Ghosts from the Past (The Wandering engineer Book 7)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Cat. The name is ...” Sprite asked, looking at the Neocat.

  “Just cat,” the feline growled. She gave the AI's avatar a cold look before she turned to lick her right shoulder in disdain. “What's it to you?”

  Sprite immediately tagged the cat as a hard case. She definitely had an attitude problem. She'd initially signed on for the navy, but her tests had flagged so she'd been transferred to the marine program. She'd signed off on it since she apparently wanted to get off world like a lot of people. “Okay, cat. Cat with a C or K or ...?”

  “What do you think?” the feline said in annoyance. She shot the AI another cold look.

  “You are a fun one. C it is,” Sprite said.

  The Neocat blinked, ears rising slightly. “It's spelled with a C?” She asked, sounding slightly curious.

  “You um, don't know?” Sprite asked carefully. The cat's ears flattened again. “Or how to read?” she asked quietly. Her voice dripped with sympathetic inquiry.

  “I never needed to,” The cat said with a flick of her ears. Sprite noted one had been bitten a few times. The Neocat was a domestic short hair which meant she had been having a rough time on the icy planet below. No wonder she wanted off. From her scars and ear, the AI judged she'd been in a great deal of fights over the years. That explained her very high skills in combat.

  Sprite blinked. “Oh. Oooh boy.”

  “Is that a problem?” The Neocat asked, eyes narrowing and slitting ever so slightly.

  “It is but we can deal with it. Eventually.”

  When the cat had left Sprite shook her head. “A warm body doesn't mean a smart body. Or one who is willing to do the job, or can do the job right. It just means a warm body. Someone who is filling a slot for pay or to get off the mudball they are stuck on,” she said to Lobsterman. “And a potential weak link. Lovely.”

  “What do we do about her? She certainly has an attitude problem. And the chain of command or proper military courtesy are right out the window with that one. She'll be up for a mast or a court martial in hours, mark my words.”

  “We attempt to engage her. Give her a little time to settle in, then try to get her involved, see if she is interested in bettering herself. She does need to learn to keep a lid on her temper and her mouth. We need place holders too, but we need people with initiative who want to work, who want to be here more. We'll give her every opportunity to make up for her deficiencies. But if she slacks off, we're going to have to encourage her. If not, she's not going to last long.”

  “Think she is another who will jump ship?” Lobsterman asked.

  “If she thinks that she'll be sorry and sore. An officer can resign. She has signed on as an enlisted Marine due to her combat experience and training deficiencies. Believe it or not, that is a bit of a stereotype, not all marines are that bad starting off,” the commander said. “But being enlisted is different. She also didn't bother to read her contract since she can't. That's a problem. We'll have to deal with it,” Sprite replied.

  “Oh. It's a marine problem though, right?”

  “It's a navy wide problem. Something we need to be on the lookout for. But I'll pass it on to Major Gustov to keep on top of it.”

  “Aye aye, ma'am.”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  When Ian had a moment he caught a cargo flight over to Maine for a hands on presence during a flag staff meeting. Irons nodded in approval. After the meeting he lingered. When he had a moment alone the captain finally got a thought off his chest.

  “I've been talking to some of the people down there and some of the recruits that Commander Sprite has been sending over to Bounty. I've got to ask sir, they are worried about their homeworld. Is there anything we can do to snap the moon out of its backslide? It's in an ice age, sir, accelerating. According to them it won't be habitable in a couple of decades. It seems a shame to just watch it freeze over completely.”

  “Not to mention what to do with all the people on the planet. There is no way we could lift them all out right now. Or that anyone else would volunteer their shipping to do so. It might be a smart thing to do, to get them out of the front line, but ...” Irons shook his head.

  “You said you are planning to push the front lines back as soon as possible anyway sir?”

  “If we can. I damn well hope so or we're up a creek,” the admiral growled. “I for one don't want to fight right on Antigua's doorstep. That would mean we'd have to abandon Triang and the shipping lane to Agnosta and Pyrax. We'd have to rely on the alternative down past Centennial to Gaston to get shipping back and forth. That's nearly double the time. It's also vulnerable at Centennial,” the admiral said.

