The Odyssey and the Iliad (Kinsella Universe Book 7)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  Admiral Fletcher appeared at the door. “How’s it going, Thor?”

  “Yardley has made some interesting observations even after all this time. We need Ruiz and Carter.”

  “Not something that will interfere with the lieutenant’s deployment?”

  “Naw. I think Ruiz will surprise Trudy with her practicum topic.”

  “Not if she’s smart!”

  “Everything is a test, Ernie,” Thor told the other admiral.

  “Evidently we are going to need some data, Captain. How long will it take?” Admiral Swenson stated.

  “An hour, sir.”

  “I think my nephew has all the high acceleration time he needs. I’ll have him here in two hours.”

  “Yes, sir, I can be ready by then. With both the photometry and the recordings.”

  “Lieutenant Yardley, fetch Ensign Ruiz. It will have to be without her roommate.”

  “Her roommate is busy with crew familiarization of the shuttle,” Steve reminded the other.

  Two hours later Yolanda and Admiral Trudy Swenson had joined Steve and her husband. Thor Swenson told the captain to queue the data up from just before the one weapon had impacted.

  A few minutes after that, Lieutenant Carter arrived. He took one look at Yolanda and said sourly, “I should have known you were around somewhere. Two hours at three gravities is an hour and ninety minutes too long.”

  The captain was the only one who fell into the obvious trap. “An hour and ninety minutes is more than two hours.”

  Admiral Fletcher shook with barely concealed laughter. “That was the lieutenant’s point, I believe.”

  He smiled again, but not pleasantly. “Play the best recording of the weapons detonation and extend it a half hour forward.”

  There was a myriad hisses and pops, and several times huge washes of static.

  Admiral Fletcher spoke simply, “Did you get anything, Ensign Ruiz?”

  “There are three fairly clear transmissions, two from Jupiter and one more distant. There is the possibility of a fourth, but the background is going to need extensive processing.”

  She reached out and gripped Steve’s shoulder. “I have a request of my own.”

  “Anything you want, Ensign.”

  “More complete sensor data, starting from before the first alien dropping near Jupiter. We need to run the data back the light distance from Jupiter from that contact. We need to see if there were any aliens near Jupiter who were just parked and how long they stayed there.”

  “Ensign Ruiz, this is my responsibility, if you can identify the time points of the signals,” Lieutenant Carter told her.

  In the next ten minutes Yolanda isolated the transmissions and Lieutenant Carter was pleased. “A minimum transmission, a minimum reply, then what is likely a somewhat longer reply to a question.”

  Yolanda agreed.

  The briefing captain, who had never been identified to them, was trying to assemble more data while eavesdropping. The captain cleared his throat. “An alien appeared off Jupiter at the outset of the attack. It was not aggressive and not a threat, so it had a very low priority to attack.

  “A fighter pilot used Jupiter to scrape off a number of their High Fan homing missiles. He was near the alien who was parked, and not understanding what he was seeing, fired a Blue missile that scored just a few seconds later.” The captain looked up at Admiral Fletcher. “The pilot was Lieutenant Mongo Zodiac. An half hour later, he was dead.

  “I evaluate that the aliens might not have FTL communication, but they know when a ship is lost. Three minutes later, another ship appeared sixty degrees off the original location. All three axes were displaced by minus sixty degrees.”

  Yolanda looked at the recordings. “There is a definite transmission coming from the newcomer, it is just swamped by atmospherics. Now, please, the recordings from just before the attack arrived.”

  It sounded just like the recordings from before, but without the big washes of static.

  Yolanda looked at Lieutenant Carter. “You have a lot of work to do!”

  “Why is that?”

  “The aliens use a form of steganography, only they use static bursts. It will be easy to decode, leaving the original messages. There are nearly forty thousand of them. I read in a newsie report that there were nearly forty thousand Federation ships in local space when the aliens attacked.

  “If you research what the alien centroid for the solar system is, using the locations of known ships, you would go a long ways to understanding their telemetry. The messages between the various ships will be subject to relatively easy analysis.”

