Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges by Alan Black

Emmons told me the same thing about you.”
    Stone was really surprised. He knew Doctor Emmons wrote reports on lots of people, but she specialized more in groups than individuals. He hadn’t realized she’d paid that much attention to him beyond a few casual reports.
    Butcher pointed at Tander. “Ensign, you are relieved of your duties in the kitchen. As soon as we break here, report to Lieutenant Vera as a replacement for Stone. Do you think the cooks can get by without you?”
    Tander laughed, “Without me? Sir, they’ll probably get along better without me being underfoot. I couldn’t boil water without burning myself, so mostly I’ve just tried to stand back and let the enlisted people do what they’ve been trained for.”
    In a stage whisper that carried across the room, XO Gupta said, “I can tell that boy has the makings of a good officer someday.”
    In a reply whisper, LCDR Li said, “I didn’t learn that lesson until I was a butterbar LT.”
    Butcher ignored his two officers and said, “I got the same report from Spacer Dollish, Ensign Tander. Not that you were in the way, but he said you’ve been a big help expediting things they can’t do for themselves.”
    “Sir, I didn’t know you knew Dollish? The man is better than most of the petty officers in the kitchens.”
    “I know that, Ensign. He’s why I can move you. I’d promote him above those petty officers if his last boss hadn’t already promoted him as far as he can go with his education and time in service.”
    Stone was still standing. “Sir, we can’t do anything about his time in service, but Tim and I have been working on his education. He should get his standard high school diploma before we get back to Allie’s World.”
    Butcher nodded, “That’ll be a good idea, if we survive this assignment.”
    “Yes, sir. If we survive.”

 
     
     
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
    Bolted to the floor around the new bridge conference table was a small cluster of overstuffed Hyrocanian chairs. Seating was first come, first seat choice. The conference area was an obvious addition, but in the hodgepodge of mismatched equipment and odd bits of strung wires, it didn’t look too much out of place. Stone grabbed a seat next to Whizzer ignoring the scientist as the man nibbled on Emmons’s earlobe while whispering softly to her. Whatever the man was saying caused Emmons to giggle, a sound not usually associated with a woman of her years.
    On the other side of the table were MAJ Numos who sat directly across from Stone and LTSG Missimaya, the third watch commander. Numos, the only person on the bridge not exuding any strong fragrance of worry or caution, smiled a greeting at Stone. The man was positively calm, giving off his normal minty odor, indicating he was fully loyal and ready to do whatever was necessary and required.
    Butcher sat in the standard three-chair bridge configuration overwatching the consoles. Gupta and Li flanked him. In place of the one pushbutton console the Hyrocanian’s favored, the navy had installed a dozen consoles for a myriad of functions. The captain rose from his chair and paced along the workstations, addressing each operator by name, getting a go-no go thumbs up or down.
    Stone caught a strong whiff of vanilla as Butcher walked over to the conference table where he stopped pacing to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. His nervous energy appeared to bleed out through his fingers as he flexed his hands. The vanilla fragrance was entirely too bland to represent determination and utter commitment, but Stone believed that was what Butcher was feeling. If there was any lemony scent of concern, the odor was lost in the citrus lime odors of fear and caution coming from others on the bridge.
    Butcher said, “I appreciate each of you volunteering to be here. With the exception of Lieutenant Missimaya, we’ve all encountered Hyrocanians. No one knows how they think and since we don’t know what to expect when we jump