“Are you Crazy Ron? You don’t owe this asshole’s crews anything. Besides it is his fault. If he would have left the human refugees in those damn pods he wouldn’t have had to feed them. Hell! All he has to do is put them back in those damn pods. At least then the 80% that survive the freezing would still live eventually.”
Looking up from his comm. “Don’t be such a putz Harry. How about we put you in the freeze and see if you survive the process. No wonder you like Tweed so much. We are in this together. You wait until they start dying to help and it will be too late.” Shaking his head he went back to issuing orders.
“Who says I would help. I have my own men to worry about and feed. As terrified as The Rock is of these Aliens, they may never send a supply ship that the Captain doesn’t turn back at the first excuse if they keep picking the right Captains. At least when the Captain and his stupid turncoat humans are dead we can kill the aliens and go home.”
Jack could not believe his ears but then he had no choice but to use the information about The Rock being shoved down his throat. He did not have the luxury of disbelief and he was not going to commit 20% of the refugees to death just so the rest could survive. Fact was the 20% was just an estimate by the aliens. Humans had never been frozen a second time and as many as 50% could die or as little as 5%. There was just no way of knowing unless they started freezing humans a second time without waiting a year but then they would not know until they thawed them out again with a third time having even worse possible odds or better. There was just simply no way of knowing until it was done and the lives sacrificed. One reason the Gronks were what they were was simply the fact that their race was one of the few that had no limits on how many times or how soon they could be frozen into hibernation with a virtual Zero death rate.
Commodore Fletcher turned and stomped back toward his ship.
Commodore Harris shook his head watching him leave. “You don’t find out someone’s true nature until the chips are down right Captain. Thank God his thinking is only a minority back at The Rock but a couple of them are up the Command chain and fueling the paranoia. The Security Chief is the worst I am afraid.” Turning to Jack the Commodore shook his head sadly. “If I would have known when we arrived months ago I would have given over my squadrons food supplies then. I just had no clue. So much wasted food.” Shaking his head in disgust. Then taking a deep breath his mind looked like he changed subjects. “Captain Turner. I have a problem with sending my crews to the Simm’s for more training. There is a good reason why most have not touched the Simms since they left bootship.”
Jack looked on puzzled as he waited with the Commodore frowning while thinking for a few seconds before finally continuing. “Most of my crewmen have different MOS’s (Military Job Tittles) in The Game. I have a Cook on DD 39 that is a Chief Engineer on a Battleship in The Game with probably a hundred more engineers in The Game doing other jobs but what they are good at scattered through my fleet. Worst yet, most of my engineers on my ships in fact have other jobs in The Game at higher ranks usually with high qualification ratings in the expert range while they suck at engineering mostly since they hate being in engineering while they all love the jobs they had in The Game. Which is why they and most of my crewmen were sent to the DD’s in the first place when the fleet weeded out the miss fits when the call went out to the fleet for DD crewmen after the defeat of the fleet. Not that they don’t try but face it Captain, putting them in the Simm’s is a waste of time since The Game would not be training them in what we need them to be. Then we have the main problem with forcing them into the Simms, we simply do not have enough Simm’s.”
Jack closed his mouth as he turned away as something moved fast across the deck toward them from the core trunk getting his eyes attention even though he did not have a clue who or even what it was or care as his mind raced, trying to catch up with the ramifications of the new information about The Rock and the crew situation.
The Ensign next to Jack shrugged her shoulders and said. “Well, why don’t you just transfer the crewmen to the jobs they want and had in The Game? What is so hard about that?”
The Commodore looked at the Ensign as if she was crazy. “You can’t go around changing everyone’s MOS’s just like that. You could wind up with half the jobs on a ship without any crewmen while having too many in some departments.”
“Oh come on Commodore.” The Ensign said rolling her eyes. “You do it across both squadrons and I bet you won’t have that many vacant billets or extra crewmen. Fact is we have hundreds of extra crewmen now from the Refugees and I would be willing to bet that we have a few alien’s that would love to join the fleet as trainees if you wind up with too many in the higher ranks.”
