by B. V. Larson
Because he was in charge of the schedule, I didn’t argue with him. I liked to have one of us on the bridge at all times.
“Sounds good. Oh, and start having Chief Bradley shadow you as officer of the deck. If he works out, he’ll be warranted to stand command watch.” Right now all I had in the way of commanders was Hansen, Sakura, Adrienne and me—with Kwon in a pinch. We’d lost the gunnery and medical warrant officers in the original ring mishap.
“Aye aye, sir. I have the watch.”
When I left the bridge, Adrienne followed. I glanced at her, trying to gauge her mood. She appeared to be all business. She didn’t look at me, and I decided not to look at her. She’d followed me without asking, so it was up to her to tell me what she wanted.
A stop at the wardroom gave her an excuse to speak as I pulled a plastic beer bottle out of the chiller and popped it open. When I dropped my eyes from the first long pull, I found Adrienne holding an open one herself, finishing a swallow. Unusual, that. She detested the factory-brewed stuff. I waited to see what all this meant.
Adrienne cleared her throat and then tipped the bottle’s neck to clunk against mine with the distinctly unsatisfying non-clink of plastic.
“Cheers,” she said.
“You too,” I responded. “Are we cool?”
“If by that peculiar Americanism you’re wondering if I’m still in a snit…then no, I am not. Yes, we’re cool. Let’s talk, shall we?” While her words might have been light, her expression seemed somber.
Encouraged, I slid into a chair. “I’m sorry if—” I began, but she cut me off.
She held up a firm hand, still frowning. “No, sir, it was I who was out of line. I’m not really Star Force—or at least I’m very new to everything.” She searched my face with concern. “How are you holding up?”
I took another drink to avoid looking into those deep, blue eyes. “Well enough, I guess. Professionally I’m satisfied, but I can’t say I’m happy.”
“We lost people today. People—” Her voice hitched and then came back after she sipped from her beer. “People I knew—at least some of them. Petty officer Sultan, for example. She and I used to play handball at the ice moon base…”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “It’s hit me hard, too. Probably we haven’t fully felt it.”
“What I mean is,” she went on, “I just now truly realized how serious our jobs are, especially yours. This isn’t a lark, and there’s no place out here for personal concerns. Our heads have to be clear. I know now why you kept me at arm’s length, and I have to agree. You can’t have me second-guessing your orders, and I can’t expect to share every meal with you when others can’t.”
“Well, people can sit at our table whenever they want,” I protested weakly.
“They won’t though, so I’ve decided that we can’t do this anymore.”
I held my teeth together to keep my jaw from sagging in disappointment. “Can’t share a meal?”
“Not alone.” Adrienne paused, idly smoothing a napkin on the table. “You know, I’ve done some reading on the topic of old Royal Navy customs. The captain would dine by himself or he might invite officers in rotation to share a meal in his cabin. His steward and perhaps a midshipman served even then so he was never really alone with any officer. Once a week, or as often as his personal supplies held out, he would invite all the officers to a real dinner party. Also, he would only eat in the wardroom when invited by the other officers as the captain’s presence was deemed inhibiting to their comfort.”
I slammed my bottle down causing the cheap beer to foam. “This isn’t the Royal Navy, Adrienne, and I’m not a sea captain. I’m not going to set up some kind of weird formality based on nineteenth-century customs.”
“I’m just trying to point out that there are other ways to do things that might help mitigate morale problems. You want it both ways, Captain Riggs. You want me all to yourself socially at meals, but you also want to be chaste and innocent of any deeper relationship in the eyes of the crew. You don’t sit down socially with Hansen or Sakura or even Kwon, and yet you expect instant respect and obedience from me on the bridge.”
“Oh, so now you know more about command than I do?” I knew I was being unprofessional, but the words sprang out of their own accord.
