The Firestorm Conspiracy

by Cheryl Angst

  Personnel File

  Private and Confidential

  91138-0729-05

  Santiago, Rebeccah J.

  Lieutenant, UESF

  Chapter 24

  Captain Santiago.

  Ludicrous.

  Captain Santiago.

  Preposterous.

  Captain Santiago.

  Terrifying.

  Rebeccah sat at the captain’s desk with her head propped in her hands, staring blankly at the computer screen. Her eyes had long since ceased to read the text, and her mind wandered a million miles away.

  “I’m going to be a ship’s captain one day,” six-year-old Rebeccah said, “just you wait and see.”

  “I know you will, sweetheart,” replied Rebeccah’s mother, hugging her close.

  “It’ll be the best day of my life.”

  “I know, honey.” She paused. “And your father and I will be the proudest people on the planet.”

  * * * *

  John stood in the doorway to the captain’s office with a mug of coffee in each hand. Lt. Santiago stared at the communications terminal, but her eyes focused beyond the screen. She obviously hadn’t heard him knock or open the door. She blinked a few times, shut her eyes, and inhaled. He took the opportunity and placed one of the mugs on the desk in front of her.

  She opened her eyes and gasped when she saw him. She quickly registered both his presence and his physical appearance. He knew he was a wreck, but she looked worse. Not only did she have heavy bags and dark bruises under her eyes, but her shoulders were hunched and the tension visible in her neck made his own ache in sympathy.

  “Professor?”

  “You look like hell,” he replied with a half smile. Raising his own mug, he said, “I thought you might need one of these right about now.”

  She sat back in the chair and cradled the mug against her chest. She winced with the shift in position. “Thanks.” She took a tentative sip. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “No,” he replied.

  He hadn’t expected to show up.

  He watched her eyes dart toward everything in the office except him. Most of Forbes’ personal effects had been packed up in preparation for returning them to his family, and the room was stark and bare. He shifted his feet, the hours of walking the decks finally catching up with him.

  “Mind if I sit?” he asked.

  “Please. I’m sorry, I should have offered you a seat earlier.” She looked away again.

  He sipped his own mug, rehearsing his words one last time. He set the mug on the desk and took a deep breath. “I didn’t come here just to bring you coffee.”

  “No?” She stared at him. Her green eyes--still cloudy with lack of sleep--burned with intelligence. She’d figure him out in a matter of moments. He needed to get on with it.

  “No.” He quickly glanced at his hands and then back at her. “I came to make you a proposition.”

  He thought he saw a flare of hope surge in her eyes before quickly being suppressed.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m willing to take over as temporary commanding officer of the Firestorm, if the position’s still available.”

  Santiago stared blankly at him. He wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

  “I’ll do this, but only on one condition. You take over as executive officer.”

  The blood drained from her face and her jaw dropped.

  Apparently she wasn’t expecting that.

  He picked up his mug and took a swig. The ball was in her court now. He sat back and waited to see what she’d do with it.

  * * * *

  Rebeccah closed her mouth and scrambled to bring her thoughts under control. She stared into Thompson’s eyes, noting the firmness she hadn’t seen before. Relief poured across her shoulders and down her back, releasing the tension. The sensation was so strong, she almost whimpered.

  She continued to stare at him. She detected no trace of nervousness or uncertainty. Despite his obvious fatigue, he seemed more relaxed than she’d seen him at any point in the voyage. She nodded.

  “Agreed.”

  He smiled.

  “But on one condition.”

  His smile faded, replaced by wary curiosity. “And that would be?”

  “My promotion to XO will be temporary too. When we return to Earth, we both get our old lives back.”

  He paused then broke out into a huge grin. “Deal.”

  She stood and saluted, “Welcome aboard, Captain.”

  He stood. “Thank you.” He set his mug down and cupped his hands behind his back. “At ease, Commander.”

  She shivered at the new title. Still, “Commander” was better than “Captain.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to file the necessary reports to make this official. We will hold the change of command ceremony tomorrow at oh-nine-hundred hours. I don’t want to hold the parade any closer to today’s memorial.” He began to pace as he listed the other things he wanted done.

  “Yes, sir.”

  She realized he knew she’d agree.

  “I want you to make my service record, the public portions only, available to every crewmember. People are going to ask questions. Let’s get the obvious, ‘who the hell is this guy?’ over and done with before I take command.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She squinted, searching for the man she greeted outside the airlock three weeks ago.

  “I also want you to inform the quartermaster that I will be arriving to be fitted with a new uniform.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And one more thing.”

  “Sir?”

  She stood in awe of his command presence. No wonder he made fleet commander.

  “I need an XO functioning at one hundred percent capacity. As soon as you have addressed these details, I am ordering you to get at least six hours sleep.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I expect a full briefing on the ship, her current status, the crew, and any positions we still need to fill at eighteen-hundred hours today. We can discuss your report over dinner in the mess.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Where the hell had all his energy come from?