“Come Ensign, Harry is not going to go for transferring half his crews around between his own ships let alone between squadrons.”
Jack shook his head. “He doesn’t have to Commodore. Crew transfers for safety reasons is my prerogative while you are docked on my station. Let’s start shuffling crews and get them in the Simms. It should not take too many hours in the Simms to get the crewmen back up to speed on their chosen MOS’s.”
“Aaa. Sorry Captain but it is going to take days maybe weeks of Simm time to bring them up to speed on what they have missed since they joined the Navy and been out of the game. Until then they are worthless aboard ship. And as I said, we simply do not have enough Simm’s to do that in anything less than six months probably.”
A smile came to Jack as he realized who had been racing across the deck toward them as Pan slid to a stop beside them. “Pan, just in time. We need to use your Simms on your flight deck if you can tie them into the Destroyers Training program.”
The Ensign shook her head as she spoke up. “Sorry Jack but the Spider Battleship Flight Simms are too primitive for that. They are Ok as fighter Simms but simply won’t work for The Game.” Turning to Pan. “We need you to build a thousand Copies of one of our fleet Simms Pan.”
A platform slid up next to them with the Major in it. “You talking about producing some decent Simulators? Good. Make some big enough for the Gronks and even the Bigfoots. I am getting to damn many injuries and broken equipment training against each other in real life. It is not doing the Gronks and Bigfoots much good either while the humans are laid up recovering.”
“I would have to get one of your Simms to copy but it is doable Captain.” Pan looked at Jack who was frowning at the Ensign. “Size is not a factor but I am not comfortable training Bigfoots for combat. They are turning out to be too valuable in so many other jobs now that they are no longer restricted to only handling cargo. That large brain of theirs is amazing with most of them having what you humans would call university degrees locked up inside each of them passed down from family member to family member over thousands of years. I have most of them conducting classes for thousands in their spare time with several doing it full time now. Expanding the knowledge of all the species aboard the ship and the Hulk Station. No, to lose the vast store of information even one Bigfoot has forever, would be a catastrophe Captain.”
“Pan.” Jack smiled. “The surprises just keep coming today. But then I should have guessed with Red knowing enough about propulsion engines to save our lives after 10,000 years as a forklift, it is obvious now. As for the Bigfoots joining the marines Pan. Freedom means they have the right to die so others may live as much as you or me. It also means that with the training your new Simms will provide, the possibility of any of them dying is greatly reduced. After all they are natural tanks. Though I am hoping you are also recording these classes they are doing. Fact is you should start a program to record as much information from each and every one of them as possible. History and the sciences.” Jack frowned as he thought of something. “To change the subject back Pan. How long will it take to produce the Simms? We don’t have weeks let alone months.”
“Production is no problem Captain once we have something to copy. We may have to substitute a few components depending on te
chnology. We can’t make some of your more advanced light circuits. But we should have you several hundred within a week and a thousand a few days after that. How many total where you wanting?”
“A thousand should do for a start.” Jack said trying not to show his surprise. He was expecting her to say a few dozen at most and was in the middle of trying to figure out how to strip some out of the Red Pepper and get a few dozen here in a day or two with another day to set them back up. But a thousand? It was going to take them a month to make the voyage to the Hulk Station. With a thousand Simms they could afford to wait a week for them. Hell it would probably take that long just to get the crewmen transferred to the right MOS’s in the first place. “If you would go with the Commodore, he will show you to his ship’s Simm room. Take as many booths as you need to speed things up and get your production line going as soon as possible. We need a thousand by the end of the week. Ten thousand a week later.”
“If you will excuse me Captain I have much to do before 1600.” The Commodore braced to attention and saluted Jack.
A shocked Jack returned his salute without thinking.
