by Chris Hechtl
“Aye aye, Ma'am,” the doctor replied and then signed off.
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It took three days to get the outbreak under control, and then treatment began. The Veraxin doctor whipped up an airborne method to treat the disease, but that was nixed by the planetary authorities. Instead a mandatory inoculation program was begun. There was some debate on how it would be implemented and who would pay for it until the doctor passed on the information that the Navy would pay for it.
Captain Logan wasn't so certain about how helpful her doctor was at first, but one look at a suffering Veraxin child had made her change her grumbling quickly. The same for the crew, though a few were grossed out when the good doctor put the image up on the overhead for all to see. “This is what we're here to do. To prevent. We can fix this,” she clacked meaningfully.
“I think you made your point, Doctor. So, for those with weak stomachs,” Shelby said, nodding to Conrad. “I think we can take the images off the galley monitors and rec areas,” she said. She turned to Prometheus. The AI nodded.
“Consider it done, Ma'am,” the AI said softly. Shelby nodded again.
Doctor V'brno passed on the specs for the material and equipment needed to the engineers. Cynthia handed off the project to Oz. Oz took to it with enthusiasm. “The big lug is sweet on kids of any species,” Cynthia said. “And he's got a strong stomach. No one will be stupid enough to argue with him about the priorities either.”
“Do we have enough material on hand?” Shelby asked.
“Oh, yeah, for most of it. We may have issues with the plastics,” Cynthia replied, consulting her notes. “I'm going to let Oz handle it. He needs to catch it himself,” she said. Shelby smiled slightly and nodded. She knew that teaching method well; she'd been victim to it a time or two under her dad and used it herself on Firefly.
The planet's authorities were so grateful they gave Prometheus permission to refuel all four ships at their gas giant refinery. “Why did they get this?” Shelby asked.
“Apparently Io 11 built it for them among other things. They have quite a lot of recent tech acquisitions. It's sparked an industrial renaissance on the planet. A renewed interest in education and space,” Ensign Kettle reported.
“Interesting,” Shelby mused. Apparently Io was following the same mission Prometheus was. She wondered if the admiral had anything to do about that.
Ensign Kettle's work ironing out issues with plastic manufacturing gained the attention of the planetary industrialists. The industrialists formed a board, one that was surprisingly fair and relatively honest in its dealings since all parties were participating and therefore watching each other like hawks. Or so Prometheus reported.
“You know, garbage in, garbage out. We don't know if that is true or not,” Shelby warned. She shook her head. Honesty was the best policy, but relationships had to be built on honesty as well as trust. Trust took time, and past behavior could be a factor for holding a grudge.
“No Ma'am, but we'll know when we get more empirical data,” the AI replied. She nodded.
Captain Logan was surprised and a bit dismayed that the local industrialists were not happy about the arrival of her ship. She got word that they saw her as competition. “We need to clear the air,” Shelby said. “Can you arrange a meet and greet?” She asked Zeb. The Veraxin signaled a second level affirmative.
The next evening ship's time she got a call. “The board?” she asked when the communications rating turned and handed her a tablet. “What…oh,” her eyes widened slightly as she took the tablet. “That board,” she said to herself thoughtfully. She studied the quick notes Prometheus had put together to brief her then nodded. “Put them through,” she said, looking up with a firm nod.
“Gentlemen, I'm glad we could arrange our schedules to talk to each other,” she said, nodding politely to them. There were a dozen men and women, five humans, four Veraxin, one Gashg, one T'clock and two Relgarth. “I understand there have been some misunderstandings about my ship and her purpose. I'd like to put those to rest,” she said smiling a tight lipped smile. “After all, we won't be here long,” she said. She turned as the bridge doors opened in time to see Cynthia and Ensign Kettle arrive. “On my end, this is Lieutenant Cynthia Troll and Ensign Kettle. I believe you know them? Well, good then,” she said.
