Echoes of the Storm

Chapter 12

A ruckus in the galley caused heads to turn, but not Stone's. The clatter was like white noise to him, the voices melding with the steady hum of the ship.

"Matt...alive and well." Stone stared at his hand on Jack's. Maybe it was the shock of learning about his brother that kept him holding on. That was part of it. But he could certainly admit he liked the warmth of that touch, and Jack didn't seem to mind.

Stone looked up, directly into Jack's dark, round eyes. "He couldn't."

"What?" Jack asked, confused, a look that Stone found disarming.

"Matt. He couldn't shoot me down. I'm the better pilot," Stone said, pointing at himself.

Jack laughed. "I thought you said you were always trying to show him up." His eyes glinted with mischief.

"I was. I did. Tell me how you met—"

Alarms blared. Stone exchanged an exasperated glance with Jack. This was not the way he wanted to end dinner. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask—about his brother Matt, about Jack's involvement with the resistance. About Jack. Forgive me Matt. Especially about Jack.

He clicked his comm as the crew scattered from the mess hall. "Report," he called above the pounding of their boots on the deck.

"Another Corona scout ship, sir!" The voice from the bridge was young and inexperienced.

Stone stood slowly. "No need to shout, Danner. Range?"

There was an audible breath over the comm. "Just out of our targeting scopes, sir. No sign she's spotted us."

"Shields up. Navigation, plot us a course that takes us away from that patrol. Quietly." He glanced at Jack as Danner acknowledged and signed off. "That's the second Corona ship we've spotted in this sector. Very unusual."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You think they're looking for me."

"Whose picture is splashed all over the streams?"

The lights in the mess hall flickered and the ship rocked violently. Dishes clattered to the deck. Stone nearly fell into Jack's lap. He grasped the edge of the chair to regain his balance, eyes flashing uncertainty. "Go to the galley," he ordered Jack.

"The galley?" Jack repeated as Stone headed for the door. "What do I look like? A cook?"

"You'd better try," Stone called over his shoulder. "It's your best shot of going unnoticed."

"What about Cloe?" Jack shouted, but Stone had bolted down the corridor.

The galley was narrow, rectangular-shaped, and compact. Two men diligently chopping greens seemed unperturbed by the shrieking alarms and shaking ship. But one glowered at Jack as if he'd invaded their home.

"Guess we've been spotted," Jack told them as the alarm finally faded. They took the news with mild disinterest. "I'm Jack. I'd really like to see my friend Cloe, but Captain Stone told me to wait here."

The older chef scowled.

Acer, the younger of the two, seemed less irritated by Jack's presence than his comrade. Tall, lanky, and baby-faced, his blond hair stuck out from beneath a flat-brimmed cap. "Heard she was in rough shape."

"Is the infirmary on this deck?" Jack asked.

"Nothing quite so fancy as that on this boat," Acer said. "The med bay, if you can call it that, is two beds next to Chief Redstone's workroom in engineering. I'll take you there when Cap signals the all-clear."