by Robert Culp
“Actually, yes. I’d like all of the WARBOTs that were on Cutlass transferred to Prophecy. And I’d like enough materiel to make a suit of marauder armor for every trooper aboard as well as a suit of wraith armor for the reconnaissance elements. I believe you have those numbers. As we’ll be breaking dock soon, they’ll probably have to be ferried. Let me know the port and time so I can arrange pickup. If it’s more convenient, I can pick it up at Rigg’s.”
Ms. Barron looks first to Lady Sterling, who shrugs at her, then back at me. “For the record, the anticipated response was, ‘No, we’ve got everything we need.’ Maybe you’ll get it right next time.” I grin at her as she fits a cigarette to her holder, a scowl creases her face. “WARBOTs? You could have proposed this idea a week ago and it could already be a done deal. And if I remember the ingredients for your armor, you’re asking quite a lot.”
“I read somewhere that we have not because we ask not. The worst thing you can do is say, ‘No.’ And if you try to hit me for asking, I get to hit you back. It’s in the rules. I looked it up.”
“Fair enough. The company doesn’t have liquid assets to cover all of that materiel. How about we buy the armor already made from your facility on Goliath? And may we do so at a discount?”
“I should have thought of that. I still have that credit chip you gave me for buying Cutlass.” As fortune would have it, it’s in my pocket. I fish it out and hand it to her. “That should cover the cost of moving the armor to here and a significant discount.”
“If it doesn’t, it will make a healthy dent in it. I’ll be in touch with your people at your facility there. Now, Captain, I must leave and I believe your allotted time docked to the port has ended.” It’s not much more than a scheduling problem to dock at a starport, it’s a very convenient and efficient way to load and unload cargo and personnel. But there are a lot of ships that want to take advantage of the ports. We could thumb our noses at them and opt to pay the fines instead, but SPAs have a bad habit of remembering such behavior. And they spread the word.
“No worries from me, we’ll be closing this hatch and moving to a free orbit as soon as possible, but probably not before the top of the hour.”
“Very well, Captain. I’ll have the WARBOTs transferred to Rigg’s and I’ll advise you on the armor. Good day, ma’am.”
“Good day,” the transport glides away with barely a sound. I turn to the hatch operator. “Close it up. Signal the bridge when you have done so. Notify the bridge I’m on my way.”
“Yes, Captain.”
On my way to the bridge, my perCom trills, it’s Celeste. “Captain, Athena and I would like to meet with you, if that’s possible and convenient.”
“It’s both, how far are you from my office?”
“We can be there in less than five minutes.”
“Very well, I’m not sure I’ll be there before you, so ask my yeoman to start the coffee if you get there first. And if you haven’t done so already, alert the SPA we are ready to depart.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As it turns out, I get there first. So, I start the coffee myself. As aboard Night Searcher I could have pressed a button and told a steward to bring some. But there are some things that I like doing myself. In fact, I have to tell my yeoman, Clark Neumann, three times to sit down and tend to his job. I’m looking at the latest iteration of the manning roster when Clark announces Miss Athena and Miss Mac Fadden. As their positions haven’t been solidified yet, he does so by name, rather than position. “Admit them,” I say into the desk holoCom. “Very well, ladies, the coffee has streamed into the decanter, what’s on your minds?” That pesky yeoman of mine can’t not assist. He follows them in and pours a mug each for me and Celeste, Athena having waved him off.
“Captain,” Athena starts, “we have completed the manning roster—I see you have it on your holoCom—with the exception of First Officer.”
“Athena has been with you for something like four commands I believe. She is your natural choice for First Officer,” Celeste says.
“Celeste knows most of the crew and the ship. I can learn the objective parts, but I can’t—by virtue of being an android—learn the subjective areas, particularly interpersonal relationships with the crew, to the degree she already knows them. And even then, as I am not organic, they may never trust me as they do her. There are also some legal complications. She is the better choice.”