“In the interest of saving time, Ma'am, I've been elected spokesman,” a forty-year-old human said, standing. “Jeremy Taylor, Ma'am, director of electronics,” he explained, one hand smoothing the front of his suit out. Shelby noted he had a bit of a gut, his black hair had a bit of a receding hairline, but otherwise he looked good.
“Pleased, Mister Taylor, gentlemen, ladies,” Shelby replied. She frowned as she looked at her tablet. “Um, perhaps you can explain while I read this,” she said. “I'm still catching up on your planet and how it is set up,” she said, waving her tablet. “Cynthia here is more than willing to answer your initial questions,” she said.
Cynthia raised an eyebrow but took front stage without a quibble.
Right off the officers picked up on the board's inferiority complex. They seemed to have a sense of low self-esteem due to the replicators; they saw them as a threat to their business model and economy. Some seemed to resent the intrusion; others were resigned to it. Apparently, finding out that the replicators were making a comeback had them throwing up their hands in disgust and surrender she thought, but a bit premature.
“I think you're taking this a little too hard and a little too quickly,” Cynthia said. She looked over her shoulder to her captain. “Here is my captain, perhaps she can help,” she said, passing the buck to her senior officer.
“Gee thanks,” Shelby sent in a text message to the Chief engineer. Cynthia grinned, eyes twinkling. Shelby listened attentively to their whining for about a minute before she turned a glower on her smirking chief engineer. “Somehow I'll get you for this,” she growled over a text link. Cynthia put a hand over her heart but Shelby turned back to the industrialists.
She talked them into starting small. “Look, start with what you know, simple things. Things that do not change. Take…oh, say, a utility knife. Simple right? The handle changes for the user species, but the same thing. And so versatile,” she said. She sent a text grumbling to Cynthia. Ensign Oz Kettle her neogorilla assistant chief caught it and turned to his captain, chuffing a laugh as she took a break to get a sip of water and roll her eyes off screen.
“So…”
“So, make them. Sell them. On your planet and then export them,” she said simply. “Diversify your market.”
“But you can replicate them!”
“Yes, but if we don't have to, then we can focus on other things,” she explained patiently.
He blinked at her then looked at the others on the industrial board. “Ohh…”
Shelby nodded. “Right.” She cocked her head. “Have your marketing department come up with a list of things to make. You can work with others to subcontract for parts, thus sharing the burden of manufacture and hiring more people and putting them to work.”
“But...”
“Technically, I'm supposed to be helping your governments, not civilian industrial concerns. I can't for instance do it for you. That's not my job. Here or elsewhere. I'm here to help, to point you in the right direction. It's up to you to go from there. But,” she smiled slightly. “I am authorized to negotiate for upgraded industrial equipment to modernize your plants. It will cost you though,” she warned, holding up a finger.
“I thought it was free?” the spokesman said.
Shelby shook her head. “Data and advice are free. But my time is limited and heavily scheduled. So are my replicators gentlemen. So, if you want, you can negotiate with my crew over what you'd like to have. Par the wish list down into the essentials you don't have, then get advice on how to cobble up the stuff you can do on your own.”
“What about purchasing a replicator?” a rep asked hopefully.
Shelby shook
her head again. His face fell. Some looked sullen. She sighed. “Unfortunately gentlemen, ladies, I don't have the ability to make replicators, like a lot of people.” Their faces cleared. “But I can make industrial equipment, as long as it isn't on the proscribed list.”
“Okay, we can work with that, Ma'am,” the spokesman said looking briefly to the others. A few nodded. “Back to the point on the equipment, raising the capital is an issue. As is distribution, both here and off world. Since your time as you said is limited we'd like your initial impressions and thoughts on how to handle them…”
Shelby nodded. “Well, you can see if a bank will float you a loan,” she said. “Or, you could offer a stock offering to the public to raise the capital. Or bonds,” she said. “Or find a wealthy investor interested in a buy in. That part I'll leave up to you; to be honest finance isn't my area of expertise,” she said waving a hand. The reps nodded. “I do have some ideas on distribution. The biggest thing is to have a port near your factory, either an airport, spaceport, or other shipping hub. That will feed into the local economy, to distribution points you can negotiate with other companies later.”