  “Oh, and one more thing.” He paused. “I want a full roster, including service records, of the ship’s entire complement sent to my quarters immediately. It’s time I got to know my crew.”

  She smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  “That should be sufficient for now.”

  She sighed in relief.

  He turned to leave and was nearly out the door when she called, “Sir?”

  Fear of his reaction almost stifled her words, but his open manner gave her the courage to forge ahead.

  “Sir, with all due respect, you look like death warmed over. As XO it is my duty to ensure the captain is fit for command.” She adopted the same serious yet concerned tone he’d used earlier. “I am hereby ordering you to get at least six hours sleep prior to our meeting at eighteen-hundred hours.”

  He appeared stunned. Then he laughed. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m serious, sir. Don’t make me order the medics to sedate you.” She grinned. “I don’t want to have to explain that to HQ.”

  “Indeed.” He left the office smiling.

  She shook her head.

  Her life just got a whole lot more interesting.

  Chapter 25

  John entered the quartermaster’s office and approached the counter. A young ensign was being served, so he slowed his approach, unsure of where to wait. The lieutenant dealing with the lad barely glanced at him as John took a place at the end of the partition.

  “I’m here to get fitted for a uniform.”

  “Fill out the form,” the lieutenant replied. He turned back to the ensign. “So tell me again how you came to destroy the uniform the UESF gave you?”

  “I was preparing the site for the installation of the new doors. I slipped on some carelessly placed tools and fell against the jagged edge of the d
oor. My top ripped on the metal. I tore up my side pretty bad too,” he said, shifting his back for emphasis.

  “Hmm. Pretty careless,” the lieutenant said. “I’m going to recommend the cost of replacement be taken from your salary.”

  The ensign’s face fell. “Yes, sir.”

  “Take a seat. We’ll call you up when everything’s ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  John moved down the counter to take the ensign’s place in front of the lieutenant. The officer spoke without looking up, “I suppose your clothes were ruined in the clean-up too?”

  “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here,” replied John. “I need a uniform.”

  The lieutenant squinted at John, puzzled and slightly irritated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  John sighed. “Please just fit me with a new uniform. I believe you were told to expect me.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to check my messages. I’ve been too busy dealing with all the people who wrecked their uniforms cleaning up Gen Four.”

  “Speaking of which,” John said, placing his hand over the lieutenant’s computer screen, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I want you to stop billing the crew for the replacement costs. What happened in Gen Four was a terrible tragedy, and no one should be financially penalized for having to clean up a disaster that killed their friends and crewmates.”

  “You’re awfully opinionated for someone new to the ship. Why don’t you take that up with the captain?” he replied. “When the captain gives the order, I’ll change. Until then, it’s SOP to bill the crew for careless usage.”

  “I think you need to check your messages,” said John.

  “I’m busy. Besides, if I do that, you’ll have to wait even longer.”

  “I’m willing to wait.”

  The lieutenant stared at him, but when John showed no sign of capitulating, he said, “All right. Give me five minutes. You can have a seat while you wait.”

  John went and sat beside the young ensign. “Sorry to hear about your side. I take it the medics patched you up without any trouble?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the ensign. “They were very good.” He twisted his fingers in his lap. “Thanks for trying to fix the uniform thing. The lieutenant’s a stickler for regulations though. So unless you’ve got some real pull with the captain, he won’t change.”

  John chuckled. “Don’t you worry. You won’t find a single deduction on your pay for your new uniform, I guarantee it.”

  The boy scrutinized his face. “You seem familiar, but I don’t know why. Are you a new transfer?”

  “You could say that,” John said.

  Recognition dawned on the boy’s face and he instantly snapped to attention. “Sir, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you from the vid-memo, sir.”

  “At ease, soldier,” John said as he waved the boy back into his seat. “I’m not official yet.” He glanced over at the counter and watched the lieutenant as he rapidly approached the counter. “I need a uniform first.” He winked as he got up.

  “I’m so sorry I kept you waiting, sir,” the lieutenant gushed as John reached the counter. “I had no idea. Of course we’ll get you a uniform. I can have a duty set ready in about five minutes and then have the rest delivered to your quarters later today, sir.”

  “That will be fine.” John went to go sit next to the ensign again. “Oh, and about billing those who helped with the disaster?”

  “Consider all the bills withdrawn, sir.”

  “Good man,” John said as he smiled at the ensign.

  * * * *

  John stood in the corridor leading to the bridge. His pulse raced and he struggled to breathe normally. His ears were exposed and his head was cold after going to the ship’s barber and having his professorial locks trimmed to a standard UESF cut. He checked his uniform one last time, lifted his chin up, and strode through the door onto the bridge.

  “Captain on the bridge,” called Commander Santiago as she rose from her seat in the command center and stood to attention. The rest of the crew followed suit. Time froze as John made a slow circuit of the bridge, stopping at each station to inspect the crewmember, before coming to a halt in front of his new XO.

