by David Tatum
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“Next time I start complaining about your laziness,” Rachel said, collapsing into her chair, “Remind me of this moment. I never knew how much work you engineers did. The test didn’t take long, but fabricating the heat shielding for those electronics packages took forever!”
“We aren’t done, yet,” Chris complained, pacing in front of her. “We still need to make the new capacitors – I figure that we can make them small enough, with the new cooling system, to fire six shots a second. That’ll be a near continuous stream of particle cannon fire to the naked eye, but we’ll need to manufacture three hundred and sixty very small capacitors to get it to work. However, Jacques ordered us out of the fabrication section so that the environmental techs can manufacture some more important consumables, and we can’t continue until we get back there. Since I’m being shipped off to the Superb before then, I’ll just have to finish during my rest breaks. You don’t need to join me for that, though – you’ve done a good enough job. You really are getting to know engineering yourself, now – better then some of my staff here on the Chihuahua.”
That sent alarm bells ringing in Rachel’s mind, but she held her tongue. She resolved to speak with Burkhard quietly about Chris’ decision to work through rest breaks as soon as she could. In the meantime, though, she could see to his getting enough sleep prior to starting another tough job.
“Go to bed,” she said softly, reaching up to squeeze his hand and stop his pacing. “Your temporary transfer will come in just six hours, I’m afraid.”
“Get to bed, yourself,” Chris admonished. “You’ll be getting your own call at the same time.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “I’m not coming with you, am I?”
Chris chuckled nervously at that. “I wish. No, you’re getting another assignment. Mark Taira – you remember me mentioning him, right? The so-called Chief Engineer of the Ishmael, even though he knows nothing about engineering? He asked Burkhard if I could come over to his ship and help him finish the refit after the one person in his crew who could act as his technical advisor injured herself and went on medical leave. This was after I had been given my assignment to work on the Sirius, and Burkhard was going to decline, but I suggested that I might know someone who might be able to help. Someone I’d been tutoring in Engineering.”
A frown – along with an unintentional nose wrinkle of the kind Chris seemed to like about her – appeared on Rachel’s face. “Don’t tell me you volunteered me?”
Chris winced. “Well, I was planning on asking you about it, first, but Burkhard kind of pressured me for an answer on the spot. Um... sorry?”
“And just when were you going to tell me about this?” Rachel asked, glaring at him.
“We were working on the heat shielding fabrication when Burkhard asked,” Chris explained. “I was going to tell you as soon as I could, but I haven’t had a real opportunity.”
“Well,” Rachel huffed, somewhat mollified. “I suppose I’ll forgive you, then. But whatever made you believe that I was capable of doing something like this?”
Chris snorted. “Trust me, Rache, you’re good. You’ve learned enough about engineering in the past few days to pass several of the same placement tests I did when I applied to the Academy. You just haven’t realized how to apply the lessons I’ve taught you outside of those electronics packages you’ve been practicing with. That’s what this is about – I was going to ask you to do it as a sort of final exam for the training I’ve been giving you – a test to see if you can apply my lessons outside of our ‘classroom.’ Don’t hesitate to call me if anything goes wrong, though – I don’t expect you to know everything. I’ll even arrange for a special comm frequency so that you can talk to me directly.”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said uncertainly. “I was under the impression that what you’ve taught me so far was fairly specialized. How—”
“No, what I’ve taught you is the basic principles you’ll need using some very specialized examples,” he said. “And this assignment will help you discover that.”
“I... well, I suppose I’ll find out, won’t I?” Rachel sighed. “But if we’re going on assignment in six hours, I’m going to need some bed time. And so will you – if I hear you haven’t taken at least five hours of sleep yourself, well... if you ever thought you’ve seen me mad, you’ll know just how wrong you were after I’m done with you. Got it?”
Chris’ laughter as he turned to leave with a farewell wave was all the answer she got.
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EAS Superb
Rachel had a hard time believing it, but Chris had been right. Her limited understanding of engineering was enough, when paired with her understanding of logistics and command, was good enough to direct the more experienced engineers aboard the Ishmael to the appropriate problem areas, and to determine which areas the less experienced engineers could handle. In other words, she was able to temporarily handle the job of a chief engineer, even though she might not have been the best or most knowledgeable engineer aboard. Then again, maybe she really was the most knowledgeable engineer aboard – this particular group of engineers was pretty much entirely freshmen and sophomore level, and she had yet to find anyone who really knew more than she did.
When she thought about it, she realized it wasn’t so strange, after all. Freshmen and Sophomores rarely had classes outside of the core curriculum mandated by the Academy – they might have taken one or two basic-level courses in their intended major, but rarely more than that. She had put in over forty hours of engineering training under Chris’ tutelage, many of which were spent while acting as his ‘assistant,’ or perhaps ‘apprentice’ would be a better description, during Chihuahua’s refit. That was approximately the same amount of time as she would have put into a fifteen-week (three one-hour sessions a week) Academy course on basic engineering, and under more practical circumstances. She even knew a thing or two many basic engineering students didn’t... especially when it came to certain things, like a particular just-developed experimental weapons system.
