by Chris Hechtl
“Yes, damn it.” Drue sighed. “I just don't want to lose my ship. You know they are going to have combat reviews and crap. I'll have to face a board and go over every decision I made. That's going to bog us down. They might pull my crew apart for other ships and leave Questor high and dry like they did with the smaller ships.” She grimaced. “Breaking in another ship could take me weeks. Time we don't have.”
“It's all possible, I admit. Not my problem though, I've got enough on my plate here. I'd say you have my sympathies, but I'm a bit busy. Anything else you want me to listen to while I try to do my job?”
“Frack. Fine,” Captain Januae seethed. She made a note of his name. He had better hope he never crossed paths with her again she thought acidly. “I'm going,” she grumbled. she looked over her shoulder. “Nav, set a course for the B458 jump point at best speed. It looks like we're done here.”
“Aye aye, ma’am,” a voice said in the background.
“Good luck,” the captain growled to the engineer before he cut the circuit.
“Luck, she says,” Aren said shaking his head. “Who's she kidding? This is blood, sweat, tears, and a whole hell of a lot of skin and swearing.”
“Boss, if you're done fracking around we've got a problem with logistics,” a rating said.
“Of course we do,” Aren sighed, stretching and rubbing at the small of his back. “I'm coming. But if this is some minor shit that someone else should be able to figure out don't expect me to be happy or not scream about it,” he growled.
:::{)(}:::
Chief Riker winced as he finished the last round of reports. He sat back with a heavy sigh and rolled his shoulders. One gig down, plenty more to go. But he was getting there, glacially slow, but getting there.
His lips puckered. He was surprised to be sitting at all. Hell, he was surprised to be breathing at all. He'd half expected to be keel hauled after that outburst. Instead he'd had his ass singed by Commander Ramses, then he'd had an icy dressing down from Captain Knoll. Both experiences had left him cringing and sweaty. Both had made his ass and pecker pucker inside out. But he'd managed to hang onto both.
And that had been it.
Somehow, he'd expected more—being booted from the ship, getting demoted, court martialed, something. Apparently their hearts hadn't been in it or something. But he'd been just smart enough to not ask a dumb question like if there would be more. He'd held onto one last shred of brain cell and kept that impulsive question in check.
When he'd been finished with the skipper, he'd found that he'd become something of a ten-minute celebrity in the fleet. Offers of drinks had poured in from all over the fleet's enlisted and engineering ranks … enough to float him home if he'd wanted. He'd also had a few offers of different kinds … including a few that were a bit more forward than he'd expected. Fortunately, each of them had come from women … and well, one guy, from off ship. He'd made a note to steer well clear of them for the time being.
At least …. until he got desperate for some attention. Or just suicidally curious enough to try it. Come to think of it, the girl's proposal from Punisher hadn't sounded that bad. He probably deserved a spanking, and he certainly was interested in the rather graphic descriptions of other … tortures she had in mind for him since he'd garnered her attention. He couldn't help but smirk ever so briefly at the thought. Female attention he thought with a snort.
He rubbed his brow, then scrubbed his eyes. Commander Ramses had given him his penance, getting caught up on the paperwork he'd neglected for so long, which meant overseeing the repairs had fallen on Bob, Mallory, the XO, and the skipper.
That might have been why the skipper hadn't had his heart in the reaming. The skipper had finally seen just what he'd been up to, and the load he'd been laboring under.
He knew he'd made some enemies to go along with all the new so called “friends” though. His safest course of action was to lie low and get back to work, which he was doing and would continue to do. He rolled his shoulders again, took a sip of tepid tea, and then crackled his knuckles, ready to get back into it.
Even if he still felt a faint trace of satisfaction at turning the tables on a certain busy body medic, he thought as he opened the next document.
:::{)(}:::
The arrival of a courier from Dead Drop halted the Retribution Fleet's cautious advance across the star system in its tracks. The admiral's staff was pleased by the unexpected arrival. Admiral De Gaulte ordered the courier to turn around after getting her download of news and updates. “Good work. Now get to back to B-97A and get that convoy to me. I need them here ASAP,” he growled.
