"Promise me you'll do something fun too." They both look at me like I don't understand. "Okay, promise me you'll do something not work related." Now they laugh. "If I leave you two alone here, promise me you won't stay more than 20 minutes."
I get a laughing ‘aye' out of each of them.
Then it's float down to Engineering. I have a plan this time to get her out of here, named meet your captain for dinner. I tell her, not ask her, tell her to meet me for dinner at the bar where they make those "tea" things at 1900. Then I float to my cabin, pack my duffel, do something I said I wouldn't which is download the ship's status reports and the first repair sheets from the station crew, then go find my temporary quarters.
It's a three bedroom suite. I should almost get myself killed more often. Constant flow shower gets a full on 20 minute test, I get dressed in my one civi outfit, and go to the bar. Powell joins me exactly at 1900, five minutes into my first "tea" and two minutes later Courtney and Olivia walk in unexpectedly. We move to a table for four, and have a real conversation for the first time in months, rank free.
Two admirals and one general are waiting for me next morning. Everingham starts, the last sentence in my log the first sentence out of his mouth.
"You think they're still in our space."
"Aye, Admiral, I have absolutely no doubt. Once we penetrated their defenses at Gamma Upsilon, it got way too easy. They used their zombie crew to distract us while they snuck off. They might be back in Theta or Omicron or Nu, or still in Upsilon, but they're there."
"I'm inclined to agree, so are John and Van." Stop with the first names already, I can't handle it. I assume John and Van are the two star admiral and four star general across from me. "I'll bring it up with the president, but these things need to be done delicately, it may take a while for his staff to see the light."
He turns the meeting over to Benson, and we go step by step through every decision, every fight, every action and every reaction. As usual, they don't second guess me, they are more interested in next time: how to improve our ships, our weapons, and our tactics.
I want the ship coating the bad guys have, I want multiple medium range missiles in some of my tubes rather than single long range weapons, I would prefer fewer cannons and more missiles. I figure I'm not getting any of it, Constitution might get some of it, but the replacement Saratoga and Independence probably will, and ships five and six, Chacabuco and Constellation, almost certainly will.
They conveniently ignore the fact that I warned Julio, or that the explosion was intentional, nothing hidden in my logs. On the other hand, it's also pretty clear that we don't know for sure what happened to Roenicke, it's end isn't on any of the corvette videos, and it's impossible to separate the debris we have by source.
Cuellar agrees with both me and Palmer that the Marines bring a lot more to the table than just muscle, approves my using them as I see fit and wants to get them through an advanced RISTA training course before we go back out.
They keep saying "back out," but they never attach a date to it. Scares me. Yorktown is a while from being ready.
They spend the last half hour ignoring me and discussing options for searching the four sectors with and without the cooperation of the administration. We did at least kill nearly a dozen ships full of zombies, that has to help a little. The downside is that some of those zombies were my friends, and I lost more friends who knew what was coming.
We finish at 2300, ChiNO floats away at high speed to jump for Canada system, I go get a good night's sleep.
Spend the next day bothering the repair crews, who assure me that the only real damage is to the outer hull, that they'll have everything inside her at 100 percent in a couple days. Three inch thick titanium alloys are tougher to work with.
Head to my favorite bar around 1800, only to discover why I need three bedrooms. My mom, dad, and baby sisters Kelly and Kaelyn have a table for five. A present from Everingham.
What I thought was going to be early to bed turns into the most fun evening I've had in a long time, talking about nothing, just enjoying being with them. We don't leave until both sisters have nodded off at least once, then I load everyone into their bedrooms and sleep soundly in mine.
We're sitting in the zero gee Mexican restaurant on Argo station 24 hours later after a day at the spa (even my dad submitted), when all the screens in the place go to the Presidential Seal, which is quickly replaced by an announcer who simply says, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the president of the Union of American States."
President Angelos is tall, overweight, kind of puffy, white haired, but charismatic nonetheless. He's wearing an expensive, tailored grey suit with a Union flag draped tie. When he speaks, his left hand grips the heavy wooden podium, his right is never at rest.
"My fellow Unionists. As you are aware, we suffered a terrible tragedy two weeks ago with the destruction of Carpenter Station and the loss of thousands of innocent lives. What you do not know, and I must now tell you, is that the terrorists who are responsible this heinous act are not only from outside Union space, they are not from human space."
