Wolfhound

Chapter One

Jacob Hull smiled with relief as he stepped out of the hatch of the shuttle that had brought him to the station. He moved out of the way of the other passengers and drew a couple of deep, refreshing breaths, relishing the crispness of the recycled air. Although many preferred the fuller, less artificial atmosphere of a planet, the sharp feel of the air on a space station always helped him feel at home. The fact the interior of the shuttle had smelled liked an ill-used restroom doubled his enjoyment of the well-filtered atmosphere.

He paused to check his ensign’s uniform, making sure the dark blue coat was in order, as well as his lighter shirt and pants, before he proceeded to the security station ahead. His stomach fluttered with anxiety, but he had expected a bit of nervousness today. After all, his assignment here was the start of the path he had planned for his entire life. Like his father had done before him, Jacob was about to start his first deployment as an officer of the Celostian Navy, and he hoped wherever his parents were watching from, he would be able to make them proud.

It’s been too long since I’ve been in space. He handed over his identification card to the guard, pausing for a moment as the man checked it with a reader. Jacob bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, and examined the shuttle bay around him. Even the gravity feels better up here!

"Ensign Jacob Hull, assigned to the CNS Wolfhound?"

Jacob nodded absently, continuing to study the welcome center just beyond the security checkpoint. It was an open plaza with generous, bright lighting, something he wouldn’t have expected from a military base. Maybe they want to keep the planet-side folks from feeling claustrophobic? There are families here after all. News screens were located on the walls alongside smaller screens that displayed shuttle information and advertisements for shopping centers, gardens and other stores. Benches and chairs were clustered sporadically to provide a moments respite from the bustle of the crowds, and here and there were entrances to corridors that led deeper into the station. He waited for the security team to clear him, but after a few more moments impatience set in. Annoyed, Jacob focused on the security guard, who was now tapping at buttons on the screen of his reader.

Is there a problem?

No, sir. I’m just processing the identification card. You should be fine.

Jacob frowned as he watched one of the families that had arrived at the station after him walk past, already apparently cleared by the guard that had inspected them. He turned back to the guard, ready to ask him if he was sure, when the news screens distracted him. He ignored the recording of a debate between someone from the Federalist party and his Independent party rival, glanced only briefly at the soccer match on another screen, until one report in particular caught his eye. The newscasters were discussing the recent terrorist bombing of Trenton Station two days ago. Though the voices were lost amid the babble of the welcome center, Jacob could make out the outline of the discussion, which seemed to be a debate as to who was responsible. The Oduran League was an obvious possibility due to its constant aggression toward the Union and the many Oduran raids into Celostian territory.

Jacob agreed, however, with the man who pointed out that such bombings were unusual considering the League’s typical, blunt force tactics. It was much more likely an attack by the Rigannin separatists or worse, the Telosian pirates. Jacob felt a twitch of hatred run through him as he thought of the Telosian scum, but the guard’s next question brought his attention back to the present.

Sir? Your identification states that you were born off-planet. The suspicion in the official’s question was the last thing he wanted to hear. He felt his throat constrict with a combination of resentment and frustration.

That’s correct. I was born on the frontier. He knew the challenge in his tone was a mistake, but his father had never raised him to be anything but proud of his heritage, and some checkpoint lackey was not going to take that from him. Not today.

The guard looked up, and Jacob saw his lip curl into a sneer. Then he stopped when Jacob simply met his eyes and folded his arms. The uncertainty grew in the other man’s face, and Jacob decided to press before he could recover. "Is there a problem?"

Obviously unsettled, the man shook his head. No, sir.

Are you sure?

Yes, sir. Just a few more moments. The reader the guard held suddenly gave off a few audible clicks followed by a trio of beeps. The guard glanced down at the device, then back up at Jacob. Then he gave the identification card back. Thank you very much sir. I’m sorry for the delay.

With a nod, Jacob retrieved the small card and placed it back in his coat pocket. He shook his head and approached the nearest directory to find a map of the station. After a moment’s search he found the room where the briefing would take place. He traced the branching corridors from the docking bay to the room. He took only another look around to find the correct doorway leading to the military section of the station. Jacob walked quickly, watching for the branch off tunnel that would lead to the meeting room where the rest of his new crewmates would be.

