The silence is deafening. Commander Morgan paces in his quarters, but my eyes dare not follow him; they're locked onto his empty glass of whisky that sits on his desk. It's been refilled twice.
When he finally speaks, his voice is strained.
"I've listened to six stories, Lieutenant," with this he begins to pour himself another glass (half-way only), "and now I want to hear yours, because three have said one thing, and three have said the other."
He downs a quarter of his drink in one gulp. I know it's not my turn to speak yet.
"Tell me," he continued, "why five of my bridge-officers were involved in a fight, started by an officer I just promoted." The Commander crosses his arms and bores his green eyes into my skull, which I take as my cue to begin my futile attempt to explain what happened.
"I let myself listen to Lieutenant Lucas's drunken rants, Sir," I state, because the Commander hates bumbling apologies.
"One comment is enough to get you riled up and smash a glass into another bridge-officer's face?"
My CO slams his drink down hard on the mahogony table, his own glass threatening to shatter itself.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans on his desk. "Tell me the truth, Miranda, because I know there is more to this story. What did Lucas do?"
I shift uneasily.
"Miranda," he barks, and it involuntarily makes me jump. I hate it; how he is the only other person to make me feel like I'm six years old again.
"Lieutenant Lucas was...," I gritted my teeth, "suggesting that my promotion stems from inappropriate relations with my superiors, Sir."
The Commander blinks at my explanation. "Miranda, I'm out of whiskey, and my patience is wearing thin. I know that is not enough to make you snap. I asked for the truth, now give it to me so I don't have to give you a damn court-martial!"
"He was making the same suggestions of...my father," I mumble.
"And is this on-going? Sure as hell, one drunken comment like that is still not enough to jostle you."
"Yes, Sir," I crisply reply to make up for that wimpy sputter.
He ran his fingers through his graying hair. "Well that changes everything," he sighs and finishes his whiskey. "Four of you have your father to thank for getting them out of a court-martial."
"With all due respect to you, Sir, and my father, I'd appreciate it if we left him out of the conversation." I've had enough of my dad for one day. That's how all this started.
The Hilbert's CO stands up. "Too late, Lieutenant. You'll have to tell him yourself."
He walks to the door and that's when I notice there are two empty glasses of whiskey on his desk, the other belonging to Commander Jacob Keyes.