  Memories of his previous commands overlaid his vision as he stood upon his bridge. The location of some of the stations had changed, and the technology had improved, but the adrenaline rush remained the same. The thrum of the engines under his feet resonated in his soul.

  The Firestorm was strong, powerful, and his to command. Like a new love, he would seek to find all the little ways to get the ship to respond to him; to make them a single entity.

  He nodded as he surveyed the crew at their stations then turned his attention to the officer standing in front of him. Santiago was the only person on the bridge with no experience in her current position. Still, after reading her record, he had no doubts about her capabilities. He silently cursed the captains who had allowed her to work so far below her potential for so long.

  He devoted the same amount of attention to Santiago’s inspection as he had with the other bridge officers. The new rank insignia on her collar and the dark blue belt and cuffs pleased him. The eight-pointed star inset with a stylized globe on her buckle matched the one on his. Satisfied, he gave an almost imperceptible nod and said, “At ease.”

  Instantly the bridge sprang to life.

  Cmdr. Santiago took her seat at the station to his left and tucked her hair behind her ear. She darted a glance at Sub Lt. Miller, who now served as the ship’s diplomatic officer.

  John smiled. Miller would be promoted to full lieutenant at the official change of command ceremony later in the day.

  “Report,” John called as he took his seat in the command center. The leather rippled like warm butter as he grasped the arms of his chair. He ran his hands over the console, fingers dancing across the controls as he sought to familiarize himself with the layout.

  Each department quickly and sequentially reported their current status and anything they thought he should be aware of. As each officer spoke, he called up the information from their consoles on his own. John had never served with a commanding officer who used the console’s capabilities to spy on his crew, but he’d heard rumors of others doing so. He’d have to find a way to prove to his crew he wasn’t one of those unscrupulous captains.

  Satisfied that everything seemed in order, and mildly surprised at how relaxed he was, he leaned back in his chair and turned to Santiago.

  “Let’s see what she can do,” he said, smiling as she acknowledged his pre-arranged order and began directing the crew to take the Firestorm through a series of basic maneuvers.

  He expected to feel ill, or terrified, or at the very least nervous. He still had butterflies in his stomach, but as he thought about it, he realized they were more from excitement than fear. Head down and following the readouts on his console, John hid his smile from the rest of the crew. Wearing a uniform and sitting in the captain’s chair again, felt…right.

  Chapter 26

  Captain Thompson strode down the corridor to the Medical Inspection Room and Rebeccah had to lengthen her stride to keep pace with him. So far the position of XO had proven to be as demanding as she’d suspected. They’d worked several hours into the gamma shift, reassigning enlisted crew and officers to new positions to alleviate the shortages caused by the deaths of nine crewmembers.

  The engineering department faced the worst with both the chief engineer and her second in command--along with an entire shift--having been killed. She and the captain juggled crew around to fill the shifts, stealing a couple of skilled flight engineers, and promoting the gamma shift’s officer-in-charge to chief engineer, but they’d drawn a blank when they came to filling the deputy’s position.

  Until she recalled something she’d read in a personnel report when the Firestorm took on a new rotation a little more than six months ago. Which was why, with less than fifteen minutes to go before the change of command ceremony, she and T
hompson were racing toward the MIR.

  Rebeccah had sent the file to John’s console.

  “Sir, I think I’ve found a solution to our problem.”

  “Oh?” Thompson glanced up from reading the data stream. “I’m all ears, Commander.”

  “Take a look at Master Seaman Simon Petersen’s personnel file, sir.”

  He switched screens and began to read. She grinned as his face registered optimism then puzzlement, followed by excitement and then satisfaction.

  “Well done, Commander.” John rubbed his hands together. “This is one of the most unorthodox solutions I’ve ever seen. Let’s go share the exciting news with Mr. Petersen.” He smiled as she stood to join him. “And on the way you can tell me how you remembered such a minor detail from one of a thousand service records.”

  “I have a bit of an eye for detail,” she explained. She didn’t tell him how Cheng and Forbes had teased her.

  “How are we doing for time?”

  “Sir?” the question caught her off-guard.

  “For the ceremony?”

  “Oh, twenty minutes, sir.”

  “Hmm. We’d better change first. I don’t want to rush back up here after talking with Petersen. Besides,” he smiled mischievously, “two senior officers in full dress uniform always makes a stronger impression. Meet me at the main lift in five minutes.”

  * * * *

  “But I’m a medic, not an engineer,” cried Simon Petersen.

  “We are aware of your current posting, Mr. Petersen,” replied Captain Thompson. “However, you are also one of very few people on board with three years of university education in space flight engineering.”

  “But I dropped out.” Simon stared at them.

  He’d always done his best to avoid attracting the notice of senior officers. Their attention was always more trouble than it was worth. And now here he was, sitting across from the captain and executive officer--a few weeks before starting his second internship which would garner him a spot in a top-notch medical school--being asked if he wouldn’t mind switching over to work in engineering for a while.