“But…”
“Such as stores or whole sale distributors,” Cynthia interjected. Shelby looked over her shoulder and then back to the board on the screen and nodded.
“She's correct,” she said simply. That got their attention. “You're planet is about to go through a renaissance. With careful management, your companies will come out on top. If you handle it right. If you squeeze too tight, cut too many corners,” she shrugged. “Well then, you'll end up with a mess,” She said.
“As far as off world distribution, I suggest working with the wholesale market. Come up with individual packaging or group packaging. We're sending down a lot of information including texts on economics, industry, and other things. I suggest you have some of your people read it and prepare briefs for you,” she said.
“We thank you for your time, Ma'am,” the rep said bowing to her.
“You're very much welcome, gentlemen, ladies,” Shelby said smoothly. “Now go out there and impress me,” she urged.
“We will certainly try,” he replied.
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"So, what happened, Lieutenant?" Shelby asked, staring at the image of the human lieutenant on the screen. Lieutenant Jasper Adeyev was a good kid. He'd briefly served on Firefly during his midshipman's cruise before he'd gone on to work in the annex. She remembered he'd had a good solid head, mature and very good attitude. Plenty of initiative and he got things done. From the look of it, he seemed a bit harried, but otherwise on top of the situation on the planet. But there still remained the question of why he was on the wrong planet.
"Ma'am?"
"Halced 6. You're assignment was there," she pointed out.
"Ma'am, I'm not sure. I think they didn't want additional mouths to feed, or just didn't like visitors," he said, pursing his lips. "It could have been a life support issue. They didn't explain it, just shut us down rather coldly."
"I see."
"Since our general orders are to spread good will and heed the colony's laws, I thought it was in the navy's best interests to move on. I've doubled up on this planet, Ma'am. We've been doing our best to help out with search and rescue and this latest outbreak."
Shelby nodded. "Good."
He frowned. "Ma'am, I'm not trying to be insubordinate, but I've come to realize four people, however…gifted are just not enough to cover a planet. Are you going to leave some help?" he asked.
She frowned then shook her head. His face fell slightly. "Sorry, lieutenant, you are on your own. I'll pass on the request for additional support."
"You aren't going to take on some of our recruits are you?" She shook her head. He sighed. "I thought not."
"Look at it this way, you can put them to work," she said, smiling indulgently. "Stick them with clerical duties until the ship that is assigned to pick them up comes through the system. Or get them trained on various tasks and put them to work as volunteers."
"I see. Well, we are working with the educators to set up ROTC programs. I've got an in with the Scouts, maybe we can do something there too."
"Good."
"If you haven't heard Ma'am, Mariah’s Mischief left several days ago."
Shelby nodded. "We watched them leave; hopefully, they observed quarantine protocol," she said sternly. The lieutenant nodded. "Good. I was wondering about that late departure. She's slow. I would have been through the loop long before now. I know they got a refit in the yard," Shelby said, frowning.
Lieutenant Adeyev exhaled noisily. "That might be you, Ma'am, but their people are…cautious, let's just say. They didn't want to suffer an engineering casualty and wanted to keep the systems as stress free as possible to make them last longer. So our ride out was in the mid octaves of alpha band for the long hauls, and the low beta octaves for the short stretches."
"I see."
"It…I know they were having sensor and software glitches, Ma'am. I'm not sure if something was calibrated wrong or if they messed it up. Or if the new hardware wasn't meshing well with the old." He shrugged. "Not really my area of expertise, Ma'am, and I wasn't asked."
The captain nodded. "Hmmm, I'll make a note of it. If we catch up to them, we'll take a look," she said.
"That would be good, Ma'am. If you could also look into the ship's drive..."
Shelby raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "There is more to it than that?"
"I think it's not just a confidence and sensor issue. The ship was rebuilt to stock, or so I heard. She's supposed to be able to hit the medium-high octaves of Gamma. The essential bridge crew got civilian grade implants but..."
