by Chris Hechtl
“It should …”
“Think about it,” the commander said as she held up the data files. “You adjusted for seven centuries of interstellar drift in all the star systems, correct? In all the systems, not just the ones we highlighted? Did you map out where the planets are in each system now and in the future?”
“Yes, yes, we did,” the professor said, waving a dismissive hand. “We also worked on predictive models of the hyperspace lanes connecting the planets. If we had more time and actual data, we could be a bit firm. We created a few models you can use to adjust the variables as you get the actual data in.”
Janice “Good. Thank you.”
“The magnetic foam in the heliopause plus any traffic will mess with some of the predictive models of the known smaller planetary bodies like asteroids and such. I hope you realize without eyes on we can only predict what we knew about. Any number of variables will have changed things,” the professor warned.
Janice nodded. “This is a step in the right direction; however, Professor, we can fill in the blanks as we go. I'll make sure you get a copy of the raw data as well as our revised models when we get the chance.”
“Why thank you, Commander, I appreciate that,” the professor said as they shook hands, “and the grant. It did help to pay for my grad students for the next three semesters, so I do see your point about hidden costs. I will look at the science vessel from a different perspective I promise you that.”
“That's all I ask. Look at it from a practical point of view before you get too deeply entrenched into politics. And look to getting your data from other sources, like merchants. Their quality might not be great, but every little bit helps.”
“Agreed,” the professor replied with a nod as he walked the officer out.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
“You got it?” Shelby asked as Lieutenant Jardin dubiously informed her a courier had brought her a set of data chips from Captain Yu.
“I … um …”
“The navigational data? Portia will want to see it. So will all of the navigators I believe,” Shelby said, looking around the bridge. Lieutenant Ming wasn't there; her station was empty.
“She is indisposed. I'll page her,” Lieutenant Prometheus stated. “She's been expecting them.”
“Oh,” the human lieutenant said, blinking as he looked at the chips in his hands. “I thought it was regular mail, ma'am.”
“It's not. It might be critical to the mission. Make sure it gets to her now. They'll need the time to go over it,” Shelby ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” the lieutenant replied with a dutiful nod. He turned and practically bumped into the eager looking Neopanda. “Sorry, I was just going to …”
“You got it?” the panda demanded, eyes bright with excitement. “Gimmey-gimmey!” she said eagerly, practically bouncing in anticipation. Shelby couldn't help at crack a smile at the lieutenant's antics; she was practically bouncing from side to side with her hand out expectantly. The human lieutenant handed over the chips, shaking his head in bemusement. Portia took them and then rushed off. He looked over to the captain in confusion, but she looked away, ignoring the look. He shrugged and then went about his business before he realized he needed to get the chips back to send a copy to the other navigators on the other ships.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Once Lieutenants Taylor and Sulistyo joined them, the senior staff meeting was called to order. The Neoorangutan chief engineer was the last one through the door; he murmured apologies as he tucked a rag he'd been using to clean his long hands into his back pocket. Since he'd been getting his hands dirty, most likely keeping her ship in top form, Shelby decided she would forgive him. Not that she was going to let him anywhere near her silverware anytime soon. Bernard had muttered about oil stains the last time the Orangutan had dropped by to sup with the skipper.
“So, I heard Commodore Xx'll'rr is still livid over losing the TF3.2 command. I heard she is taking time off and considering her options,” Cynthia said with a grin. “Couldn't happen to a … nicer person after what she put us through,” she said expansively.
“Don't get too smug, XO; it could bite us in the ass,” Portia said with a shake of her head.
“Oh?” Cynthia asked, turning to the Neopanda. “How so?”
“She could always want to take over our mission,” the panda said, looking back at her with a dead serious expression.
Cynthia gaped at her as that thought sunk in. After a moment to recover, she turned an accusing eye toward Shelby. The captain grimaced but nodded at the possibility. “Well, damn,” the blond woman said sitting back in her chair.
“I doubt she'll do it. Most likely she'll stay here and manage Third Fleet,” Shelby said.
“Why do you think that?” Cynthia asked.
“Although she wants an independent command, she doesn't want ours or one of the wolf packs. Most of our ships will eventually be dispersed; so, she can't control them easily. The same for the wolf packs. She is into fleet command,” Shelby explained.
“Ah,” Cynthia murmured.
“The light dawns,” Shelby said mockingly.
Cynthia's face puckered in a slightly astringent way before she snorted at the dig. “You had me going there for a moment though,” she said turning to Portia. “You and your faithful minion. Cruel, very cruel,” she mock growled.
“Well, we have to find some ways to make things interesting around here,” Shelby said with a shrug and wink to the Neopanda.
“If it is all the same to you, ma'am, I'd prefer not to borrow trouble or make trouble for ourselves. Something tells me the pirates and natives will do just fine sending trouble our way as it is,” Lieutenant Sulistyo said dryly.
“Well, there is that,” Shelby agreed with a nod.