As he walked, Jacob pondered the painted landscapes that lined the corridor, wondering if they had been put there to comfort people from the surface who were used to seeing more than stars and vacuum outside their windows. He’d never really fit in with planet-dwellers; from the time he’d been born until the age of twelve, he’d lived in space stations or on his father’s ship, the Sprite. Home for him had always meant artificial gravity and worn deckplates, the hum of the Sprite’s equipment and the vast openness of space. No sunset or thunderstorm could compare to those close quarters and constant travels of his childhood.

He was still reliving memories of his father’s ship when a shout caught his attention. He turned to find another young man in an ensign’s uniform waving at him. Red-haired and tall to the point of being lanky, he had a sly confidence about himself. The other ensign’s hair was a bit less carefully cut, and his uniform was a bit less crisp, but his face seemed friendly enough. Do I know him from somewhere? Jacob smiled even as he frantically tried to remember if he knew him, and waved back.

The other ensign’s face broke out into a sloppy grin. You might want to know you missed the turn off. You’re not going to get to a briefing room going that way.

Oh! Thanks. Jacob gave the other ensign an abashed grin as he walked up and stuck out a hand. My name is Jacob Hull. What’s yours?

The ensign eyed him speculatively before nodding and grabbing the outstretched hand to shake. Isaac Bellworth. You one of the new ensigns?

Jacob nodded, feeling a flicker of pride well up in him. "Yeah. I just got here. I’ll be on the Wolfhound."

Excited, are you? Isaac’s tone was odd, and Jacob looked at him sharply.

You bet. I haven’t been in space for too long. Are you on the same crew?

Isaac’s nod was a little slow, but he gestured for Jacob to follow him. They both turned to walk down the hallway together, but it was another few moments before Isaac spoke again. You haven’t heard yet, have you?

Jacob frowned. The cautious tone in Isaac’s voice didn’t sound like he was uncertain of how Jacob would react. It sounds more like he knows how I’ll react and is trying to cushion the blow. He tried to keep his eyes from narrowing. Heard what?

Isaac let out a small sigh. "Well, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the Wolfhound is a hard luck ship. They’ve scooped up all the malcontents, rejects, and discipline problems and dumped them all on one ship. It’s not exactly an honor to be on the crew. In fact, a lot of people are saying that they just rebuilt her to have a place to dump us all."

The only response Jacob could manage was a short, agonized grunt. His mind flashed back to the enraged faces of his instructors at the Academy, to their threats of consequences in the future. I thought if I was good enough, they’d have to ignore my faults. Guess I was wrong. He shook his head, and Isaac’s half-pained expression gave way to one of sincere regret. Sorry to bring ya bad news. I’ve just never been one to soften things.

That’s okay. I had to find out somehow. Jacob sighed. So how did you end up on the crew, then?

Isaac paused for a moment, then chuckled. I seem to have a curse, you could say. Whenever I have a fellow crew member with a bad attitude, or an annoying commander, something bad happens to them.

Jacob gave him a sidelong look. Is that so? What kind of something?

The other ensign laughed loudly. You ever heard of the captain who got ejected into space near Trendon?

He had. The officer had apparently been recovered after the escape pod he was in had led the rescue ship on a wild chase. When he had finally been taken back onboard, he had claimed that he had no control over the craft, and had been asleep inside when it was ejected. No one had been able to figure out what had happened or who had put him there, and the wild flurry of accusations the officer had made only served to make it clear how many people hated being under his command. You don’t mean… That was you?

Isaac shook his head. I will neither confirm, nor deny that. He tapped his chin with one finger. Though I do remember the poor captain threatening to kick me out of the Navy just before his little trip. I’m sure it’s unrelated.

Of course. Jacob shook his head. I’m not sure I even want to know about what else you’ve been up to.

What a shame! There are so many stories waiting to be told! Isaac gestured grandly with his hands, then pointed at a nearby doorway. Here we are. The show must be about to start. Two Marines standing outside the door checked their identification before allowing them inside. As they stepped inside the door, both Isaac and Jacob stopped, surprised at the size of the briefing room they had entered. Milling around inside was a large group of people, well over a hundred at least, all of whom were wearing Navy and Marine uniforms. One of them waved to him from across the room, and a smile spread across Jacob’s face as he waved back. He turned to Isaac.

Isaac, I would like to introduce you to Ensign Laurie Simms. Jacob gestured to the ensign as she walked over. Laurie, this is Ensign Isaac Bellworth. He kept me from wandering the halls like a lost sheep.