  “But that's not the topic,” Sprite said. “Back to the problem, and it is a fun one,” Sprite said with a slight smile to the Admiral. “There are a few things the residents can do to reverse the decline. If they are willing, and if we can push the front line back.”

  The admiral nodded. “Yes definitely they could do a few things. The problem is there isn't a lot in the system to do it with. And boosting it out of the gravity well is economically prohibitive.”

  “So is shipping it in,” Sprite reminded him.

  “Beta 99 and 98 might be the key for raw materials,” Irons mused. “But again, shipping.”

  “No industry to make use of it. Unless you are talking about a factor ship, sir,” Sprite responded.

  “Someone want to clue in the uninitiated among us?” Ian asked, raising a hand.

  Irons eyes cut to him and then he snorted softly. “What we're talking about is a series of mirrors in space. They are cheap and the easiest way to increase the moons albedo; it's light to heat it up. The problem is they would have to be hauled in from elsewhere and set up. They would also need constant monitoring, adjustment, and they'd have to be moved because the solar wind they were redirecting would push them like giant solar sails,” he explained. Ian nodded. “The other method involves releasing greenhouse gases. Carbon dioxide,” he explained.

  “Oh,” Ian replied, wrinkling his nose.

  “The planet is in orbit of a gas giant but it's the outermost moon. It's really just barely in the Goldilocks zone of the parent star. I'm not sure why they terraformed it in the first place.”

  “Oh.”

  “The planet gets some additional light from the gas giant but not as much as one would expect. It also gets some from the other moons, again, not as much as you'd think. And when it is occluded by the planet it can get very dark and very cold.”

  “I see.”

  “It is also a question of the planet's orbit. They should have adjusted it before they started terraforming,” Sprite said. “Or moved the planet in to its own orbit of the star.”

  “I ... not ... okay, you can move a planet. Oh wait, of course you can,” Ian said, now amused enough to chuckle. “I keep forgetting.”

  Irons eyed him and then shrugged. “Sorry, to us it's normal. We took such thoughts for granted and now it's coming back to haunt us. The good news is, we know it can be done, and we have a general idea on how. Once one knows that, it can be replicated,” he said. His mood changed slightly as he reflected a bit. “Before the Xeno war civilization was rapidly moving beyond Tier II and into Tier III,” he said, referring to the Kardashev scale of interstellar civilization development. “We were at the point where we weren't just moving planets, I mean they did that with Mars and Venus before Terran starflight. No we were tearing apart star systems for raw materials or even making them. Or tearing apart a star,” he explained. “Even making wormholes,” he said.

  “And you know where that got us, so we'd better proceed cautiously in that regard,” Sprite said darkly.

  “Oh ...” Ian said blinking. “That's … that is still amazing. To have gone that far … and …” he shook his head. “To think we forgot that. We've forgotten so much. Fallen so far.”

  “Like I said, to us it was normal. We'll get back there. Eventually,” the admiral said, exchanging looks with Sprite.
<
br />   ...*...*...*...*...

  “This just gets better and better,” Marine staff sergeant Padre Rutledge said as he looked at the squad under his care. He wasn't sure why the brass wasn't putting the noobs in one platoon to train them in a uniform manner. That would be the smart thing to do, not sprinkle them throughout the fleet. Who gave a rats ass if they had combat experience or not, they still didn't have proper marine training! But no one asked his opinion so he had to shut up and soldier.

  He fought a deep sigh as he studied the two recruit problems he had to deal with. Both were mental in nature; Doctor Che and the other medics had a handle on the implants and crap. At least they'd stopped giving new recruits the full damn package. He shook his head at that wisdom.

  He eyed the two recruits again. One was moping over a recent bad breakup; he'd joined up to escape. Now he looked like he was unsure of what he had gotten himself into. One thing for certain, he was just glad to be off the miserable ice-ball.

