by Chris Hechtl
“It's just a damn video game, fuzzball. I can take you. I can take anyone in this chicken shit outfit.”
“Oh? Prove it!” Hurranna's green eyes slitted, and she pretended to clean out a bit of dust from her claws again. She held them away from her and flexed the claws in warning.
The sight of her claws made the pilot think twice about getting physical. That and her … he frowned. Her, he thought.
“I don't have to prove anything, least of all to you split!”
“Bucking for promotion, Kedson?” Jerrica asked mildly as she came up behind him. She eased past them with her cup, not jostling a drop. “Seems a bit early to be getting your blood pressure up. If you keep it up for too much longer, people are going to start talking and ask you both to get a room,” she said mildly. Both pilots came to attention.
“Or a ticket out of this chicken shit outfit I think you called it?” Hurranna asked, eying the human male.
Milkman turned a full force glare on her. “Look jarhead, I don't have to take crap from you. You, I can shave if I want. You're just an enlisted puke with delusions of being a pilot.”
Jerrica's eyes flashed. “But I'm not. I may be a split, Kedson, but I'm a damn good pilot and we both know it. Better than you. Let's get that straight now,” she said eying him coldly. He actually started to open his mouth but then thought better of it and shut it with a snap. She nodded once. “I also happen to be ranking officer. But, for the record,” she turned to Hurranna. “I finally looked up your record and talked to your old CO.” She turned back to Kedson and took a sip of her coffee as she leaned against the table behind her. “The good sergeant here is a combat veteran, a member of F Platoon,” she said, then took another sip. She studied his reaction over the lip of her cup.
Kedson blinked. “F as in Foxtrot? So?”
“F as in F. The first graduating class of Pyrax Marines,” she explained. He blinked. “Before they got serious about the platoon naming,” Jerrica said with a smile. Kedson's eyes flickered. “Deja is also a graduate of Schultz's school of hard knocks, same class. Before that he was a damn good hyper-navigator and helmsman before the Horathians got a hold of him. They had a lot of … sick fun with him. So, needless to say, he's got it in for them and more of a right to it than any of us.”
Kedson's face worked for a moment. He looked away. “I didn't know,” he finally said quietly.
“I heard about him. Hurranna here was in the news a few times as well for her own merits—a couple scrapes and rescues in Pyrax I believe before she shipped out for the first Agnosta recon.” That got Kedson blinking again. The lynx seemed to preen slightly, flicking her ears in humor, then having them forward and alert as if ready to hear more praise. “When she got back, both sergeants took flight training on San Diego over two years ago. Deja graduated early with top marks since he already had flight training. He went on to Agnosta where he did flight there for a while before making the run in Firefly as her chief helmsman to rescue Antigua in time.” Kedson nodded, eyes wide. She frowned. “I need to remember to thank him; I've got some friends in Antigua. I bet Jane does as well,” Jerrica said thoughtfully.
“So, ma'am?”
“So, while he was doing that, the fuzzball split graduated and put her time in on fighter fortress two guarding the jump point to Seti Alpha 4 before they stuck her on the Janus fortress. Sure she flew trash haulers, but Commander Valdez told me she put in as much fighter sim time as she could. She checked out on Cobras and Raptors on her own time.” That made Kedson pause thoughtfully. He'd learned both ships through the fighter courses he'd taken. To have learned them on her own without any classroom time or help from instructors and passed the quals said a lot about her intelligence and initiative. And she'd done that while also pulling regular flight duty.
And she was enlisted. That alone said she was more than he'd bargained for.
“She flew op forces against the regular fighter pilots. She got pretty damn good at cleaning their clocks too,” she said. Hurranna's long ears flicked in good humor.
“As for you, Sergeant,” she said stressing the rank. Hurranna's ears went flat briefly. There was an unwritten rule among pilots that, like in the mess, there was no rank among pilots. You still had to be polite, but pilots were to be considered equals. To have the boss lady stress the rank made her realize she'd let her temper get the better of her. “I know you are up for a warrant's tabs like Deja since you both passed the tests a while back. Good for you, though you might have a long wait before they are approved; the powers that be are moving glacially slow on such things I heard. You are still not an officer. But,” she made an introductory hand gesture to Kedson, “FYI, Ezra here has also put in his time. He put up with flying a trash hauler like you while you were on Agnosta; he was patient and earned a spot here. He held onto it even when Kitty was a smelly barge ready to come apart around us,” she said. Hurranna's ear rotated to the lieutenant then she nodded once to him.
