Claws That Catch votsb-4

by John Ringo

  “He is, indeed, back,” Captain Zanella said. “However, since his right leg is still missing a goodly chunk of muscle, he’s somewhat grouchy. Hopefully he won’t oh-so-subtly take it out on his new lieutenant. But part of any gunny’s job is to teach the newbie lieutenant, that being you. In fact, given your position I’m sure that all the senior NCOs will tend to be helpful. Perhaps too helpful. Do you get my meaning?”

  “Eventually, I have to learn to do this myself,” Eric said. “Is that what you mean, sir?”

  “More or less,” Zanella said. “Just one of many traps, Lieutenant. There’s one last trap I need to point out. I suspect it’s the one you’ve probably already thought about. That trap is the trap of courage. You know where I’m going?”

  “I don’t take the door, anymore, sir,” Eric said, if anything sadly. “I’m supposed to send others to take it.”

  “Not supposed to,” the CO corrected. “Must. You must send others to take point. You don’t lead from a bunker or from the ship, usually, but by the same token you have to place your Marines in the position of greatest risk. Their job is to kill stuff and blow things up. You lead from behind, to convey my orders and expand on them. I don’t mind an officer who’s willing to get his hands dirty, in fact I demand it. But the point on anything, be it loading the ship or fighting Dreen, are your Marines, not ‘Two-Gun Berg the One-Man-Killing-Machine.’ If you can get through an engagement without firing your weapon you’re doing things correctly. And if I see you toting gear instead of figuring out what’s supposed to be toted, next, I will damned well bust you back to sergeant. Are we absolutely, positively clear on this?”

  “Clear, sir.”

  “I said the job of an officer is to do paperwork,” the CO said, leaning back. “But that only covers part of the spectrum. The real job of an officer is to consider not ‘what now’ but ‘what’s next?’ Your NCOs handle ‘what now.’ You tell them ‘Take that room’ and they take the room. You don’t have to tell them how to take a room. They know that. Your job, while they’re taking it, is to consider what’s next. After that room, what needs to get done that’s not an automatic trained reaction. Do you need to prepare defenses? Or is this a raid and you need to consider the problems of exfil? The job of the officer is to look ahead in time and be prepared for what time is going to throw at him. Leadership and all the rest comes quickly enough. If your troops realize that you know what you’re doing as an officer. The first time that one of your NCOs says ‘What now, sir?’ and you have the answer they don’t… that’s when you start being an officer. Clear?”

  “Clear, sir,” Berg said. He’d had much the same speech in OCS, but he had to admit that Captain Zanella hit the high points better.

  “On the ride out, I’m going to devote two hours a day to professional development,” the CO said, sighing. “However, I seem to recall a Marine sergeant who had his head fairly firmly on his shoulders instead of up his ass. Try to keep it there.”

  “I’ll try, sir,” Eric promised.

  “Now, you need to complete your training with Monsieur Ross then decide if you actually have time to go home tonight to do more than change clothes. See ya tomorrow morning.”

  “Most girls like you want to be waitresses,” the restaurant manager said, looking Brooke up and down. “You could make way more money as a waitress.”

  “I know,” Brooke admitted. “But I want to learn to cook. I’m hoping I can do some of that working in the kitchen.”

  “All I got is busser,” the Italian said. “You’re mostly going to be washing dishes, maybe chopping some vegetables. Even my choppers, they got professional training.”

  “It’s why I’m applying here,” Brooke said, smiling prettily.

  “Damn, you’d make a good waitress,” the manager said. “I don’t know for busser. That’s hard work and no pay, hardly. I don’t think you’d last.”

  “I’m willing to work hard,” Brooke said patiently. “But I really want to learn how to cook.”

  “Maulk,” Antonio said, shaking his head. “I tell you what. I make you a waitress and part time chef. If you can get along with Fernando. I put you on Fernando’s shift. Victor’s gay but Fernando, he like ladies. He keep his hands to himself but you smile at him he teach you some stuff. Rest of the time, you’re a waitress. I need pretty waitresses. You don’t last, you don’t last.”

  “Thank you,” Brooke said, smiling.