“Aye aye, sir,” the courier captain replied over the radio link.
“My staff will upload a SITREP. Once you've downloaded it, I want you to carry it to Dead Drop.”
“Sir? Our fuel …”
“Refuel from the tanker in B-97A obviously,” the admiral said testily.
“Aye aye, sir.”
Catherine wondered why her boss wasn't pleased by the event. She cocked her head to him and raised an eyebrow as he closed the channel and turned to her.
He grunted then shrugged. “This is going to take time. Time we may not have. Every moment we waste means they'll be scraping up ships to send to Protodon to stop us.”
She nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.”
“So, we'll have to be sneaky I suppose. The indirect approach,” he mused, looking up to the ceiling.
“Sir?” she asked curiously.
“You'll see,” he said.
She frowned and watched as he left the compartment. She hated it when he played his cards so close to his vest that he didn't clue her and the rest of the staff in. That was a situation ripe for failure she knew.
Not that she had any choice but to follow his lead.
Chapter 25
Eleven weeks after leaving Bek, Caroline completed jumping the B104-109 chain and jumped back into the B102C star system. “It seems every time we jump that chain we get better at it,” Lieutenant Brock said with a smug smile.
“Just keep breaking your record without breaking something on the ship and I'll be happy Newt,” the captain said. “Sensors?” he asked, looking over to CPO Zz'vv. The Veraxin had anticipated the question.
“We've got the usual detritus and damaged ships, sir,” the Veraxin reported. “Wait a minute … this is new …we've got an automated beacon, sir.”
“Oh? Comm?”
“We're getting a hail from the ansible platform, Captain,” Ensign Caroline, the ship's A.I. replied.
“I see or don't,” he said pointedly until Zz'vv put an image up on the main screen. It was blurry due to the extreme distance and gravitational lensing from their hyperspace wake.
“Well, that can't be right,” Oppie said.
“Apparently they couldn't get it further,” Brock said.
“Or they had a problem with the rapids,” Ensign Tumilak said.
“Essentially what I just said,” Brock said reprovingly to the Neowalrus.
“Must have missed that,” the walrus replied in a mumble, twitching his bristling mustache.
“Send our IFF to the platform. Let them know we're here,” the captain ordered.
“Aye aye, sir,” the A.I. replied.
“We'll send our report,” the captain said. “Let our passengers know,” he said, turning to the A.I.
“Aye aye, sir,” the A.I. stated again. “Done.”
“Sir, there is a log on board. We're downloading it now. Right off the top there is a warning that the ansible's bandwidth is extremely limited,” the A.I. stated.
“So no long speeches?” the captain quipped.
“Eight bits per second, sir,” Ensign Caroline replied. “Definitely not.”
“Yes, I see that,” the captain replied with a frown. “We'll need to go over the report. Just send what needs to be sent,” he stated.
“The good news is it will continue to transmit even when we aren't here. We can load t
he buffer and let it transmit on its own, sir,” the A.I. stated.
“Well, there is that,” the captain replied. “You said news?”
“Apparently there is a small news file. I'm just sent an inquiry. The closer we are the better the transmission rate will be,” the A.I. replied.
“Nice try, but we've got a date in Nuevo,” the captain said with a sniff.
“Well, that's not good,” the A.I. stated.
“Now what?”
“Downloading for your review before I put it on the ship's data network, sir,” the A.I. said. The captain blinked when a new file appeared in the inbox on his HUD.
The captain frowned as he scanned the news from the federation. It was brief. Caroline was still adding to it, but what he saw he didn't like. The news from the war front jumped out at him.
“Well, that sucks,” he muttered.
“Sir?”
“Pass the news to the bridge officers and our senior passengers. We'll open it to all eyes in a bit, Caroline,” the captain ordered coolly.
There were small gasps a moment later as the other officers downloaded and opened the news files.
“I see what you mean, sir,” Brock murmured.
“Not good,” Oppie said, shaking his head.