Adrienne lifted her eyes to meet mine. “I know about class and hierarchy because I was brought up with wealth and social standing. I grew up with servants who were valued members of the household but nevertheless were not family. There were boundaries not to be crossed, but within those boundaries there was kindness and respect. That’s why I’ve come to realize you were right. However, you’ve got all this theory from books and from the oddity of four years at the Academy. My understanding comes from a lifetime of experience.”
“So,” I said, “let’s hear it. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Refusing to be baited, Adrienne remained thoughtful. “This ship is like my father’s estate. Without economic incentives, status and the favor of the powerful means everything, because there’s no outlet beyond this ship. No one has a family to go home to or a bar in which to carouse. These seventy-odd remaining souls are it. For example, you just handed Bradley a plum—if he can handle it. With a word, you elevated him to the aristocracy in your kingdom.”
“Is there a point here?” Part of me knew I shouldn’t be, but I was getting irritated at this alternate version of Olivia lecturing me about my job.
Patiently, Adrienne continued. “Everything else on this ship runs on a system. Back at the undersea base, we’d started working out our social system naturally. It helped a great deal that no one was shooting at us for a while. However, the training program and the twelve three-person frigate crews broke that up. Now you need to start implementing some kind of social system or it will form naturally, but it will be warped under the pressure of combat.”
I rolled my eyes. “So all I need to do is invite people to dinner once a week?”
“Now you’re being deliberately obtuse. How can someone so smart with tactics be so stupid with people?”
I paused, realizing I’d finally pissed her off. Was that what I wanted? I told myself it wasn’t, and that I should listen with an open mind. It was hard because I really did want her company—alone.
Adrienne dumped her beer on the smart metal deck and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “That’s the last time I drink this swill in comradeship with you, Ensign Riggs, and from now on our meals together will be only in the company of others. Good day.”
She stood up and marched out of the wardroom.
Once the door had shut I hurled my bottle against the wall and tossed hers next for good measure. Who did she think she was, trying to run my command? Telling me who I could and couldn’t eat with? Modern people didn’t need all that social rigmarole to maintain discipline. I had four years of leadership studies behind me and all the stories from my old man packed into my brain, and that was all I needed. After two more beers I was even more convinced I was right, especially when Sakura and Hansen came to the wardroom and got some food from the auto-galley.
One step above packaged rations, food produced by the galley took the form of factory-made pastes combined with available spices. After it cooked them in various ways—anything fried tended to be popular—it dispensed meals to order. I sat down with the two warrant officers. They both greeted me respectfully and made small talk, but neither seemed comfortable.
Maybe they had a thing going and I was the third wheel. Sakura was wearing makeup, which was unusual, and maybe even perfume. With a little help even her stocky figure looked pretty decent, and a guy couldn’t fault her straightforward personality. Maybe she’d settle Hansen down a bit if they got together.
As soon as I politely could, I finished and left, grabbing a six-pack on the way out. I was feeling pretty good by that time but once alone and in my quarters my mood turned dark, and I headed for the dead Captain’s cabin. What the hell, Sir William didn’t need his b
ooze anymore. He was Panda droppings by now. I shook my head grimly and muttered to myself. A crewman passing me in the passageway threw me an odd glance.
In the captain’s stateroom I finished off what I had brought, and then found a couple of Belgian bottles aptly decorated with a horned devil on them. I polished them off while the high-resolution wall-screen displayed random views of Earth’s wonders. Punching up the Yosemite program, my favorite, I passed out on the sofa looking at Half Dome beneath a blazing sunset.
I wondered if I’d ever see it again with my own eyes.
-34-
Waking up was unpleasant, but I’d been hung over worse. Valiant’s voice insisted I get up and start my shift in fifteen minutes, enough time to run a hot shower and change underwear. Checking my chrono, I cursed.
“Valiant, why wasn’t I awakened at the start of my shift?”
“You didn’t respond to the alarm. Warrant Officer Hansen rescheduled your watch one rotation later.”