“Good, now, back to the marine situation,” the CAG said, eying Kedson once more. “Yes, the other ten of their wing are green, but not these two. They are here for a reason; they put their time in at the bottom and passed. Now it's time for them to pass on what they've learned. Eventually the marines will need their own air wings to fly ground support and other missions while we're off in the void keeping the flies away.” She looked at both of them sternly and then took another sip of coffee before she continued.
“So let's not play anymore games. I get hazing. I know why we do it, to make sure they can take a joke and hang with the best. Got it. But there is a limit; there is a line.” She held up a warning finger. “And if you two can't get along, well either you keep it distant and professional or we remedy that.” She looked at both and then turned to the human first. “You want out?”
Kedson's face worked for a long moment. Finally, he shook he head. He knew a transfer rather than one for a promotion would go on his permanent record and mark him as someone who couldn't be a team player.
“You?” Jerrica demanded. Hurranna shook her head, eyes wide, ears flat.
“Then learn to be a team player.” Jerrica turned on Hurranna. “The both of you. Got it?”
They nodded. “Yes, ma'am,” they both said in ragged unison. Hurranna's ears flicked.
“I'm pairing you two up. Get the rough edges off and learn to work as a team. Maybe once you get it through your thick heads, you'll recognize how good each of you are.”
Kedson's face worked. “Yes?” Jerrica asked sweetly. He shook his head silently. “Right, I thought so.”
“Ma'am, what about our current wingmen?” Hurranna asked.
“I'll pair them up. I think it's about time we did a little cross pollinating,” Jerrica said. She eyed them both. Kedson looked resentful, but Hurranna didn't. She seemed amused and interested with her alert ears and bright eyes. She was the picture of a conscientious pilot, so much it might have made her puke if she had thought for a moment it wasn't at least partially feigned. Jerrica understood her psychology in the situation; the lynx was mainly defensive with Kedson. Kedson could get on anyone's and everyone's nerves and frequently went out of his way to do so. He loved to play pranks, but he was a sore loser. It made her mentally label Kedson as a bully. She didn't like that.
But she needed to have a quiet word with Hurranna to remind her that she was enlisted, not an officer. Yes, pilots were theoretically in the same group, but she still needed to stick to military protocol even when and especially when someone like Kedson got on her nerves.
As much as she'd like to see the cat turn Milkman into her own private scratching post, she couldn't afford the paperwork involved or the distraction of a court martial.
Nor could the navy afford to lose two highly trained valuable officers.
“My mamma used to say, if you can't take it, don't dish it out. So I'm declaring a truce. Kedson, you are on the flight roster; Hurranna, I'll swap you in a minute. Any other issues?”
“No, no, m
a'am,” both said dutifully.
“Fine. Dismissed,” Jerrica said, waving to the hatch with her cup of coffee. They came to attention and then broke ranks and left. She watched them go. “Yup, just one big happy family,” she muttered under her breath. She took another sip of coffee and then sighed heavily.
At least they were through the refit. Another couple more days and they'd get the rest of their compliment as they reported for duty. Logistics should be tied up by then, and hopefully any last minute bugs would be run down before they got out of dock.
She didn't have many high hopes that they'd catch them all. That was too much to ask for. But hopefully once they were underway and doing some working-up exercises, nothing the wrench turners and yard dogs had overlooked would come back and bite them in the ass.
Hopefully. She snorted. Who was she kidding? She shook her head mournfully as she pulled out a tablet and started to check the status board before the next briefing started.
== ^ ==
Jerrica sat back as First Lieutenant Brewster Lopez, call sign Rooster, laid out his plan. Brewster was an old hand like Harry “Ape man” Manning, Kedson, and a few of the others. Harry had taken over her second squadron and had rebuilt part of it or at least he was in the process of doing so.
But Brewster had a good idea. She nodded thoughtfully as he finished his dog and pony show.
“So, you want to split second squadron for good. Since they are dissimilar anyway with totally different roles,” she said.
“Essentially yes, ma'am,” Brewster replied with a nod.
“And you are okay with this?” she asked, turning to Harry.
Harry spread his hands and then nodded. “I've apparently been bitching about it a bit too much,” he said wryly. That earned an earthy chuckle from Brewster and Jerrica. “Pissin’ and moaning and someone's been offering a tiny violin for my griping. He finally came up with a solution and just ambushed the both of us with it. I'll have to remember to pay him back in the next exercise cycle.”
“You can try, mate; you can try,” Brewster said sitting back with a grin.
