by Chris Hechtl
Lieutenant Herod nodded. “Aye aye, sir. Fleet is secure and clear for jump in ten … nine … eight …”
:::{)(}:::
Commander Abernly felt mixed feelings as the first reinforcements dispatched to Dead Drop arrived in the star system. On the one hand, more help was certainly welcome. On the other, eventually someone was going to come along who outranked him and then his fiefdom would go up in smoke. He wasn't certain if he could handle playing second fiddle to someone else. Not after being top dog for nay on twenty years, he thought.
But the relief was short-lived. The report came in that it was one squadron of Manta class Frigates. “Well, it's a start,” Commander Abernly growled as his staff processed the report the frigate flagship transmitted to his base.
“You'll like this more, sir,” Lieutenant Sri Savenan stated. He held out a tablet.
The commander took it, and then scanned the contents. When he was finished, he grunted. “Well, it's about time. Captain though,” he said. “Only a captain?”
“Yes, sir. May I be the first to congratulate you, sir?” Lieutenant Savenan said with a sycophantic smile.
“Thanks,” the newly-minted captain said gruffly. “I'll have to have my uniforms retailored. Have my yeoman see to that. In the meantime, we need to go over these downloads I suppose. We'll also need to integrate these ships.”
“Yes, sir. At least they came in as a coherent squadron, not dribs and drabs. And they are new construction too, sir. They won't have the crack problems that the old ships have,” the OPS officer stated.
“We'll see. My experience with new construction is limited I admit. But I imagine there are some teething issues involved somewhere; there always is,” the captain growled. “Find out what they need for resupply. Have someone handle that. Once they are cleared, I want to put them on the jump point and swap them for most of what we've got there. I want them pulled back for a refit cycle now that we've got the yard modules up and running.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the OPS officer replied, making a note of the order. When he finished he looked up. “We've received another supply shipment of parts from the factories, sir. They are going through quality control now.”
“Good. Make sure they do a decent job this time, damn it,” the captain growled. “We don't want to have to yank a component and replace it twice,” he said. The OPS officer nodded dutifully. “Go over that download. Pick out what I need to know right off. Start with the next resupply mission. I don't like how far De Gaulte keeps drawing down our inventory. We're going to be scraping the bottom of the barrel too soon at this rate,” he said with a grimace.
“We already are on ordinance, sir. We have no capital ship ordinance at all, and all of our capital ship parts were shipped out. Only common parts remain. We're slowly restocking from the factories on the planet but they can only make so much and we still have quality control issues with them as you know,” the lieutenant stated.
“Yes, I know. It's what we get for using substandard labor I suppose. They don't have their heart in the job. So be it. Get QC up. I want a carrot and a stick. Don't tell them about the carrot.”
The lieutenant frowned. Knowing his boss, there wasn't an incentive. He'd promised one if the factories met quota. When they had he'd raised the bar and only paid a small bonus to the factory managers and supervisors. Raising the bar each time made it eventually almost impossible to get there without turning a blind eye and lowering their own quality control standards. But the captain didn't understand that. “The stick, sir?” he asked.
“Several. One, if they screwup and something gets past them, I'm going to take it out on them. Make sure they know that. Two,” he held up a second fat finger. “If they find too many rejects, we are going to do some house cleaning in the factories. We've got tracking numbers for a reason. We'll do a full investigation, get to the root of the problem, and make changes. If that means removing personnel, so be it,” he growled.
“Aye aye, sir,” the lieutenant said with a nod. Removing personnel had a different connotation than some thought. Many were prisoners or virtual slave laborers. They were laboring under harsh conditions with little food, rest, or safety. People like the captain thought of them as expendable, and they were. They could be replaced. But the time to do so and to train new personnel to replace them would mean a downtick in production and an uptick in rejects. Not something either of them wanted.
But not something he could easily explain to his boss. Not when the man wasn't willing or interested in listening. “I'll pass both warnings on, sir,” he said.
“Good. Email it to the supervisors and then get on that report I asked for. I'm going to check out my paperwork, then see if there are any personal or eyes-only messages for me. If you accidentally run across any, forward them,” he ordered as he headed out of OPS.
“Aye, sir,” the lieutenant replied with a nod as his boss left. His shoulders slumped briefly in relief before he straightened and turned to the staff. “Well, you heard the man, we've got our work cut out for us,” he said.
Heads bobbed and fingers flew as they got to work.
:::{)(}:::
Friar Tuck jumped into Garth space without incident. It was such a smooth downward translation that the captain made a grudging compliment to Mara. “You do good work young … woman,” the captain said. The young woman nodded and ducked her head in humility as the doctor escorted her off the bridge.
Admiral von Berk noted her departure, smiled to her to show his approval, but his attention was on Garth. The water dweller's manning of the helm had made the former medium-sized liner faster in hyperspace, but there was only so much they could do. They were one part of the equation in other words; the rest was up to engineering. Apparently the ships recently refitted in Horath were up to the task, and Friar Tuck certainly had been recently refitted, but she had civilian grade components not military ones.
He itched to show just how fast Mara and her people were at the helm of a true ship and to showcase their other abilities, like skipping and coming in on any vector. But that would have to wait.