After a few encrypted comm session with Chris, Burkhard, and the Captain of the Ishmael, she managed to direct the engineering crew into making many of the same modifications to their particle cannons that they were making aboard the Chihuahua.
It wasn’t complete. There was no way the appropriate number of capacitors could be fabricated before the regular deputy chief was restored to duty. She wasn’t sure if the present staff could handle such a task unsupervised. That meant her efforts were likely to go to waste, but at least the particle cannon was as functional as the standard design.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t explain the purpose of the modifications to anyone in order to maintain the secrecy Chris, Burkhard, and the captain of the Ishmael seemed to find important, so it would be up to them whether any further work would be done on the cannon. Just in case, she left instructions in a securely encrypted file. With those instructions, the weapons upgrade could be completed within a day’s worth of work provided the raw materials were available. But now it was all out of her hands.
It had been exhausting work, and left her little time to think about how tired Chris had looked when he left for the Superb; it had been quite apparent that he hadn’t rested very well in the six hours she had ordered him to catch up on his sleep. Hopefully it was just that, and not that ‘nocebo effect’ condition bothering him again.
The moment she made it back aboard the Chihuahua, Captain Burkhard had sent her right back out again – to the Superb, with orders to “retrieve Cadet Lieutenant Christopher Desaix and his team,” ostensibly to co-ordinate a new repair effort on his ‘home’ ship. That the repair effort in question was really replacing a few burnt-out light bulbs wasn’t mentioned in the orders. And the real reasons for his retrieval – to force him to take some much-needed rest and to then complete the particle cannon modifications – wasn’t even hinted at. She wanted to talk with him, but the �
�immediate need’ described in the orders she carried to the Superb wouldn’t allow her any time for small talk if she were to maintain her cover.
Commander Jonathan Daniels, captain of the Superb, met her just outside of the airlock. “Orders, please, Ms. Katz,” he demanded, sounding as if he had either just woken up or was in desperate need of getting to bed.
“Yes, sir,” Rachel replied, handing him the official copy of the orders with the rehearsed stiffness of an unpleasant formality.
Commander Daniels looked over the papers briefly. “Huh. The singing engineer, huh?”
That surprised Rachel, as it certainly wasn’t one of the many questions she’d anticipated him asking. She didn’t even think Chris could sing. “Singing, sir?”
The captain snorted, looking more alert. “Well, after a fashion. I find the practice undisciplined, but then he is just a first year cadet. We’ll drill it out of him before his four years are up.”
Somehow, Rachel doubted that. Chris was nothing if not stubborn... although she still wasn’t entirely clear on the singing part. “Curious, sir. I’m not just one of his fellow shipmates, sir, but his dorm supervisor at the Academy, and I’ve never heard him sing.”
That brought a chuckle out of the old captain. “Well, he’s only singing one song... over and over and over again. When I asked him about it, he claimed he felt ‘inspired’ given where he’d been transferred. I suspect you’ll understand when you retrieve him. He’s in Engineering room three, on deck four. As bad as his singing is, I’ll be sorry to see him go. He’s actually managed, with just one day’s work, to put us on schedule for completion by the start of the Wargame. As things stand now, we’ll probably be the only battleship battle ready when the Wargame proper starts.”
“He’s good,” Rachel admitted with pride. “I don’t think even he knows how good. Thanks to him and Chief Engineer Rappaport, we’re going to be flying the fastest ship in the Navy... and that’s not the only major improvement they’ve come up with. The sad thing is, he’s an even better tactician. Admiral McCaffrey has taken a personal interest in getting him to aim for a second major in tactics, or at least complete a minor in the field.”
“I’ve heard about him,” Daniels admitted. “His solution to McCaffrey’s contest was the talk of the town when it happened. But after seeing him in action in Engineering, I don’t know if his desire to be an engineer is really any serious problem. He’ll make a major contribution in either field, I’m sure. Given that it’s peacetime, he’ll probably have a better chance of being remembered for his engineering innovations than for his tactical ones.”
“True,” Rachel admitted. She had never thought of it that way, before. She could easily see the public, during peacetime, wondering what good a master tactician was without an enemy to fight. They likely wouldn’t ever see him as anything more than a peacetime soldier. A low ranking one at that, probably, considering that Chris lacked the innate understanding of fleet politics to advance in a peacetime Navy. However, as the inventor of the shield system they’d incorporated into the Chihuahua (and the co-inventor of the particle cannon design, although Rachel was still hoping he’d take all the credit for that one and leave her out of it), he would likely be remembered for quite some time.
Daniels gave her a hard look – one which made Rachel realize just how sharp the man could be. “I find it interesting that you have these urgent orders to retrieve an engineering team for ‘emergency service,’ yet you allow yourself to be delayed for a chat with me.”
Rachel forced herself to shrug casually. “I’m not one to tell a superior officer he’s talking too much, sir.”
It was perhaps a bit presumptuous for her to say such a thing, but it got a laugh out of the Superb’s captain anyway... and allowed her to escape from a dangerous question without lying to him.