Then the Commodore bowed toward Pan sweeping his hand across toward his ship and said. “If you will follow me Miss Pan, I would be honored to show you our Simm room.”
Jack could have sworn that Pan giggled as she took the Commodore’s arm as he walked and she slid toward the ship’s stern ramp. The Commodore issuing orders into his comm to start pulling several of the Simmpods out before they got there.
Jack smiled as he watched the Commodore walking with Pan sliding across the deck next to him. “OK. What is going on there?” Jack suddenly remembered the crew as his stomach growled and flopped from what little he had eaten not that long before as his mouth started watering. Turning to the Ensign. “Aaa. Looks like I screwed up not telling at least the Squadron Commanders we were on half rations. I just could not believe the transport would not come before we ran out or that so many would simply give up and die that did not need to.”
The Ensign put her arm around Jack. “Me either. I guess the old adage that an army travels on it stomach is more than just a saying.”
“Actually we are finding out it lives or dies on its stomach. And it’s the 41st century. I can’t believe we are being left out her to die by everyone. No not everyone but someone like Tweed that knows how to play the game and keep the rest from finding out until it is too late. Someone that hates aliens. Especially these Aliens and they know I won’t let them be massacred after reading the reports I have sent to the Rock. Evidentially whoever it is, can’t just order me to leave or they would have done it already. That means they have to kill us. Starve us out. Maybe hoping I will do something stupid when we get hungry enough to justify killing us all. Either way we are screwed as long as they can keep us isolated.”
“Ok Jack. So what are we going to do about it?”
“Aaaa. Shit I don’t have a clue love. I think we are going to have to hold on long enough for them to get tired of waiting and do something desperate. We just have to be ready when they do and take advantage of it. Whatever it turns out to be.” Shaking his head. “Hell. I just may kiss Tweed’s butt after all if he has as much food as it looks like.”
The Major took a deep breath. “You didn’t call me all the way up here to talk Simms did you Captain? I was in the middle of a training exercise sir.”
“What I didn’t…”
“I called the Major and Pan up here Jack. I thought they might be needed for planning the raid you were talking about.” The Ensign climbed onto the platform. “Since the Commodores are busy, we may as well go down to Command Central. Should speed things up having access to everything and a lot more comfortable. Besides its lunch time and I am starving. I will send pilots up to grab the fighters later.”
Chapter 6; Ship of food
The 20 man/cargo shuttle boat dropped down between the engines exhausts turning its ass toward the Destroyers boat lock hatch in the stern and slid into the lock. Touching down lightly onto the deck between two other boats. The hatch swiftly closed and air started screaming into the lock pressurizing it. The Destroyer had yet to see any of the upgrades the Commodore’s Destroyer was getting, including the air curtains over the hatch openings.
The storm stopped and silence returned to the lock as the external Green light lit on the air pressure panel. The load master reached for the hatch controls and Jack suddenly stepped forward and slapped the ratings hand away. “Stop! Don’t open the hatch yet.” Jack stared out the small window next to the hatch/ramp. The face of Captain Tweed staring back at him through the port in the lock hatch into the ship made his neck crawl.
“What the hell are you doing Turner?” Commodore Fletcher said baffled. “Open the damn hatch already Captain Tweed is expecting us.”
Jack turned around and looked at the Commander. “After I ordered you not to tell Tweed specifically Commander?” Jack looked back at Tweed still staring out the lock’s closed inner hatch’s port. “I can see Tweed knows we were coming.” Shaking his head. “Just so you know Commodore. Several of Tweeds enemies have died when one of his locks malfunctioned dumping them out into vacuum. And according to the stories, while Tweed watched. It has been almost a minute now and Tweed is still looking out the locks hatch port without opening his hatch. He is the one that has control of the lock not us. When he opens his hatch we will open ours.”
