by Chris Hechtl
“I'm just doing my duty, sir.”
“I know. I appreciate a straight shooter,” Admiral Irons replied. “Go have some fun.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I ordered fresh stocks to be taken on each of the ships. I believe the station has a small fish farm. Tilapia mostly.” He saw the seal grimace slightly. “Sorry, best they've got for the moment. Bio-fish is being grown too.”
“Understood sir. I guess fresh fish is better than flavored tofu. I prefer salt water fish myself,” Martha said as she blew water out of her gill slits.
“Have a fish fry or something. I'll have them send over lemons or whatever you want,” Admiral Irons offered.
“That'd be fun,” Rish said as he bobbed a nod. The others nodded as well as he turned to look at the admiral. “Thank you, sir. We appreciate it,” the helmsman said with a nod and wiggle of his whiskers.
“Be ready to transfer over at 0700 hours tomorrow.”
“We'll be packed and ready, sir.”
“Good,” he said as he left the compartment.
Major Burrows fell into step behind him. He glanced over his shoulder but the Marine didn't say anything so he kept going to his own compartment to finalize his plans.
:::{)(}:::
A day later the four ships and a series of shuttles from the station met up in space. He assembled the team at the lock. “It's been an honor, sir,” Captain Pong said formally.
“The honor is all mine Captain. You and your crew do fine work. I'll get your helm team back to you when I can.”
“Yes, sir. We'll be waiting here until you do,” the captain replied with a nod.
He turned to the helm team. They were the last besides him to leave. The NCIS, Bureau, and JAG teams had already transferred over. All four of the water dwellers appeared tired but anxious. “Ready?”
“We're really taking those ships, sir?” Rish asked carefully. He hadn't helmed anything bigger than a destroyer.
“Yes. Winterspell has her own helm team. In fact, Caroline's crew had been transplanted to the ship. You are getting one junior helmsman each. A water dweller fresh from the training center.”
“So, you are breaking us up,” Coral said with a grimace.
“Yes. I'll be on Admiral Butley. My shuttle leaves last.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
:::{)(}:::
Admiral Irons nodded to his security team as the shuttle settled into the boat bay of the battle cruiser. His transfer to Admiral Butley was by tradition last. It had allowed Protector and himself to continue to work on files right up until the last minute.
He was amused and gratified to be piped aboard the ship. He saluted the colors and exchanged salutes with the officer of the deck. He noted the side party were in formal uniforms. He nodded silently to them. His eyes naturally turned to the Neo Great Dane standing with a knot of other officers behind the officer of the deck.
“Captain Astro,” he said as they exchanged salutes. Once he struck his salute he held out his hand. The Neo blinked and then took it with an ear flick and shook it enthusiastically.
“I thought we were hauling, sir, but for you to do that from Antigua? This is that important?”
“Yes. I'll tell you about it on the way.”
“Yes, sir. Well, we have no intention of setting records in the rapids I hope, sir.”
“Agreed. But, we're not going to dither around either.”
“Yes, sir. We're taking on the last of the stores from the supply shuttles now.”
“We're doing our best to fit everyone in, but its tight quarters, sir,” the XO said.
“Understood. We'll make do,” the admiral said simply.
“We didn't have a whole hell of a lot of time to refit some of the quarters like our orders specified, sir. I'm afraid they'll have to make do with the ship's pool for water time. What I can arrange is for the helm team to have it to themselves.”
The admiral nodded in understanding. “Understood.”
“I also understand we have them to thank for all the fish,” the Neo Great Dane said, wrinkling his nose and flicking his ears.
“Problems, Captain?”
“The smell isn't that great. Most of it is fresh though. Hydroponics will try to keep some of the tilapia alive for as long as possible. We have tanks set up in a few quarters. I've asked the crew who have them to donate the space but I believe these fish are big.”
“Okay. Work it out.”
“Yes, sir. We're a bit crowded, sir,” the Neodog warned.
“Not a problem. Those of us who can will pull their own weight. The rest can just read or watch movies.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Let's get moving, Captain; we've got places to be.”
“As soon as we're finished loading, we'll get underway, sir.”
“Good.”
“This way to your quarters, sir,” a soft-spoken ensign said, indicating the direction with a wave of his hand.
“By all means, let's get out of everyone's hair and fur so they can get back to work,” the admiral drawled as he followed the ensign.
:::{)(}:::
Within moments of entering hyperspace, the uninitiated water dwellers found themselves up for quite a challenge. “What a rush!” Martha murmured as she maneuvered Stormkeeper. The battle cruiser maneuvered sharply and cleanly through hyperspace. She loved the responsiveness and the crisp movements. She had plenty of power and plenty of computer power to spare.
“Trouble?” the XO asked worriedly.
Martha flicked the ship under a gravitational tangle, then dodged one of the other ships as it maneuvered around a series of mass shadows. She rolled slightly as Admiral Butley did to squeeze together keel to keel, then back when they had more room. “No, sir,” she finally answered. “I can say I'm glad we had that practice skipping however.”
“Very well.”
“I know one thing; we're not setting any records here. No way.”
