Maybe Hammet was going to be more of a problem then he expected.
He was being pretty bold making statements like that where Russo could hear him. Where anyone could hear him really. Hammet running his mouth was one thing, everyone did that at one point or another. Hammet making it impossible for former Federals and Republicans to work together was something else.
The bond between crew members was incredibly important on a spaceship, where one little mistake could so easily kill you. Crews that didn't mesh, didn't work together, didn't live and the smallest crack could be fatal.
But despite Russo's concerns, Hammet wasn't the one that made the attempt on the sixth day of their launch.
His radio burst to life. "Olympia to Russo."
"Go for Russo."
"Can you come down to storage on level three? Starboard side."
"On my way."
He'd worked with Olympia briefly in the early years of the war and remembered her as a solid officer with solid reflexes and great instincts.
She'd had a head full of ringlet curls that were twice the size of her actual head the last time he'd seen her and though he'd see her crew file, he hadn't seen her in person yet. He'd been more focused on meeting the Republicans and the few Federals he didn't already know.
The main security offices were on level twenty along with the Command Deck. The main elevators were in between the two and could traverse every level of the ship. He could take those down and walk to the other end of the ship on the lower level or walk level twenty to the end of the ship and take the elevator there straight to the engine room and the stairs down to storage. The Loss was just big enough to take a solid twenty minutes to walk end to end, but transporting inside the ship was only used for life, limb, or eyesight situations.
While the transporters were safe 99% of the time, that one percent mixed with the extensive electrical systems on the ships, was enough that the military didn't allow their daily use aboard the ships outside of emergencies.
Russo had seen the results of some of the early transporter glitches, and he had no issue walking twenty minutes to reduce his chances of showing up missing an organ or the steel rod they'd replaced his tibia with years ago.
He walked level twenty, which had ended up being the management level of the Loss, with the Command Deck and all of the section headquarters, plus the main meeting rooms. The portion of hydroponics that reached this floor were mostly just the tops of some of the taller trees, but the smell was a pleasant break from the recycled air.
He made good time since there were never many people lingering on the command floor and took the elevator down to the engine room.
The four huge Hell Engines were serviced from one large room that stretched across all four FADEC system and generators. The engines could be accessed individually through panels, but any work on the output and coolant systems had to be done from outside the ship.
The engine room always had at least half a dozen people in it. Mechanics specializing in avionics, hydraulics, physics, and engineering constantly watching over four huge bombs.
And they were always some of the smartest people Russo ever met.
As well as some of the calmest. There were minor emergencies in the engine room almost every day and while most of them were nothing but a glitch or momentary flicker, if something did go wrong, whoever was in the engine room was likely the first to die.
It resulted in a certain mentality about life and control that Russo thought humankind could use more of as a whole.
The Senior Engineer jumped to his feet when Russo entered, but he didn't salute. He looked wary instead. "Can I help you. Sir?"
Republican, then.
An avionics tech Russo recognized leaned around his station to see who'd shown up and perked up when he saw Russo. "Sir!"
"Carl, back to work already?"
"It was just a sprain." He didn't even limp as he bounced over to shake Russo's hand.
"Glad to hear it."
Carl beamed, the kid was always so freaking happy. "Have you met Engineer Wilson?" The kid dragged the Senior Engineer over by the arm, oblivious to the man's stiffness. "This is Russo, we served together before. Russo, Wilson. Wilson, Russo." And then he smiled at them until they reluctantly shook hands, much to the amusement of the rest of the room.
It looked like the divide was as bad down here as it was in his own office.
Russo smiled, though he'd been told that wasn't always comforting. "I don't mean to get in the way; I'm just passing through to storage."
Wilson relaxed a fraction. "No problem, sir. Caught at slow moment anyway."
"I hope your whole day is slow." That at least got a low chuckle from most of the room and Russo clapped Carl on the shoulder before continuing on his way.
The stairs down to storage were at either end of the engine room and there was a big sign reminding him to duck as he started down.
Russo, who stood at six foot two had to hunch over as he made his way down three flights of metal of stairs and entered the storage floor. Filled with rooms dedicated to overflowing gear and equipment and supplies it was a maze if you tried to get around without a map.
Russo brought his up but before he could actually read it, Olympia, with her head full of curls, stuck her head out of a nearby room.
"Russo!"
He taped the map away and jogged over. "Olympia, good to see you."
"You too, sir."
"What have you got?" He peered around her. The room was full of crates labeled with numbers and letters.
She led him to the back, where another security officer was crouched over an open crate. "Avionics storage room. We found it open on the second sweep of our patrol. No one inside and we didn't see anyone else in this area during either sweep, but we found one of the crates open when we came inside."
She waved the other officer back and stepped back so he could look inside.
The crate was filled with hundreds of rolls of different colored wires. Nestled in the middle of the wires was a small, square device with a blinking light.
Russo sighed. "That's a bomb."
~ tbc