“Understatement of the century,” Brock replied.
“True,” Captain Perth stated, sitting back. Tumilak seemed ready to say something but held off.
“I'm curious about how Nuevo and Bek will react to the news of this thing being here instead of where it was supposed to end up.”
“We'll probably be the ones to tell them. Nuevo is going to get the news first unless that transport went to … no, I see it turned around and went back to B101a1. Well, it'd be nice if they get this harbor pilot program going. I'll say one thing; they need more than just us doing it, like twenty or thirty ships. No way can one team do all the work,” Oppie said. “Tumilak, you do good work, but again, I wish there were more of you.”
The Neowalrus shook his massive head. “Gods of space I hope they get more. I mean, I know a lot of people are signing on but ….” He shrugged his shoulders making some of his blubber flex and wiggle.
“You'd think more would sign-up from Epsilon Triangula,” Brock murmured. “Especially after what happened.”
“I think after what happened to those that got captured they'd be a bit leery about signing up, sir,” Ensign Kapueo Mahoe stated. He ran a hand over his mohawk fin as he nodded to Tumilak. “Ready for relief?”
“Ready,” the walrus said, turning over the helm to the Chimera. He got out of the grav tank and stretched.
“I'm not looking forward to manning the con of a big ship. I mean, Caroline is nimble. She has military grade hardware. Something big,” he flicked his flippers wide, “is going to be like flying a sky whale in a hurricane.”
“Never done it, never want to do it,” Kapueo replied as he jacked in.
“Spoil sport. Where's your sense of adventure?” Brock teased.
“I lost it the last time we came through the rapids. I think I should get a lot of insurance out on my rubbery hide. Both in case of loss and in case I have a heart attack. Something tells me I'm going to need it,” Tumilak said.
“Can I be the beneficiary?” Kapueo asked in mock earnest.
Tumilak frowned, eying him. His bristling mustache twitched.
“I think he's serious,” Brock snorted.
“I am,” Kapueo said, wide eyed.
“You do realize, if we lose the ship you'd be on it too, Ensign,” Captain Perth replied slowly from his seat.
Kapueo cocked his head. “Well, yeah, that'd suck I suppose,” he replied. Oppie rolled his eyes.
“Right,” Tumilak drawled. “Okay, joking aside, yeah, we need to discuss this with the admirals. I know we're supposed to be sailors and stuff, but there should be hazard pay or something—bonuses. I think I understand why the hyper navigation guild got started. People just take us for granted. Use us as a door mat. I'm not happy about that. I know you aren't either.” the others shook their heads. “Right, didn't think so. And I think it is a loss of our talent to just be doing this, back and forth. Our careers are on hold. The stress alone …,” he shook his massive head.
“Yeah,” Captain Perth said quietly. “It is something to be concerned about.”
“And we're back to my point about needing more people here,” Brock sighed.
“Right.” Tumilak frowned. He turned to the fishman in the tank. “I tell you what. I'll contact my folks, you do yours, and so on. Friends, family, put the word out. See if any bite. We can talk to the admiralty about maybe dangling sign-up bonuses or something.”
“Do their dirty work for them? Doesn't seem fair,” Kapueo drawled.
“You want to do this on your own?” Tumilak demanded. Kapueo shook his head, eyes wide. “I didn't think so.”
“That doesn't mean I'd wish it on anyone, even a Neodog.”
“Hey!” a Neodog rating barked from where she was seated. “I resemble that remark.”
“Misery loves company,” the fishman said. “Sorry sailor,” he said with a look to the dog. The dog flicked her ears.
“Time to get back to work people. Nav, plot a course to the Nuevo jump point. Feed it to the helm when you've got it ready, and Helm, execute it at our best speed. Meanwhile,” the captain got up and stretched. “I'll be in my ready room reading this,” he said. “Oppie, you've got the conn.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Oppie said. “Brock, Tumilak, go get your downtime while you can.”
“Aye aye,” both officers said. Brock cracked his knuckles. “I'm looking for a burger. You?”