  “It’s these damned Hexosehr recyclers, sir. A CO2 scrubber is easy. These, we don’t understand how they work so when they break, and they do, we can’t figure out how to fix them short of replacement.”

  Weaver was upside down, leaning over backwards, examining a piece of alien machinery and trying to act like the position was totally natural.

  “It’s an ionization separation system, Chief,” Weaver said, pointing. “Filtration, ionization point, separation point, oxygen reconsolidation, compressor system. What’s the issue?”

  “The separator’s not working,” the chief said. Chief Petty Officer Dean Gestner, lead machinist of the Blade II, was stuffed into the narrow space between the ionizer and a bulkhead. Fortunately, he was a small guy. “We’re getting a half a dozen toxins come through. Not just CO2. Ketones, esters, you name it. Some of it gets thrown out in compression, but the separation’s the problem.”

  “We got a spare separator around?” Weaver asked.

  “Sure, sir,” the chief said. “Four in spares baseside. But are we gonna have one when we’re on the back side of Gamma Nowhere?”

  “Point,” Weaver said. “We’re getting at least two Hexosehr tech reps on the next cruise. We were supposed to get them before now. Pull and replace this separator and hold onto it. We’ll get them to examine it and tell us what’s wrong and how to fix it. For that matter, have you asked Tchar? He’s starting to get a handle on some of this stuff.”

  “No, sir,” the chief said, grinding his teeth.

  Unfortunately, the chief had the full measure of Napoleon complex that went with his size.

  “Look, Tchar’s around for a reason, Chief,” the XO said. “He’s an invaluable source of technical expertise. He won’t be with us on this cruise, but he’s going to be with us on others. If you can’t handle working with an Adar I’ll find a chief who can. Are we clear?”

  “Clear, sir,” the chief said.

  “Pull it and replace it,” Weaver repeated. “Then give it to Tchar to look at. Make sure we’ve got at least one replacement for each system. And ask Tchar, if he figures out how to fix it back to spec, how he did it and for him to write the repair manual. There’s a bunch of this Hexosehr stuff we don’t have repair manuals on, yet. Looks like we’re going to have to write them.”

  “Got it, sir,” the chief said as Weaver pulled himself out. The chief followed then stopped to brush some dust off his coveralls. “There’s another… issue, sir.”

  “Yes?” Weaver said.

  “This chick with blue hair came breezing into the shop yesterday and asked what we needed done,” Gestner said. “I told her to get the hell out of my shop. When I did, I started getting grief from PO Morris and PO Gants. I’ve got that under control, but I just thought you should know. I don’t think much of having women on a boat, sir, but if it’s got to be it’s got to be. But I won’t have them in my shop.”

  Weaver looked at the chief blank-faced and wondered exactly how to handle this.

  “Okay, Chief Gestner, here’s the deal,” Weaver said. “You just monumentally grapped up.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” the chief said hotly.

  “Are you going to actually listen to why you grapped up?” Weaver asked. “From someone with far less time in the Navy and about five hundred times more time in space than you?”

  “Of course, Captain,” the chief said, his teeth grinding again. “I am always seeking the wisdom of my betters.”

  “Chief, that wasn’t even on the edge of insolence,” Weaver warned. “I’m serious. Are you actually goin
g to listen? Or are we going to turn this into a dick beating contest? One that, I guarantee it, you are going to lose.”

  “I apologize, sir,” the chief said, taking a deep breath. “I am listening.”

  “Miriam Moon is the ship’s linguist, yes,” Weaver said. “But on the last cruise… Look, she’s ADHD. You know what that is, right?”

  “So are both my kids, sir,” the chief said, his brow furrowing.

  “Incredibly smart little monsters that go ballistic if they get bored?” Weaver asked.

  Gestner chuckled. “More or less describes them, sir.”

