“Anselm ... no, it's Linsora, right?” he said, not looking up to see her nod. “Science Department. You want your own quarters, or with the engineer?” He gestured toward Permac.
“WHAT!” Linsora roared, rousing everyone in the room from whatever reverie they had been enjoying. “Did HE suggest that? The quarters I want are as far from his as possible.” Then she added, standing at attention, “Sir.”
Haavens stood, nearly upending the table, and leaned forward, “Look, I want no trouble on this ship. If either of you has a problem, you are to keep it quiet. This is a civilian ship, but I run it with military order. Use your knives on anything other than meat and you’ll end up in my brig. And my brig will make where you’ve been, look like a vacation. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!” Linsora said.
“Fine, just bloody fine,” Haavens said, sitting again. He muttered a deck and room number to Linsora.
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