Convoy (The Shelby Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  “We're using our shuttles. Why do we have transport fees?” she demanded.

  “Oh, truck fees to get to the spaceport, storage on the spaceport, stevedore fees, local taxes, plus landing fees for the shuttles, fuel …”

  “I had to ask,” Shelby said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.

  “I've got it, ma'am. The prices are going back up, but the director's office has put a cap on it. He's also suspended the stock market twice when they got carried away and made your warnings of being gouged known. You are not popular on the planet, ma'am.”

  “I can live with that,” Shelby said.

  “Maybe here. I wouldn't visit that planet anytime soon,” the lieutenant said with a shake of his head. Shelby cocked her head and then nodded.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Once the convoy was nestled in orbit, the ships sent down shuttle loads of crew and passengers for liberty. Everyone had a week of liberty. The senior officers had to juggle their watch bills to make certain they had coverage in every department while being short-handed.

  Shelby covered several of the posts to let her people get some downtime. She knew they would need it once the 90-light-year jump began. She spent time reading the fleet times in-between manning watches. She had been surprised to read that her father had been promoted again to rear admiral. She'd shot him a quick congratulations note through the ansible, but apparently, he'd been ordered to return to Bek. That worried her.

  Admirals Sienkov, Subert, White, and a few of the other junior flag officers were all getting an extra star. Some she was sure deserved it, though she wasn't so sure about Admiral Sienkov or Admiral Subert. She didn't know Admiral Sienkov very well, she'd seen some of his signatures on some of her ONI briefing materials, but other than his being from Bek and a bit in the news that was it. Admiral Subert had lived up to his prickly billing. He was a good staff officer, but he wasn't a natural leader in her estimation.

  When she got tired of reading the news she switched to checking on her people and downloading any entertainment from the planet while also ordering as many videos and e-books as she could.

  Shelby heard stories of the tropical heat, bugs, plantations of rubber trees, and resorts. The beaches were popular stops as were some of the mountainside resorts that sported zip lines and other activities. She personally wasn't interested in flying through the trees while hanging on for dear life from a bar over her head. But she had to admit after seeing a crewman's sensor recording she'd put out on the convoy's internet that it was a spectacular way to see the sights.

  It was interesting to see her people set up some sort of grading system on the planet. They told each other which hotels were worth staying in, which were hovels, and where some of the best food and bars were at. Special sights were of intense interest to some; they wanted to be in on thrills or just sit and look at the splendid beauty of nature. A couple of the crew visited the museums and even purchased some of the local's version of art. Shelby just shook her head at that.

  It was a bit strange for her to live vicariously through her crew. It was the only way to visit the planet as she'd seen a few effigies of her and naval officers burned in some of the protests when she hadn't initially agreed to visit. Sentiments were settling down, but she didn't want to take chances with her safety. The shore police had their hands full as it was.

  One thing she did look forward to was the supplies of fresh food, material, and especially fuel that was shipped up to the ships. Tugs were released from the tank farm around the gas giant to bring helium-3 and deuterium to her thirsty ships. Lieutenant Talon had to trade for the fuel and goods. Shelby had sat in on the conversation about how they were expected to pay with services and tax credits. “What are these good for? We can't eat em, can't drink them …,” Director Taylor said suspiciously.

  “They are tax credits. Your planet can use them to pay the federal tax,” Shelby said patiently. She shook her head. She didn't envy Carl for his job. He was handling it like a trooper though.

  “Wait, there is a federal tax?” Director Taylor said, looking horrified over the video channel.

  Shelby swallowed a curse. She didn't want to let on that she was in a diplomatic minefield and was stepping outside her comfort zone, but she waded in and tried to gloss it over. “Of course. Ships, personnel, satellites, all that doesn't come for free. The federal government has to pay its shipwrights to build the ships, the doctors, the teachers …”

  The director snorted then eyed her. “Okay, okay, I get it. I'm not a noob. I did know it; I was pulling your leg, Captain. I had to get you back for the grief you caused,” he said.

  “Well, you did a good job, sir,” Shelby said with a shake of her head as she sat back and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You did that with such perfection …”

  “Thanks. Before I was in politics, I dabbled in acting,” Jeremy said with a grin.

  “You should never have left. I would have loved to have gone to one of your plays. Were any recorded?”

  The director blinked, caught off guard and nonplussed, but then his eyes narrowed. “Now who's acting?”

  “No, I'm serious! It's going to be a long flight between stops. I'd love to watch them. We like as much entertainment as we can get our hands on. Fresh entertainment is very good to have on hand.”

  “Well, as it happens no, we didn't have recording devices in the theater. That was the whole point, to do it live,” the director said, with a sniff of disdain. Internally however, he was considering how he could best use that little tip to his advantage. He could already see a few ways to exploit it and make a profit, both for his planet and for himself privately.

  “Ah. A pity,” Shelby said.

