by Chris Hechtl
“This isn't going to work, Commodore. Prometheus's quartermaster is on deck,” Commander Chi'th said over the audio line, eying the chimera coldly from where the T'clock was standing.
“He can't check everything, can he? Every crate?” Commodore X'll'rr demanded.
“Apparently, ma'am,” the T'clock said.
“Then be where he is not,” she said. “He can't be at the other unloadings,” she said.
“I checked. The quartermasters from the other ships in the Tau mission are there,” the T'clock said simply. He was uncomfortable playing midnight requisition games anyway. The last one had turned around and bitten him in the ass. He'd been forced to give everything back under threat of an NCIS and JAG investigation. There was only so far he was willing to go to make his boss happy.
“Fine,” the Veraxin snarled as she disconnected the circuit.
The T'clock bobbed his antenna at the chimera and then turned away to go back to checking his own arrivals. “You won this round,” he grumbled as he worked.
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Lieutenant Talon smirked as he took in the bug's sudden diligence in cargo assigned only to him and not to others. He didn't have to worry about the ships; that was the captain's thing. It wasn't like the commodore could make off with them anyway, though he didn't doubt she'd try in a heartbeat if she thought she could get away with it. Under his watchful gaze and those of his colleagues, there were no shenanigans pulled on this shipment.
He was glad he was not responsible for one of the most fragile shipments. Several Dora class transports had arrived with the convoy. They held within their buffered cargo holds three ansible cores each. Normally the ships could carry four, but apparently, the powers that be had opted for additional buffering after what had happened to the ansible that Sally Ride had delivered to B-102C. They had even left out the ansible platforms from the mother ships. A different dedicated ship had carried those in.
They had four ansible transports out there. TF3.2 had two as well as its own dedicated Dora with platforms on board.
Each of the ships have been outfitted for long slow jumps. He didn't envy the crew doing their duty on those ships. It would be terribly dull. He shook his head as another container came out of the hold. “Ah, four-four-niner seven! Where have you been, you lovely devil?” he said in appreciation as he walked over to check her barcode.
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Shelby felt a slight tingle of growing excitement as some of the last ships in her mission arrived. There were the eight couriers: four Paul Revere class and four of the newer Sojourner class. The Sojourner class ships had to be fueled by antimatter from the stockpile in Pyrax; they were off doing that while the other ships nestled into their respective docking slips. Several of the Liberty class ships were also designated for her command. Then there were the four ansible transport ships who noticeably stood off from docking while the rest of the convoy eagerly made port. There was too much chance of something going off and jiggling their precious cargo. Lines were run from a tanker to them. The crew had to debark aboard a transport shuttle through a special gangway tube.
The four ships plus the Dora carrying the platforms would form the core of the second component of her mission, a second convoy all on their own designated as Beta. They would be joined by a single Liberty class tanker and support ship, a Dora tender with parts and supplies, as well as two convoy escorts. The escorts were long-range frigates. She was tempted to swap them for destroyers, but the tin cans would be far more useful in picket, patrol, and pirate hunting duties.
The ships had actually been dispatched with the ansible cores nine months ago she knew. It had taken that long for them to arrive she knew; they were just incredibly slow.
As soon as the ships were moored at their beacons, Commander Alayan Mochadeyn, captain of Cai Lun and senior officer of the group as well as the designated senior officer of Beta convoy, reported on board Prometheus to meet her.
“Slow and steady wins the race in our line of work, ma'am,” the captain said as they shook hands.
“I don't mind playing hare to your tortoise,” Shelby said with a grin.
“Ma'am?” the captain asked, clearly confused by the reference.
Shelby's smile faded. “Look it up. Do you have any problems with taking on Beta convoy?”
“We should be called Alpha since we're carrying the ansibles,” the captain said good naturedly as Shelby indicated they should be seated. “Never mind, forget I said that,” he said as Shelby opened her mouth to answer that.
“Right,” Shelby said with a nod.
“Can we at least get some leave and some refit time here, ma'am?” the commander asked plaintively. Shelby looked at him. “Ma'am, we've been stuck in those ships a long time.” He shook his head. “Cai Lun is a small ship; it is easy to get stir crazy. And the Trajin cluster is a long way from here,” the commander said eying her imploringly.
Shelby nodded slowly. She'd already planned on the crew receiving some liberty; after all, they wouldn't have time en route. They'd definitely earned it, and she didn't need someone going crazy on board with potentially disastrous implications for the ship, her cargo, or the crew. “All right. A week?”
“Good. Too long and we'd get stale or want to jump ship,” Commander Mochadeyn said with an infectious grin.
“Understood. Keep the mayhem to a general level, will you?” Shelby replied dryly.
“Now why would we do that?” Commander Mochadeyn asked with an even larger grin. “It'd take all the fun out of it!” Shelby merely rolled her eyes and shook her head.
After the captain had departed, Shelby met with some of the delegates, including a small group of Taurens from Antigua. They would serve as emissaries she knew, though all of them were on the books as civilian contractors. She shook hands dutifully with each of the three, but the names eluded her.