  “When Miriam gets bored, she starts wandering around the ship, being… annoying as hell,” Captain Weaver said. “Since she’s a civilian, there’s only so much the CO can do about that. What we found out, more or less by accident, on the last cruise is that if you give her something to do, she does a spectacular job. Especially something mechanical. She completely rebuilt one system and painted every steam-pipe in the ship along with doing all sorts of minor jobs. Not to mention fixing the neutrino injector in the middle of a battle. The reason she breezed into your shop, Chief, is that it’s more Miriam’s shop than yours. She was a major part of the design team when the Hexosehr built this ship. And you got about twenty percent more relative space because of it. So you should be thanking her, not insulting her. And the reason Red and Sub Dude gave you grief was because they were trying to tell you the same thing. Knowing both of them, they were probably doing it badly, but that was what was going on. Now, you’re going to apologize to Miss Moon, give her full access to your shop and utilize her. In fact, first thing to do is put her in charge of this thing and see if she can figure it out. But apologize first, sincerely. How you handle that with your people is up to you. If you’re the type that can’t lose face, you’re going to have a hard time doing so. But you are going to apologize and you are going to utilize her or you’re not a chief that can handle the Blade. Are we clear?”

  “Clear, sir,” the chief said. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes, God damnit!” Weaver snapped, finally losing his temper. “I’m deadly serious! Hell, if she didn’t already have a job and if I could figure out a way to do it I’d give her the machinist section! Among other things, she had the guys who worked in that section eating out of her hand last cruise! I’m that serious! Are we clear?!”

  “Clear, sir,” Gestner said, obviously nonplussed.

  “I’m serious, Chief,” Weaver said, calmer. “This is not a sub. It’s a spaceship. It’s a spaceship that gets into really weird maulk. I can’t afford to have the guy who has to get stuff fixed in a funk because things aren’t going according to routine or somebody’s gotten up his nose. I need somebody who if he can’t figure out a piece of strange alien equipment will figure out who can. If you can’t get over whatever keeps you from listening to people’s input, you’re not for the Blade. Because nobody in this ship understands every part or can figure out every problem that crops up. And I need to know that in time to get a replacement. You’re a good mechanic and your reports say you run a good shop. But the shop on this ship is unlike any other in the service. And if you can’t get with the program, tell me now.”

  “I can do the job, sir,” the chief said, frowning. “I really can.”

  “Be square with me, Chief,” Bill said. “It’s seriously different. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure, sir,” Gestner replied.

  “Grapp me on this and I’m not going threaten you with Diego Garcia or Iceland,” Weaver said. “But I do suggest you ask Red or Sub Dude the story of Petty Officer Olson.”

  “Olson, sir?” Gestner asked.

  “Ask them,” Weaver said, dusting off his own coveralls. “Are we space ready with the exception of the separators?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gestner said. “I’ll have a full report on down or questionable systems on the Eng’s desk this afternoon. But the rest of it’s minor stuff.”

  “Good to hear,” the XO said. “Tell Commander Oldfield I’ll need it on my desk by noon tomorrow. But do not dawdle on looking up Miss Moon, Chief.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gestner said, frowning in thought.

  “This XO shit is for the birds, sir,” Bill said as the CO entered his compartment. “What ever happened to the paperless office concept?”

  “What’s really funny about it is that most of the actual paper gets filed and forgotten,” the CO said, sitting down across from him. “It’s the stuff that we file electronically that gets looked at. Hell, mostly it gets automatically compared to norms and some computer sends up a red flag if it doesn’t fit the model. Which is why — ”

  “We keep getting these stupid queries!” Weaver finished, holding up a form. “I wish somebody would tell the software we’re no longer an SSBN with a crew of 157 and twenty-four missiles! We haven’t filed our weekly paperwork on missile stability so this damned program keeps sending damned queries!”

  “And we will until somebody comes up with a second model just like us,” Captain Prael said. “When will the equipment status report be done?”

  “By 1700,” Bill said, holding up same. “I think we can squeeze in most of the minor repairs before we leave; I’m working on the budget and worktable now. But the only major issue is the separator and we’re going to pull and replace that.”

  “What’s this I hear about you having a run-in with Chief Gestner over Miss Moon?” the CO asked, holding out his hand for the preliminary report.

  “I told the chief that Miss Moon was the most valuable resource the machinist’s shop had on this ship,” Weaver said. “And that if he couldn’t figure that out, I’d find a chief who could.”

  “And did you discuss the threat to have him relieved with me, first, Captain?” the CO asked neutrally, flipping through the pages.

  “No, Captain,” Weaver replied. “I don’t discuss every encounter I have on this ship with you. If you wish me to restrain myself in any negative encounter until I have solicited your advice, Captain, then I will do so.”