  He knew Doctor Che's work. She was good, damn good. He could attest to that from personal experience he thought, flexing his rebuilt right arm and torso slightly. She'd done a hell of a job putting him back together after he'd come back from Hidoshi's World. He'd rather have woken to one of the Glenn's faces, but she'd apparently taken over his case since the damage had been so extensive. To be honest he didn't remember much beyond the flash of light and pain before his implants had put him out.

  He studied the recruit. Neigi Nagumo. The Neogorilla was white, apparently he could sub for a yeti if he wanted to. That explained his first name; the sergeant's implant computer had translated it from French meaning white. The rednecks in his area had closed ranks on him so he'd seen an opportunity when the fleet had arrived and taken it.

  Sergeant Rutledge couldn't blame him. He'd felt the teen out a bit, he was pretty sure he wasn't running from some pregnant shotgun wedding bullshit. That was fine. Commander Sprite had also done his interview. She'd double checked his profile, and he was who he said he was and not running from the law. That just left the mental crap to deal with. Fortunately the lad was quiet and did everything he was told without complaint.

  The other private, Private Sorill Lapola, human, was in love, or thought he was. Puppy love, the sergeant thought in rich disgust. He was like a love struck calf, and it made the good noncom want to barf or beat the little snot until he woke the frack up. If he heard one more suffering sigh, he might do it too.

  The sergeant did his best not to roll his eyes at such teenage drama. At least the kid wasn't a complete noob; they'd picked him up on Hidoshi's world so the sergeant had had time to get some of the training in to stick. Apparently he'd gone down in uniform and a lady had swooned at his feet. He'd swept her off her own feet and even convinced her to sign up. She had signed on as a squid though which said a lot about her intelligence. Well some, she was dating a marine after all. So, she had good taste and marginal good sense. He shook his head at his own wandering thoughts.

  The long suffering sigh made him look at the kid. The kid was gone, eyes lost, mooning over the girl. That had to stop. He wasn't going to put up with that crap for the rest of their trip. That meant a counseling session was in order. He went over to the boy and the kid didn't even notice him until he was practically in his face. Suddenly the young man knew he'd screwed up. He schooled his face into the best deadpan he could manage as he straightened to attention.

  Livid eyes bored into him until he gulped slightly. He'd learned not to let the sergeant see him sweat; the sadistic bastard just turned the screws even tighter.

  “You love this girl?”

  He nodded. “Yyyyes, Sergeant,” he stuttered out.

  The sergeant studied him for another long second. “I see. And I bet she's worth waiting for?” he asked quietly.

  “Um, yes, Sergeant?” the private said nodding. He flushed at the evil eye. “I mean Gunny?” He'd forgotten that as the senior noncom on board the staff sergeant was traditionally called Gunny.

  “She'd better be; you're not going to have time to see her. Here is the kicker, you have got to put the pussy out of your head.”

  “Sir! She's ... she's a lady!” the private said, now indignant.

  “Then fine, treat her as such. But you,” he poked the recruit in the chest. “Have got to keep it together. Keep your head in the damn game. Don't think of fucking on duty or you'll frack up. If you don't get yourself killed, you'll get someone else killed. And that'll seriously Piss. Me. OFF. You read me, mister?”

  “Yes, Gunny,” the private said, wide eyed. He gulped convulsively.

  “Good. Your ass belongs to me while you are here, get used to it, Private!” The private nodded.

  “Aye aye, Gunny!” He felt habits he'd picked up in his training reassert themselves.

  “So, to get your mind off of your dick we're going to work your ass hard. Harder than you'd ever worked before. It's nothing personal,” he said smiling ferally. The private felt a sinking sensation. “So, move your ass!”

  “Yes, Gunny!”

  “That's Aye aye, Gunny!” the noncom snarled. “Drop and give me fifty!” He said he bellowed. He waited until the private finished the pushups before he nodded. “Now, you've got ten to get your ass squared away. Be somewhere else,” he said. “The both of you,” he said leveling his eyes on the other private.

  “Aye aye, sir!” the private said, nodding. The gorilla chuffed and then moved out quickly.

  “He hates your guts,” Lobsterman observed.