“I suggest we move in a column. This isn't a race PO,” the XO said.
“We know. It's not that easy. It is very easy to get separated, and the space is churning around us,” the Pican replied absently. “I need to focus here,” she said as she noted a massive tangle on the long-range sensors. The navigator was having three shades of a fit trying to find a route through the knot.
“Understood,” the XO said wryly.
“I know one thing. I'm not turning this over to Bella until I'm sure she can handle it,” Martha murmured. She suddenly longed for the six-hour shifts she'd had with the other four crew members on Federation One. Eight hours in this was going to be hell over time she realized.
:::{)(}:::
“Woah! What a rush!” Rish said.
“Can you handle it?” Captain Astro asked worriedly. No matter how many times one simulated something, the real thing could always trip someone up.
“Yeah, for the moment. I don't know how long though. Short shifts,” Rish replied, moving his head blindly. “There is no substitute for the real thing,” he said as he eeled his way through the virtual space that was being fed to his goggles and implants.
“Do you need me to sub in?” Admiral Irons asked.
“You can, sir?” the captain asked in surprise, turning to him. “You can do that?”
“Briefly, yes. I can take a hand for an hour or two to fill in some watch bills. We might need to take it down an octave or two though,” the admiral admitted wryly.
“You might be a bit rusty, sir. I'm not sure if it is worth chancing,” Rish said. “With respect.”
“Okay, but the offer still stands. It is going to be a long trip. Well, short in some respects,” the admiral said with a brief smile.
“How can you do it? Your implants?” Rish asked absently, wiggling his whiskers.
“And training. I've done it before. And remember, I had Phoenix too,” Admiral Irons admitted. “I helmed her with only Phoenix and Sprite. I don't have your smaller less sensitive inner ear, but I'
ve got implants that can shut mine off if necessary. Just give me the word.”
“I'm good for now, sir, thanks though,” Rish replied. “I sometimes hate my inner ear. I mean, we've got a better one so we can walk on land more, but it is a trade-off. Those of us who spend so much time in the sea have trouble with it,” he admitted. “Sometimes I think the dolphins and whales had it right by keeping their fins and not going with legs,” he said.
“Yeah well, look where that got them—targeted and extinct,” Captain Astro stated.
Admiral Irons was tempted to say something but suppressed it with a brief shrug.
“What about a Ssilli?” a tech over at OPS asked.
“They can't fit in this ship,” the captain replied with a snort. “Not unless we do a refit.”
“True. What about a ghost?” the engineering tech asked.
“A.I. transfers aren't as good as the real thing,” Admiral Irons rumbled. All eyes turned to him. “They have about 80 percent of what they had when they were an organic before they transcended. A little, more or less, but something inherent is lost in translation. Part of that is a survival instinct I admit. From what I know of them they lose it when they realize they can just copy themselves.”
“Pity.”
“They've been trying to figure it out for centuries before the Xeno war. Transcendence is … tricky,” Admiral Irons replied with a shrug.
“I think I'll stay mortal, thanks, sir,” Captain Astro said with a small smile and an ear flick.
“Me too,” a tech piped up.
“That's because you've got a thing for sex,” another tech teased softly, then made a wide-eyed expression when she realized the captain and admiral were there. “I mean …”
Admiral Irons' chuckle cut off her apology. She still looked like a tomato for the day as the crew ribbed her about discussing sex with the admiral.
:::{)(}:::
Once he was certain the helm was in good hands, Admiral Irons settled into life on board the ship. He had a cabin of his own; Major Burrows and his Marine security detail bunked in Marine country. They even allowed some of the Marines to stand watch with them outside his door.
The flag bridge, conference room, offices, and flag staff quarters had all been turned into bunk rooms for the time being which meant the admiral was stuck in his quarters. He grew to appreciate the solitude the first time he'd ventured from his quarters to work out in the rather crowded gym.
With little to do, some of the crew spent a lot of time watching movies, reading, or working out. He was glad to see it. Occasionally, the ship would jerk as if they hit a spot of turbulence. Everyone kept a wary eye on things around them. Sickbay was kept busy with injuries from stumbles and falling objects until the crew learned to cope.
The Bosun went around the ship and used rigging tape, bungees, and other devices to secure loose items. For his part, he learned to rack the tablet in a charger carefully. One of the tablets hadn't been so carefully secured and had bounced off the small desk and had broken against the deck plate and leg of his chair. It had been a little irritating to have to fix it but a good distraction. It was also something for Proteus to do.
For his part Admiral Irons didn't partake in the movies that much as he did read briefing papers. Sprite had focused on sending text data over video or audio files for good reason. As he processed the files, he made notes and issued orders that were dutifully logged by Protector. No doubt they'd be well out-of-date by the time they got out of hyper in B-102c, but he couldn't help that.
There had been no further word from Bek, Second Fleet, or the Eastern Front. He shook his head when he finally got through the first three day's load. “Damn this is going to be a long journey,” he muttered, stretching his back with his hands on his kidneys.
“It could be worse, Admiral,” Protector stated.
“Oh?” the admiral asked as he went to the head. “How so?” he asked as he cleaned himself up.