  Thor Swenson stood and went to Yolanda. “My very great honor, Ensign.”

  Trudy Swenson stood before Yolanda. “Thor and I have reconciled. When your children are dead, every last one of them; when you’ve lost aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews -- it colors your thinking and reduces most disputes to trivia.

  “I heard of your abilities; I was... disbelieving. Young Carter is a fine officer -- but he’s had things greased by his family for a long time. It is a treat to see his jaw close to his knees. You have passed my practicum -- this was more than I expect from young officers.”

  She turned to Lieutenant Carter. ”What are you doing standing there like a bump on a log? Get to work!”

  She turned back to Yolanda. “Instead of practicum, you may engage in study of any topic of your desire -- that can be revealed to your peers. Do the dinosaurs of the Fleet proud!”

  “Can I help Susan?” Yolanda asked.

  Trudy Swenson laughed. “If I am any judge of personalities, she will try to fight you tooth and nail if you try to help her on her task.”

  “What I’d really like is to get married and deploy with my husband. There are things I could learn from the Academy, but they are how to manage daily life in the Fleet. Living in the Fleet, it seems to me, will suffice.”

  “Admiral Fletcher, Admirals Swenson,” Steve said carefully. “I have only a vague idea of what the course of instruction you have planned for us, but I’m much more familiar with fighter transition -- it was what I enlisted for. Two months of learning how to function in the Fleet, followed by six months spent learning to fly fighters.

  “Maybe the Fleet should have ‘officer transition’ classes. Two months learning general Fleet duties and six months earning a basic certificate in a watchkeeping skill. Make the skill class something like an internship. After a couple of years, offer another full-time skill class or some off-duty hours of study. Particularly on long deployments, it would be a way to keep idle hands busy.”

  The truth was that Steve and Ernie Fletcher had been speaking mind to mind since the first time the telemetry had played for the first moments of the attack.

  “Cindy Rhodes,” Admiral Fletcher said in conclusion.

  “That young officer you sent out to Charlie Gull?” Trudy Swenson asked.

  “Neither of you were ever briefed; that’s my fault.”

  “She was sent out on the first scout cruiser; she returned after a hush-hush op of some sort. I never figured out why someone that young got promoted like she did. And a major incident commander? You covered that up well, by appointing Ibn Saud,” Thor explained what he knew.

  “You know about the curriculum review. We’ve had several since the war started, we have changed details, but nothing fundamental.

  “We’ve kept having major fails in concept work. It started with Willow Wolf aligning a Blue in a matter of minutes, where before it might have taken days. Even the weapons techs were non-reg. Then Bethany Booth, giving us two kicks in the nards at once. The best analysis of anyone up until then about enemy capabilities and tactics and, oh yeah, we’ve known how to detect ships on High Fan since Kinsella.

  “The last incident was as much my fault as anyone else’s. I proposed that scout ships would go out and picket enemy systems, watching traffic go by and doing network analysis.”

  “And there was a problem with that?” Thor a
sked.

  His wife punched him in the arm. It was not a gentle punch. “Dolt!”

  “Think of it, Thor, as a cavalry patrol trying to stealthily follow a party of Indians -- while reporting to higher headquarters by smoke signal,” Fletcher told his friend.

  “Running fans to keep track of anyone else would have revealed their own location,” Trudy added.

  “The thing is, Rhodes figured it out independently. She also came up with the millisecond homing missiles. She came up with the scheme for IFF, which also allows us to talk to some ships on High Fan.

  “However, before this, she originally was a student at Maunalua High School. My son went there for a year before I pulled him. Rhodes was forcibly enlisted in the Fleet, and one of her first memos was a scathing indictment of the legacy primary and secondary education systems on Earth. She helped with the last review.

  “Young Yardley has had some preparation -- he spent extra time in supplemental courses and thus was minimally prepared for the Fleet. Ensign Ruiz was a university student -- and even less prepared.