Shelby rubbed her jaw. "It takes time and training to get used to them. Confidence too, but if the sensors are having issues it's wise to limit the ship's speed." She nodded. "I'll look into it. If we catch up to them. We may pass them in Nightingale."
"It's a possibility, Ma'am," he replied thoughtfully. "I have some issues with my command and orders, Ma'am."
"That's one of the reasons we are here, to help clarify things and help set you up properly," the captain said, not quite smiling. The lieutenant nodded.
"I received the gear and material we were going to have on Halced 6. I appreciate the resupply, Ma'am. Payroll was getting…tight. I'm not sure how to handle the sign-up bonuses. We're also getting requests to set up an academy," he said, looking at her.
Shelby shook her head. "Not here. Training is…difficult at best I'd say. I don't think command is happy with the shotgun approach when it's come to training; they want to get a more centralized control on it for quality let's say." He nodded. "Do what you can with what you've got. The more they know, the better off they are when they do get to the academy. And no, I don't recommend giving them their sign-up bonuses until they ship out. Or not even then. Let them get it in Pyrax or Agnosta," she said.
He frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged.
"Anything else?"
"Ma'am, this is starting to sound…off. I mean, I'm a bit of a scifi buff. Ancient stuff. I seem to recall something along these lines. Something about a postman in some weird post apocalyptic story setting up outposts."
"It's one way of looking at it," Shelby said, smiling slightly. She cocked her head. "I think I know what story you're talking about; the club I was in watched a few oldies back when I was a kid. They called them razzies. This one was…quaint."
"Yes, Ma'am. I do like the idea of inspiring people though. I just hope a ship comes through so we can show them we can deliver. I mean, other than you, Ma'am," he said hastily.
"Not a problem, Lieutenant," Shelby said. "We're going to be here at least another ten days. Pick some of your best and brightest recruits and we'll see if we can ship them up for a tour of the ships. Really get them dreaming," she said wickedly.
"Aye aye, Captain," he said with a grin.
"Signing off," she said, cutting the channel as he came to atte
ntion and saluted.
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A week later Cynthia checked over a sample of the utility tools the company sent up for her approval. When she was done, she shook her head. “Zinc shells are fine, but they are using shoddy iron for their steel. It needs a lot more chromium or it will rust in wet environments. It's not holding an edge well either,” she said. “Either they don't know or they are getting cute with the chrome plating,” she said. “Or a subcontractor is. Cutting corners or not using the right process. Of course this is their first run…”
“So…”
“So, their quality control needs work. I for one wouldn't buy it,” Cynthia said dismissively. “I can see picking up a case to give them a helping hand, but we'd only be fooling them into thinking they have something worthwhile to sell. They need to rethink,” she said.
On that advice Captain Logan politely refused to carry the products, but she did buy several crates to sell or donate to other worlds. The purchase helped defray the cost of the equipment the company did end up purchasing.
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While she was distracted with the civilians, the two escort ships tangled again. First, over who got to refuel, Descartes pulled rank again. But then Captain Yu beat Captain Levinson three times in a row in their last round of sims, and apparently that didn't sit well with Oscar. Shelby knew Yu wasn't one to crow. Levinson on the other hand was, and he was one hell of a sore loser.
“Goddess of space, it's like having two squabbling children,” she growled. “I'm not sure if I'm glad I'm an only child or not,” she groused. She put them to work on training exercises to keep them busy. She was glad Captain F'lp of Bertha was quiet and unassuming. The Veraxin did his job with nary a complaint.
When they had some time, Shelby put a call in to each of the frigates. Captain Levinson was off duty, so she spoke first with Lieutenant Eddington. They exchanged pleasantries and a list of materials the frigate needed, then went on to a bit of shop talk. She picked up right way that the escorts still resented their babysitting roll, but liked seeing new places. “Leave on some of the worlds is okay. I'm a bit concerned about what we can catch on them, and yeah, getting rolled in some back alley, or hell, one of my sailors getting killed in some stupid brawl,” he admitted with a frown.