First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) by PJ Strebor Page B

said. “Are you all right?” 
    He detested himself for making her worry. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He snuggled into her. “I should stop drinking service coffee. It always upsets my stomach.”
    She mercifully said nothing. 
    A little face poked out from the swaddle, hooked into Livy’s arm. Such a sweet little face.
    “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Livy asked.
    Nathan paused for a long moment. “I would prefer if you didn’t,” he said.
    He hated farewells and had avoided them in the past. Welcome homecomings were great, but farewells left him feeling hollow. Nathan had witnessed his share of farewells over the years: buckets of tears from loved ones, fully complemented by an accompanying chorus of whining children and screaming babies. He did not want to see tears from either of his ladies.
    Nathan remained within her gentle embrace, the wounded man and his two ladies, until the hour struck that would tear them apart. He kissed Ellen’s sleeping face, so gently it would not awaken her, and hugged Livy to him. One last, lingering kiss. Then he left his beautiful ladies sitting on the lounge. With a heavy heart, he left and did not look back. Never look back.   
    He walked briskly through Hector’s myriad of catacombs, forcing his family to the back of his mind. For now he had to concentrate on the job ahead. He would be of no use to his family if he got himself killed because his mind wasn’t focused on his duty.
    A spring returned to his step when he marched into the hangar. 
    Insolent sat on her skids surrounded by maintenance gantries sticking into her open hatchways like spears impaling a huge black tortoise. One of the smallest warships in the League, Monitor Corps “Black Boats” had a reputation far exceeding their diminutive size. Although twice the size of a standard attack boat, the monitor escort boat still ranked as a relatively small vessel when compared to the massive capital ships employed by the Athenian Naval Service and most other navies. 
    After receiving his billet, he passed through the marine guard post and set course for his quarters. As with everything else on a MEB, the officers’ quarters were roomier than an attack boat’s, and the extra headroom came as a bonus. A lowly ensign did not rate his own room, so he would have to share with another officer. An hour after reporting aboard he had donned his one-piece black flight suit and soft-soled footwear and had just finished unpacking his belongings when the hatch chime sounded.
    He keyed his LM. “Ad-mit.”
    The hatch slid aside and a lean, robust young woman stepped inside. She had thick, dark hair, large, brown eyes and two more silver stars on her epaulet than he.
    Stepping forward, she offered her hand. “Rowena Valetta, 2IC, 26 th fighter squadron. Call sign, Dash.”
    “Nathan Telford, grommit. Awaiting call sign.” 
    Rowena returned his smile warmly. “Are you settled in all right?”
    “You bet.”
    She checked the top bunk. “Have you seen your roomie today?”
    He shook his head.
    The hatch slid aside. On a vessel as small as a monitor, it was considered poor form to enter anyone’s quarters without first buzzing.
    An enormous young man somehow managed to squeeze his broad frame through the hatch. Within the confines of the small room, he reminded Nathan of a cartoon gorilla jammed into a bird cage. Still clad in his Class A uniform, he eyed the two officers with apprehension before a wicked smile spread across his broad mouth.
    “Oops, sorry. I guess I should have buzzed first. Would you like me to leave while you two…” —another idiotic grin— “finish up?”
    “You would be Ensign Whitney, then?” Rowena’s tone hardened.
    “Yes, that’s right. I’m the new hotshot from Southern Quadrant.” From his fondness at grinning at his own remarks, he apparently considered himself to be quite the wit. Nathan sighed inwardly. He would be sharing quarters with this … fellow for the next