Free Jack of Harts 2.5: Wolfenheim Rising by Medron Pryde Page B

there?”
    “Hush, you,” he responded with a snort and stepped towards the hatch.
    “Oh.”  Her dark tone stopped him in his tracks.  “Trying to silence me now, are you?”  He turned to see her glaring at him, fists on her hips.  “You just be careful or I’ll use those pictures.  Mark my words, I will,” she finished with the wave of a finger at him.
    Malcolm shook his head and frowned at her as the hatch opened.  “You are going to be the death of me yet.”
    “Oh no,” Dawn answered, her sweet smile back.  “If you died, I’d have to find a new job, and that would be so much work.”
    “Ah.  Right.”  Malcolm sighed and aimed an amused look at her.  “In that case, it is my profound wish that you never be forced to do anything so horrifying.”  He stepped through the hatch and waggled his eyebrows at her.  “But maybe that’s just the great humanitarian in me talking,” he finished and saw her register the clean hit with a single upraised finger as the hatch closed, leaving him alone in his cabin.

Over the years, I have met many I would consider friends.  There are only a very few that I would trust with my life.  There are even fewer that I would drop everything for.  Charles and I can go years without seeing each other, drink a beer over a word or two, and go our separate ways after saying everything that needs saying.  We are family, in every way that matters.  And when true family calls, you just answer.  No questions.  No reservations.  You just do.
     
     

V
     
    Malcolm leaned back in a sinfully comfortable reclining chair, feet kicked up on a padded ottoman that cradled them with exquisite care.  He relaxed in the middle of his day cabin, idly watching one bulkhead.  At ten meters long, it was an unthinkably large cabin aboard ship, but to a man that grew up in houses the rich and famous wished they could live in, the day cabin was only a small greeting room.  He hadn’t asked for it, but was profoundly grateful to have that one decently sized room to stretch out in and enjoy the sights.
    At the moment, the sights appeared on the bulkhead in all their glory.  It was normally light grey, like most of Normandy’s bulkheads, without any permanent decorations.  Today, a starfield dominated the bulkhead’s smartpaint, filled with dozens of small shuttles moving back and forth between the supply depot and the Wolfenheim Project starships hovering nearby.  He loved just watching ships of any kind move through space, and today was a rare opportunity to do it live.  He intended to take full advantage of that.
    The hatch opened behind him, but he didn’t shift.  He was too preoccupied watching the shuttles move through the steps of their intricate dance.
    “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Dawn called out as he heard her step into the day cabin.
    “You know the combination,” he retorted, but kept his attention on the view in the bulkhead.
    “Sorry, fresh out of Prince Charmings today.  Though I might have something better,” Dawn announced, and he heard another set of feet enter the cabin.
    “Impressive sight,” a voice he would recognize anywhere said in approval.
    Malcolm kicked his feet off the ottoman and pushed himself up from the chair in a single smooth motion, bringing the newcomer into view.  Charles Edward Hurst stood before him in a black three-piece suit and tie tailored to hang off his lanky frame perfectly, just like old times.  Shoulder-length brown hair and stubble gave him a scruffy look the man never would have allowed in the past, but Peloran grooming styles were rather different from American military standards.
    Malcolm absorbed the sight of his old friend for an instant, and then launched himself forward to wrap the man up in a bear hug.  “Chuck!” he shouted and thumped the man on the shoulder.
    “Mal,” Charles returned with an answering bear hug and a few thumps that would have broken a lesser man’s shoulder.  A holoform wearing