“I was hoping Maid Marianne or one of the other ships would be here, no such luck,” a rating muttered.
“Are you kidding me? They are off in Sigma somewhere on some super-secret mission,” another rating said.
“Sir, we're getting a hail from the planet,” a comm rating replied.
“Send them our IFF. We won't be staying long,” the captain said. “Just passing through, right, Admiral?” he asked, eying the admiral.
“Yes,” the admiral said.
“Sir, they have priority passengers and cargo to move to Horath. We're being ordered to divert to the planet,” the rating said helplessly.
The admiral scowled and for the moment ignored the searching look the captain shot his way. Technically the captain was in charge of the ship. He could be callous, but that could backfire. Reluctantly he nodded. “Divert and pick up the passengers. Make sure they know not to dawdle. We need to expedite the movement on the snap, Captain,” he said, turning to face the man.
“Aye aye, Admiral,” the captain replied formally. He turned to his crew. “You heard the man,” he said. The navigator nodded and began plotting the new course.
:::{)(}:::
Admiral von Berk hadn't been happy about the delay, but he'd been more or less resigned to it after they'd moved into the inner star system. The four-day crossing of the star system had turned into three days to the planet, then a two-day layover while the passengers got their act together and boarded the shuttles, and then another three days to the jump point to Horath.
He'd done his best to bank his ire and suppress it as he greeted the officers and two junior lords at the captain's mess just before they jumped. “I'm glad you showed up. It means we can be there for the Senate and House of Lords opening session this season,” a marquis said.
Admiral von Berk nodded. He'd already forgotten the man's name, and that was incredibly lax of him. He'd have to
hit Rick up to drill him on names and faces later he thought. “I heard you made good time getting here from Dead Drop? And that your … passengers were a contributing factor?” the marquis inquired.
The admiral nodded. “We have picked up some …priority personnel. I'm afraid the rest of the details are classified,” he said, when Commander Roshou shot him a warning look.
“And what of the recreational facilities? I promised my children they would be able to swim and enjoy themselves. I found that they are off limits?” she said with a simmering frown.
“I'm afraid so,” the captain said smoothly nodding to the admiral.
“Well, surely you can make an exception,” she whined.
“I'm afraid not. Our orders are clear, ma'am,” Commander Roshou said with a moue.
“No one asked you,” she said lifting her nose in a sniff to the commander. “Honestly. Aides should be seen and not heard,” she said.
“He did indeed forget his place,” the marquis said, eying the commander severely.
Rick looked down and flushed slightly. Major Eichmann picked up his wine glass but didn't come to his defense.
“Commander Roshou is only stating a fact,” Admiral von Berk said, coming to his aide's defense. “Unfortunately our … priority personnel need special handling and life support,” he said.
The baroness frowned thoughtfully. The marquis scowled. “You mean they need the pool for life support? Then they aren't human,” he growled. He turned a glower on the captain. “And you are trusting the safety of your ship, our safety, to these alien beings?” he demanded, tossing his linen napkin onto his plate.
“Unheard of!” the baroness said, paling.
“They are quite well trained,” Doctor Milgram said, speaking up for the first time. The lord and Lady ignored him with contempt. “And it is an Imperial edict,” he said.
That sunk into the baroness enough to make her blink. She frowned thoughtfully.
Admiral von Berk nodded. “We can't get into further discussion on it I am afraid,” he said, passing on a warning look to his subordinates as well as the captain. The captain spread his fingers on the table as if to indicate he understood. “I can assure you though that your safety is held in high regard as is everyone else on board,” he said, nodding to the captain.
“Indeed,” the captain said. He looked up to his steward and signaled the man. “Now, does anyone want desert?” he asked, smiling as he changed the subject.
:::{)(}:::
“Did you see all the ships there? They are building up a force. My question is, why Garth and why not Dead Drop?” Commander Roshou asked.
“I'm more concerned with scandalizing the lord and lady. Are we going to get that sort of reaction in the House and Senate?” the major asked, looking over to Admiral von Berk.
Admiral von Berk swirled his drink as he looked at the simulated fireplace. They'd even gone so far as to outfit the thing with river rock. Hopefully they were plastic shells; he couldn't see expending that sort of mass for show.
But then again, the old federation had been odd with little quirks like that, he thought.
“Sir?” Rick asked tentatively, cutting through his woolgathering.
“Sorry. Yes, I saw the ships. Garth seems abuzz with activity these days. I'm not sure why they are here; someone might have backstopped the majority of them,” he stated. “Politics no doubt. I don't know if the praetor is aware of it or not. His family's holdings are in Dead Drop after all.”
“I … see, sir,” the commander said.
“I sincerely doubt it. There may be more involved, who knows,” the admiral said downing his drink. “And yes, the lord's reaction bothered me. But they are a small sampling, not the entire government. Our orders were clear,” he said.
“Yes, sir. I just wish we were a part of whatever is going on. A balloon is going up, and we're missing it,” the major said.
“You just want to get some revenge,” the commander retorted.
The major turned to eye him and then shrugged. “So what if I am?” he asked. “You can't tell me you haven't the same thing in mind,” he said.
