by Rodney Smith
“You’re coming into a good unit. The old man is probably the finest fighter pilot in the Fighter Force. He’s not a stickler for military discipline, but it’s best not to push too far in that direction.”
Kelly’s stomach rumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he came on board much earlier that day. He turned to LT Kanakis and said, “Hey John, I don’t mean to cut you off, but I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
LT Kanakis looked at Kelly like he was seeing him for the first time and said, “Oh I’m sorry, grab the ancient ceremonial hat and follow me.”
They walked out of the wardroom into the passageway and turned right. The next large compartment down the passageway was one of the six dining rooms on the Bolivar, and the one most often used by the Carrier Fighter Wing.
“If you are hungry, this is the best dining room on the Bolivar. Our mess crew runs this facility and they tend to be a bit more creative in their menu than the other dining rooms. Of course, the downside of this is that the senior officers of the ship tend to favor us with their presence a lot. If you are a lot hungry, go to the steam table. They usually have a couple of plates to choose from.”
Kelly went to the steam table as John had suggested and found fried chicken and something that looked like a giant snail. He erred on the side of familiarity, chose the chicken, added a side of potatoes, and some sort of greens. LT Kanakis chose the giant snail-looking thing, corn and sautéed mushrooms. They both got tea at the drink counter and found a table.
“Kelly, you’re going to love the F-53. These are the models with extendable wings for atmospheric flight, as well as space flight. We don’t get much practice at atmospheric flight, though. I did it once when we passed through an uninhabited system a few months back. It felt funny after having done so much flying in open space. It took me a while to remember how to allow for crosswinds and gusts on landing.”
“These F-53s are great. The flight computer gives you so much added flexibility. The computer can take over some of the routine tasks, leaving you free to concentrate on critical tasks like combat, landings, and takeoffs. Mine has quite a personality. I call mine Ben. You can make yours anything you want–male, female, or machine voice. It’s just like having a copilot along with you. On long patrols, you can even turn over the flight controls to it and catch some sleep. Ben even watches my six for me. The sensor array gives him a much better view of the surroundings than me.”
“So, John, how are things here on the Bolivar? I’ve studied the schematics of the Lincoln class carriers, so I should be able to find my way around okay. How do the wing and the ship’s company get along? Are there any local customs I should know about? We learned Fleet protocols at the Academy, so you don’t need to cover the obvious things, but ship customs, taboos, and faux pas to avoid.”
“Well, there are two flag officers onboard the Bolivar. One flag officer is often one too many, but we get to live with two. The Battle Fleet Commander is Admiral Haddock-Halloway and the Fleet Air Commander is General Bugarov. I think we got both because this is the latest Lincoln class carrier and it was designed with an expanded flag country as a battle fleet flagship.”
“Admiral Haddock-Halloway is all right. He runs a taut ship and doesn’t tolerate any of the usual ships’ company versus fighter wing stuff. The general, on the other hand, is a piece of work. First off, she hates lieutenants. Speak to her only when spoken to and above all never contradict her. She thinks she's some sort of re-born Napoleon and her tactics are just as old. She keeps setting up these Fleet Fighter Force exercises that emulate Cannae, Hastings, and Pearl Harbor more than they do realistic scenarios. I don’t think she has ever had an original tactical concept pass between her ears.”
“She’s a stickler for military discipline. If you are the first to see her enter a fighter wing compartment, call the area to attention, unless the admiral or ship’s captain is already in the compartment. She even insists that ship’s company do the same. They hate it. The ship’s captain particularly hates it. He has instructed bridge personnel not to recognize her when she comes onto the bridge. She tried to dress him down for this and he reminded her that she was on his ship and if she had a problem with it to take it to the admiral. I heard a rumor that she did and was told that normal courtesies would be extended to her, but the captain was in charge of the ship and all personnel embarked upon her. She should concentrate on fleet fighter matters and leave the captain to run his ship as he saw fit.”
“She did not take that well. So she took it out on the carrier fighter wing, attempting to enforce her sense of military decorum on us. I think the ship’s company feels sorry for us. Things always tend to go a little wrong during her ceremonies. The lights will flicker on the flight deck or the public address system will go out. One time general quarters were called during the middle of a parade. Another time the ventilators on the flight deck kept switching on and off, causing the flags to blow one way then the next. She never did figure out that the airflow kept the flags blowing in her face. I think the captain figured out what was going on and put a stop to it, but occasionally something strange will still happen. You want to try some of my Super Cargo?”
Kelly looked at the giant snail thing he was eating and figured that must be what he was referring to. “Is that what that thing is called?”
“Sure, they taste better than they look. They grow these things on Rosencrantz in the Deneb system. They are quite a delicacy. They taste a little bit like Conch from Earth. Has a very buttery taste.”
“That’s okay. I think I’ll pass on the slug for the time being. I’ve traveled a lot with my folks and eaten a lot stranger food. I just wanted chicken tonight. So, tell me about CPT Willis. What is she like?”
