by Chris Hechtl
Once the crew had all received a day of rest, food, and a decent shower, the medics took them in one by one for a full physical. Part of the physical was to assess the mental health of the crew as well. A few were reported on edge, but due to medical ethics Marty was reluctant to identify them. He did report a quarter of the crew needed sleep aides. All the crew were underweight and malnourished. Vitamin and supplement stocks were running low.
“We can bump up both in the food replicators,” the Admiral said. “I'm not certain of the calorie level though.”
“I'll look into it,” Marty replied with a nod. “Everyone is different though,” he said. “We have a few people that need additional vitamin A. The deficiency has led to damage to their eye sight.”
The Admiral nodded. “Is there a fix?”
“We're looking into it. What you and the Commander have provided has been a lifesaver many times over Admiral. My thanks,” Marty said.
The Admiral had Sprite and Bounty reboot the medical database, and the medics dived into cybernetic augmentation research, building off what the Admiral and Proteus had started. Doctor Glenn requested a civilian implant from the Admiral to make things easier. The Admiral created a medical replicator and explained how to create civilian grade identity implants. Those that wanted an implant were given the pill and instructions on how it would work when they returned to sickbay three days later for a follow up to their physical.
Sprite judged that less than ten percent of the crew had the genetic mods for easy upgrade.
<----*----*----*---->
A crewman rushed down the companionway, stumbled and then bounced off a bulkhead. Ian caught her before she could fall. “Easy,” he said when she flinched. He set her on her feet and then let go. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“What's the rush?”
“We're...” she gasped a ragged gasp.
“Okay, deep breath. Calm. Feel the calm. Deep down from the belly,” Ian said. “Whatever it is, it'll keep for a moment.”
“But...”
“Take a deep breath...”
“But... sir...”
“A deep breath,” he said. She made a show of inhaling and slowly exhaling.
“Again,” he said. She did so. “Okay,” he said nodding as she settled down. “What's so urgent?”
“I'm late for my shift. Kinja's going to skin me.”
“Not likely,” Ian said. “I'll let her know you are on your way. What else?”
“Mister Takagi said we're out of material for the number two replicator again. The crew got hung up on it. We need a better way around it. He's pissed, the schedule's slipping. He asked me to look into it.”
“Well, you can't be in two places at once, reporting for duty and getting that sorted out. I'll look into it,” Ian said. “You report in. Tell Kinja you were with Takagi and then me.”
“Ah... she may not believe me. Waldo, Grace, and Karmen have been...”
“We know,” Ian grimaced. “They are our problem. Tell her I told you so.”
Her face clouded. He looked up with a frown. “Bounty?”
“Yes Captain McGuyver?”
“Can you let Kinja or whoever is in charge of engineering this shift know Miss Rita is on her way?”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” Ian smiled slightly. “See? No problem. Don't get so uptight over it. Relax. We all need to relax a bit.”
“Aye sir.” She still seemed anxious though.
“Go,” he said, waving. She nodded and took off, this time at a trot.
He snorted and shook his head. “Bounty, what is the hold up with the replicator?”
“Replicator three is currently tasked with the skinsuit job for the crew. That requires a steady supply of plastics and other materials. Those are sorely lacking in the salvage, it isn't a priority.”
“Ah, I see,” Ian said, nodding. “Where else?”
“Some of the materials are coming from the ships during recycling, but we're also getting a supply of fresh gases and materials from the gas giant refinery. A shuttle is overdue to go pick up a supply. Both shuttles with the range are down due to maintenance.”
Ian scowled. “I'll have to talk to Mister Cortez about his scheduling.”
“I think everyone is a bit excited and a little too enthusiastic about restoring the ships,” Bounty agreed. “And I freely admit I didn't catch it either.”
Ian smiled slightly. “Glad to know you AI aren't omniscient.”
“Far from it,” Bounty replied. “I'm still recovering myself. Bounty is my body so to speak.”
“I see. So, when do we get a shuttle out?”