  “Rhodes didn’t have time for more than a few consultation sessions. Now, I’m thinking we got it wrong again. Rhodes was on a very long deployment, and her education was jump-started by the flame of her desire to excel. She got to Adobe where she came under the spell of Charlie Gull, Colinda Drake and Master’s Game.”

  Admiral Fletcher stopped and his throat worked. “I’m so sorry,” his voice was a whisper.

  “Sorry?” Trudy asked.

  “’Under the spell’ -- Rhodes was being fashioned into a puppet by the AI aboard her ship. We are sure of her native talent -- her sim scores never wavered, and she missed the target on the IFF proposal.”

  “I thought it was golden,” Thor said.

  “It was -- as far as it went. She missed the other things you can do with the bandwidth. A human error -- no self-respecting AI would have missed it, nor did the first communications officer who heard the idea miss it either.

  “The important thing here is that Cindy Rhodes learned by doing the job. When it came time to break away from the AI, they were adrift, with more than a thousand alien ships closing, no computation and no idea where they were. Rhodes supervised the navigation, the repairs to the sensors -- all the while making two paired High Fan transitions every two minutes. A sixth of the crew died in that thirty minutes.”

  “I’m transition immune,” Steve said.

  “Back to what I asked,” Yolanda said, a little angry.

  “Patience, dear,” Trudy said. “I wondered when that ship left with one class name and came back with a different name. I assumed it had been earned.”

  “It had,” Admiral Fletcher said bluntly.

  “And my request?” Yolanda repeated.

  “Yolie, they are agreeing with you. Just, it’s hard for old dinosaurs to change direction,” Steve told her.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet Captain, Lieutenant. Cat got your tongue?” Admiral Fletcher asked.

  The captain laughed. “Awe, sir. It took me sixteen years to make captain. Rhodes records are, mostly, classified. Not her dates of rank. When it takes someone only four years to accomplish what you took -- far longer -- it raises questions of competence. If not hers, yours.”

  “It would be handy to be able to analyze and decipher transmissions on the fly. When those transmissions are multiples of a tenth of a second... I quite agree. The word ‘awe’ does come to mind.”

  Admiral Fletcher nodded. “Awe is as good a word as any. Let me get with some people; we will meet back here tomorrow at 0800. The answer, Ensign Ruiz, is probably yes.

  “You, Lieutenant Carter, get with Ensign Ruiz. I want clean recordings of those transmissions, with at least some annotations.”

  *** ** ***

  Yolanda returned to her room after 2300. Susan woke up when she came in. “You won’t want to spend late nights with your boyfriend when classes start, even if it is just for two weeks.”

  Yolanda shrugged. “I haven’t seen Steve for hours and hours. I was assigned another task. And I don’t have to take the Practicum.”

  “How did you do that, Yolanda?”

  “Admiral Swenson said she approved my topic and that I’d completed the assignment.”

  “You gave a verbal report? And defended it?” Susan was skeptical.

  “In front of three admirals and a Fleet captain. There were fourteen stars among the audience.”

  “Well, I have to get back to sleep. Captain Shapiro wants me at 0700 tomorrow at your ship.”

  “I’ve applied to go with you,” Yolanda said simply.

  “Crikey! I’m a second-year! I can afford a sixth-month makee-learnee. You’re new!”

  Yolanda turned out the lights. “They are reevaluating things,” she said. Then she simply lay down on her bed without undressing and was asleep a moment later.

  Chapter 14 -- The Roommates

  Susan Hightower and Yolanda Ruiz were getting ready for their day when someone knocked on the door to their room. Yolanda turned to her roommate, “You keep getting ready. I’ve got more time.”

  “A dollar it’s an admiral,” Susan quipped.

  “You’re on! The admirals are all scheduled later!”

  Yolanda opened the door to find Cliff Maitland there. She smiled at him. “Can I help you?”

  “Do you know what’s going on? This morning I got new orders, cancelling my classes for the day. I’m to report to the auditorium at 0900.”

  “I know nothing about that; I do know there is some talk of reorganizing the Academy. Steve and I have to report at 0800.”

