again, making her wince.

“Ow, my ear.”

“Yes, Sir?” Michael approached cautiously.

His uncle beckoned to him, patting the couch. “Sit. I owe you both an apology. I can be a real grouch….”

“Butthead.” Sam piped in.

Scott looked at her, sighed, and then nodded. “Butthead when I have one too many. No more, I promise. You’re right, I need to set a better example for you. Please forgive me.”

“Of course. You do realize, though, I am an adult and—”

“And what, young man? Too old to be grounded, but young enough to chase your little sister around the living room like when you were nine and she drew all over your face with a marker?”

“Or when you were ten and she threw a glass of ice water in your face?” Dr. Quimby laughed.

“Or when you were 11 and she put snails in your bed?”

“Or when you were 12 and she used a bucket—”

“Okay! I get it. And I got this!” Michael announced, capturing his sister. He flipped her to the floor and sat on her, arms held above her head with one large hand. He began to poke her sides, ignoring her screams for mercy. She was red in the face when he finally released her.

“I swear, you two are driving me nuts. What got into you?” Dr. Quimby asked, punching his son’s arm. Michael shared about their discussion from the night before, and then apologized to his uncle for forgetting about his morning wake up call.

“I’ll get over it. Is food ready?”

“Almost. On the deck?” Sam asked, pushing her brother off her lap and pinching his thigh.

“Nah, bring it in here. Chill, Joe, we never get to eat in the living room. Don’t be so uptight.”

“Bite me.” Dr. Quimby retorted.

Sam brought in the food, more coffee and juice, laying it on the coffee table for everyone to help themselves. Scott leaned back, happy to be home. “Mmm, perfect, just like her coffee. Thank you, sweetie. How’s the bottom?”

“You owe me a reprieve next time I’m in trouble, mister,” she said, rubbing her sit spot.

Scott looked amused, his headache resolving. “No problem, I’ll just reduce whatever I choose to give you by 5.”

“6. And that’s not fair.”

“Awww, poor baby. Is there anyone here who would like to go out on a flight today? Hmmm?”

Sam jumped up excitedly, landing in his lap. “Me! Really?”

“I was actually thinking of doing some cliff sailing,” Dr. Quimby mentioned.

Scott laughed, seeing his niece’s reaction. “How about both? We’ll fly up the coast and go from there.”

“Yeah!” the girl screamed, jumping up and down on her uncle’s lap.

Scott caught her mid-way. “Easy girl, you’re gonna hurt me. Eat some breakfast then get cleaned up. Toss me the phone, old man, I’ll call for reservations. Mike, you get the dishes.”

Dr. Quimby smiled, handing the phone to his friend. He loved Scott’s spontaneity which was something he never was very good at. He elbowed his son. The delight on Scott’s face was so worth the shouting match.

“He just loves to take command, doesn’t he?” Michael asked his father.

“It takes so little to make him happy. I’ll help you.” Dr. Quimby said, gathering the dishes and heading towards the kitchen. They both stopped to stare.  It was obvious who had been cooking.

“How does she manage to make such a mess?” the father asked, picking egg shells up from the floor.

“My fault, I encouraged her to stop trying to be so good.”

“Fine, but egg yolks on the ceiling?”

Chapter Eight

The month went by quickly. Feeling refreshed and ready to start back at work, the four readied themselves in cammies for their first day on duty at the research station in Pt. Loma. Sam held her chin high, eyes forward, as she followed the Generals through the facility. She was very aware of the curious stares from the personnel—and the glares from the civilian scientists. She was perceived as a threat. Relief washed through her when she saw the familiar faces of her small crew of research techs and engineers from the Allegro.

Excusing himself, Scott took Dr. Quimby to the conference room. “Take care of your sister, she’s nervous,” he whispered to Michael.

The squad leader called the unit to attention to introduce the new commanders. Sam felt eyes drilling into her as she was sized up by her new personnel. She maintained her composure, sensing her brother’s support. She knew there would be a few challenges her way. There always were.