“Tomorrow,” Mister Cortez's voice replied from the speaker, making Ian twitch in surprise. “End of shift at the latest. I'll have the Skyhawk up. If that's okay with you and if you keep the interruptions and the breathing down my neck to a minimum,” the old man growled.
Ian smirked. “Do my best.”
“Sure you will,” Cortez growled and then the link clicked.
“Bounty...”
“I can't control what people say or think.”
“Yeah well, next time warn me when you hook someone into a conversation,” Ian sighed. “And work with Mister Takagi. See if he can bump up the plastics priority. Or send an e-mail to the Admiral asking if he can create a dedicated plastic recycler.”
“It will take some time. We have restored the machine shops and replicator compartment in what has up until now been used as a cargo bay. But this ship was never built to handle heavy industrial processes on board. We're running out of space.”
“Let me worry about that for now,” Ian said, rubbing his jaw. “Once we get a handle on logistics we won't need so many cargo bays right?”
“No. But we will need to restore the gym to keep the crew's health up now that they are rebuilding muscle mass and regaining their strength. Right now it's a dungeon. One no one will go near for obvious reasons.”
“Send bots in to document it and take it apart then,” Ian growled.
“Good idea. I do wish we'd get this rank sorted out though.”
“One thing at a time,” Ian breathed, shaking his head as he continued on his way.
<----*----*----*---->
Ian nodded to Rory Gustov as they entered the mess together. They noted the Admiral was there, answering questions. The two newcomers took a tray and went through the line. When they were done the people around the Admiral had thinned out a bit as some went on shift.
“This seat taken?” Gustov asked, indicating an empty chair. It was practically wrapped in riggers tape. It was probably as old as the ship, if not older.
“If you can stand it,” Ian said. “I noticed your lunch is getting cold Admiral,” he said, setting his tray down.
The Admiral looked at his half eaten sandwich and snorted. “I've been a bit busy,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. He grimaced. “Cold,” he said. He put his right index finger into the drink. After a moment it heated to steaming.
“Okay, now that's showing off,” Gustov said, smiling slightly.
“No, just practical,” the Admiral replied.
“Lazy you mean,” Sprite teased him. He smiled slightly. She would pay for that taunt he thought.
“How goes the brig?” The Admiral asked Gustov, ignoring the dig.
“So far so good. We've had few problems. Bard wasn't too happy about the newcomers.”
“Tough.”
“Is he playing king rooster in the hen house?” The Admiral asked.
“No. An engineering officer is the only ranking officer. The only surviving officer I believe,” Gustov replied, picking at his porridge.
“Good.”
“So, now what?” Gustov asked. “I mean us. What now?”
“Good question,” Ian said, turning from Gustov to the Admiral. He cocked his head as he picked his own coffee cup up and took a casual sip.
The Admiral frowned. “I can't bring b
ack the people you've lost,” the Admiral said, looking meaningfully at Ian. The civilian winced.
“No, no you can't,” he said softly. “What is done is done. She would have wanted me to move on.”
Gustov looked at his friend thoughtfully. Slowly he nodded. He glanced around, noting the unobtrusive looks and ears. Most of the compartment had quieted not to eat, but to listen.
“But, I can give you something else. A purpose. A chance to not only get even, but to stop the Horathians in their tracks.”
“They say the best revenge is to live well and fully,” Sprite said. “Some people hate it that you can move on.”
“Some of us can. Some are still at ends, not sure what to do. The idea of having a new purpose though,” Ian said cocking his head. “It sounds good. In theory.”
“It is all up to you. If you are willing.”
“Willing... you mean sign on?” Gustov asked.
The Admiral nodded. “I restarted the Navy and Marines in Pyrax, and there are detachments in Antigua, Epsilon, and other star systems.”
“You really are serious,” Ian said thoughtfully. The Admiral nodded.
“Well, I already said I'm in,” Gustov said. “If only to get some payback. Besides, it's not like we've got anywhere to go, I mean, anywhere that is safe.”