You always have managed to get lost no matter where you were walking, Hull. The brown-haired ensign gave Isaac a bright smile as she shook his hand. Nice to meet you. Are you the Isaac I keep hearing stories about?

Isaac raised an eyebrow. I guess that depends on what kind of stories you’ve been hearing.

Laurie laughed and turned back to Jacob. So what trouble have you been getting into now? Any more poor professors that have needed lecturing?

A puzzled look appeared on Isaac’s face, and he frowned. Lecturing?

Jacob broke in, hoping to head the conversation off before it got away from him. Come on, Laurie, nobody wants to hear about that now.

Oh, so you haven’t told him yet, huh? She gave Isaac a sly smile, her brown eyes flashing with amusement. Our dear Ensign Hull was the gentleman scholar of our graduating class. He’s incredibly smart; near the top of every class he bothered to take seriously. Naval Regulations, Combat Maneuvers, even Command training. You’d think he was getting ready to captain a ship already.

Is that so? Isaac’s speculative look was back, and he eyed Jacob carefully. And here I was telling him about all of my pranks.

Jacob shook his head. He opened his mouth to reassure Isaac, but Laurie beat him to it. Oh, I wouldn’t say that he was a model student. Her smile turned wicked. You see, Hull is so educated that he could tell when the teachers were wrong. And he told them when they were.

There was a pause, and then Isaac chuckled. Oh really. How did that go? Did they enjoy the lesson, Jacob?

A glance at Laurie’s face told Jacob there was no way he was going to get out of telling the story himself. Alright, fine, I’ll tell. He directed a sharp glare at his erstwhile Academy ally before continuing. But you’re going to pay me back for making me relive the whole thing again.

Laurie stifled another round of laughter, and Jacob sighed. Look, I wouldn’t have even said anything if he hadn’t been so pompous about it. I figured that if he was going to give a lecture on frontier habits, he might as well have the correct information.

She leaned towards Isaac, whispering confidentially, though still loudly enough that Jacob could hear her. The lesson was on the habits and political problems caused by spacers living on the frontier of Celostian territory. The professor was talking about the conflicts their lack of consideration caused with the League, as well as clarifying their ‘filthy and irresponsible’ habits in engineering and settlement.

So what did you say then, oh wise one? Isaac’s smile was quickly widening. Jacob shrugged uncomfortably.

I just told him about my own experiences on the frontier. A feeling of embarrassment stole over him as he remembered the shocked look on the professor’s face, and the surprised amusement of his fellow students. He didn’t seem to appreciate the input.

That’s putting it a little mildly, don’t you think? Laurie looped an arm around Jacob’s shoulders and swept an arm out, gesturing as if painting an image in the air. Picture this, if you will: a young, bold ensign in training, valiantly defending the habits of his fellow spacers to his peers! Describing, for an hour, their courage and fortitude in settling in the wilder systems of the frontier! Detailing, for the benefit of all, the greater efficiency of their systems and the effectiveness of their unorthodox maneuvers! Isaac was shaking his head at her tone, and Jacob felt his embarrassment grow. He tried to shrug himself free of her arm.

I was just saying what I knew. It’s not like I meant to embarrass him. And you’re exaggerating anyway! I only talked for about five minutes or so. I don’t see what the big problem was.

Laurie snorted, rolling her eyes. Yeah, because after the head of the Academy got lectured for an hour by an ensign who did his best to point out how wrong he was, the guy was just supposed to let it slide. You’re lucky he could never find a way to kick you out without making himself look bad.

Before Jacob could find a response to that, a sudden silence spread over the people closer to the front. He looked in that direction to find a slender, balding man motioning for quiet. The insignia for a lieutenant commander, an eagle with two gold bars under it, was on the right breast of his uniform jacket. Jacob, Laurie and Isaac all wasted no time finding a seat, as did everyone else in the room.

Jacob took a moment to examine the officer at the front. His face had a blank expression on it, and he almost seemed bored. Patience was stamped on that face, however, and Jacob thought the disinterested look had more to do with the process of everyone finding their seats than it did his attitude towards life in general. When everyone was finally seated, the lieutenant commander nodded and stepped to the side. Another man, this one marked with the eagle and triple bars suggesting a commander, stepped up in his place.

The difference between the two men was stark. Where one had been bored, almost vacant of enthusiasm, this officer projected a calm energy that made Jacob want to come to attention. Dark hair streaked through with gray showed the commander’s age, and his face was a combination of hard angles softened only by lines caused by strain. It was the kind of face a warrior who had seen too many battles would wear.