Michael placed them at ease and requested the crew be seated. “First, I must make something clear,” he started, seeing the glances towards his sister who stood rigidly next to him, “I believe in running a relaxed but responsible research team. When we are working, and not concerned about protocol, you have my permission to address me by first name, which is Mike. I will be your unit commander and lead engineer. In case some of you were wondering about my qualifications, my credentials include a PhD in Oceanic Physics and neuroengineering. I also keep a full open door policy for anyone with questions, concerns, or ideas. We are a team here and there are no stars. I understand that my sister and I have a certain reputation. I assure you that, despite our relationship with the flag officers, we both believe in hard work. Neither of us will ever ask anything of you that we ourselves refuse to do. Questions?”

He waited, seeing heads shaking before he continued. “Very good. I’m sure you noticed the increase in personnel here. These are selected members from the Allegro. If you have any questions, I’m sure any of them would be happy to help. We have nurtured a very strong family environment here and we want to welcome you into it. How many of you have been briefed regarding us? Seriously? No-one?”

“Lieutenant?” one of the Allegro’s men interrupted, “I was instructed by General Jenkins to allow you to do the briefing, especially regarding the, uh, unique circumstance.”

“Very well. Figures,” he whispered to his stiff sister. He placed his large hand on her shoulder. “Gentlemen, I would like you to introduce you to Lt. Samantha Quimby. She will be responsible for the biolab and Recon.”

Gasps were heard. A woman in charge of Recon? And she was so young!

Sam kept her chin high. Michael continued.

“Besides having a dual Masters in Marine Biology and Physical Oceanography, her work has been recognized and is under review by the Nobel committee for her breakthrough in cetacean communications. I need to see all your clearances before I continue, please.”

Everyone looked confused as they removed their IDs to present to him. Satisfied, he perched on the edge of the table. “Each of you has been specifically selected for this tour. We will be working with SCI and TS information. I must insist that you repeat absolutely nothing that you see, hear, read or experience. If any of you have problems or concerns regarding the delicacy of this team and our mission, you are free to leave without retribution.”

He waited, noticing he caught their interest. “Then I am assuming each of you is also willing and able to perform under the command of an 18 year old female? Anyone with problems, speak up now.”

A couple of men hesitated before raising their hands. Michael started to respond but was interrupted by another crew member. “I have served under these two for over a year and have witnessed the most amazing, brave and—pardon me, ma’am, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” he said to Sam who nodded gratefully before he finished, “ridiculously unbelievable things that I can’t even begin to tell you. That girl has put her life on the line for each of us multiple times and any of us would gladly give our lives for her.”

“Permission to speak freely, Sir,” one of the new men requested. Michael nodded. “Our job is special forces. If I understand correctly, Lieutenant, you said the Recon team is under her command. How in the world is a little five foot tall kid going to be able to keep up with us in the field? I don’t mean disrespect, ma’am, but we don’t have time to be watching out for you or worrying about you being injured.”

“None, taken, corporal. And my name is Samantha. Please, Mike, let me handle this,” she requested, standing in front of the desk. “It isn’t any surprise to me regarding your concerns, and that’s okay. I would probably feel the same if I judged from first impressions and outward appearance. I do remind you that a tiny vial of nitro can easily destroy this entire facility with only a little agitation. Not that I’m nitro, but my brother says my temper sometimes comes pretty close to it. “

Several men laughed, the mood lightened. She continued. ” I do ask that you give me an opportunity to prove my abilities to you. Wait, Mike,” she held up her hand. “My brother was going to say that I am a decorated officer and have already proven myself through the Commander and Chief. Blah, blah, blah. This issue has nothing to do with my commission or the circumstances surrounding it. It has to do with trust, my age, size, and gender. Yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” several men nodded. Sam smiled, her eyes piercing as she studied them. She watched them swallow hard. It wasn’t her flirting smile, it was her ‘bring it on’ one. Her crew, familiar with the facial expressions of their Siren, elbowed each other with grins.

“I appreciate your candidness. Go on, challenge me. In anything you want. I’ve been through the same training you have and I promise I will keep up or excel at anything you need me to do in the field. I also promise that I will not take your challenge as a personal affront.”

“I need to intervene here, “Michael said, his eyes also hard, “Samantha is my partner, my best friend, and my kid sister. I have to warn you that anyone who harms her will have to deal with more than myself, this crew and our parents. They will never be able to survive the ocean. This is not an empty threat. It’s a promise. There are forces involved that you don’t understand.”