“My first command dilemma aboard Prophecy,” my holoCom viewer alerts me to a message from the Bridge. It must be important if Clark didn’t hold it for me. “One second, please.” I open the channel, “This is the Captain.”
“Ma’am, we have received notification that all moorings are clear and we are free to depart the starport.”
Someone must have sped things up, I figured we would be here a while yet. “Acknowledged, depart and assume a geosynchronous orbit high enough to be out of the way of local traffic until our departure window for Rigg’s.”
“Roger, ma’am. Those courses are plotted and laid in.”
“Execute, MacTaggert out.” I close the channel, sip my coffee and turn to the two women in front of me. Even though I know Athena is not a biological life form, I still think of her as a woman. “This is what I think. Athena is one of my most trusted confidants. She has detailed knowledge of not only the crew that came aboard with me but many other subjects as well. Among those, how I like things done. She is also capable of objective decision making. Celeste knows the crewmembers that were already here and was First Officer for the previous commander. Celeste, you will retain the title of First Officer. Athena, you are more than a Second Officer though. You’re essentially an understudy for everyone. Hmm, let me look,” I scan through the manning roster still on the holoCom. “That’s what I thought, there’s no provision for an Operations Officer. Congratulations, Athena. You’re the Operations Officer for Prophecy.”
The two look at each other, then back at me. Celeste breaks the silence. “Ma’am, as you just said the TO&E doesn’t provide for an Operations Officer.”
I set down my coffee mug. “And yet, we have one. How long will it take you to amend the TO&E and get it published?”
“I…amending the spreadsheet and diagram is almost trivial, but getting the UPS to sign off on it and then the Academy…”
“Shouldn’t be necessary,” I interrupt her. “This TO&E change is for this command, not them. Make it happen, please. At worse, they’ll call us back and replace me and Athena.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Captain, am I in the chain of command?” Athena asks.
“No,” I answer. “While you remain a dear friend and trusted advisor, as I’m sure you’ve noted I have had to create a position for you. And stuffing you into the chain of command has the potential for ruffling feathers and I don’t think we have the time or the inclination to deal with such. Am I right, XO?” I ask Celeste.
“Quite right, ma’am. While I suspect that the individuals in question would not balk at the addition—in fact, some may consider it a welcome buffer—for the rank and file I don’t think it’s the best idea.”
“Athena, you’ve enough professionalism about you that I need not remind you that Celeste is of a higher rank than you, she is not the commander unless due to a series of occurrences I am unable to lead. At that time, I expect you to follow and advise her just as you would me.”
“SLAP,” Athena says. Her expression doesn’t change but I can’t help grinning.
“There’s clearly something I don’t understand,” Celeste’s puzzled gaze goes back and forth between us. “Is it a private joke or may I be let in on it?”
“A former shipmate of ours fancied himself, ‘King of the Acronyms.’” Athena explains. “That particular one is ‘Sounds Like A Plan.’”
“If it excites you, you can say, ‘BITCHSLAP.’” I say.
“Behold, I Totally Concur, Honey. Sounds Like A Plan,” Athena fills in. “And if it’s the best idea ever, BOOTYSL
AP.”
“Best Opportunity Of The Year! Sounds Like A Plan,” I say.
“This is going to be an interesting ship,” Celeste murmurs.
“BOAT,” Athena opines. Celeste turns to me.
“Best Of All Time,” I say. But that’s enough frivolity. “Is there anything else that you need me for, ladies?”
“Not at this time, Captain.”
“No ma’am.”
“Then let’s get to work. XO, I want to meet with all department heads individually. If they need for that to happen after we’re in Transit, that’s fine with me. But I’d rather get it done sooner than later. Put together a roster, we’ll start tomorrow at 1300. I want to see the roster this evening. We’ll start with the troop commander. But I’ll set that one up myself. Tell me his name again, please?”
“Okkam,” Celeste says. “Chief Sergeant Rikk Okkam.”
“Thank you,” I say. “That will be all.”
“Yes, ma’am.” They depart.