The commander spoke, his voice carrying over the crowd with the help of a microphone fastened to one side of his collar. "My name is Commander Rodgers. On behalf of myself and the rest of the command crew, I would like to welcome you to the crew of the CNS Wolfhound." A stir of murmurs passed through the crowd, but Rodgers did not seem to notice. He continued.

"Some of you might be wondering why a completely new crew is being introduced to the ship. The reason is simple: the Wolfhound is a completely new ship, one that has spent the better part of two years in refits. I am one of the only officers here who served aboard the original Wolfhound and as such, I will be in command of the vessel on her maiden voyage."

Commander Rodgers nodded to the other officer, and the lieutenant commander touched a control on the pad-style reader he held in one hand. A wireframe hologram of the warship sprang to life in midair at the front of the room. Jacob’s eyes were instantly locked on it, running over every contour and surface as the image rotated.

The Wolfhound wasn’t a large ship, only about two hundred meters long, but it didn’t need to be gigantic to be impressive. Navy vessels tended to look like clumps of boxes welded together, but the Wolfhound was somehow endearing in its own unique ugliness. The central hull was thinner than it was tall, and rectangular, with four arms branching off from the bow like the points on a compass star. The southern arm extended much further than the other three, and all four bristled with railguns.

The bridge was located in the rear portion, a smooth bump on the top of the ship ahead of the signal drone launchers. The sail spars meant to provide the ship’s propulsion splayed out at the aft of the ship, each of the four dark energy sail rigs at a forty five degree angle from the forward arms. Brake sails formed a quartet of bulges about halfway back from the bow, each angled to be directly forward of a sail rig. Several radiation masts, meant to cool the ship in the times between combat, extended from the main hull as well.

It was a destroyer, meant to fly fast and bring its large number of guns to bear on lighter enemy vessels, and from the way the guns were placed, it was always meant to be on the attack. Jacob could easily imagine the vessel doing exactly that, striking with the grace and efficiency of a swooping hawk. This ship was no cargo hauler, no station tug. There was little in the way of wasted space and less in terms of comforting lines. The Wolfhound was a predator, pure and simple. Something about it appealed to Jacob, and he smiled as the commander continued.

"The Wolfhound is one of the first in a new class of ships in the Celostian Navy. She is based on the Defender model, which was designed to serve as both a fleet support vessel and an independent patrol craft along the frontier. In an extension of that role, the Navy has put considerable effort into the redesign of the old destroyers, expanding her armaments and developing the ship into a more heavily armed warship."

"Unlike the earlier models, the Wolfhound is armed with twelve railguns, three of which are long range weapons. The commander stopped for a moment as a burst of startled murmurs swept through the crew. Jacob glanced at the other two ensigns sitting next to him and saw Laurie’s jaw hanging open a little. Isaac, on the other hand, leaned forward eagerly, his eyes bright. Commander Rodgers continued, a smile lightening the hard edges of his face. I can tell that the heavier armament has already made an impression on you. The Navy hopes it makes an equal impression on our foes.

"In addition to the superior firepower, upgrades have been made to the number and placement of the point defense turrets, sensor posts, communications arrays and missile interdictors, all of which will bring the Wolfhound into a class of its own in terms of combat effectiveness. They even managed to stuff in an electronic warfare suite capable of deploying both decoys and sailjammers, as well."

Commander Rodgers’ face grew serious. Only six of these refitted destroyers have been created. Of those six, two have been assigned to experienced destroyer crews, two to midlevel crews, and two to fresh crews. Between the six ships, we hope that we can demonstrate the effectiveness of this new design and provide sufficient data for the Navy. That is our primary purpose throughout our shakedown cruise.

Before we reach that stage, however, I am going to subject you to a slight change in protocol. He smiled a bit grimly, and Jacob felt his eyebrows go up. Uh oh.

Since there are a lot of fairly new officers and enlisted personnel, we will be doing a few simulator tests in order to determine what sections each of you will serve in. Depending on the results of those tests, I and Lieutenant Commander Piebald will make the assignments. He motioned to the balding man, who had his head down and was tapping away at the reader he held. Piebald glanced up, frowned studiously at the group, then nodded and went back to his work.