“If we'd had more bandwidth, she would have sent twice as much. Or, she might have found a way to compress it even more and send four times as much as she did,” Protector said ever so helpfully.
“Yeah, I guess we can count our blessings there,” the admiral muttered as he finished up by flicking his hands and then drying them on a towel.
“Back to the old grind?” Protector asked.
The admiral stopped and then snorted. “I think you've been picking up too much of my or Sprite's sense of sadistic humor,” he said.
“Well, you do lead by example,” the A.I. replied innocently.
“Right,” the admiral drawled. “What's playing tonight?” he asked.
“Movie theater one is playing a romantic comedy. It's about a T'clock hive …”
“Pass.”
“Theater two is playing a mystery.”
“That's what we get for a passenger list made up of investigators,” the admiral sighed. “Theater two is on the flag bridge, not the MPR, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I guess I'll go watch the who-done-it. But, let me know when they put a good action flick up or a slap stick comedy.”
“There is a kung fu marathon being tentatively planned sometime in the next two days Admiral,” Protector said as the admiral checked himself in the mirror and then headed to the hatch.
“Pa … no, I'll think about it,” he said as he left the compartment.
Chapter 37
B-97c
Amadeus sat through another staff SITREP. Most of the staff were past being nervous. He knew many in the fleet were anxious and tired of waiting. “I hate waiting,” Garfield grumbled, bringing it out into the open.
“I hate not seeing any reinforcements,” Ch'v'tt stated.
“True.”
“We sucked them dry to stop the Horathians. It'll be a little while longer before they get back up to speed,” Kyle stated.
“They could send us more of Home Fleet,” Garfield grumbled.
“No, they don't want to draw it down too far and expose Antigua. And there are political concerns too, not to mention other deployments. Remember, we're not the only war front now. And I know they are sending wolf packs to hunt down the pirates in Pi sector while also making contact with the star systems there,” the admiral stated.
“I think we're being pulled in too many directions at once. We should focus on one thing. Take out Horath. Cut off the head and the body with whither over time. We can deal with it later,” Garfield grumbled.
“Point. But, it's not up to us,” Amadeus stated, giving the Neocat a look. He turned to Leopold. “How are we with logistics?”
“With a little bit of shifting about, we can empty a collier and send it back for fresh supplies. I recommend doing that; the crews are all but completely out of fresh food. It will start to impact morale shortly.”
“Agreed,” Amadeus replied with a nod. The A.I. wrote up the order and flashed it to him. He scanned it and then signed off on it.
“Orders sent.”
“I wonder why we haven't heard anything back from the Federation. You'd think they'd want to keep in contact. Send us a collier … something,” Aleck grumbled with a wave of his hand.
“Again, they are stretched too far,” Kyle said patiently. There was a bit of silence as they read their notes or pretended to do so.
“I hate waiting,” Garfield said in the silence.
“You said that already,” Kelly replied with a slight exasperated tone. “We all do. Patience is a virtue.”
“Maybe for someone your size. For someone my size, you always wonder if and when the other shoe is going to drop and if it'll land on you in the process,” the Neocat grumbled.
“Hey, are you calling me fat?” the Neogorilla demanded, brown eyes flashing. He opened his mouth but closed it and shook his head hastily as she made a show of cracking her knuckles.
That earned a chuckle from around the table as the meeting broke up.
:::{)(}:::
Three days later the pr
owler jumped into the star system.
“We made good time. I don't know if it will matter or not. We saw some troubling things. I know I pushed it to Garth, but …” Captain Fen shrugged.
“Send the summary. We'll start in on that while we wait for your arrival, Captain,” Kyle stated with a nod.
“Understood.”
“Data channel is open. We are receiving the download now,” Leopold stated. Kyle turned to look at Kelly but the Neogorilla was already pulling out files to examine.
“DD01ns, no sign of the enemy destroyer. Either she was in transit or …?” Kelly murmured, stroking her chin. “In fact, no sign of anything in that star system. Interesting.”
Garfield came over but couldn't look over her shoulder. His ears went back but then he poked her. She opened the feed to him and moved an arm so he could see what she was looking at.
A few hours later they presented their initial report to Admiral White and the rest of the staff. The news wasn't good just based on the two Neo's expressions, Amadeus noted.
“The good news is there is nothing in DD01ns to oppose us. Not that it matters. The bad news …” Kelly shook her head.
“That bad?” he asked.
“According to the prowler's report, the original survivors have been making good on their repairs with the repair yard, which by the way is up and running. ONI was behind the curveball there.”
“Or they threw a workforce together to get it running. Continue,” the admiral stated.
“True. But, we also noted a full squadron of ships in orbit of the planet,” Kelly said. She pulled up a hologram and put it up in the center of the table. The planet slowly turned with icons around it. Some were identified as orbital works like stations, satellites, and platforms, even traffic, but a squadron of ships fairly leapt at them.
More than one person sucked in a shocked breath as they read the identifier codes.
“If you are scared, you are in good company. That's a lot of metal,” Kelly said. “Feel free to hit the head,” she said with a finger pointed at the nearby door. “I know I nearly did.”