Lieutenant Jardin cleared his throat and then let them know about the battle of B-95a3. “The report has confirmed they took down at least one of the Horathian dreadnaughts. The other took damage. There was some speculation about the ship even managing to limp back to port,” the lieutenant said with a triumphant smile. “Second Fleet is going to follow at its own pace. They are going to assault Dead Drop when they are ready. The odds are in favor of a successful offense right now. That could change if the enemy gets reinforced, but currently, it doesn't seem likely.”
“Glad we got to hear that before we left,” Lieutenant Sulistyo said after the lieutenant had finished.
Shelby nodded. “True.”
“Ready for the party, ma'am?” the Neoorangutan engineer asked, looking expectantly at her.
“I wish it was a barbeque,” Shelby groused. The simian's long lips puckered in an almost smile of sympathy. He pointed to her and him back and forth as if to say her and him both.
“It'd be easier for something like that outdoors you know,” Cynthia reminded her. “We can't exactly do it here.”
“True. I just don't like the crap about officers and civilians only. The noncoms have busted their ass just as hard as us. They deserve their night too.”
“True,” the XO said. “But the Admiral is sticky about mixing enlisted and officers. Upset about it being formal and public?”
“The cameras will be outside I think,” Shelby said.
“You hope, ma'am,” the Neoorangutan said darkly.
“Don't make it worse than it is. I've got butterflies as it is,” Shelby said with a shake of her head. “I know you wanted it to be informal so you could wear a gown,” she teased, looking over to her XO.
“Informal for officers,” Cynthia sighed. “I had a nice one picked out that matched my complexion. One for you too,” she said. “It's not too late …,” she started in with a wheedling tone.
Shelby smiled but shook her head. “Sorry XO, orders direct from the admiral. Formal dress uniform,” she said heavily.
Cynthia heaved a sigh but then glowered at her boss. “You are enjoying that too much.”
“Me? No,” Shelby replied with a shake of her head. “I'm going to beg off
dancing since I'm going to be in pants. That'll save my toes from being trod on.”
“Well, there is that,” Cynthia drawled as the other officers chuckled politely.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Shelby heard through Lieutenant Prometheus that Lieutenant Strongbirth had finally received her much deserved and long overdue promotion to lieutenant commander. She decided to make time to put a call in to the elf's office and congratulate her. She was surprised when the call went straight to the elf and not to her voicemail. “Well, hello, Commander,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. “I got the news. All I can say is, it's about time!”
“It is nice to finally receive some of the rank my responsibilities call for and to get recognition. But my plan to rotate personnel might turn around and bite me in the ass.”
“Oh?”
“I may be rotated out to a ship or base assignment soon. I'm even considering having someone from Bek or Antigua take my place.”
“Oh? Well, I wouldn't mind seeing you out in Tau, Commander; you do good work.”
“Thank you. I certainly try,” the elf replied.
“If you don't mind my asking, why BUPERS? Why stay?”
“I like to put the right people in the right place. There is a sense of order and completion about getting it right. About making sure all the bases and ships are covered, even if minimally.”
“I see.”
“Besides, it's a job and someone's got to do it. It may not be glamorous, but I think I contribute as much to the war effort as those who I send to the front lines,” the elf said darkly.
“Point. Valid point, Commander. Thank you for your service.”
“Thank you, Captain. If I do get reassigned, I'll look into Tau. Do me a favor and don't get killed. You are a good officer. I mean that. Not just as a leader, but you can teach. That's rare. You also have strategic sense as well as caution. Your engineering skills also do you well.”
“Thank you,” Shelby said blushing.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
The evening before their departure date, they had another formal dinner followed by a ball. Commander Garretaj served as president of the mess despite it being held for the Tau mission. Since she didn't have to put it on, they weren't responsible for anything except being a guest so Shelby did her best to behave herself yet enjoy the experience. She was reluctant to deal with the press and notable figures there, all ready to wish her well on her mission. But she knew her crew and the officers in the mission needed to celebrate and get to know each other. It also allowed the public to see the officers involved in the mission.
If the dinner was any indication, they were going to get off on the right foot. Foot, claw, whatever, she thought, noting a few of the Veraxins and other species in the group as she made the rounds.
She hadn't been kidding when she had grumped about wanting something a bit more informal. If it had been up to her, she would have arranged a barbeque or buffet so everyone in the mission could participate. Leave the lubbers, politicians, and those who weren't going but just wanted to rub elbows and share in the credit off the guest list. Since it was going to be public, she had unfortunately been overruled by State as well as Admiral Subert's office. She thought she had done her best to appear to give in gracefully.
“The things we do to keep the peace,” she muttered softly, toying with her wine glass. She wanted to tug on her collar and felt a bit warm in the damn jacket. Some of the civilian ladies had worn rather thin gowns, so they'd complained about the temperature. Being a good host, the commander had bumped up the temperature. She hated it. She didn't envy Mister Muggs in his fur and monkey suit.
“Come on, Skipper,” Cynthia teased from her right side. “You look good in uniform with all the shiny medals …” she paused to grin maliciously at her skipper as Shelby mock growled at her. “Well, you do. You've got more medals than most of the officers here,” she said, scanning the room.
Shelby snorted. The dinner and ball was split almost evenly between civilians and officers and their spouses or dependents. Well, come to think of it, most of the spouses and dependents were civilians so that might explain it, she thought, swirling her drink slightly.