“True,” Ian murmured. “Sort of simplifies things a bit,” he said.
“The threat of a hanging always does tend to focus the mind,” Sprite interjected. The Admiral snorted softly.
Gustov shifted uncomfortably and then grimaced. He reached down and took his holster off.
The Admiral studied it as the man put it on the table in front of him. “It's chafing,” Gustov said.
“I see.”
Proteus scanned the weapon and then placed a diagram over it. The image unfolded into an exploded diagram. Irons immediately recognized it as a hand held Gauss pistol, something he hadn't expected. He also was surprised when the AI pointed out the thing was almost new.
“Marine?” the Admiral asked, changing the subject. He dragged his eyes away from the pistol to Gustov's gray ones.
“Marine sir?” Gustov asked.
“We have them in Pyrax. With your background you would be a natural. Or ship's security. Though I don't really see you as an MP.”
“I think you mentioned it before sir. I'm okay with the Marines. I'm actually looking forward to it,” Gustov replied. “If that's okay with you sir.”
“Marine officer,” the Admiral amplified.
“Officer?”
“Someone needs to lead. You've done an exemplary job so far.”
“Yes sir,” Gustov replied, smiling slight as he sat straighter.
“Now I see the bigger picture,” Sprite murmured. “A nice bit of recruiting, I think. Very nice. A shared conflict to bond over, one to showcase your leadership and engineering skills. A common enemy to fight. Springboard that into a recruiting drive. Admiral, you can be sneaky,” she said for his ears alone. “Did anyone try to get you to play recruiting officer before you met me?” She asked with a chuckle.
“You think I should sign on Admiral?” Ian asked, staring into his eyes.
Irons frowned. “It is entirely up to you. Your ship will be restored I believe. We'll get to it, I hope. But we need officers. Good officers. People who can lead, who can fight. Who can man a ship. Who eventually can fill my shoes in a couple decades.”
“Decades...” Ian murmured.
“You'll get the full works. Sign on bonuses, training, medical... that includes any treatments necessary, implants, and anti-aging treatments,” Sprite said, doing her bit to set the hook properly. “Along with that is a college education, pay for family, medical for family, and a pension when you retire. I've got a website up if you are interested in reviewing the pros and cons of signing up.”
“Pros and cons?” Ian asked thoughtfully. He noted the AI had put an icon in his vision. On his HUD, he thought. He was still getting used to that.
“Yes. I didn't pull any punches, I didn't sugar coat it. Well, not a lot,” Sprite said.
Ian's lips tugged in a slight smile at that admission.
They ate in silence. The Admiral excused himself and took care of his tray. He got half way to the drop off point with it when someone gently took it and murmured they would take care of it. He nodded and then waved to Gustov and Ian as he left.
“Think they will sign on?”
“I think Ian is at ends. Gustov already said he would. Of course, he could change his mind. Some people do. But Ian... I think he's looking for a new purpose. Something else to do, something bigger than himself. Bigger than ship command.”
“I think he may have found it Admiral,” Sprite said. “If he can handle it.”
“He can. If anyone on this ship can, it's him,” the Admiral said loyally.
“Nice. Do you have any idea on numbers? Any you are shooting for? I know you aren't going to get them all,” Sprite said. “We've still got psychological issues, not to mention trauma to deal with,” she reminded him.
“I know,” the Admiral replied as he made his way on his rounds. He nodded in passing to various work crews. They waved him on, smiling. “Not all will sign on, but I bet many will,” he said, now sounding a little smug. “After all, payback is a bitch. Many of them really want to stick it to the Horathian's and sign their names. It's all they have left.”
“With their background? Hell yes,” Sprite replied. “Admiral, the psych review might flag that. We can't have fanatics blinded by hatred. They have to be focused and detail oriented.”
“Obviously,” the Admiral replied. “Counseling will help somewhat. We'll have to let the medics take things on a case by case basis.”