Commodore Fletcher stepped up to the port beside the hatch looking out. “Damn it Turner. Tweed is only being a butt waiting for you to come to him since you are the one insisting on searching his ship.” Fletcher stepped in front of Jack and slapped the button to open the hatch.
Jack already had everyone suited up just in case there was no one at the ship’s lock controls to close the hatch and pressurize the lock. Forcing them to depressurize the boat and do it by hand and then cycle through the personnel lock into the ship itself. “Helmets! And grab something solid.” Jack ordered as the hatch ramp started descending. Jack tapped his helmet up over his head as he stepped over to the side and grabbed the rack as most of the crew complied with his booming orders including Commodore Harris. Tweed was looking down from the hatch’s port at the control panel as most of the crewmen in the boat flipped up (for the God suits) or slapped hard shells over their heads and sealed them.
Jack spotted one of the marines fastening his safety line to the overhead and decided that was a good idea and pulled his line off his built. Jack hit his Comm and said. “Safety lines now!” Jack clipped his safety line on the rack next to him and grabbed Commodore Fletchers helmet from the rack for the Commodore’s Republic suit and stepped up to him from behind and started to slap it over his head as the hatch passed the half open point as it descended.
Fletcher reached up as he ducked and slapped the helmet away sending it across the cargo compartment. “How dare you!” He practically yelled at Jack. Giving Jack a dirty look before turning back around as Captain Tween looked back out of the hatches port with a big shit eating grin coming to his face. With the lock brightly lit and the inside of the boat using dim assault lights,Tweed could only see the helmetless Commodore Fletcher at the edge of the ramp with most of the rest well back out of sight in the gloom.
Suddenly the boat shook as the boats air rushed out of the half open hatch/ramp like a tornado taking everyone that was not clipped down with a safety line or had a good hold onto something, with the storm. A dozen officers and crewmen were suddenly gone in the blink of an eye. Half of them without helmets, mostly Commodore Fletcher and his Officers.
One helmetless woman holding onto one of the side supports for the half second it took for all the air in the lock to leave through the now wide open lock hatch the boat had come through, legs whipped toward the hatch as her hands refused to let go. The crewman was quick enough to let most of the air out of her lungs to keep them from exploding but leaving enough in to keep her blood in her lungs from boiling. The crewman had learned something from boots
hip.
The man next to the sole survivor slammed the helmet he had already grabbed over the woman’s head. He quickly locked it down and punched the emergency pressurization switch on the helmet’s side saving the woman’s life though she needed medical care.
Jack had hit the end of his safety line and then fallen to the deck of the ramp as it continued to descend the last few feet.
Commodore Harris had seen the green light over the port Tweed was staring out of before the brief storm that had switched the Green light to Red as he clung to the rack next to him. Now he watched shocked, as the ramp continued to lower and Captain Tweed stared out the port in the locks closed hatch, a big smile from ear to ear until he saw that the boat was still half full of space suited crewmen and officers. Terror suddenly crossed his face as he started shaking his head no.
The Ensign seeing Jack hit the ramp at the end of his safety line, hit her comm and shouted. “Code Red. Code Red.” Relief flooding her mind. They had made plenty of plans for many possible contingencies though this was not one of them. But the plans and preparations they had made were enough to handle this emergency. If the damn Commodore had not insisted in being so stupid they wouldn’t have had any casualties. The suited crewman that had gotten their helmets on that had not yet clipped in or grabbed something solid and had been blown back around the shuttle and out the hatch would be quickly picked up by one of the following boats. She felt sorry for the crewmen with no helmets but she didn’t have time to think about them as she followed her instincts combining various parts of the plans that fit the situation as she lunged across the ramp. “Plan Delta 5. Repeat Delta 5 for entry and Beta 2 for searching the ship.”
Several marines were already out the partially open hatch and headed around to close the locks hatch and lock it manually while others prepared the high pressure air bottles that would flood and pressurize the lock almost as fast as it had depressurized.
Battleship Destroyer 2 (Battleship Destoryer) Page 24