“Janey, actually, you’d better not call her that unless you’d like to have your posterior handed back to you in pieces, is all right. She’s a pretty good pilot, is fair in her dealings with the flight, and she can be really funny after she’s had a few drinks. She’s only been a captain for a few months, so she isn’t too much of a stickler for military courtesies, but she is still a captain. We use our first names on the radio when we fly in formation. She calls us by our first names and we call her boss.”
“If you have any romantic notions toward her, forget it. I think she and a Major in the 73rd Fighter Squadron have a thing going.”
“No, I just want to know that she can handle her fighter.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s damn good. She can fly circles around most of the pilots in the squadron. She might even give you a run for your money. Did you really smoke everyone you flew against in transition school?”
“Well, yeah I did, almost. I flew a few of them to a draw. I tended not to fly how people expected. It also helped that I was able to reprogram the flight computer. I could make the fighter do things that weren’t quite expected. They would come after me thinking they were going to make an easy kill. Next thing they knew, I was behind them and their damage sim was lighting up. I probably got lucky in my first few engagements, but by that time I had analyzed their tactics against others and me. I was able to adjust to give them a run for their money. The more of them I flew against, the better I got.”
“I’ll have to get you to teach me a few of your tricks. Now we’d better get you out of here and get you some rack time if you're going to see the old man in the morning. Come on.”
They left the dining room and moved down the passageway to the cabin shared by four junior officers. The layout was Spartan, with twin bunks on either side of the room. Two small side-by-side desks on the far bulkhead separated the bunks. Four wardrobes divided off the center of the room. The wardrobes had hanging storage above and drawers below. There wasn’t much storage, but he didn’t have much to store. Kelly felt it would be enough. The other two officers weren’t present. John said, “You get the top bunk. When you outrank someone in the room, you can have the bottom bunk. Watch your head on the piping and electrical races in the overhea
d.”
Kelly smiled and returned to the present. He looked around at his much more spacious quarters here on Antares Base and dropped off to sleep.
* * * * *
When the alarm went off, Kelly got up to prepare for the reception. He checked his terminal and there was a message from his parents waiting for him.
Andrew Blake’s face appeared in a video file when he clicked on the message. It was a middle aged version of Kelly’s own face staring back at him. “Son, how are you doing? We just found out what happened to you in the Fighter Force. Your mother is sick about it. I’ve met old Bugger Off and I know what you must have gone through. She’s an idiot. We got your message that you transferred to the Scout Force. Admiral Craddock is a good egg. You should do a lot better under him than you did with Bugger Off.”
“Your mom and I just got back from Aldebaran. We’ve been working on something for the Galactic Republic. You should hear something in the news in a month or so. We can’t say anything just yet. Just know that it will cause some big changes.”
Kelly wondered what his folks were working on now. Knowing his dad’s predilection for understatement, this would be something astounding. Considering all the areas his dad was involved in, it could be anything.
“Son, we are going to be on Armstrong in a couple of months. Your mother and I would love to see you. Let us know what your schedule will be. We are flexible and will be there for a few months. Now here’s your mother.”
Moira Blake appeared. “Son, send us a video. We want to see what you look like in your Fleet uniform. Between your school and travels and our travels, we hardly get to see each other. We are really looking forward to seeing you when we get to Armstrong. We’re going to be there for a while, so there should be lots of opportunities to meet up with you. I am very much looking forward to seeing you. Take care of yourself.”
Kelly prepared his uniform and put it on. The Scout Force mess dress uniform wasn’t bad. The chief had done a good job finding a well-tailored replacement for the baggy thing that General Bugarov had arranged for him. The pants were white with a black stripe up the leg. The waist length white dinner jacket had black piping along the collar. His Gold Fighter Wings sat above his single row of miniature medals.
His single gold stripe, signifying his rank, looked lonely on his sleeve. He would be glad to add the half stripe of a Lieutenant, Junior Grade in three months. As he looked in the mirror, he thought the uniform looked pretty good on him. He didn’t care for the low quarter dress shoes. He missed his calf-length Fighter Force boots.
Kelly made a quick video to his folks. He told them what he thought his schedule would be for the next few months. He left out that he would be starting a month-long patrol at the beginning of next month. If they were to be here for a few months, they would have plenty of time to get together after his patrol was completed. He did a fashion show walk around the room so his mom could see his uniform, signed off, sent the video, then left for the reception.
Admiral Craddock’s quarters were not ostentatious. It was a larger than normal house by base standards, but unlike all of the other admirals on base, it was a single-story house. What it lacked in grandeur, it made up for in features and landscaping. The house’s exterior, walls and walkways were built in a blue stone from the local quarry. The grounds were magnificent, with plants of all types and coloration tastefully blended into a pleasing bouquet. Whoever did their gardening was an artist.
As he got out of the shuttle, he pushed the transportation complete button and it went on its way. He walked up to the front door, rang the bell, and waited. An attractive woman in her early-fifties answered the door.
“Hello, Ensign, come in. I'm Amy Craddock. Tom is in the back mixing drinks. Let me take your hat.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Kelly Blake.”
She took his hat and hung it on a hook on an antique hall mirror. It had to be several hundred years old. It was in marvelous shape, and Kelly could see the frame was made of real wood, some sort of dark grainy wood. The finish was so well done that Kelly felt he was looking down through the grain of the wood. He looked into the parlor and saw several other antiques tastefully blended in with the more modern furniture that obviously was Fleet issue. Kelly resolved not to sit on any of the antiques.