“Yes, yes, of course. Ms. Katz, in the future, please do not be afraid to tell me if I’m interfering in your duties. Now, go and fulfill those duties, will you?”
“Yes, sir!” Rachel answered, snapping off a technically perfect salute with ease before turning towards the lifts.
“Oh, one more question... just what is it that needs ‘emergency service,’ anyway, Ms. Katz?”
Rachel hesitated, if only for a split second. She wondered if he’d guessed the real reason for Chris’ recall. There wasn’t any need to lie, however... a half-truth might be enough to get her out of this predicament.
“I’m not really an engineer, sir, but I think it has something to do with the particle cannons.”
Daniels gave her a hard stare for a moment, but she refused to flinch. “Very well,” he finally said. “Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir!” Rachel said, nearly bolting from the area in an effort to get away before he asked a question which would force her to lie to him.
Captain Daniels, who just happened to be a relative of Burkhard by marriage, and who had already been briefed as to the real, unofficial reasons for the orders, simply smiled at her retreating back. His brother-in-law was right; Rachel was a tough cookie to crack. A few minor slips here and there, but otherwise a very creditable effort on her part to maintain the legitimacy of the official orders. He made a mental note to inform Burkhard of her successfully completing that particular stress-test.
CHAPTER XVII
EAS Superb
Much to Rachel’s surprise, Chris was, indeed, singing as she approached his assigned work station. She also heard voices which must have belonged to several of the Superb’s crew joining him, although many of them sounded off-key. As she listened to the lyrics of the archaic tune, she soon realized just what had inspired Chris – and apparently a chorus of others – to sing.
“The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue.
The Straits before us opened wide and free
We looked towards the Admiral, where high the Peter flew,
And all our hearts were dancing like the sea.
The French are gone to Martinique with four and twenty sail,
The Old Superb is old and foul and slow;
But the French are gone to Martinique, and Nelson’s on the trail,
And where he goes the Old Superb must go!”
Rachel waited, listening to the unfolding ballad of how the “Old Superb” continued to sail to Martinique and fight the French with the rest of Nelson’s Navy despite her poor condition. As more of this modern-day Superb’s crew joined in on the chorus, Rachel couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. Somehow, the idea of Chris knowing this particular song didn’t surprise her in the least, even though she actually had no idea as to what his usual taste in music was. It somehow just... fit him.
Apparently, the crew of the Superb loved it, too. Every time the “Old Superb” was mentioned, a rousing cheer came up from the people who weren’t singing. In Rachel’s mind, it sounded just like the atmosphere one would expect in a port city’s tavern during the time of Nelson’s wooden ships, only with more ozone from heated electronics and less wood smoke.
She stepped into Engineering Room Three, where the loud cacophony of untalented singing was drowning out all the sounds of the work that was actually taking place. Work crews were carrying large heavy-duty wiring conduits and support structures all around the room, at least three separate teams were digging through circuitry along one wall, and Chris and his team were all fabricating more wires and circuits to add to the repairs already complete.
Taking a deep breath to wipe the smile off her face, Rachel assumed the most professional air she could muster. It would be hard to hide behind official orders if she was laughing when she delivered them.
“Lt. Desaix,” she called stiffly, standing ramrod straight at attention, when the singing seemed to reach at least a temporary pause.
“Yeah, Rache?” he answered without even looking up. After a moment, he blinked and focused his attention on her. “Rache? What are you doing here?”
“New orders,” she answered simply, handing him the sam
e official copy which she had shown to Commander Daniels. “You and your team are needed aboard the Chihuahua. Rappaport and the rest of the engineers will remain here, however.”
Chris read the note with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “That’s odd. I thought everything was in hand when I left. What do you all need me for? Did something break?”
Rachel tried to keep her nose from wrinkling in frustration – really she did – but she couldn’t help it. Why did he have to ask that question?
She resorted to the same cover story that she gave the Superb’s captain, in hopes that she’d be able to recover without any additional emotional displays. She reminded herself that she was representing the entire crew of the Chihuahua, and took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not an engineer, but I believe it has something to do with the particle cannons.”
Chris smirked. “Not an engineer, huh? I wonder if the crew of the Ishmael would say the same thing.”
“Who’ve you been talking to?” Rachel asked timidly, letting some of her professional demeanor slip.
“Well, I haven’t heard about any major disasters,” Chris snorted. “And you didn’t call me in a panic, so I figure you were able to handle yourself.”
Rachel nodded hesitantly. “While Lt. Commander Taira might be completely unskilled as an engineer, the rest of his crew knows their jobs. I just had to know enough to manage them.”
Chris snorted. “I’m more surprised that Taira’s engineering was competent than I am to hear that he wasn’t. Chihuahua was very fortunate to get the engineering team it did, I suppose, but I wish that there were a few other smaller ships which were given the resources that the big battleships were. If the Academy has more than half a dozen ships in service by the end of the ‘peacetime,’ sequence, I’ll be astonished.”
“Maybe we won’t,” one of the other engineers in the room said, overhearing, “But you can bet the Superb will be ready!”