"That testing will keep you more than occupied over the next week before the Wolfhound departs. You will find the schedule for those tests sent to your personal readers for your information. I trust those of you fresh from the Academy will enjoy the experience of taking tests; those who’ve been away for a while will just have to remember the wonderful blessing they were as you go through it." Jacob chuckled along with several others in the crowd, and the commander smiled faintly.

Then Commander Rodgers’ face grew hard, losing any hint of the mirth it had shown moments before. Before I dismiss you, I want to clear up one final issue. I am no stranger to the rumor mill, and I know many of you may have heard that this assignment is a hard-luck tour, or that we are a crew of leftovers and scrubs. He paused. Silence settled over the crew like a thick blanket. A few people shifted uncomfortably, while others muttered a bit. Jacob risked a glance at Isaac, only to find the ensign looking down at his shoes, his face pale.

"I want to assure you that no matter what you may have heard, we will all take this mission, and our performance during it, very, very seriously. I expect proper naval discipline to be observed, and that each and every member of the crew will perform the drills and duties he or she is assigned to the best of their ability. The Navy expects nothing less. At the end of the shakedown cruise, I will be making recommendations as to who should remain with the Wolfhound and who should find new assignments. My hope is to find no such changes are necessary." The absolute silence that followed those words told Jacob everyone in the room knew what the commander meant. Everyone shapes up, or we end up flying junk patrol on some garbage scow. He suppressed a shiver and kept his focus on Rodgers.

Dismissed.

After the briefing, the room dissolved into something very much like the familiar chaos of an emptying classroom. Jacob stayed with Isaac and Laurie as the three of them made their way through the crowd toward an exit. There, just outside the door, he paused to take out his personal reader, a palm sized computer that carried virtually everything he needed, and tapped a few buttons glowing on the screen to bring up his mailbox.

The first new message contained his berth assignment while he was on the station, as well as the training schedule over the next few days. He ran his eyes over the simulator sessions, mentally assigning them to the different sections of the crew. Support. Nope that’s not going to work. Gunnery; might be interesting. Engineering, no problem, but boring. Countermeasures, a bit too passive for me. Bridge! If I could make pilot…His smile grew as he pictured himself at the destroyer’s helm. What would Dad have thought of that?

Jacob turned to ask Laurie what she had on her schedule. Isaac suddenly swore to himself and tried to duck behind her, unsuccessfully trying to use her smaller frame as cover. Isaac?

Quiet, man! He’ll hear you!

The worry in Isaac’s voice contrasted sharply with his previous tone. He looked around, feeling the muscles along his back tense slightly. Who? What’s going on?

Schroder. Groph Schroder. The quiet whisper contained shame Jacob hadn’t expected.

Before Isaac could explain, Laurie lashed out with an elbow, and Isaac broke off wheezing for air. Stop dancing around me and just tell us what’s wrong, will ya?

He’s an ensign from my last post. The captain and I had some—disagreements—and I posted a few of his more embarrassing personal emails around the ship. Schroder caught me, and he’s been holding it over me ever since.

Jacob looked around at the crowd of milling crewmen. Point him out to me. Isaac pointed, and Jacob’s eyes locked onto Schroder. The ensign was as tall as Jacob was, though still shorter than Isaac. He had a wolfish appearance, predatory eyes and a confident stride. Dark hair hung almost to his eyes, and he had a scar along the left side of his face. Dangerous. Jacob nodded. Got him. He turned back to Isaac. What kind of stuff has he made you do?

He forced me to pull a few pranks on people he didn’t like. Mostly, he just pushes me around. Why the hell is he here anyway? He’s some rich bastard’s son from Rigannin. Really connected with the Federalist party back home. I never thought he’d show up on a last chance crew.

Maybe someone else realized what kind of a person he was. Jacob shrugged. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get to our quarters. His eyes strayed back to where Schroder stood talking to a petty officer. We have a lot to take care of without worrying about some stupid ensign.

Chapter Two

Jacob sighed as his turn for the Gunnery simulator came. The simulator was nothing special. Set into an alcove in the side of the training room, it was composed of a holographic projector embedded in the center of a small, gray desk. The side of the desk facing him had a single pair of controls, both of which looked like gun handles. Buttons along the side helped select targets and issue commands. Both handles had a large trigger. Jacob strapped himself into the chair in front of the simulator and the projector came to life in front of him. A hologram of the Wolfhound in a field of stars and ships blossomed in midair. Here goes nothing.