Damn. I felt like a fool getting drunk and sleeping through my duty. I never should have added those Devil-brand beers on top of the others. They packed a punch. Well, as I worked as hard or harder than anyone else, I decided to forgive myself and forget about it.
When I stepped onto the bridge, I acted like nothing was wrong. I nodded to Kwon, who was officer of the deck right then. That in itself was a rebuke. Kwon was utterly trustworthy and reliable within his comfort zone but was completely out of his depth commanding ships.
Fortunately Valiant was capable of following a course on its own until I reached the bridge…assuming I was sober.
Thinking about the empty bridge depressed me. Obviously, I wasn’t as good a commander as I’d been telling myself I was. I’d missed my shift and gotten nearly a dozen people killed so far on this mission.
Kicking myself into gear, I checked on the two damaged frigates. I felt relieved to see that one had been restored to mobility. On the other the crew had been rescued, and the ship destroyed as I’d ordered.
“Go below, Kwon, you’re relieved,” I said.
The big man grinned and saluted as he hastened away, probably on his way to have a beer and a date with Steiner. I could tell he’d been uncomfortable standing watch on the bridge.
Hansen had given me some extra sleep, but he’d also cleverly paid me back. We were about six hours from arrival at Prime, which meant I really had a shift and a half, as I wasn’t about to leave the bridge during the approach. I mentally saluted him. Subtle rebukes didn’t bother me as long as he didn’t do it publicly. Anyway, I deserved some punishment for my sins, and everyone else could use the time off. I expected them all here during any emergency no matter whether it was their watch or not. How could I expect any less of myself?
The holotank now showed a highly detailed representation of the system as Valiant had ample time to gather sensor readings as we flew. The Lithos still barreled ponderously toward Prime, and the damaged Raptor fleet was just behind us also hurrying home for repairs.
On the outward side of the planet and far beyond it, I saw a group of Raptor ships still under hard acceleration. Zooming in, I counted about a hundred vessels similar to the ones we accompanied: warships. These must be their reinforcements, their relief fleet, hurrying to get home in time to fight the Lithos. They weren’t going to make it, though. They would be several hours late.
Tracking their course backward, I saw they’d originated at Six, the farthest, Mars-like world at the edge of the system. While I couldn’t be sure, I could think of only one reason a fleet that large should be stationed there.
The second ring.
“Valiant, hail Marvin.” Once he’d acknowledged, I said, “Good job with the two frigates, Captain Marvin. How are you doing with the translation?”
“Ready when you are, Captain Riggs.”
“You seem in a good mood, Marvin.”
“I’m in an excellent mood. With so much to do, I’ve finally approached full utilization of my neural capacities.”
“Too much brainpower can be a curse, eh, Marvin?”
Marvin didn’t reply for a moment, as if he was parsing my meaning. “I never thought of that, but you’re correct. With increased neural circuitry comes increased room for boredom. Perhaps I should consider dumbing myself down to a near-human level.”
“Funny robot. Did you notice the ring at the sixth planet?” By risking an educated guess, I wanted to impress Marvin with my own brainpower. Too often he seemed to forget he didn’t know everything.
“You have confirmation?”
“Just keep looking, Marvin,” I said airily. “You’ll find it. In the meantime, give me a briefing on these Raptors. I presume you have decoded imagery?”
A moment later a graphic appeared in the forward viewscreen and the watch-standers there started to chatter.
“So, this is a Raptor?” I asked, examining the picture. “I thought they’d be hawks. These look like ostriches—giant, mean ostriches.”
A large, flightless, predatory bird was the closest analogue I could think of. The picture was a sort of group portrait. They had long necks, two thick legs and deadly claws. Unlike earthly birds, they had leathery skin and tails, rather than feathers. The mottle-brown creatures posed and stood in a formal line. They were all at least partially clothed, and I couldn’t determine their genders. Each displayed needle-pointed teeth in a long flat snout—or maybe it was a beak. They stood upright and dragged thick tails on the ground behind them like kangaroos. The tails ended in a ball of spikes. In fact, the more I looked at them, the more they looked like a cross between a prehistoric bird and a kangaroo—minus the fur.
