Starhold by J. Alan Field

bowel prep. Drinking the diarrhea-inducing liquid was almost as disgusting as the multiple trips to the toilet it prompted. Then there was the anxiety of the mission ahead. By the time he fell asleep, it was time to get up and head back out to Camp Caspeta.
    The two decided not to mention their suspicions regarding a stolen ship to Commander Ojukwu, or anyone else. They would take possession of Kite and get out of town, leaving Admiral Getchell and his minions to sort through the Kestrel affair.
    As the morning progressed with preparations for departure, Carr decided that Sanchez was more moody than usual and knew it wasn’t just nerves about the mission. When she summoned him to a quiet spot beside Kite just before take-off, he had a good idea of what was coming.
    Leaning an outstretched arm against the side of the ship, she began. “I know what you’re planning and it’s not going to happen.”
    “All right, you tell me,” he said, crossing his arms, “what am I planning? Let’s get it all out in the open.”
    “We’re going to get to Earth, land, and then you’re going to pull rank on me or something, leaving me behind with the ship while you go off reconnoitering. To you, I’m just the chauffer. It’s going to be just like the last four days. You’ve shown me no confidence, no trust, and you can barely even bring yourself to talk to me.”
    “We’re mission partners, not friends.”
    “No, we’re not, Carr,” she said raking her fingers through her hair. “A partnership means sharing and trust. It means believing that your teammate is competent and will do the right thing at the right time. I know I don’t have your experience, but dammit, when Tolbert teamed me with you he didn’t just pick my name out of a hat! And my uncle being an admiral has nothing to do with my qualifications for fieldwork—I’m as qualified as any other operative. I don’t know, maybe you’re incapable of trusting someone else.”
    Carr raised his head and stared at the hanger ceiling for a moment. “Sanchez, I know you’re capable, that’s not the issue. On missions, it doesn’t pay to get personal. You get to know a person, you get to like them, and then when a tough call comes along, it affects your judgment. Best to keep it professional.”
    “Nobody’s trying to get personal, Carr. I don’t want to screw you, I just want to work with you, but I can’t do that unless you’re willing to work with me. This thing is too big for mistrust and misunderstanding to get in the way. You want to be professional? Fine, BE professional! Take your head out of your ass and let’s do this—together.”
    There was a long silence. Finally, Carr pointed an index finger in her direction. “Sanchez, let me tell you something. You’re…”
    “Over the line, I know, I know,” she stared down at the floor.
    “I was going to say that you’re right. You’re absolutely right,” he said as she looked up at him. “I have had my head up my ass. I’ve been preoccupied with, well, other things on my mind and that has to stop. Like you just said, this is too big.”
    The pilot looked around as if she didn’t know what to do or say. She hadn’t expected his capitulation, let alone his candor.
    “But there has to be an understanding,” he continued. “You’re in. You’re in all the way, but I do have more experience than you and I am the mission commander. When we get to the point where our butts are on the line and I say jump, you have to trust me and jump—no questions, no debate, just jump. Can you do that?”
    She nodded silently.
    “I guess what I’m asking is, can you trust me?”
    A tiny smile broke across her face and she extended her hand to him. Without words, Carr gave it a firm shake.
    By 11:30 hours, Kite was airborne and breaking the atmosphere of Rusalka. The lieutenant commander was clearly enjoying her new toy as she flew the scout to a position high above the planet before turning the controls over to