“A nice salmon steak would be nice, fried with a bit of lemon,” the walrus replied.
Brock snorted. “To each his own I guess. Chess after?”
The ensign eyed him and then shrugged. “Sure, if you don't cheat this time,” he growled.
“Muwha? Would I do that?” the navigator demanded, hand over his heart. Oppie snorted loudly. “You stay out of this!” he mock growled as the officers headed to the door. “I'll have you know I'm as innocent as the new fallen snow!” he said.
“Yeah, snow that's tinged with yellow maybe,” Tumilak growled. That sparked a soft laugh from the captain.
“Captain, please! Don't encourage him!”
“I'm not. He's doing fine on his own,” the captain replied as they left the bridge.
Oppie shook his head. “Newt did get that course plotted, right?” he demanded.
“Plotted and I'm executing it now, sir,” Kapueo replied.
“Next time let's be a bit more formal about it. You know, for the log,” the Neoorangutan said as he logged off his station and moseyed over to the hot seat. “Caroline, the boss will want us to transmit an abbreviated log, correct?”
“It's what he said, sir,” she replied.
“You might want to work on that. Recommend the same for our passengers. Can you truncate Commodore Logan's reports?” he asked.
“Those are encrypted so no. I can break them into packets though.”
“Better run that past the skipper first,” the Neoape replied as he settled himself in the chair.
“Best speed to the jump point, sir?” Kapueo asked.
“Yes,” the Neoape replied.
“Aye aye, sir. Course plotted and executing now. Full impulse,” the ensign stated for the record. He flicked his fingers and the ship got under way.
“Now that we're moving, you …,” Oppie heard a familiar groan. He grinned slightly. “Now now, Ensign, you know it's for the best.”
“If you say so, sir. I just think you like pounding me into sushi,” the fishman protested. But he already had the tactical sim program loaded Oppie noted.
“You know you have to keep up with your studies. And since dawdling along in subspace is dead easy for you, you can work on catching up on your training. We can't have you falling behind can we?”
“Sure,” the chimera drawled. �
�Keep telling yourself that, sir,” he sighed theatrically as the Neoape loaded a favorite one on one scenario.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Subert paused his morning briefing with Commander Garretaj and Captain Firefly to read the Caroline report. He reacted initially with amusement and approval, which quickly changed to something else as he read on. The idea of new unknown and untried flag officers induce mixed feelings in him.
He couldn't help but express some contempt for those who thought that they were on the same level as he was.
“Admiral, is that the attitude you want to project with them?” Saul asked carefully.
Admiral Subert eyed his chief of staff for a moment before he shrugged. “No. I suppose not, not if I want to appear diplomatic.”
“All one big happy Navy, sir?” Saul reminded him.
“As close as we can get,” Admiral Subert replied.
“It would be nice,” Captain Firefly interjected, making the organic officers stiffen. “Forgot I was here?” the A.I. asked.
“Something along those lines, Captain,” Admiral Subert replied.
“I'm not going to talk out of turn if that is what you are concerned about, sir,” Firefly stated. “I too have some misgivings about these fresh senior officers. I suggest tossing them at the academy and crusher so they can show their skillset as soon as practical, sir,” he stated.
Admiral Subert frowned thoughtfully then nodded. “Good idea. We're splitting the group as evenly as possible between the three fleets.”
“Seven naval officers, I understand the two commanders are chief of staffs for the flag officers, sir. The three captains can be split between the First and Third fleets, but the other two?”
“I'll take one; Admiral Irons can take the other for the moment,” Admiral Subert replied with a diffident shrug, “unless we launch the eastern offensive.”
“And if we do as planned, we'll lose him or her there,” Firefly stated.
“True, Captain,” Saul replied. “I understand there is a promotion's board meeting next week, sir?” he asked, looking at their boss.
Admiral Subert nodded. Saul of course had to know; he was his chief of staff and therefore tapped into his schedule. His yeoman had cleared entire sections so he could review the personnel records and then deliberate them with the other flag officers.