“And only enter into it if you have to? Right,” Sprite said. “Though I suggest making yourself available too. I can't do much on that end. Some, but not a lot.”
“I know. The medication in the food?”
“Yes. You noticed?”
“Yes. The Glenns?” Irons asked, rounding a corner. He bumped into the blue haired woman, Grace. He stepped aside as she ducked around him. He watched her go and then nodded.
“Yes. Nutritional supplements mostly,” Sprite replied. “Some metafactors to help with lingering injuries. I think he'll taper off on those shortly since there isn't a lot in the ship's supply.”
“No, but if he signed on too...”
“I'll be sure to put a bee in his bonnet Admiral,” Sprite laughed.
<----*----*----*---->
One week to the day after their liberation Gustov and Ian met the Admiral in the Captain's office. The Admiral nodded to them as he entered. “Something I can do for you two gentlemen?” he asked.
“Admiral, we'd like to sign on,” Gustov said simply, standing at attention as the Admiral went around the desk and stood there.
“Sign on? I thought you were already.”
“I mean in the military sir. If you'll still have us,” Gustov said.
“I still don't even know your first name,” the Admiral joked.
Gustov grimaced. “It's Rory sir.” His face cleared. “I'm not fond of it.”
“All right. Gustov then. We tend to go by last names in the military anyway. Why do you want to join? And what branch?”
“Because you were right. We want to make a difference. This shouldn't happen,” he said waving a hand. “To us, or to anyone. Someone has to stop it from happening again. We can't expect someone else to come to our rescue,” Gustov replied. “We'd be waiting forever if we had. Sometimes you have to stand on your own. Be the one.”
“Hero,” the Admiral murmured.
“I'm no hero sir. If anyone is, it's you.”
“I'm not one either,” the Admiral said, waving a hand. “I'm just remembering a song, and some stuff from the twenty first century. My mom loved some of the music from that time period. She was eclectic; she listened to anything that moved her. This one song, it stuck in my head.” He sank into his chair.
“Nickel something?” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, I had a talk with my parents about it, and it's one of the things that put me on the path to where I am now. The realization that someone has to do something, and sometimes, that's you. You may not think you are what it takes, you may not think you can win, but you don't have a choice.”
“Pretty much everything in a nutshell we've been going through here,” Ian said with a smile. “I'm in too.” He shrugged. “For the same reasons.”
“You don't want Deianira?” the Admiral asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ian spread his hands. “If we can get her moving again?” He shrugged. “I'd want a command eventually. I'm good at it, I know that.” The Admiral nodded. “But I can't go back. There are too many ghosts there. Painful ones,” he said.
“Okay. Navy obviously, officer,” the Admiral said, nodding to Ian. He turned to Gustov. “Navy or Marines?”
“Put me where I can get my hands dirty and I can shoot stuff sir,” Gustov said.
“Marine? Marines shoot things, they run around in powered combat armor and do a lot of shooting.”
“That's me then sir,” Gustov replied, deadpan.
“Officer,” Irons said, not a question. Gustov looked at him but remained silent. Irons nodded. “All right, I'll have Commander Sprite draw up the necessary papers and she or Bounty will go over them with you. They are pretty comprehensive, and I am offering a sign on bonus that we can work out later.”
“Being paid would be nice,” Ian replied dryly.
“I don't care. As long as I get some payback,” Gustov growled. “And a decent bed and meal.”
“We'll give you a bit more than that,” the Admiral replied. “Mister McGuyver, based on your prior experience and service in the mutiny and its aftermath, how does a Lieutenant Commander rank fit?”
“It works sir,” Ian replied with a shrug.
“Fine. And for you Mister Gustov,” Irons turned and paused to smile briefly. Gustov looked at him expectantly. “I think a Marine First Lieutenant's position works.”
Gustov's eyes widened briefly before he nodded. “Yes sir. And Lewis?”
“Everyone can sign on. The military is volunteer.”