by Chris Hechtl
“All right,” April replied with a dazzling smile as she turned to the camera. “I'll do a lot for new fans,” she said wickedly. “This is April O’Neill with Knox news reporting.”
Renee snorted as the news channel went to a commercial about Lake Electronics. She flicked a signal through her implants to mute the vid screen.
“Have you organics sunk to that low? That you would think gaining a few octaves was much? It is or was common before the war. What amuses me is that they think this is a big thing,” Firefly said, for once sounding disgusted.
“Well, to them yeah. Hell, to me it was too,” Renee replied, smiling slightly to look at the AI. Her look conveyed a reminder that she'd been in the civilian shoes less than a decade ago.
“Yes well, a freighter, even a civilian one could easily hit Delta in my time,” Firefly replied. He sounded a bit haughty about that.
“With the right crew and if the ship was in good condition you mean,” Renee replied, holding up a stalling finger. “But you have to remember, most of these ships have been bouncing from star to star for seven-plus centuries. Some longer. Some are barely held together with rigging tape and prayers. A ship, any ship that can make it above the middle octaves in Alpha is a big thing. Many crews have long given up on getting back into Beta.”
“It's a wonder they fly at all in some cases,” Shelby added, nodding to the skipper. She set her tablet down to glance at the video conference on the wall screen and then back to the AI and skipper. “I remember what it was like on Anvil. Most of the lights out, jury rigged equipment, wiring...” she shook her head. “Dad had a hell of a time holding the station together. Pure willpower in some cases, stubborn willpower.”
“All too true,” Renee replied. She eyed the avatar. “It wasn't always like this of course, ships were moving around at what you said, high speed for a long time. But I've attended some of the history courses in the college, and I've heard some growing up. When the war kept raging on, people were drawn into it. Ships were pressed into service, like the Admiral's Phoenix. Crews were press ganged in some cases. That stripped the merchant Marine of people. Others rose to fill the voids, but they lacked the years of training and service.”
“True.”
“Once the war ended, the ships that were left had no support, little spare parts, but just...well, kept going on. Some became roving habitats. Others tried to keep things moving. But over the years, as wear and tear mounted, they kept slipping...” she cocked her head thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded slightly. “Slipping down the ladder rung by rung as the saying goes. Or in this cases, hyper band by band, octave by octave. Until we ended up where we are today.”
“True,” Shelby said softly. “Though we're working to change that.”
Renee nodded but then frowned thoughtfully. “I think once word gets around to the other sectors ships will come in from all over. Things will really get interesting then.”
“Are all the space bridges...the gates, are they all destroyed?” Shelby asked looking at the AI. “And what will happen to the economy and shipping in the sectors when ships leave them to come here?”
“More importantly, what will happen to things here when it gets very competitive,” Renee mussed. Shelby looked at her again. “It's going to get busy. I wonder if the Admiral planned it that way?”
“A resurgence of shipping, repairs...yes. I don't have the ability to handle such things in any detail. After all, I'm just a ship AI, but yes, I can see the strategy to some degree, which will have problems since the Admiral isn't here to execute it,” Firefly said. “A resurgence of shipping and interest in trade will kick things off. Couple that with a renewed interest in knowledge and education...”
“That's where the college comes in.”
“Yes. But again, without the Admiral here...”
“But Dad is. He'll do his best to get what he can get done,” Shelby said stubbornly. “We engineers don't have all the keys, but we've got some of the basic ones. We can make some replacement parts. Some stuff. Dad's still doing that. He's got quite a stockpile.”
“True,” Firefly replied. “And he's mothballed hundreds of partially built ships.” Both women nodded in reply. “As to the gates... I don't know of any that are functional. I ran a check on our intel files. No positive reports are in our files, but it is a big galaxy. They would need a local Dyson Sphere to power them though. Or a very large antimatter supply. I don't see either of those being left behind by the Xenos or the old Federation.”
“True. You'd think people would shut them down to keep the damn Xenos from using them to jump in though or blowing them up. Wouldn’t they make a black hole if you did that?”
The AI nodded. “Entirely too true I'm afraid. Which made moving goods and ships a lot harder to do during the war,” Firefly said. “Not to mention the damage and danger to local star systems if it was destroyed,” the AI said darkly. Both women nodded grimly in return. “Back to what we were discussing earlier, the ships...once basic augmentation, the repaired and restored ships, and even new ships start making the rounds, I believe we shall see a renaissance here that will slowly spread to the other sectors. I think that is the Admiral's strategy. Of course we'd have to speak with him to confirm it.”
“If we can sustain the repairs and well, everything,” Renee said, sounding doubtful. “I can see the advantages of having a fast ship. Moving goods from point A to B is what a freighter does after all, and time is money. Doing it quickly and safely is a big thing. There are going to be a lot of people wanting that. The competition alone will drive them to get it. Move fast or get cut out.”
“For the most part, the ships over the past seven hundred years really have made minor impacts on the local world economies,” Firefly said. The humans stared at the AI, seemingly scandalized. “It is true. Most worlds are self-sustaining at this point. They had to be to survive. You couldn't survive waiting on a ship to pass through the system once a year. Not on a population measured in the tens or hundreds of thousands.”