As they leave, Clark sticks his head in. “Two messages ma’am. One from an Angela Barron with the UPS, she said she was able to get the materiel you requested. The second from the logistics officer asking where he was to store an extra cargo module containing the materiel from UPS that he knew nothing about. I took the liberty of telling him you would be pleased at his creativity and adaptability.”
“I like that answer, Neumann. Thank you.” He nods and starts to go back to his desk. “Contact Chief Jenkins and Chief Sergeant Okkam, inform them I am on my way to the fabrication center in main engineering and I want to meet with both of them there.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
In the Fab shop, I hand each of them a data chip. “Each of you insert that into your perCom, please.” Both men do so. “Chief Jenkins is familiar with this armor, Chief Sergeant. As you aren’t please make an effort to become so. Your chip also contains the operator’s and preventative maintenance manuals. Oh, if you haven’t met, Chief Engineer Ross Jenkins, Chief Sergeant Rikk Okkam.”
“We exchanged introductions before you arrived, ma’am,” Rikk says. He reminds me of Freddie a bit. He’s a little beefier, taller, blonde with long hair and needs a shave, but he’s not an unattractive man. If you’re into the rugged athletic type. “And I’ve heard of your armor, of course I’ve never worn a suit. The other one, the smaller one, labeled ‘wraith.’ It’s the stealthy model? How undetectable is it?”
“So far it’s defeated electronic detection. Natural vision might detect the distortion field around it, but in a dark environment it should prevail. Avoid mists, smoke, anything in which it would leave an eddy. The cloaking field will muffle light but not eliminate any sound made.”
“How would it do in a fight?”
“Not as good as your strike armor the marauder suit replaces. As you know, the idea for recon elements is to avoid engagement by avoiding detection.”
“I wasn’t aware you have an infantry past, Cap’m.”
“I don’t, but I had a very good friend who was. I don’t suppose you knew Freddie Call?”
“As a matter of fact, I do know Freddie. We met when he was getting his initial training in the Army. Later we served together, he’s a vicious one.”
“He was a vicious one,” I say with a twinge in my voice.
“Oh,” he says. “How did he die?”
“Fighting,” says Ross. “That much I do know.”
Rikk meets Ross’s eyes. “Good. Good for him.” He returns his gaze to his perCom. I look at Ross; Ross looks at me. We agree to give Rikk some time. “Well, damn,” Rikk says with a sigh. “I’ll drink a toast to him later. I’ve heard a lot of kvetching about an excess amount of stuff in the cargo holds, and as we’re in the fabrication center, I can only imagine that means we’re going to be making a shit load of armor.”
“Actually no,” I say. “What we have in the holds is to patch the suits we’re picking up at Rigg’s. Those are on their way from Goliath now. Or will be very soon. You’ll get marauder suits for every trooper as well as a wraith for your scouts. The priority is to troopers that don’t already have strike armor. And I’m going to task the signals people to create an artificial intelligence routine that will interface with their IFF units to initiate an emergency beacon if the trooper can’t.” The Identify Friend or Foe system is what paints the friend and enemy icons inside the trooper’s helmet.
“Question, ma’am,” Rikk says. “Do I understand that the scouts will have both units?”
“That’s correct. I know it's a pain to have the extra set of armor to maintain, but you may decide to use the scouts in a straight infantry role. In that case, they’ll need the heavier armor.”
“Roger that, are you okay if we keep that set of marauder tucked away in a supply room somewhere?”
“I don’t care,” I say. “As long as it’s maintained and in operable shape. Anything else?”
“Cap’m,” Rikk folds his arms and leans away from the table. “I get the armor upgrade. And I’m grateful. But adding an automatic beacon? I don’t know…I think we need to discuss that. I’m not comfortable with an unconscious trooper’s location being broadcast for everyone. Be they friend or foe.”
“I think I get where she’s coming from, Chief,” Jenkins says. “The theory is a live prisoner is better than a dead trooper.”
“And if we’re fighting a civilized race, that’s usually true. But we may not always fight civilized races. Captives are subject to torture as well as other forms of abuse. I think most of my troopers would rather be dead than put up with that foolishness.”
