The Marshal Is My Mate novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: The Pair

The storm broke on the sixth hour.

It did not fade.

It split, from the center out, into long white ribbons that drifted off across the dark and went out one by one.

Silence came down over the fleet.

Lucan stood on the bridge with his head tipped back and the silver light still running under his skin.

Then his knees went.

Garrick caught him before he reached the deck.

"I've got you," he said. "Lucan. Look at me."

"Did it hold?"

"It held."

"All forty?"

"All of them," Garrick said, and his voice cracked. "Not one lost. Not one ship."

Lucan laughed, weakly, with his face in the Marshal's shirt.

Around them the bridge crew had risen from their stations.

The captain stood at attention.

The navigator had both hands over her mouth.

The young officer who had looked away at the start was weeping without trying to hide it.

Then the captain saluted.

It was a full salute, hand to brow and held.

One by one every officer on the bridge did the same.

The speakers crackled, and a voice came through from the lead ship, rough and unsteady.

"Flagship, this is Lead. We are alive. Our Sentinel is awake and asking who did it."

Another voice came over the first.

"Flagship, Transport Four. Our recruits want to know the name."

Another. Another.

Forty ships called in, one after the other, and every voice asked the same thing.

Garrick took the microphone from the communications officer's hand.

He kept his other arm around Lucan.

"This is the Marshal," he said. "The one who held the fleet is my husband. His name is Lucan Merrow, and his rank is SS."

The speakers went silent.

Then the cheering started.

It rolled out across the whole fleet from ship to ship.

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