They didn't stay long; her small office and their large frames made them uncomfortable. Hard on the heels of the Tauren's departure, the head diplomat from State arrived. She'd been aware of his presence and knew he was going to be a part of her mission and her command team. She shook hands politely with the Neochimp. “Mister Muggs … or is there a title?”
“Mister Muggs works. Or call me Fred if we're informal,” the Neochimp said as they disengaged the handshake.
“Thank you,” Shelby said. She noted his brown eyes freeze and his hand twitch when she didn't reciprocate with an offer in kind. “I understand you've had a lot of time on your hands to go over the mission plan and what ONI has on Tau. Any thoughts you haven't shared yet?”
“Well, I thought this was going to be a brief interview, so I unfortunately didn't come fully prepared for that or the time to go over them. But, if you insist …”
Shelby held up her hand. “No, no. If it is too involved, that's fine. We'll have plenty of time while we're en route I suppose,” she said with a disarming smile.
“Well, yes, there is that.”
“We're still getting everyone settled in. For the time being, everyone is being housed in temporary BOQ housing on San Diego. If you would prefer to arrange your own quarters on Anvil, feel free,” she said expansively.
“My wife and son would certainly like that, if only for a chance to shop and see the sights before we are back on board,” the Neochimp said with a nod. “Do you have someone in mind for me to contact …”
“I'll let my Yeoman know. He'll give you a list of hotels and their contact information,” Shelby said.
“And I charge the account to …”
“I'm afraid the government is only providing housing at the base. If you want to go elsewhere, it is on your own credit, sir; we don't have it in the budget.”
The diplomat stared at her for a long moment, then his jaw worked. “I see.”
“You can arrange day trip or weekend trip if you'd prefer. Transport to and from the station are of course provided by the military,” she said.
“I see. You can provid
e transport but not appropriate civilian housing?”
“Not on a civilian space station that charges a large fee. Not when we have housing available,” the captain replied with a bit of teeth in her tone.
The diplomat reared back and then nodded once. “I see.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Shelby said.
After he departed, she shook her head. Cynthia quietly slipped into the room. “I heard some of the new people are not used to being in a station, let alone on a ship. The majority of them are from the ground.”
“They aren't going to like being in a ship then. Not for the length of time we're going to be on board,” Shelby said as Prometheus's avatar appeared on her desk.
“Their problem,” Prometheus said. “They knew what was involved when they joined the mission.”
“No, ours since they'll harp, bitch, complain, and generally make us miserable,” Cynthia grumbled.
“They'd better not,” Shelby growled, eyes flashing. “Most of that will be contained by the transport ships though.”
“True,” Cynthia said. “I wonder if they understand this isn't a luxury cruise?”
“They should; they came out on similar ships with similar berths,” Prometheus stated. “I would suggest activities to keep them occupied. The more occupied they are the less they will be bored and complain to get attention.”
“They can complain all they want; we can't change it,” Cynthia said in exasperation.
“We can to some degree,” Shelby said slowly.
“Ma'am?” Prometheus asked.
“It may not be in the budget, but we might be able to move some things around. Get with the other ship A.I. and especially the crew of the transports. See if we can get some sort of personal quarters decoration going. Let them at least choose the paint color of the walls they'll be staring at. And see if we can replicate some large screen LCDs for them too with their own computer with storage so they can entertain themselves,” she said.
“I like that idea,” Cynthia said. “Of course it is more work for us, and someone's going to howl about us thinking of it this late in the game, plus we'll need to find the money to pay for it all …,” she said tapping her chin with her index finger.
“Work on it.”
“Sure,” Cynthia said as she noted the steel in her skipper's voice.
“I'm serious. Don't let this one get overlooked. Even a slight effort on their behalf to make them more comfortable might help long term. Make sure you explain to them that such efforts have limits. Also,” Shelby sat back, “remind them they can always shop for accessories on Anvil before we go.”
“Let them do their own interior decorating while in port while they can,” Cynthia said with a nod of approval.
“Exactly. After all, when we get to Tau and start building the base, they won't be able to shop there unless there is a handy planet nearby. And I'm not taking people to go shopping across the sector!” she warned.
“Darn,” Cynthia murmured with a grin. Shelby mock glowered at her and then shook a finger at her. “I know, I know,” the XO said, putting her hands up.
“Another thing, they are all getting anti-geriatric treatments as well as free medical care while they are with us as an added incentive. And there is a mandatory reproductive halt during our transit.”
“They are getting that and still complaining?” Cynthia asked.
“Just the basic anti-geriatric treatment. Our people get it too, but we're only issuing it when we are underway. That way no one can play games with us. The bonuses they'll get for being in service so long they'll have to wait to spend,” she said. “We're going to be in the red for years,” she observed with a shake of her head.
“Definitely. But we'll get out of it once people in Tau see what we can do. And when we help them bootstrap, it will kick their economies into gear,” Cynthia said.
“Exactly. Have the jarheads reported in?” Shelby asked, changing the subject. The latest crop of Marines had come in on the same convoy from Agnosta.