"The Gamma sectors Omicron, Theta, Nu and Upsilon were invaded by an alien race known as the Libor. They have bribed or simply enslaved humans to work on their behalf, several of whom were responsible for the attack on Carpenter."
"Information we have gathered from their captured human confederates tells us they are a splinter group, expelled from their own planets, who sought to establish their own independent kingdom within Union territory."
"Elements of the Union Navy, led by Captain Katana Krieger and the frigate USS Yorktown, have cleared the invaders from our space. We have suffered significant losses of our fighting men and women in this effort, and our hearts and prayers go out to their families. They have made the most important sacrifice in the history of the Union Navy."
My dad reaches over and squeezes my arm with the mention of my name, Kaelyn kicks me under the table. I don't like what I'm hearing, but I can't say anything.
"I will ask the Congress of the Confederation to approve funding to restore the battleships Kennedy and Bolivar to temporary active duty, to construct two new frigates to replace those destroyed on Carpenter, and to double the construction rate of planetary defense boats. We will also provide grants to local systems for a variety of other planetary defense measures."
Now I'm almost sick to my stomach. Temporary duty. Double. Double means building four a year instead of two.
"Nothing is more important to my administration than the Union Navy and the safety of Union planets. Our ambassadors to the Empire and the Dynasty are meeting with leaders of our brother worlds as I speak to you, informing them of what has happened and enlisting their support. Our efforts, and our blood, have benefitted all mankind."
"Pictures and video are available on the Congressional information servers. You can sleep well tonight, knowing that our brave men and women in uniform have done, and will continue to do their duty. Good night. God bless you all, and God bless the Union of American States."
He's gone and the local commentators appear. They put up a photo of me cut from my last interview, way better than the mug shot they were using. The picture is replaced by the video of Yeager and me killing the Libor in all it's gruesomeness. Makes my mom cry. My dad gives me another squeeze. Kaelyn gives me a "gross."
And, suddenly, everyone in the restaurant is standing and applauding, a couple yelling my name. I'd tell them the truth if I could, but the best I can do is to call out a "thank you."
Everybody goes back to watching and listening, old video of the destruction of Orion, video of Fitz's in the mine field, of our corvettes taking out three ships. Listening to commentators who are guessing, even about things they should know.
In the middle of us blowing up an asteroid, two armed Marines appear in the restaurant, there to escort us to the shuttle to Grissom. The restaurant manager trades ripping up my bill for a photo with him and his staff. I oblige, Kaelyn making faces a
t me while it happens.
Restless sleep is the best I can do, despite the silk sheets and proximity of my family. Kelly and Kaelyn come crawl in with me about 0200, and I drop away into the best sleep I've had in a long while, my good arm draped across the two of them.
Some thoughtful idiot has breakfast delivered at 0730, though mom and dad were already up and about. We eat it all, my mom refusing to turn the local morning shows on. They're going home this afternoon, time together is precious. We lounge around half dressed, talking about the farm, high school, boys, and my impending nieces until it's time for them to go. They rate military transport now, Rio Grande a lot less comfortable then civilian transports, but safer.
We have a tearful goodbye at the docking port, and I stand there long after their ship is out of sight. I might still be standing there, except my pad beeps, tells me Miley Langston will be at my ready room in an hour.
Already dressed, I float down to Yorktown's bay, a bee hive's worth of people floating around her, patching the hull. It's quiet on the inside, most of the work done, a couple of Marines, not ours, standing guard on the bridge and outside Engineering.
Langston shows right on cue with the same old guy on the camera and Benson's aide in tow. He's lost a little weight, the boss probably making him work on those zero gee exercises just in case.
I already have the nav display up on one screen and the life support page up on the other. I was going to use the engine panel, but it's too red when we're docked.
Miley starts right in.
"Katana, same rules as last time, we can edit out any pauses or slips of the tongue, just let me know."
"Thanks."
She waves at the camera man, the bright light comes on and we're rolling.
"Good morning. I'm Miley Langston for the UnionOne Network and once again we're lucky enough to be floating in the Captain's ready room aboard USS Yorktown with Captain Katana Krieger. Thanks for sparing the time for us, Katana."