The hologram in front of him glowed data of available targets. Under each dot, he could see data about their course, relative speed, distance from the ship, and size. Of the three, he picked one of the corvette-sized targets that approached from the front. Head to head engagements were the most dangerous, so he would deal with that one first. He selected it with the press of a button and the target ship grew to fill the hologram. It was a solidly built craft with a fat central hull and a single wing stretching across its back. DE sail rigs glowed along the side of the target, with the energy field ‘sails’ that actually provided the propulsion hanging down from the wing on either side. All right, let’s hit you hard.

A glowing dot appeared to show the aim of the railgun he was controlling and he moved the dot over the surface of the target ship by moving the gun handles. As the dot moved, a percentage calculated by the targeting computer came up to show how likely a hit would be considering the angle, strength of enemy point defense, and the relative speeds involved.

For a moment, Jacob wavered between firing a burst directly at the bow of the craft and attempting to do more damage, or choosing a less critical section to fire at to avoid the point defense fire. Finally, he settled on firing directly at the bow, hoping his shells would be fast enough to pierce the screen of defensive fire and inflict heavy damage as a result. He pulled one of the triggers on the handles and locked his choice in. Then he pulled the other to send shell after shell on its way. The simulator shuddered slightly as he squeezed the firing trigger, and the targeting computer zoomed out a little to show the approach of the railgun salvo. It sped toward the target with incredible speed. As the shell drew close, turrets on the hull of the enemy ship moved to track it. Brilliant gouts of plasma fire lanced out and reduced his shots to clouds of easily deflected chaff.

The simulation continued for the better part of an hour and a half, and shot after shot seemed to go astray. By the end, Jacob was glad to leave it behind since it was clear to anyone who cared to watch he wasn’t cut out for Gunnery. As he walked away from it, he saw Schroder waving at him mockingly, and he could barely suppress a grimace. The ensign from Rigannin had wasted little time in becoming Jacob’s personal annoyance. It seemed like every time Jacob faltered, Schroder was there to mock him. It was infuriating, especially since the other ensign had so far avoided a direct conflict. Outside of an upfront confrontation, there was little Jacob could do without risking his own career.

Deliberately ignoring Schroder’s gestures, he headed for the nearby cafeteria, hoping Isaac or Laurie would be waiting, and found them getting ready to eat.

Hey Hull! How’s it going? Laurie’s chipper mood did little to improve Jacob’s own, and he half sat, half collapsed into an empty chair across from her.

Pretty much the same as before. I barely managed to scratch anything in the Gunnery sims, and four of my patients died in the Medical tests. I’m getting the feeling that neither Support nor Gunnery’s going to want me anywhere near them. How about you guys?

Isaac smiled before shoving a fork full of scrambled eggs in his mouth. I hit everything I aimed at today in that Gunnery sim. Are you sure you’re doing it right?

Shut up, Isaac. Not everybody’s meant to pull a trigger all day. Jacob softened the comment with a wry half smile, and Isaac chuckled as he chewed, shoving his fork in for another bite.

Laurie sighed and rolled her eyes. Oh, I know what it is, all right. Our little genius here is just looking for brighter targets to hit. She glanced at him knowingly. How did your turn at flying the skiff go the other day?

Jacob’s smile grew big before he realized it. It was incredible. That simulator actually makes you feel like you’re really in a ship, you know? I only got to fly three missions before they kicked me out, but I think I did pretty well in all of them.

She nodded. So you’re going for Skiff ensign? You may have some competition there. I heard that Iriel, that blonde over there with the ponytail — Laurie pointed over to a small woman with active, cheery features – just about broke the sim with how well she did.

She can have the Skiff. It’s the Helm I’m after.

Isaac grunted sourly from where he was still chewing his way through a double-mouthful of eggs, and Jacob looked over with one eyebrow raised. What, you don’t think I can do it?

There was a slight pause as Isaac took the opportunity to swallow and thump his chest, making sure it all got down. I think you could, Jacob, but why would you want to? Bridge positions are for people who want to be captain or something. Just go for the Skiff position and avoid all the stuffed shirts.

Laurie gave him a sharp look. As much as it pains me Jacob, I have to agree with him on this one. The competition for a bridge position is going to make it hard. A lot of people are going to have connections you just don’t have.

Before Jacob could respond, Isaac broke in. And that’s supposed to mean he won’t get it? Just because some other guy has a guy who knows a guy?

Laurie shrugged.