“We’ll discuss it more, Chief Sergeant. But for the moment, we’re moving forward with the design as I have outlined it.”
“I’ll distribute copies to all my trigger pullers and direct that they study them. We’ll also have classes at all levels.”
“That’s all I have, gentlemen. If you’ve no questions Chief Jenkins, I’ll leave you to your duties. Chief Sergeant, if you have a few more minutes?”
“Aye ma’am, Chief Sergeant,” Ross says as he leaves.
“Sure, ma’am, what’s on your mind?”
“Are you injured?” His eyebrows go up. “I saw you rubbing your thumb with your fingernail. Got a splinter?”
“Oh, this?” he holds up his right thumb. “No, ma’am. A wart. It doesn’t hurt and it’s not in the way so there’s no reason to have it removed. I suppose I’ve just developed a habit of scraping it with my fingernail when I’m thinking. It has cost me three marriages though.”
“Really?” Rikk doesn’t strike me as the marrying type. “How’s number four going?”
“I’ll let you know after it happens,” he says. “I figured that after three the problem might be me.”
“Giving up?” I ask.
“Not necessarily,” he says after a brief hesitation. “But I’ll think long and hard before asking that question again.”
“Oh, I see,” I say. “Well, I suppose we all have our idiosyncrasies.”
“Indeed, ma’am,” he says. “If that’s all?”
“It is. I’ll see you around.”
I call Shawna on my way to the bridge, “I’m sure you’re already on it, but I want you qualified on every class of vehicle aboard this one.”
She doesn’t disappoint. “Already on it, ma’am. I’m extending that to all of my pilots as well. If it can fly, they’ll learn how to fly it. After that, with your permission, they’ll start learning to fly this ship.”
“That sounds like a great idea. MacTaggert out.” Right after I disconnect with Shawna, I get a call from the chief logistics officer, Commander Reggie Turner. “Captain, I must protest! You flood my cargo holds with everything that wasn’t welded to the hull of that tub you called Cutlass and to add insult to injury, I now have to find places to store one hundred cubic meters of lacior mesh and a myriad assortment of other things. There just isn’t room aboard the ship!”
“Has delivery been completed?”
&
nbsp; “Well, yes, ma’am all that materiel is aboard…”
“I’ve received no warning of explosive decompression, was the hull breached?”
“No, ma’am, but the point is…”
I interrupt him. “The point is you’re complaining about being inconvenienced. Is that an accurate assessment?”
“Yes ma’am! I’ve had to stack stuff in the halls. It’s not possible to walk any wider than single file down here!”
“Nor is it necessary. What is it you expect me to say, Commander Turner?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me we were off loading some gear at Rigg’s to make space for the new stuff. Particularly that weapon thing, that huge…hell, I don’t know what it is!” One never knows when a particle accelerator will come in handy. Or what may be a mass transmission device. “Or at least a suggestion.”
“You want a suggestion? Do you have an assistant? A second in command, as it were?”
“Yes, ma’am. Lieutenant Galvez.”
“Does the lieutenant have a first name?”
“Rosa, ma’am.”
“Then discuss it with Lieutenant Galvez. If she has an idea but you don’t, she gets your job. I reward improvisation, Commander. Not whining. If you can’t do the job, please tell me before we leave Rigg’s Station so I can get you replaced and the TO&E backfilled. Any questions?”
He’s quiet for a five count. “None, ma’am. I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sure you will. If it makes a difference, once we offload Marsha at Ardurandes you’ll have that area back. Good day.” Perhaps I should detail Gorb to Logistics for a while. If there’s a miracle to be worked, he’ll know how to start it for sure.
As I enter the bridge—which reminds me of Night Searcher’s only it’s a tad larger, I think—I hear words that I haven’t heard in quite a while: “Captain is on the bridge.”
“Carry on,” I say and move to my chair. Which Celeste vacated as soon as I entered the bridge. I ask her, “What’s our status?” This chair is nicely padded.