“Touché,” the commander murmured. “Knowing my luck I'd be stuck in the reinforcements or the fleet train,” he said with a grimace.
“Seeing that they are sending so much,” the admiral started then stopped. After a moment he shrugged. “I'd say I'm grateful that they are resupplying Cyrano so much. That they are taking the threat so seriously,” he growled.
“They are getting plenty of fire power and support while we got bupkis?” Major Eichmann complained. “Typical, the Gather Fleet brings in the best but gets dregs while Battle Fleet sucks it all up and demands more,” he snarled.
“It goes to show you, the Gather Fleet is on its way out. We should look into a transfer,” Commander Roshou replied thoughtfully. He glanced at his admiral. He wasn't certain if he wanted to continue to hold the man's coattail or not. He wasn't as confident that the admiral would get the hero's welcome that he was anticipating, and that made him a bit nervous. It could mean the admiral was in for a long drop … and he might get thrown in for good measure.
Not thoughts that helped him he thought, trying to put them aside.
The admiral grunted. He considered the option carefully. It wasn't as half-baked as it sounded. After a moment he nodded. “Not a bad idea. I know there has been a lot of talk about integrating the two navies for decades. Perhaps it is time,” he said finally as all eyes turned to him.
“If they are integrating them, can we transfer easily? Will we lose rank I wonder?” Rick asked thoughtfully.
“Who knows? For the time being, we do our jobs the best we can,” Major Eichmann replied. “As long as we still have them,” he muttered in an aside as the admiral walked out.
:::{)(}:::
Duchess Glennis Pardoll Tucket felt relief as she noted Friar Tuck's departure. It felt good to get the baroness and marquis out of her hair. Them and their families, she thought. She had been forced to backstop the liner, but it would be worth it just to have the two simpering fools out of her hair for the next six months or more she thought.
She smiled. And she'd managed to tuck in a few of her love letters to Frank as well. He was the real reason she'd wanted the liner stopped though. Their plan to skim off the reinforcements was working out quite well, she thought, eying the small but growing fleet in orbit of the planet and around the Dead Drop jump point.
She was her husband's partner, his XO. She ruled Garth in his stead while he continued his work as prime minister. It was a match made in heaven for each of them, politics and ambitions, all rolled into one convenient package. They might not get many chances to see each other in person, but they did treasure such times.
She smiled again as she read the report from Friar Tuck. Admiral De Gaulte had asked for more reinforcements, and he'd drawn down the supplies in Dead Drop. She nodded as she scanned the original and then ran some calculations again.
If she was careful, she could backstop the reinforcements and skim off a good 10 to 20 percent without anyone raising a fuss. It would be easier with cargo; skimming ships wasn't so simple. She'd wanted to take the entire force destined for Dead Drop, but Frank's accompanying letter had forbidden it. Instead she'd passed on most of the supplies and the damn frigates but had held onto a tithe of gunships and corvettes. Those wouldn't be missed much. If Captain Abernly did take note, well, she'd remind him of his debt to her to shut him up.
She frowned thoughtfully. Calling in the marker now was risky she knew. So was the game she and Frank were playing. It would certainly eventually make the ears of the praetor. Of that she was certain of. But better to build a fallback position in case Dead Drop fell … not that she expected it to.
But just in case, she thought, justification assured for the moment. She nodded once and then went back to work reading the report while typing notes into another file for later review.
:::{)(}:::
“Doctor, you
are going to need to handle the politics involved while also handling the dog and pony show of your subjects and the advancement of the project. Are you certain you are up for it?” Admiral von Berk asked.
The doctor grimaced then nodded. “If I can find a balance, certainly. I do hope you can shield me as much as possible from the political hoopla though, sir. The more I can concentrate on my work, the faster we get results you see,” he said.
The admiral nodded grudgingly.
“I believe this will work, and we can make fine changes to each generation to bring them in line with our expectations. That will allow us to phase out or regulate the less … adaptable subjects to other duties,” the doctor said carefully.
“I know, Doctor,” the admiral said. “I'm concerned about how fast you can expand your subjects though,” he said.
“That is honestly not my field, Admiral,” the doctor admitted. The admiral stared at him. He spread his hands in supplication. “I'm a doctor of psychology, not OBGYN or genetics,” he admitted. “Obviously host mothers will be out of the question. I highly doubt we'll be able to find any Horathian willing to bring one to term. I suppose we could find someone financially desperate, but it could have complications.” he mused. “It would be safer and more efficient to use artificial wombs. That would allow us to continue to use the subjects we currently have. I don't know how many are available though.”
The admiral nodded slowly.
“Do you think anyone got the prize before we did?” the doctor asked with a slightly worried tone of voice.
“I don't know, sir. The prize was for water dwellers and A.I. I think people would focus on the A.I. over the water dwellers due to the scope of the problem of handling the water dwellers. But we were specifically tasked with finding both.”
“But we only found the one,” the doctor reminded him.
“I know. But we did capture a lot of databases including one from this new federation. There are some software kits in them. Commander Roshou flagged them. They should help on that front,” he said.