  “I'll see if I can find you some other recordings of some of our shows and performances for you however,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir. My crew would appreciate it,” Shelby said with a slight head bow. She'd heard a few of her people had visited the playhouses and had mixed reviews. Many had gone there because some of the more modern facilities had fans and air conditioning. She'd had reports from Doctor Gusterson as well as Doctor Taylor that several dozen personnel had reported in with minor injuries or bug bites, but the biggest threat was heat exhaustion. Everyone wanted to get in as much as possible in the time they had and many disdained the native's use of afternoon siestas at their peril.

  The director smiled. “You are getting better at this diplomacy, young lady. You still have a bit of polishing to do, but I think you are coming along.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Shelby replied dryly. “I try.”

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Their wait came to an end when a Sojourner class courier arrived in the star system five days into their assigned leave on the planet. The ship broadcast her IFF to the convoy's shepherds then came into the star system.

  “Fast little ship,” Shelby murmured. She had four of them in her convoy, but she hadn't seen them move at that pace yet. Something told her that ship had just set new records to come from wherever she'd come from. “Comm, ask them where they came from,” she said, looking over her shoulder to the comm station.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the rating replied.

  A few minutes later she got her answer, Antigua. She cocked her head and scratched her ear, wondering what was so important to hold the convoy and send a courier … a person? Package? Both? It didn't make sense.

  Three days later she had her answer. The courier signaled that she needed to dock with the flagship. The small ship stepped down her hyperdrive as did Prometheus in order for the two to come alongside each other. Boarding tubes were extended and then locked.

  Cynthia was on duty; she met the courier's liaison at the airlock. “Captain,” she said as she came onto the bridge a few minutes later. “We've received a couple new passengers, some minor gear, and this,” she said, holding up a case. A trio of officers waited in the background.

  “And that is?” Shelby asked, looking at her and then to the sh
iny case.

  “Well, this comes with instructions to call Antigua to unlock it,” Cynthia explained. “See?” she said, turning the case to show the lock then the sign telling them to call the president's office.

  “Okay,” Shelby drawled as she turned to the comm section. “Comm, you heard the lady. Put a call in to the ansible. Address the signal to the president's office. Enter …,” she turned to Cynthia.

  The XO read off a code. The rating nodded and did a read back, then they waited.

  And waited. Twenty-four minutes later an unexpected voice came over the line. “This is the office of the president. Please hold for the president,” Captain Sprite said.

  Cynthia's eyebrows went up in surprise. She turned to her captain, but Shelby shrugged minusculely as if to say she had no clue either.

  “Hello, Captain Logan. It is good that we caught you in time,” the admiral said. His image formed on the main HUD.

  “Attention on deck!” Cynthia barked. All hands came to attention, turning to face the Admiral.

  “You are about to go into the unknown. We've done what we can to prepare you for this mission, but I know what we could send you and what you needed were different things. But I also know you'll make it work.”

  “Yes, sir. We will,” Shelby replied.

  “Then you are going to love this one,” Admiral Irons said, his image smiling somehow. She looked at him warily. “I'm rectifying my previous oversight.”

  Shelby blinked then her eyes narrowed. “Sir?”

  “Captain Logan, I am hereby frocking you to the rank of commodore,” the admiral said formally. Shelby and Cynthia, as well as the majority of the bridge crew were stunned by that announcement. “I know it was something that should have been done much earlier. I am rectifying that oversight now. You'll need the extra weight to deal with diplomatic trouble. Airea 3 just confirmed it to me.”

  “I don't know what to say, sir …,” Shelby said slowly as she felt data flowing through the communication's link to the case Cynthia held, and from there to her implants. She opened a port in her firewall, and sure enough fresh keys and changes to her firmware announced itself after a moment with a pop-up warning.

  “If we do not hear from you in one year from this date, the rank will be officially confirmed,” the admiral said. “Unfortunately, I couldn't send you a flag captain to run Prometheus; I need everyone I've got here.”

  “That's okay, sir; Commander Troll can step up,” Shelby said quietly as she wrestled with the concept of her new rank.

  “Good to hear. I expect good things out of you. The case will unlock for you, Commodore, and you alone. There are chips for you to download. They will self-destruct once you have finished the download. The key updates will require a firmware update. Also, there are implant hardware upgrades you will need to have your doctor apply to you. That will unfortunately require surgery, Commodore,” he said.

  “Understood, sir,” Shelby replied.

  “We are going to be sending a follow-up mission, a squadron of raiders under the code name Gamma. They will be four light cruisers and four heavy cruisers plus a couple tankers and a single support ship. I don't currently have a timetable for when they'll be headed your way. But you can consider them reinforcements,” the admiral said.

  Shelby nodded. “Thank you, sir. We'll appreciate their help,” she said.

  “I know you will. I'm also giving you authorization to promote in the rank if necessary and to take on additional personnel as well. I realize that was set up in advance, but the chips in the case will make it official,” the admiral said.

  Cynthia turned the case to her and held it up. Shelby put her right-hand jack onto the lock. She felt data flow both ways, then the lock popped open. She opened the case to find a series of chips nestled in foam in neat rows on the top and a bottle of champagne at the bottom. “Thank you, sir,” she said.

  “The additional personnel are a start on your flag staff. Make the best of it,” the admiral stated.

  “Yes, sir, we will,” Shelby said as she closed the case and turned back to the admiral's image.