“True...” Shelby was the first to admit, drawling that admission out thoughtfully. “But they do make an impact.”
“In various degrees yes. The trade has a positive impact, both in keeping a rough community together in the exchange of news, goods, knowledge, and genetic material.”
Both women made a face at that last item. “Cute.”
“I'm looking forward to seeing the first ships hitting Gamma.”
“Didn't the Admiral say Io 11 could hit Gamma?”
“Yes. He and her crew restored her to that level. They could probably hit Delta if they had a fully augmented crew. But soon, there will be others. Hopefully many.”
“Here's to hoping. For now, we've got our work cut out for us. We've got a list of transfers Chief Chowler requested,” Shelby said, pushing her tablet across the table to the skipper. “He was going to bring it to you but he's wrapped up in the repair effort right now. The Annex quartermaster is balking at some of our requests for parts and the recon drones, and we've got some feet dragging going on about the replacement parasite craft and fighters. Any ideas on how to kick things into motion?”
“Well, as you said, we need to get Commander Logan on board. He's at San Diego right now, so we need to wait until he's back. Once he is, the rest will fall in line or get the hell out of the way...”
Chapter 8
When Firefly had jumped into the system Commander Horatio Logan had been in transit to San Diego for an inspection of the Bernal sphere. He refused to interrupt his planned schedule, but he did have his yeoman shorten it and clear everything he had planned afterwards.
The academy looked good as did the living quarters. The giant sphere station was still reliant on energy beamed in from the solar farms though, which bothered him. But they hadn't stopped on doing what they could, and so the habitats were all functional. One of the things they could still replicate was life support equipment, which they had put to good use in the station.
/> Some of the construction crews thought what they were doing was make work. He could see it. One of the points of the inspection was to show his face and to let them know he appreciated their efforts. “You all know we're getting a trickle of stuff in, the care packages from the Admiral. Right now we're using what we can for the mobile fleet, but I expect that to change eventually. So, we need you to make as much progress here with what you can. And don't worry, we'll get you back on track,” he told a mess. The men and women cheered.
When he was finished having lunch with the crew he took the time to make a brief stop at the large Ssilli habitat, where he asked if the alien needed anything.
The alien had molted since he'd been recovered four years ago outgrowing his tank on Firefly. He was now taking on his adult preform. From his size he would most likely be quite large when he filled out, far too large for Firefly. His fins flashed about, quite colorful in the normally drab confines of the kilometer wide spherical chamber they were in. The bottom half of the chamber was filled with water; the upper was a dome of crystal and titanium. The alien swam over and saluted the Commander with one of his long squid tentacles. Logan returned the salute. “Some more fish, some toys or something to do would be nice sir,” Ensign Tra'l replied. The San Diego dumb AI ensign Kamia had just come online. She translated the ensign's speech picked up by hydrophones and then sent the translation to the Commander's implants.
“Okay, we can see about that. The fish would have to be imported. We don't have any aquariums here as far as I know. I can look into it though.”
“Okay,” the being said, blasting a mist through his blowhole as he breathed. His rear flippers moved gently with the artificial surf.
Horatio cocked his head and then frowned. “Most of our fish is either imported frozen or it's replicated. Sorry about that.”
“This is a space based system now Commander; I fully understand,” the Ssilli said, and then blew a water spray from his blow hole again. The mist settled all over the place. Horatio ducked away. “Sorry about that, sir.”
“No problem son, it's refreshing actually. I've missed it,” Horatio replied, smiling slightly. He remembered going boating a few times. “Do you think you can handle some lectures?”
“Attending would have to be virtual, sir,” the alien replied.
“Or we could bring your students here...”
“Me? Teach?” The alien asked, clearly surprised. He'd given up on his desire on reforming the navigators guild or had at least stopped pestering them about it. He did do an electronic correspondence with the various ship navigators who passed through the system. He also made himself available to speak with some of the students studying Xeno biology.
Horatio shrugged. “You are one of our foremost experts in hyper navigation and piloting. If not you who else? We have some people teaching theory at the academy, but for the most part it has been hands on.”
“I can do some, sir. But you have to have the gift and a good foundation for me to be of any use.”
“I can look into getting additional trainers.”
“It would be interesting. Perhaps simulators?”
Horatio cocked his head and then nodded thoughtfully. “Here, where you can have full access to them without a long transmit time. Yes, we can rig up something in the academy dome. I'm sure of it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“If you can do some canned lectures too I'd appreciate it,” Logan replied.
“I'm a bit talked out as it is, sir. Doctor Thornby has run me ragged there,” the alien replied with another wet raspberry.
Horatio snorted. “The more information she has, the better the chances for project Resurrection. Do you mind if we cycle some people through here as well?”
“People, sir?”
“We have some that can tolerate the salt water. I know a few from other worlds that miss it. And we also need to train some people in swimming and water safety. If you could oversee that as well...”
“I'm going from bored to busy rather quickly,” the alien said.
“You asked for it,” the Commander replied with a hint of a smile.
