Ghosts from the Past (The Wandering engineer Book 7)

by Chris Hechtl

  Ensign Ariel Poseidon was a shy red haired officer, another transplant from Firefly. She'd served as a junior navigator, coxswain, and helm officer there as well as a shuttle pilot in training. She had a gift for three dimensional space and navigation. Unfortunately she was a bit flighty, not able to pick one career and stick with it fully. She'd been a questionable choice at first, from her file she'd had trouble asserting her authority due to her quiet nature. She was maturing rapidly though, like a lot of the crew she had no choice but to buck up. As the admiral said, the cream rose to the top.

  “So, we're back to where we started. Engineering,” the major sighed. He held up a restraining hand. “And don't even offer it to me. Pass. I'm a marine not a wrench turner,” he growled.

  That earned a snort of disarming amusement from those in the room.

  The admiral cocked his head, drumming his fingers gently on the table as he thought about the problem. Irons didn't say it, but he like all of the officers present knew that Chief Behr was a serious problem. He was definitely not officer material. He plodded and had no initiative. He talked a good game, but his follow through fell apart. He had to have someone on his case all the time or he slacked off and coasted. When he did, his people did as well. Engineering country just wasn't cutting the mustard.

  “Let's table it for the moment and then look at the other holes. Maybe something will present itself,” Sprite suggested.

  “You're the acting XO, ma'am,” Lobsterman stated.

  “Jealous much?” Sprite said, eying the other AI.

  “Drop it,” the admiral said mildly. He waved a hand. “Ensign Williamson and Midshipman Tormell have both taken an interest in tactical.”

  “Neither have much experience. None really.”

  “Why is Miss Tormell a midshipman and Miss Williamson an ensign?” the major asked, wrinkling his nose. “It's none of my business, but that's odd.”

  Sprite pulled up their bios. “Williamson is in her twenties and has had experience in civilian shipping. She's also a go getter with initiative. Whereas Miss Tormell has just turned seventeen and has some experience but is very shy and reserved. I wasn't certain she had what it takes to be an officer. Apparently she wasn't sure either; the idea to join up was Miss Williamson's. She's a follower to some degree, but she can stand on her own when she has to. She is good standing a watch, but she hasn't shown herself as officer material. But on the flip side she's good at tactical. Specifically defense. She excelled at running defense.”

  “She knows some of the job, but she is still coming out of her shell,” Lobsterman stated.

  “Both ladies do well in whatever job on the bridge we give them,” Ariel said. Lobsterman nodded. “I've even had Shandra stand watch a few times. Brief, but she's done fine.”

  The admiral checked a file then frowned. “Okay, for the moment, I'm going to pull DC off of Chief Behr. I'm giving it to you, Rory,” he said, looking at the marine. The marine's face changed instantly into a pained expression. “I know you don't know engineering but you do know people and how to give orders. Since you're handling ship's security as well you can hold two hats.”

  “Just don't get a swelled head. As soon as we find a qualified engineering officer you'll be back to jarhead country,” Sprite said.

  “Promise, ma'am?” he asked with enough hope in his voice to get another chuckle out of the group. “If you say so I'll do it, sir. I'm not good at it though,” he warned.

  “For now it's a start. We'll build that department around the marines you've got who have the necessary experience and then go from there. Tap Samantha to help you; she's a damn good engineer. I know she wants to get Damage Control Central ironed out, but it can wait. We only have so many warm bodies to man what we currently have,” the admiral said. He winced internally. He should have said Ensign Carter he realized. It was easy to slip into calling the young pixie haired blond by her first name; she was easy to work with. “Most of the DC engineers do double duty as well anyway,” the admiral stated, covering for himself. The major nodded.

  “If we put Meia in at tactical we'll be down a shuttle and fighter pilot. She's also been trying to train her new pilots. She is a good leader and we need shuttle pilots. I'm not sure that is wise.”