  “Good luck, safe sailing, and good hunting to all of you. We will be waiting to hear from you. President Irons out,” he said. His image froze, then wavered and then was replaced with the crest of the Federation.

  “Damn,” Cynthia murmured softly, breaking the silence. She shook herself as Shelby turned to her. “All right, people, back to work,” she said.

  Before they did so, a rating began to clap. The applause quickly spread. Cynthia smiled in approval and clapped as well. Shelby felt her cheeks and ears heat a bit.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Once the courier was clear of her cargo, they disengaged the dock and she moved to a safe distance on thrusters before she engaged her drive again. “You aren't going to stop and see the sights here?” Shelby asked.

  “Not on your life, Commodore. We heard about the prices the locals charge,” the Veraxin captain said. “Good luck,” he said as his ship moved out.

  “You too speedy,” Shelby sent back. “Safe sailing,” she said as the ship's sublight drive engaged.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Three organic and one A.I. personnel had been transferred over from the courier. Shelby met them just before dinner later that evening. Cynthia was busy trying to fit them into the ship's bunking. One was Lieutenant JG Sadie Black, Shelby's newly minted flag lieutenant. The black Neolab seemed bright and eager to please. Shelby wasn't certain the young female knew what was involved with a flag lieutenant, they usually just did a lot of porting and errands for their flag officer. Lieutenant JG Wigeon Black, Sadie's brother, was to serve as her senior JAG officer. That had been something of a question mark for her; she had been assigned a rather junior ensign fresh out of college for the senior JAG post on the mission and hadn't been enthused by that. Apparently, Admiral Irons had decided to rectify that problem as well.

  Lieutenant Fixer, the female T'clock, was a Spacebee. That brought her total compliment of Spacebees up to five. From a quick look of the lieutenant's record, it was clear that she was an engineer but handled personnel, training, logistics, and administrative duties more than actual hands-on work.

  Her final new addition to the team was an uninitialized A.I. that she found was in the A.I. core, which was a part of her new implants. With the A.I. was a database, security systems, and the means to power the additional hardware. There were four means to power the system other than through a jack. The first was a thermal exchange that converted her body heat to energy. The second was also derived from her; it converted her body's electrical energy into power for the implants. The third and fourth methods were a package of battery nanites and a fuel cell system that drew water from her stomach and converted it into hydrogen for the fuel cell with excess energy from her other systems. It could be drawn on in an emergency.

  The final power method was actually one she already had in her implants, just more advanced. A series of more powerful and compact batteries would replace her old ones.

  Dinner with the staff became something of a celebration of her new rank and due to the inclusion of the new officers, it was held in the central mess. Fortunately, with half the crew on groundside liberty, it was lightly attended. Shelby did her best to go along with the proceedings and be a good sport at the ribbing and smiles around her. She did enjoy the champagne that the admiral had sent along. She was surprised when Bernard pushed out an ice cream cake dotted with candles for desert. Her blush reappeared as Cynthia grinned and led the audience into a rendition of the ancient birthday song.

  “How …?” Shelby shook her head in wonder. “I didn't even know! I lost track but …?” she looked questioningly to her XO.

  “Admiral Irons pointed it out in a message to me when I took the case,” Cynthia replied with a grin.

  “Oh,” Shelby said dumbly as she took the cake knife and cut herself a portion of the gooey confection. “Here's to getting a year older and fatter,” she sai
d.

  “Hey! Speak for yourself, ma'am!” Portia replied in mock indignation. That sparked laughter from the audience.

  ]][#]]]{OO}===}==>

  Shelby woke after her initial round of firmware updates the following morning. It had been something of a hectic evening with the officers celebrating her promotion, even if it was just a frocking. She didn't feel any different; it was all internal to her implants she knew. When she went to see Doctor Taylor later that morning, she found out the firmware update was just the tip of the iceberg.

  “You are getting the full flag officer package, ma'am,” the lieutenant said. “I know Admiral Subert and others have the hardware, keys, and some of the software, but you are getting the full package, ma'am,” he said carefully.

  “Full as in what is different?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Full as in you are also getting the A.I., ma'am. An A.I. core that will be embedded in you with a power converter and power systems along with some additional implants for security purposes.”

  “I'm going to be like Admiral Irons?” she asked dumbly. She wasn't certain how much of her flesh she was willing to part with.

  He nodded. “It's the new standard … new,” he stopped himself with a shake of his head. “Sorry ma'am, it was new over 695 years ago I should say. A year before Admiral Irons was lost the Admiralty started to install dumb and in some cases hybrid smart A.I. into its flag personnel. They are to serve as additional staff as well as eyes on the flag officer … and a final out in case of capture.”

  “I thought we had the omega protocol for that?” Shelby asked.

  “It can be overridden under the right circumstances,” Lieutenant Taylor replied grimly. “An A.I. is harder to suborn.”

  “Tell the Xeno Wraith that,” Shelby said, crossing her arms.

  “Ah, well, I'm not a cyberist so I don't know much about that I'm afraid. You can read up on the specs of the A.I. though, ma'am.”

  “That I'll do before it is installed,” Shelby stated flatly. The doctor nodded.