  “Good. I'm not in it to win popularity contests,” the sergeant said. “He needs to get his ass in the game,” the noncom growled.

  “What was that line about a soldier that won't fuck won't fight?”

  “It's all a matter of timing, sir,” the sergeant said, turning to eye the AI's avatar on a nearby wall monitor. “If you'll excuse me sir, I've got a few more like him to straighten out,” he said.

  “Dismissed, Gunny,” the AI replied with a nod. The sergeant nodded back and then took off at a professional trot.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Sprite started the dance of personnel among the fleet once more as new arrivals were processed. Some slotted in neatly, others were more troublesome. The marines were fairly easy; she handed them over to Major Gustov and peachily offered to lend him a hand with scheduling their transfer to other marine companies when they had space on a cargo liter. He hadn't been amused, but he hadn't argued either.

  “Okay this may seem like a dumb question, but you just renamed the new ship Collier 9. I see there is a Collier two through eight, but other ships have names. The tankers are just Tankers 1 through 3. Where is Collier 1?” Midshipman Lloyd Kereen, newly minted midshipman asked, wrinkling his chimp nose.

  “It's a long story,” Sprite said absently. The midshipman had information implants, so she uploaded the report of the recent events with the fleet as well as the battle of B101a1 into his implant memory. “And I just uploaded it to you. But the long and the short of it is, the crew renamed the ship Lassie,” she explained.

  He blinked his brown eyes then frowned thoughtfully. She could see him immediately accessing the implants and fumbling about a bit before he ran a search for the name. He finally grunted. “That is correct; the ship was lost with all hands in the battle of B101a1,” the commander said flatly.

  “The other ships can take on names, but the crews either couldn't agree on anything, or weren't interested,” the AI stated. “Many of the crew just want out of the posting and onto a warship. There are a lot of holes in our command structure still but only so many postings to go around,” the AI explained.

  “I see, ma'am. So, why am I being sent to one?”

  “Well, the running joke is that we're sending the rookies in to replace other personnel, more experienced personnel on the freighters so they can learn the routine and be trained in safety. The people that they replaced have been trained so move to the warships for further training,” she said.

  “Joke
, ma'am? That sounds like it is true.”

  “And it is. So, the joke is on you,” the AI said. “You're shuttle to Collier 9 will be leaving shortly Midshipman,” she said. “It's like a war college in space. But shorter.”

  “Like how the fleet did it during the Xeno war,” Lobsterman said, having to get his own two cents into the conversation.

  “Something like that I suppose,” Sprite replied.

  “So, when do I get my shot at a real ship?” The chimp asked.

  “Not you too,” the ship AI said, shaking his head mournfully. “The answer, is, as soon as you learn everything you need to know to do your job and as soon as a posting becomes available.”

  “Trust me, the skippers of those ships are getting annoyed with our poaching,” Sprite stated, sounding amused. “They do a good job with their ships and their crews.”

  “Ma'am, who will train me on the ship?” the chimp asked.

  “That's a good question. Normally we assign such training to a JTO. That's a junior tactical officer. Since there aren't any on a freighter, we've come up with a rough solution. You report to the second officer, the exec, and then follow the lesson plan I upload to them to get you squared away,” the AI stated.

  “Aye aye, ma'am,” the chimp said, nodding his chin.

  “Good,” Sprite said. She did a quick check of his records and then shot them to Lobsterman. Kereen had experience as a spacer, even though it was short and very recent. He'd served on the Clydesdale the natives had captured as her exec up until the fleet had arrived, then he'd signed on to the fleet. He'd do well she thought.

  “I'm looking at your record now, Midshipman. With your experience you should go far. Don't disappoint me,” she stated. She flagged his record and sent it to Trey. He'd know what to do with the chimp. The way he'd accessed his implants on his own and had gotten the people around him to shape up told her a lot about his abilities.

  “I'll try not to, ma'am,” he said as the cargo shuttle dropped her boarding ramp. “That's my shuttle. Do I salute you or ...” he frowned. Both AI were talking to him through his implants. He'd been ignoring the sidelong looks from those around him.