“Yes. Most of the enlisted are fresh from boot. They aren't too thrilled about the mission, or so I've been told. The same for some of the officers who are also a bit green.”
“Well, time will change that I suppose,” Shelby stated.
“Ma'am, the shopping idea,” Prometheus interjected.
“Yes?” the captain asked, turning to his avatar.
“I was going to suggest opening it to the crew as well as Marines. They'll be limited on mass and storage of course. We can work with Lieutenant Talon on that. I would also make it clear that they are paying for it out-of-pocket. It is a recommendation, not an open season on the budget,” he said.
“Point. Good points all around actually,” Shelby said with a nod of approval. “Make it so.”
“Thank you, ma'am.”
“Being able to shop on the government's credit? Damn, I'd love to do that,” Cynthia said with feeling. Shelby snorted as she picked up her tablet.
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“So, you are telling us we're stuck in base housing?” Phoebe demanded, gnashing her teeth.
“For the time being. The captain did throw us a bone; we're going to get free transport to and from Anvil. So, you and Ayumu can go there and see the sites and shop while we are here,” Fred said soothingly.
“We can't … why can't they put us up there?” Phoebe demanded. She'd planned on being on Anvil so she could see the sites yes, but more importantly make some contacts with the political establishment in the star system for possible future use. Now that was thwarted.
“Unfortunately, it isn't in the budget she said. And we can pay for it out-of-pocket, but I know you wanted to save and …,” Fred shrugged helplessly.
“Damn it …,” she muttered darkly, looking away. So much for staying in a five-star hotel on the government's dime.
“What about the stuff we buy on the station, Dad?” Ayumu asked.
“It all comes out of our pocket,” the patriarch said, turning to his son. “You've got a credit card; you know the limit,” he warned. Ayumu nodded, but he was clearly unhappy. He could see his son's fur rising slightly. “And no, before you ask I am not going to raise your allowance. Don't even go there,” Fred said with a shake of his head.
“Okay, I guess not,” the teenager grumbled.
“The good news is you've got several months of allowance stored up on that card since we've been in transit and you didn't get to spend much,” Phoebe said, eyes glittering at her husband. Fred winced. He knew she was going to pay him back for being thwarted by a large bill. One that he could hardly protest; he knew better.
“I'll try to be with you, but I'm most likely going to be tapped for meetings here. I'd like to spend the time dusting off my skills and looking into the State Department here while I have the chance. Plus, I suppose I'll meet the current government while I'm at it and meet Captain Logan and discuss the mission,” he said.
“Captain Logan, eh? Does she know you are in charge?” Phoebe demanded.
“That … I'm not sure of. Honestly, honey, I don't know for sure who is in charge,” Fred said. Phoebe grimaced. “I know, I know, I'll get clarification. Soon,” he promised as he leaned in. She turned away so he could only give her a peck on the cheek. He sighed internally as she and their son left.
“It is going to be a long trip,” he muttered as he pulled his tablet out to see if he could schedule a meet and greet with the natives.
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Cynthia, her fellow XOs, the JTOs on the various ships as well as their compliment of bosuns began to step up the training as the various crews were fleshed out and finalized. While they did that, Lieutenant Talon and his counterparts had to work with the bosuns to also deal with stowage of the gear and equipment. Some of the equipment was bulky; some was high mass which meant they had to be carefully placed in the ship.
Containers with toxic or explosive cargo had to be properly stowed as well, all according to the regulat
ions. There was a rhyme and reason for everything and a proper place for everything on board.
The additional personnel were put up in temporary housing on San Diego or given liberty on Anvil while the ships finished buttoning up. Once they were clear, Prometheus and the ships that had just launched debarked for shakedown cruises around the star system.
For her part, Shelby did her best to train with her crew. She arranged a few convoy escort missions with elements of DD1 and Crueron 1 as the ops force. It was good practice for her people and helped expose a few rough edges that they needed to work on.
While they were out of port, she found out that additional government workers had been assigned by Mister Muggs to join the mission. Some of the personnel were college students. None had been planned for. Mister Muggs had also started to discuss the various stops involved, and his emails to her had started to take on a decidedly authoritarian tone she didn't like.
She realized that the matter needed to be clarified after the last set of email exchanges came to an impasse. Shelby had to appeal to Admiral Irons for clarification on the mission's chain of command. Admiral Irons ruling came down within an hour. She smiled when she read it and then copied it to the diplomat's email as well.
Fred read the email and shook his head. He'd known it would come to this but Phoebe had pushed him into the confrontation. Had he gone his way, he would have eased into the role over time, acting as the author of wisdom and calm. The broker of the peace. Now that chance was gone or at least damaged.
When he read the email out loud, he could see his wife was put out over it. “If they are going to act like that, don't go. They'll change their minds,” Phoebe growled.
“Issuing an ultimatum with no backing is going to back them and us into a corner neither can retreat from, honey,” Fred said with a shake of his head. “If I resign, that ends my career. If I request reassignment, that will delay the mission or they'll go without someone from State or someone junior here in Pyrax. Or they might pick someone up along the way. Either way I'd catch it in the neck and again, my career would be over.”