CROSSFIRE - Atlantis DSV - New Cape Quest

me that he‟ll support Cathgate‟s decision – publically, at least. What he thinks privately is
none of the Secretary-General‟s god-damned business.”
Ainsley shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I‟m sorry it‟s come to this, Jack... And I
apologise for what it‟s cost you. Although frankly, I‟m not sure much of what I can say is
going to make it any easier.”
Riley waved a hand dismissively as he sat back in his chair. “Keep your apologies,
Ainsley. I would have been disappointed if you had decided to do anything less.”
“Yes sir.”
“Just do me a favour and keep your head down out there. You can trust Hargreaves,
but the Office of Naval Intelligence has the kind of reputation that gives men in his position a
bad name.”
“I‟ll keep it in mind when next I speak with Schrader,” Ainsley smiled. “And what
about you?”
Riley laughed. “I‟ve got a ranch in Wisconsin. I figure I‟ll lie low for a while until this
whole thing blows over. Lord knows, Emma needs to get away from it all. Don‟t you worry
about me.”
“That sounds outstanding,” Ainsley beamed, smiling approvingly as some of his own
problems momentarily evaporated at the thought. “I wonder if you might do me another
favour and check in on Sam for me... I‟ll tell her what I can, but, she could use the support.”
“I‟ll have Schrader sort out the details, but you have my word, we‟ll take care of her.”
“I appreciate it.”
The two officers stared across the comm. link for several, long moments afterwards.
Ainsley knew full well that it would be the last time he would ever speak with Riley as the
commander of the Pacific fleet – a fact he sorely regretted. Riley then leaned forward.
“I‟ll see you after the war, Mark. I‟ll buy the drinks.”
“I will hold you to that,” Ainsley smirked.
“Riley out.”
The image of the Fleet Admiral evaporated quickly, leaving Ainsley staring blankly at
his own reflection in the monitor. He got up slowly and looked around his now-empty
quarters in silence, seeing the two bags next to the lounge. Something flashed from the
corner of his eye, drawing his head slowly around to find the other officer on the wall staring
back at him. Ainsley narrowed his eyes at the image, examining the form of his own
reflection in the mirror quietly. He couldn‟t remember the last time he‟d ever paid attention to
the „fruit bowl‟ of ribbons adorning the left hand side of his chest, having become something
of an asymmetrical inconvenience that commanded more maintenance than it deserved. At
that moment, he wasn‟t even sure if he deserved them at all. He sighed as he accepted the
inevitability of that, and removed the three stars from his collar to set them gently on the
bench. He held the second set in his hand for a moment longer, feeling the weight and
coolness of the metal before that too, was consigned to the table.
A knock from the door drew him away from that reflection sharply. “Come in.”
James Banick appeared in the hatch way a moment later, pausing at the foot of the
small staircase that led down from the raised corridor outside and pushing it closed with a
solid „thump‟. Like Riley, Banick looked exhausted - his jumpsuit zipped down, his sleeves
rolled up, and his shoulders sagging far below the line of his collar.
“I‟m surprised you‟re awake,” Ainsley said, sipping the glass of water he‟d set neat
his rank pins. “It‟s not exactly top of first watch.”
“I‟m not tired,” Banick truthfully lied. Of course he was tired – he‟d just stopped feeling
it.
“Can I get you something?”
“No.”
The Admiral nodded silently as he removed a small, velvet box from the side of his
bag and opened it to place the two rank pins inside. Banick caught a glimpse of its contents
for only a moment before Ainsley snapped it shut again. He recognised the blue ribbon
inside instantly, hooked up and behind the velvet backing from a wreathed medallion
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