When the dancing began, she bowed out. The dancing was classical and she had no interest in dancing. She was amused to see the Muggs dance however. An hour into the dancing, people began to unwind a bit, and the ties and jackets were shed to lay on the back of chairs or elsewhere.
Vlad managed to steal Cynthia away for a dance early on and had nearly monopolized her attention for most of the evening. Shelby had played wall flower, talking with various people. She had noted that Portia had danced a faster tempo song with Abdul. Oz had also danced with her but the Neoorangutan had been hilarious.
She turned when Cynthia dragged Vlad over to her. Some of Cynthia's curls had escaped her bun. She was also blushing and grinning. Vlad looked a bit out of breath but still game. “Don't wait up,” Cynthia told Shelby wickedly with a roguish grin.
“I won't,” Shelby drawled as she noted Cynthia hook Vlad by the arm and then drag him to the exit. It was clear she wasn't letting go.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
The following morning the launch of the mission was supposed to kick off. However, there was one last hurdle, a public event in front of the cameras. They had to sit on the stage politely while various important people went through their speeches of good luck and glory and how the mission was the first step in healing the Federation.
Cynthia kept tabs on who had been at the party the evening before and watched them to see if they were still drunk or hungover. Much to her disappointment none flubbed their lines. She silently cursed the teleprompters and modern medicine.
Admiral Irons had a speech planned as did the newly-appointed Secretary of State Miss Sema. Admiral Subert and even the Governor Saladin of Pyrax took their turns.
Shelby had a heck of a time not heaving sighs of disapproval at all the stuff and nonsense. She understood the politicians had to have their day to shine and her people deserved some pomp and circumstance, but it was a deadly dull affair. She was supposed to go last. She was going to keep it short and sweet she vowed, to hell with a long speech.
She was almost looking forward to the cocktails and social setting that was immediately scheduled after the speeches concluded.
She fervently wished she didn't get into trouble as she worked on paperwork through her implants and sat on her XO virtually. Cynthia should know better, but the woman was a fellow engineer. Sitting still for long periods while someone droned on and on was hard on her. Hell, it was hard on both of them to look properly attentive.
She felt for the crew too. Many had spent a lot of time and effort getting everything shipshape under the bosun and ship A.I.'s watchful eyes she knew. Those that weren't there in the office were putting up with camera crews who were going around poking their noses into the ship and asking stupid questions just for a sound bite.
“Can't we get on with this?” Cynthia demanded in a text. “They aren't seriously going to make us listen to these windbags all day, right?” Shelby's lips puckered and she stepped on her XO's toes.
“Oww,” Cynthia protested over the virtual chat as she sidled her foot away.
“Serve's you right. Behave,” Shelby scolded softly.
“Okay, okay,” Cynthia sighed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes as Admiral Subert's chief of staff glanced their way.
When it was Shelby's turn, she rose to polite applause and took the podium. She nodded politely to the Admiral.
“I'll try to keep my speech short. I don't know about some of you but I'm getting galls in places I'd rather not have,” Shelby said. That earned a chuckle of startled appreciation from her audience and a glare from Admiral Subert and Commander Garretaj as she went off script.
“This mission, well, you by now have been talked to death about what it is going to achieve. What we hope to achieve. I personally am looking forward to it and not just to help our
brothers and sisters who are in the dark, laboring under the threat of death from the Horathian pirates,” she said sternly. That quieted the room.
“Some would say this mission is a distraction. That our mission, however well intentioned, is poorly timed given our current problems with Horath. That we are dangerously drawing down resources away from the front where they need to be. That some people deserve their shot at glory, at getting it stuck in and getting their combat ticket punched.”
She waited a beat. It turned into a long pause as she surveyed the room.
“And they would be right … and wrong. We are the Federation Navy, we go where we are told, we do our duty. A part of that is to root out the pirates wherever they are. Our mission is to secure one flank of the sector and of the growing Federation. We are going to get in, make allies, scout, gain resources, and rid the sector of the pirate vermin that infest it once and hopefully for all. We're going to find their bases and take them. We're going to free the slaves if possible. We're going to protect the people there and show them that civilization has returned.”
She looked around the room with a stern expression. “Doing this will protect the federation flank as I mentioned, but also shipping and planets in the area. By doing this we are sowing new seeds of the Federation rebirth. But mark my words, this mission will not go quick or easy. But it must be done. It damn well will get done.”
She nodded once. “Thank you all for coming,” she said, conceding the podium to the public affairs officer as the room broke into applause.
Shelby blinked, then felt her vision dim as her implants tried to filter out the glitter of popping flash pods. It was like confetti, leaving stars in her eyes. “Nice speech, Skipper. I guess they are glad to see us go,” Cynthia quipped as she leaned over to her.
Shelby looked over to Cynthia and snorted.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
That evening all parties were reported aboard. The ships completed their refueling, topping off their tanks and then kicked their mooring lines, cables, and fuel hoses clear. One by one they were moved away from the docks, sometimes under their own power, some under the guiding hand of the tugs. They formed up as directed and then headed out.