  “Hopefully we won't have much fighting to do in the foreseeable future,” Grace said, making a face.

  “Definitely,” the admiral murmured. He rubbed his chin as Sprite put the bios of Miss Williamson and Miss Tormell up on his tablet. He glanced at them, then his eyes were drawn to the sections she had helpfully highlighted. He read them slowly, then nodded. Apparently Sprite had sent them tactical problems straight from the book. He nodded again, this time with approval. Miss Williamson was passable. She wasn't outstanding but she could do the job. Miss Tormell was passable on offense but quite good at defense. They'd do.

  “We'll run with the two. Miss Tormell as defense coordinator and Junior Tactical Officer with Ensign Williamson as senior tactical officer for now. That will allow us to keep Lieutenant Meia in the cockpit for the time we are in B100 omega. Once we are in hyper, we can revisit the situation,” he said.

  “Both officers are holding watch and other duties admiral,” Ensign Hr'tz their Veraxin OPS officer reminded him. Hr'tz or 'Hertz' was a smart flexible officer who had just finished his midshipman's cruise before he'd joined Firefly's compliment in Pyrax shortly before she'd jumped to B101a1. He'd spent some time in engineering country as a power room foreman while cross-training on other duty stations. He'd been snagged as the OPS officer for Maine. Sprite and the admiral already had him earmarked as a potential early riser; he was that good.

  “They'll train on top of holding their regular duties,” Sprite replied for the admiral. “But they'll have to do half shifts for some things. Which will mean we'll need to train someone else to cover for them,” she said. “And eventually someone permanent,” she warned.

  The admiral nodded. He listened as they debated the ship's skeleton crew. They were stretched in every department. It was tough. His watch bills were fragile everywhere, and he couldn't borrow from Peter to pay Paul without causing all sorts of problems that could cascade into major issues.

  Those officers and enlisted that had initiative and didn't seem overwhelmed by the herculean task of not only repairing the ship but also running it were tagged for further evaluation to possibly fast track. A few had been slapped down by veterans or former slaves. The former slaves were still feeling out their roles, getting used to things even after so many weeks in transit.

  "I am still boning up on the revised regs," Ensign Hr'tz clacked. "About that," he said starting up a discussion about the promotions for the ship's AI and crew of Firefly as well as those in Pyrax that Admiral Irons had passed on in a series of orders to Horatio Logan. His reasoning was indirectly called into question by the Veraxin. The admiral drummed his fingers but let him finish stating his case.

  “There could be a problem down the road, sir. A conflict since Mayweather and AI Firefly have seniority over Captain Logan,” Lobsterman pointed out in agreement.

  The admiral smiled slightly. On paper that may be true, but he knew all three officers in question. More importantly all three had worked together for several year now. “I don't think so. First, Mayweather couldn't be pried from her chair now. She's born for the role, and she knows it. She's perfect for it.”

  “True, sir. But ...”

  “Second,” the Admiral said, raising a finger to make the AI pause. “Second, she's not going to be in Pyrax long. Long enough to resupply, refit, and pass on their goods and recruits, get a new crew, and then move out on the missions I ordered them on. They'll have to bring the new crew up to speed with pretty hard training en-route. I have no doubt they'll get it done just fine. They've done it before several times now.”

  “True,” Sprite acknowledged.

  “Finally, I don't think Logan will remain a JG for long,” the admiral said with a half smile.

  Sprite blinked
in surprise. “Admiral, he's ...”

  “He's a system, Commander Sprite. One with a Yard in it. No, not for long.”

  “I honestly didn't think about that, Admiral. But I doubt he'll take flag rank. From some of the scuttlebutt I picked up, he's feeling his age and ready to retire,” Sprite warned.

  The admiral frowned thoughtfully. Horatio had been through hell over the years. His body was a bit battered, but with modern medical care under Doctor Thornby he should easily have at least another century of comfortable life. Perhaps more. “Logan sees this as a renaissance. There may be a time he'll step aside, but not yet. Not until he's certain we've kicked things off and civilization is back on track. He knows he has to stick with it. Besides, can you see him in retirement? Off playing shuffleboard somewhere? Are you kidding me?”

