He frowned and leaned back, wondering if the bottom box had always indicated it had been used twice and he'd never noticed, or if Fleet Intel's paranoia was rubbing off on him. Thinking back to when he'd first come aboard the Saber and she'd been refitted as the flagship, he could have sworn he saw they were both fresh, new boxes with zero uses each. The reason he'd specifically noticed was to make sure he hadn't been given some older units out of a com center depot near the end of their lifecycles.

"Barton!"

"Yes, sir?" the Marine asked from where he lounged in the sitting area. Jackson heard the shuffle of clothing as Barton jumped up from the couch and came into the office.

"When you get the chance, run down to security and get a complete list of all the people who have accessed these quarters. I want the full list including us and the stewards who clean up."

"Is there treachery afoot, Admiral?" Barton asked. Jackson turned and glared at him, but the Gunny held a completely straight face.

"I'm just wanting to verify we've had full control of the space since coming aboard," Jackson said. "When a steward comes through, either you or Lieutenant Trapp are here, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where the hell has she been, by the way?" Jackson asked mostly to himself. "Normally, she's practically underfoot. Now, I barely see her."

"She's been spending the warp flight down in CIC," Barton said. "She said she needed to make some personal connections down there to more efficiently do her job. Apparently, in Fleet, you have to be friends with someone in order for them to provide you assistance."

"The Corps is different?" Jackson asked.

"Absolutely, Admiral. We hate everybody, regardless of whether we know them or not. It puts everybody on equal footing."

"That actually explains a lot," Jackson said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Get me that whenever it's convenient. Make sure the master at arms doesn't think this is part of an investigation or she'll insist we tell her what's going on. I need to get back to the bridge."

"I'll handle it, Admiral. I can be discreet."

"I'm already regretting this decision," Jackson mumbled as he stormed out the hatch into the corridor.

* * *

Exeter Base was a shit assignment.

Sergeant Enders took the post because a tour at a high-profile base like Exeter looked good when it came time to go before a promotion board. What he hadn't counted on was two years of mind-numbing boredom with another year to go before he rotated back to a Fleet detachment or planetary garrison. When he'd first come to the base, he'd been a young Marine determined to make a career of it. Now, he was seriosuly thinking about just separating when his time came if he didn't get some choice assignment like embassy duty at a place like Arcadia or New Sierra.

"You hear about the new arrivals?" Corporal Valenti asked. "Five starships popped into the system and are now loitering near B6."