  “He left before dawn, 0430.”

  Yolanda shook her head. “You can’t ask about what Steve’s up to. I don’t even know -- but I know it is top secret and then some.”

  “If he’s screwed me up...” Cliff said.

  “Steve would never do that. I have noted a certain degree of arbitrariness among the senior officers of the Fleet.”

  Susan had dressed and came into their sleeping quarters. “Hey guy, I was scheduled for the Swensons’ courses next week; I’ve been cancelled too. At least I get a deployment as a consolation.”

  Cliff Maitland’s nose flared. He abruptly turned and left.

  “Was it something I said?” Susan joked.

  “Steve said Cliff thought Steve wasn’t qualified and resented Steve being scheduled for deployment as well, so I suspect it was.”

  “He’s a genius, no matter how he did in school. You’re way smarter than all of us.” Susan flipped a coin towards Yolanda, who neatly fielded it. “The last time I lost a bet was when I was six.”

  “I know the schedules of five admirals. It was a safe bet.”

  Susan laughed. “You are positively no fun!” Then she left for the Mad Hatter.

  Yolanda decided to go early to her meeting. Two Marines were again at the door, but this time they barred her entry.

  “Sorry, Cadet. There is a classified meeting taking place.”

  “I’m scheduled for the 0800.”

  “You’re early, Cadet.”

  “Well, tell Steve I’m here.”

  “I can’t confirm or deny a particular person is present, Cadet. Nor can you wait here.” He gestured at a room across the hall. “There’s a waiting room; so long as you keep the door shut, you can wait there.”

  Yolanda went and sat down patiently waiting for her meeting, and playing the alien signals over and over in her head. After about a half hour a bevy of admirals came in. She knew Admiral Fletcher, the Admirals Swenson and Admiral Zinder. There was another four-star admiral with them, and she found out he was Turbine Jensen, the man who’d saved humanity, all of it, twice in the opening days of the war.

  Admiral Fletcher was laughing. “I created a monster! Imagine being denied entry to a meeting in my own Fleet Headquarters!”

  Trudy Swenson laughed as well. “I remember that someone told you that you were going to get more than you bargained for when you appoint
ed Admiral Cloud to her job.”

  Five minutes later, they were joined by a fuming Admiral Merriweather. “Are they are talking about what I think they are? Why wasn’t I invited?”

  “Assets and methods -- which is why I’m here as well,” Admiral Fletcher told her. “Although they were supposed to be done now. Anyone want to bet a dollar that the admiral is the one running late?”

  A quarter before the hour, one of the Marines came in. “You can in now, sirs.”

  They all got up, but Yolanda hung back, going last.

  Admiral Fletcher was brisk. “This is the last chance before we commit to this concept. Speak, or forever hold your peace.”

  “What concept, Admiral Fletcher? I am in the dark here,” Admiral Merriweather asked.

  “We have revised the core Academy curriculum, but before we mess up big time, we’re going to try it out with a relatively small number of cadets. Besides the thousand fighter transition ensigns you are scheduled for, we are going to include some first- and second-year cadets from the existing programs to test the new courses.”

  “I think you are avoiding giving me the number, Admiral.”

  “Certainly, but this is not going to be a big deal. You will have a thousand ensigns for Fleet orientation and the fighter transition. The cadets will only number three hundred and staff will add a paltry thirty.”

  “I can handle that many, but the cadets and ensigns will be four to a compartment.”

  “Not a problem. Nor do I expect it will be a problem integrating three hundred cadets into your day watch.”

  “Eh? What’s that?”

  “The cadets will stand four hours of the day watch for the duration of the deployment. They are to be given real watchkeeping duties. None of them is to be assigned make-work, coffee service or environment readings that are normally handled by enlisted persons.”

  Donna Merriweather was silent for a moment with no expression on her face. Then she uttered one word, “Rhodes?”

  “Rhodes,” Admiral Fletcher agreed.

  “Admiral, my hat is off to you, sir!”