  “True. He does need a project to keep busy.”

  “Damn straight. And after running a Yard, there is little civilian life that can compare to it. I admit, he's not comfortable in command and definitely not in a tactical situation. So eventually, we'll work that out.”

  “Hopefully before the Horathians mix up your carefully laid plans, Admiral.”

  “Yes, thank you for the pointed reminder that no plan survives contact with the enemy. I know that. Which is why we're doing what we're doing. In a timely manner.”

  “So, is that why we're headed to Antigua? We could have taken everyone to Pyrax.”

  “We've been over this Commander, it is a political cesspool. No. Antigua. And along the way, we're going to show the flag and do some shopping.”

  “Ah,” Sprite murmured. “There really never is just one reason you do something is there?” She asked. “Building up the myth?”

  “Something like that,” he replied with a shrug.

  “Back to the promotions ...”

  “Commander, right now we can't push anyone higher than they are mentally prepared to go. A lot of the crew need seasoning for the roles we need them in. In the roles they are currently in. I understand the urge to give them the rank they deserve. But we can't push them. We also have to keep a keen eye on the future. Many of these people are doing the job by the skin of their teeth.”

  “True,” Doctor Che said with a smile. Irons nodded to her.

  “No offense, Doc, but you are a doctor. You have medical training even if you don't have a doctorate from a college. Many of the crew also have on-the-job training. But some don't. I'm not ... I'm not comfortable making them live up to high expectations they may not be ready for. A few of them can handle it, okay. But we are a long ways away from establishment. On paper or otherwise. Acting roles are all I'm willing to settle for now.”

  “Understood, Admiral,” Sprite said.

  “Then let's table this discussion to give everyone time to get settled and more seasoning. We'll give it a month then revisit it. For now, let's get back to work,” the admiral said, rising to his feet. The other organics in the room did the same hastily. He nodded to them as they exited the compartment.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  It was hard, balancing repairs and normal duties of running the ship. When you threw the need for adequate training as well as counseling and medical care into the mix it was difficult even under the best of situations. Most of the crew had some experience, just about everyone on board was a spacer. There had still been a lot of on-the-job training to learn the military systems, however, as well as some of the ways of the navy. Veterans did their best to guide the new recruits until their downloads and the work environment helped them to take on their roles more naturally.

  Repairing their duty stations had helped out in some ways, though many people were specialists, they didn't have engineering training and had floundered around lost until they'd been pressed in as assistants and gophers to the techs who could. Once they had their station repaired they were at least able to do their jobs, which brought on the next step.

  “I'm not sure they are ready,” Sprite cautioned as the admiral drummed his fingers lightly on the wardroom table. “Physically yes, but you have to remember we're all over the place on the ship. People are exhausted as it is.” She shook her virtual head. Irons pursed his lips. At least the other officers could see her now, her and Lobsterman. He'd repaired the holo emitter so they could be seen.

  “Some of them are. The veterans can certainly handle it. Some are itching to do more,” Lobsterman argued. “I know a few who are bored.”

  “It has to be done though I know that. We can have splendid ships, but if our people don't know how to fight them ...” Sprite paused. “I'm just not sure now is the proper time. Not for some people, and not for the pace you want.”

  “A lot of the work they're learning on the job. And yes I know, downloads aren't enough,” Irons said, holding up a forestalling hand. The new members of the crew were getting a sleep teach session at least once or twice a week when they had the extra downtime. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it hindered them the following day as their minds tried to compensate for the new information. “I'm not concerned about damage control or engineering right now, our people are on that by now. Safety is getting there. It's by no means perfect by any stretch of the imagination. But you are right. We do need to get some other drills in. Combat drills with bridge crews for one. Gunnery practice for others,” he said.