“Are those freaky tail spikes natural?” I asked.
“Yes, they are. In fact, that is the species’ greatest natural weapon. I’ve gathered from their transmissions that although their society uses tools and is quite technologically advanced—nearly equal to our own—they maintain primitive social traditions.”
“Our modern tech level isn’t all that advanced, Marvin. There was a massive intervention by the Nanos and Macros. Our technology and culture are still trying to absorb it all. If these people developed these ships all on their own—they are quite impressive no matter how their social structure operates.”
“I believe there was a similar technological intervention here. Certain design elements of their ships and machinery suggest Nano technology has been used as opposed to indigenous nanotechnology, if you can comprehend the difference.”
“Got it, Marvin.” I put my feet up on the console in front of me, staring at the critter. “The spikes in their tails seem to correspond to their ship tactics,” I observed. “I can imagine these things in their primitive past running up to some meat critter, poking it with a stick, and then running away and whacking it with their tails when it charges them until it is dinner. Do you have images of these beings in their normal society, in an urban or military setting?”
On the screen appeared four pictures of Raptors in a sampling of locales that could almost have been Earth. One showed a warrior with a firearm of some type and utilitarian clothing. The warrior had devices draped about it, walking down a trail. On others I saw scenes probably captured from their version of netvids—a parent with offspring in a jungle setting, a family in a ground vehicle, and a group playing some kind of sport with a spherical ball.
“Do the clothing styles indicate gender?” I asked.
“Yes, the bright clothing is worn by the males who, by the way, have retractable display ruffs around their necks. The females wear muted colors. Of course, this tendency is subordinate to their professional attire though it still shows through for one sufficiently observant to pick out the subtleties. In fact, you can see…”
I let Marvin ramble on, briefing me on Raptor society as I tried to retain as much as I could. Any detail might be useful. However, after a certain point my mind rebelled with information overload. I felt like I’d been transported back to the Academy and it was time for class t
o end.
“Thanks, Marvin. Please package all that up into a briefing. Try to be concise, no more than half an hour, and transmit it to every duty station for the crew to observe. Keep the content at a level anyone can understand, all right? And emphasize that these people are to be our allies, not our enemies.”
“Gladly, Captain Riggs.” Marvin really did sound delighted. “Packaging data for consumption by unsophisticated persons is a challenging and worthwhile endeavor.”
“Great. Now bring Greyhound in to join our squadron. I don’t want our new friends getting the wrong idea with you lurking out there.”
“I think lurking is a pejorative term, sir. I prefer ‘distant reconnaissance.’”
“‘Keeping a safe distance’ is another descriptive possibility. I’ll tell you what, robot, I’ll send a frigate out and escort you back in so it’s clear you’re with us. God knows they could mistake that monstrosity you’ve turned Greyhound into for something hostile.”
“I still think—”
“Marvin, do it. At the first sign of hostility you can bug out, but for now I want you nearby and firmly identified as one of us.”
Marvin dropped the channel then. As soon as the frigate neared him he rendezvoused with us without incident. The Raptors didn’t even twitch although we detected they had active sensors pinging away at Greyhound.
Once his ship had rejoined our formation, Marvin made words form in the holotank, which only I was near. Captain Riggs, please go to your stateroom for a private captains’ conference.
Interesting. So there was something Marvin didn’t want the rest of the crew to hear. Or at least, he wanted me to choose to tell them. I typed back, Captain’s cabin, then announced, “I’ll be in the old captain’s quarters for a few minutes. Valiant, call Kwon to the bridge.” Once he relieved me, I took the call at Sir William’s old desk.
“Now what’s this secret?” I demanded.
“Not secret—unless you make it so—but unusual. Possibly sensitive. I’m still stymied by the nuances of human social interactions, but this information seems potentially controversial.”