Mrs. Craddock led Kelly into the rest of the house. The other rooms were just as tastefully decorated as the parlor. Admiral Craddock was in the back tending bar. He had a number of Scout Force and Base officers and their escorts bellied up to the bar. He was regaling them with a story about his last tour in Fleet HQ on Earth.
“So there I was, the newest officer in the office and my boss, Admiral Gutierrez, had just chosen me to brief a Galactic Republic Senator on something I knew nothing about. I had five minutes to prepare. I asked Admiral Gutierrez if he had any advice for me. The admiral looked over at me and said, 'Yes, when there is nothing else you can do, polish your shoes.'”
The group broke into laughter. Admiral Craddock looked up and saw Kelly.
“Kelly, come in let me introduce you to everyone. All, this is Kelly Blake. He is the Exec of the Vigilant. He works for Ed Timmons.”
He pointed at a Fleet Commander wearing Base Ops insignia and said, “This is CMDR Okanma. He runs the base infrastructure maintenance activity. If I hadn’t stolen you away, you would have been working for him.”
CMDR Okanma shook Kelly’s hand and said, “Miyushi, meet Ensign Blake. Ensign, this is my wife, Miyushi.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you both,” said Kelly as he shook their hands.
The admiral introduced Kelly to a well-dressed female civilian. “This is my daughter, Candy. Candy has just graduated from the Winston Churchill School of Law, passed the GR bar exam, and is taking a few weeks off before she reports into the Baines, Baines, and Enfield law firm here on Armstrong. We are very proud of her. Of course, the first thing she will probably do as a lawyer is sue the base for something we did wrong. Her specialty is contract law.”
Candy Craddock was stunning. She was about 5’ 8” and had long red hair. Her fair skin was almost transparent and lacked the freckles one normally associated with redheads. Her ringless fingers were long and graceful, with moderately long painted nails. The dress, of a green iridescent material, looked like it had been custom tailored to fit her every curve. The effect was breathtaking. A slit up each side showed most of two very shapely legs. A look in her eyes told Kelly that she was more than a little interested in him. Kelly would have to play this situation very carefully.
She extended her hand to Kelly, gave him a firm handshake, and said, “So very glad to meet you, Ensign Blake.”
“I’m very glad to meet you also, Miss Craddock.”
“Please call me Candy.”
“In that case, please call me Kelly.”
The admiral stepped in to continue the introductions. “Kelly, meet LCDR Davis and LT Bell, the CO and Exec of the Vehement. It’s the Scout ship in the dock next to the Vigilant. They should be through refit in three months or so.”
LCDR Davis asked Kelly to talk with him later about how the refit of the Vigilant was going. LT Bell asked to be in on that conversation, too.
Admiral Craddock then introduced Kelly to two Fleet Lieutenants. “Kelly, these two fellows are Kim Dae Wo and Al Bentine. They are being assigned here to work on my staff. Kim will be in operations and Bentine will handle officer personnel assignments. Ah, I see my wife motioning me into the kitchen. Why don’t you all get acquainted, while I go help Amy.”
Kelly said to both lieutenants, “Very nice to meet you. Have you just arrived on Antares Base also?”
LT Bentine said, “We got in this Wednesday. We just found out our assignments today. Neither of us came in specifically assigned to Scout Force, but we are glad to be here. I, for one, prefer working for the operational forces over support functions.”
LT Bentine saw CMDR Okanma look up at his comment. He quickly said, “Sir,
not that there is anything wrong with working for the support services, but I want to get back out in space on a ship and hope to maybe command a Scout ship some day.”
CMDR Okanma just chuckled.
Candy Craddock looked over at him. “Dad left before fixing you a drink. What would you like?”
“I haven’t had time for a drink since I got here and I was on a dry Fleet carrier for six months before that. Are there any local specialties I should try?”
With a beguiling smile, she said, “Local specialties...let me see.” She bent down, giving Kelly a wonderful view of her cleavage. “How about a local wine? They make a marvelous Vidal Blanc to the southwest of here, and Dad has one in here chilled. I’ll have a glass with you.”
She opened the bottle, poured two glasses of a lovely amber liquid, and handed one to Kelly. She put a stopper on the bottle and replaced it in the fridge beneath the bar. This gave Kelly that lovely view of her cleavage again. He averted his eyes just before she straightened back up.
She reached over and clinked glasses with him. “Here’s to a safe patrol.”
Her comment caught Kelly a little unawares. It must have shown on his face.
“Don’t worry, Kelly. I don’t know Scout Force’s patrol schedule, but if you are about to come out of refit, you are obviously about to go out on patrol. It’s just how things are done.”
Kelly relaxed. The other guests had moved over to the den and were looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at a storm coming over the mountains to the east, leaving Kelly alone with Candy.
“We seem to have been abandoned.”
She leaned over the bar, holding her glass in both hands, and asked, “Do you mind?” Her eyes locked with his.
“Of course not. How could I mind them leaving me alone with such pleasant company?”