  Lobsterman had convinced him to make repairs to the other tactical duty stations on the bridge, then do a full sweep, one station each time he took a bridge watch. He wished he'd done it sooner. Now they had people sitting at those stations when they had the time. All were volunteers putting in extra time to learn the job on their own initiative, practically on their own. That had to change.

  “And learning to do some medical triage would be good,” the doctor said shaking her head. She was still growing her hair out so it was a fuzzy mess. She had lost a lot of the drawn and beaten look she'd had when she had first come on board. Her face had smoothed out. She was still tired but more relaxed. “Not that we haven't had enough to deal with, you know, with accidents and injuries,” she said with a grimace.

  “Unfortunately true, Doctor Che,” Sprite said. She'd steered a few head cases and minor injuries to Doctor Grace Che's eyes. The woman was good; she had a soft light touch when needed. She was starting to take on a playful almost frisky air when she was in a good mood which tended to make others smile and buck up.

  “Once the ship is fully operational that should minimize,” Lobsterman said.

  “I'm also dealing with mental health issues,” the doctor reminded them. “Not everyone is still up to par mentally. We have a lot of former slaves with a lot of skeletons in their closets, myself included. Some are brittle no matter what they say or do. Push too hard and they could break.”

  “Which is a problem,” Sprite sighed. “And a concern. I'm actually surprised we haven't had many breakdowns. A few, but most of them have managed to pull themselves up with some downtime and counseling.”

  “A few. A few required medication, and I know for a fact everyone needs sleep,” the doctor said, giving the admiral a look. “Not everyone has implants either. And not everyone has your implants,” she reminded him tartly. “We're not made of metal and plastic. We're flesh and bone.”

  “Understood doctor,” Irons replied with a nod. “We'll start them easy then. Volunteers only.”

  “I know a few pilots that would love the chance at getting some sim time in,” Sprite said with a chuckle. “They've been pestering me for weeks, complaining about getting stale.”

  “Start there. Throw some light, I do mean light, problems and training scenarios at volunteers who want to learn more. Lobsterman, put a website up for them. Sprite, grading is your job as acting XO.”

  “Lucky me,” the AI muttered.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  At least twice a week, time permitting, Doctor Che held an open counseling session. It was group therapy; those who couldn't handle it she met on an individual basis weekly under the guise of routine c
heckups.

  Many in the group and in the crew wanted to put what happened to them behind them and move on. Some were eager to get a piece of a pirate however. The doctor judged them as a bit bloodthirsty. She was concerned. On the one hand it was good; fighting back was good. But it could also mask deep rooted issues that could fester over time.

  “I can't wait until we meet up with a pirate. We're going to rip them a new one. I hope we blow them to smithereens,” Shandra growled.

  “What about ... about if they have slaves on board?” Mia asked softly.

  “Trust me. They'd thank us,” Shandra growled.

  “Would you have thanked the admiral if he'd blown your ship apart instead of capturing it?” Doctor Che asked, sitting back and putting on the air of relaxed attention as she crossed her legs and hands. “Somehow I think we wouldn't be here, having this conversation if he had.”

  “No.”

  “If we do catch them ... what will we do with them?”

  “A pulser dart and a long walk out a short airlock is too good for them,” Shandra growled. “I say we give them a taste of their own medicine,” she said.

  A few like-minded women nodded grimly. One or two flinched as they shied away from the idea.

  “Oh come on! A bit of a bite of the hair on the dog that bit you and all that,” Shandra said, waving a hand. She made a face and put her hands together. “How I'd love to take some bastard's balls and squeeze them slow ... Maybe take a hammer to them ...”

  Doctor Che winced internally. The graphic nature was sickening a few of her patients, but waking them up too. “Not everyone is guilty of war crimes,” she said softly. “How can you tell?”

  “I don't care. If they signed on to the pirates they deserve anything they get,” Shandra insisted.

  “That's not justice; it's vengeance.”

  “So what if it is?”