"My pleasure, Miley."
She quizzes me for an hour, I do my duty and talk about the Navy, talk about doing our jobs, do my best to make everyone feel safe in their beds.
And, truthfully, if the bad guys only know how to make T jumps, if they have no ships bigger than what Benson now calls the Football class, if we put ships into the two systems that border their space, Gamma Upsilon and Gamma Nu, and if they don't find a way into the Dynasty space further along, odds are we can defend our territory. But that's a lot of ifs.
During the interview, my pad beeped, but I ignored it on camera. Afterwards, I discovered I had another duty to perform. At precisely 1600, in my dress uniform except the hair unleashed along my back, I descend the tunnel from Yorktown's hatch to the ground, my velcro shoes attaching to the black carpet below.
There's a line, standing at attention, waiting for me. A definite protocol for everything that comes next.
I stop in front of the first man, return his salute and offer him my hand.
"Lieutenant Bass, it's been an honor. Kennedy is getting a fine officer to lead her RISTA team."
"Thank you, sir."
I stop in front of the second man, return his salute and offer him my hand.
"Ensign Marcos, it's been an honor. Your experience will be invaluable to Constitution."
"Thank you, sir."
I stop in front of the third person, return her salute and offer her my hand.
"Petty Officer Wallace, it's been an honor. Bolivar is getting an outstanding pilot."
"Thank you, sir."
I stop in front of the fourth man, return his salute and offer him my hand.
"Petty Officer Blair, it's been an honor. Midway will benefit from your experience."
"Thank you, sir."
I stop in front of the fifth man, return his salute and offer him my hand.
"Lt. Commander Ayala, it's been an honor. Kennedy is getting an outstanding Second Officer."
"Thank you, sir."
I take a step back, turn to my left, as much snap as I can muster in my velcro shoes.
"Transfers approved, dismissed." One final salute while they turn and walk quietly toward whatever awaits them.
I knew I'd lose Marcos, he's still not recovered enough to be certified for flight duty, it'll be six months before Constitution actually needs a pilot. Adding Gomez meant we were overstaffed at RISTA, and getting the Kennedy assignment is a definite step up for Bass, at least on paper.
After everything he's been through, I'm not surprised Blair asked out, and Wallace gets the chance to fly a ship 80 times our size. Ayala must have impressed somebody, apparently he was requested for the Kennedy post, though not by the new skipper, Admiral Lee.
I have a lot of holes to fill in my ship's roster, four in Engineering alone, before we get sent out again.
There's one more notification on my pad, but it isn't a problem yet.
Shelby Perez is officially the captain nominee of USS Saratoga, FA-3, but I get to hold on to her for another six months or so until the ship is far enough along in construction that having a live captain on board makes sense, just as I spent the last year of Yorktown's construction on board. She's replacing Captain Bumbry, my classmate at the Academy, who didn't make it out of the first Saratoga keel when Carpenter went up in flames.
Not worried about that just now, I float back to my quarters, get back into my civi clothes, and float to the Indian restaurant for a celebratory dinner with Shelby and Tony.
It's 1000 hours by the time I haul my butt out of the silk sheets next morning, missing my sisters immensely. Message on my pad to meet Benson and Everingham for lunch in ChiNO's office at 1200. Just enough time to get in a run, wash the hair, and get tidied up.
They make sure I get to eat before we talk about anything serious, Everingham wants to know how my parents' visit went, and he wants to show off the pictures of his grandkids.
Finally, the food is gone, and they get serious.
"I spent six hours discussing the situation with the president." Everingham is fidgety, never seen that from him before. "He is adamant that we've removed the threat, and that the intel on these Libor is correct. They were outcasts, not representative of their kind."
"He wants to open a dialog with them, we think we've identified their home world, and he wants to make allies out of them before the Dynasty beats us to it. We all assume that the Empire is too far away, they have no sectors that border Libor space."
He looks at me, the same look I got before they sent me after Bainbridge.
"I argued that he should send Kennedy, or at worst one of the cruiser groups, but he wouldn't hear of it. Two weeks from today, Yorktown is jumping to Libor Prime, you're going to lead the first contact expedition."
It's a good thing I already ate.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 4.1
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Yorktown: Katana Krieger #1 Page 32