  “Get off your high horse, Weaver,” the CO said, looking up. “I’m not Spectre Blankemeier and this is no longer his ship. In my ship we do things my way. And my way does not necessarily mean a civilian female running around fixing stuff. In case it’s not clear to you, Captain, that’s a major departure from normal activity in any military unit, much less a sub. And threatening a senior chief with being strapped to the outside of the hull for three days was not the conduct I expect of my officers. Am I clear?”

  “Clear, sir,” Weaver replied.

  “I’ve been fully briefed on Miss Moon’s activities,” Prael continued. “Which does not mean I approve. Miss Moon is to restrict herself to authorized linguist duties if and when she is needed. I’ve sent in a memo for record recommending her replacement with a qualified male Navy candidate. We may be forced to carry her for this mission, but I see no reason why we even have her on-board. We’re not carrying a science team, otherwise.”

  There was no question asked so Weaver kept his mouth shut.

  “You’re doing a decent job as an XO,” Prael continued after a moment. “Decent, not extraordinary. Since you’re a hard worker and unquestionably smart, I put that down to lack of experience. You were fast tracked to lieutenant commander then jumped twice to your present rank for, basically, being there. Yes, you did a good job as astrogator. That’s to be expected. You’ve proven you’re courageous. But that doesn’t add up to being a Naval officer. If you were a real Naval officer you’d have handled things differently. So you can get over being a civilian wearing a uniform or… I believe the phrase was ‘I’ll find someone who will.’ Are we clear?”

  “Clear, sir,” Weaver said, stone-faced.

  “Comments?”

  “XO to Skipper or Captain to Captain?” Weaver asked.

  “Again, quoting, I think the phrase I’m looking for here is that was over the edge of insolent,” Prael said dangerously.

  “Captain to Captain it is,” Wea
ver said. “This is your ship, sir, sure enough. And, yes, I was bumped up fast. That, sir, is because there are no other officers in the Navy with my training, experience or skills. And Miss Moon is on this ship because there are no other people with her experience or ability. Your job, in addition to your other duties, is to teach me to be your XO. And I’ll do that to the best of my very high ability. I never do anything by halfs. But my job, Captain, is to teach you to be a starship commander.”

  “You’re really going to push this, aren’t you?” Prael asked.

  “You already, mistakenly, referred to this ship as a sub, sir,” Weaver continued. “It’s not. It’s a spaceship, designed as such from the keel out. It can go underwater but it’s primarily designed for space. If you think of it as a sub, sir, you’re going to get us all killed. Because there’s a universe of difference between being at sea and being in space. One difference, is that if you’re cruising the Pacific you don’t suddenly run into a species that speaks by sonar and have to have someone to figure out how to talk to them. Have to have that or you’re going to get blown away. Thus you have to have someone who can figure that out, no matter who that is. And thus we get to Miss Moon. Who completely redesigned faulty systems on the Blade One so that they were no longer faulty and figured out how to communicate with the Hexosehr and, and, and. The last ‘and who’ being that she was a primary member of the design team of this ship. Who is an asset you do not want to lose despite her being female and occasionally bat-shit crazy. I can’t believe I’m having to explain this to you! You read the reports!”

  “I’m going to have to ask for relief, aren’t I?” Prael growled. “Because yes, I’ve read the reports. But it was Spectre’s ship. It’s mine now.”

  “If you asked for relief, right now, you’ll get it, sir,” Weaver said. “You’ll find yourself off ‘your’ ship so fast it will make your head swim. We both know it. I’d get reamed for handling things badly but you’d be gone. Because there is no one else to do my job, sir. Which is to be XO, yes, but is primarily to keep you and this ship alive when we get where there’s no air and the universe goes crazy. And you’re going to do one or two cruises and then be gone, fast-tracked into a training position or, if we have them by then, a bigger ship. I’ll still be here, probably still be XO, teaching your replacement. Because when we get out between the stars, sir, there are going to be dozens of times you’ll turn to me and ask me what the grapp is going on. Just as, now, I have to turn to you, sir, to figure out Clerk Click and all the rest of this maulk. So are we going to make this work? Or not?”