“No complaints, sir; I know better. Thank you.”
“No problem. Now, I've got a few things to finish up here and then I've got to listen to a proposal I'm not sure I want to hear.”
“Good luck, sir,” the alien said as Horatio straightened.
“I'm not the only one who's going to need it soon,” Horatio muttered as he left the compartment.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Journeyman Miller made certain he was transferred off Firefly. He was glad to go and knew Chief Chowler was glad to see him go. He freely admitted to himself that he'd been a sullen ass for a while, but he couldn't help it. He'd busted his tail to get that stripe, one stupid nosey jarhead had cost him it and any more that could have been coming. He was rightfully pissed.
He glared at the panther in passing. It would be his luck to run into the damn cat. He shouldered his space bag and kept going, turning to put the bag between him and the damn furball. He didn't bump the cat with his bag, though it looked like he'd tried. Jethro didn't care; he was too busy with training to worry about sour grapes.
Chief Chowler nodded when he spotted Miller at the lock. “Good luck. Get your head sorted out. I told you I'd give you a fair shake. Hopefully, whoever you end up with does the same.”
“Thank you, sir. And thanks for the transfer,” Miller said, setting his bag down. He came to attention.
“Dismissed. Get out of here,” Chowler said, waving a hand.
“Aye aye, sir,” Miller said, picking the bag back up and departing the ship.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Major Pendeckle frowned as he looked over the available officers and noncoms in the system. There were a few available, but none he really wanted. Some he had to leave in place; they were critical to the chain of command in the system. Truth to be told, the system was rather bereft of experienced or desirable Marines.
There were sixty Marine midshipman in the pipeline at the academy; fifty were from the college class as Major Forth had pointed out. Twelve ensigns had graduated and were waiting for transport to Agnosta. Not one of them had any combat experience or training of course. Two had JAG training, and one was an intel officer, the rest were staffers. He shook his head in disgust.
They were trading five of their enlisted Marines who couldn't cut the mustard for the same number who had been waiting for transport to Agnosta. Fortunately, all the replacements were graduates of the first boot class—one was a PFC, two were Lances, and one was a Corporal. All had past discipline issues but he didn't care. He'd seen what Jethro and Valenko could do with their people; they'd be too exhausted to cause trouble. Or at least they'd better hope so for their sakes. If it made its way up to his desk heaven help them.
He frowned and then clicked the intel weenie and then jotted out the orders to join them. The Veraxin would probably be pissed, but he'd get over it.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Shelby heard through her contacts on the Annex that her father was due in to arrive. Since the assassination attempt, and the political crap her father had been dealing with, he'd resorted to varying his schedule, route and shuttle on a seemingly random basis. She knew it was troublesome for him. She was also tempted to let him come home without pouncing on him; she remembered how he had hated getting slammed when he had come in to their quarters after a long shift.
Still, she couldn't resist meeting him at the boat bay lock. Her father exchanged the usual routine of saluting the colors and then the officer of the deck before he passed his duffel to a waiting bot. A yeoman passed him a tablet and he scowled.
As he exited the lock he had his head down. He nearly bumped into Shelby before he heard her clear her throat. He looked up in surprise and then shorted when she came to attention and saluted. He nonchalantly returned the salute and then tucked the tablet under his arm. “What can I do for you, Commander?”<
br />
“Off the record?” She asked with a smile and twinkle.
He sighed theatrically. “That will be all George,” he said, handing the tablet back to the yeoman. “I'll see you in the office later,” he ordered.
“Aye aye, Sir,” the yeoman said as he took the device and then left.
“Okay, fine, off the record. It's a bit early to start in you know,” he said.
“I know that Daddy. I wanted a hug,” she said, coming closer.
He chuckled, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her. “Well! If that was what you wanted, why didn't you say so in the first place?” he demanded.
She smiled and hugged him back. He squeezed until she gasped and then he slowly released her. “So, now that you've done a good job buttering me up...”
She chuckled softly, patting his chest before she stepped back. “As if,” she teased.
“Like I don't know how well you can wrap me around your little pinky when you want something and turn on the charm,” he mock growled.
“Hey, this is me here, not the XO of Firefly,” she said, miming brushing her rank tabs off her shoulders.
He snorted. “Sorry, but the two are hard to separate from time to time, especially now.”
“Well, I know, but I thought I'd get some personal time in before we turn on the charm and try to convince you,” Shelby said.
“Right,” Horatio said, eying her. “This I've got to see,” he said.
“You will. If you keep an open mind,” she replied.
“I'll try. Even though it's like I said, hard to separate things,” he sighed. “So, lay it on me,” he said.
She shook her head. “Not here,” she said, looking around. The Captain wants a word though before we make any presentations to the senior staff.”
“Ah,” he said nodding wisely. “And she knows that little bit that Lincoln said?”
“Lincoln?” Shelby asked, brows knitting in confusion.
“Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. Very famous guy, I know you remember him,” she nodded. “Well, it's an old quote, I forgot the origin. He said something to the effect...” He paused and cocked his head and then cleared his throat. “Twelve nays and one aye. The aye has it because I am president.”