“But it does make sense, ma'am. I can't ride herd on the interceptors and keep an eye on Kitty while also keeping an eye on the other half of my squadron, which might be across the solar system. I know delegation is important, but I think in this case we're taking things a bit too far. Splitting the squadron in half with half squadrons for each just makes more sense.”
“And you have no effing clue about how to run a bomber wing anyway,” Brewster teased.
“That too,” Harry replied, shooting a moderately powerful glower his way. If it affected Brewster, he didn't show it in the least bit.
“Well! You've certainly given me something to think about I suppose,” Jerrica said as she slapped her thighs and rose from her stool. “I won't make any promises. I need to kick it around in my own head. It is going to mean more paperwork for me.”
“Yes, ma'am, at least initially. And the bomber pukes will need a good leader of their own stripe,” Harry said.
“Well, I can solve the first problem by sicking the paperwork on you two I suppose,” Jerrica said. Brewster pointed to Harry then to himself then back again. Slowly he began to shake his head until she nodded, not quite smiling, but close. “Since you had to bring up the idea in the first place without me coming to the conclusion on my own,” she said with a grin in her voice. “You know the punishment for opening your mouth and volunteering something,” she said eying Brewster squarely as he squirmed.
“Me and my big mouth,” the big male said softly, grimacing.
“Yup. It'll help you think twice about sticking your nose ever so helpfully into something I suppose,” she said with a syrupy grin. “You may need the yeoman or Boson's help digging out what paperwork to file.”
“I can help with that,” Orville volunteered.
All three officers looked up. Brewster cleared his throat. He could see out of the corner of his eye that he wasn't the only one getting used to having an A.I. on board, let alone two of them. They were dumb A.I., but according to what they'd been told, both A.I. had the ability to learn and grow slowly over time.
Time they had as they started to finish buttoning up the ship and getting ready to get underway for their next phase of working-up exercises. Kitty was like a new ship; they all knew that. It was a double edged sword. They had known what to expect; now they had to learn it all over again.
“Oh dear, splitting the squadron is indeed a great deal amount of paperwork, over a hundred megabytes,” Orville said. “I've placed it all in your inboxes, gentlemen. You should consider it a good exercise in training in case you have to do it again sometime,” the A.I. said helpfully.
“Right,” Jerrica coughed into her hand, suppressing a laugh at the “I'm going to get you for this” glare Harry was shooting Brewster. “Off with you then,” she said with a wave of dismissal. “You've got plenty of homework now to keep you busy and out of mischief. I want it all done by …”
“If she says by the turn of the watch, I am going to roast you,” Harry growled as he leaned over to Brewster. “Slowly.”
“Now that would be mean,” Jerrica interjected with a grin. Both men froze. “But no, I note the time; it is rather late. So … say the end of the watch Friday,” she said, tapping her finger against her chin.
Harry closed his eyes in pain. He felt Brewster slap him on the shoulder and then pull him physically to the door.
“Come on. Before she changes her mind or finds something else for us to do that's worse,” Brewster stage whispered.
“I … you know, I do have something around here,” Jerrica drawled, turning back to her desk and shuffling some of the chip files and the tablet around.
“We're going. No need to get that sadistic with us, Rapid,” Harry said, hands up as he brushed off Brewster's helping hand and walked out.
Jerrica snorted. She shook her head at the use of her call sign as she went around to the other side of her desk and took a seat. It would be a pain in the ass for her to sign off on. She'd probably have to bump it to BUPERS, the skipper, and Commander Valdez, but it did make sense.
Which was probably why none of them, including herself, had thought of it before. Not that she was going to let Ape man and Rooster off easily on the paperwork anytime soon. She had enough trouble without them creating more for her to do.
“So, now I just need to find a bomber pilot to lead them. And senior officer is …” She frowned as she picked up the tablet and stared at it, reading the bio.
== ^ ==
“CEV-001 Kittyhawk is the first in the carrier escort class Pyrax is laying down. The follow-on vessel John Paul Jones is still six months away from launching,” Jerrica said as she did the in-brief for the fresh meat. Many of the veterans were there, in the back checking out the fresh faces even though they should be in their racks or doing something else. Even Hurranna was there.
Jerrica had taken a page from Commander Yeager and kept her meeting open with easy access for questions should the need arise. She believed like Commander Yeager that there was no such thing as a stupid question, but there was such a thing as an inquisitive idiot.
That didn't mean she liked to be interrupted though, not when she had a planned speech. But apparently that hadn't gotten across to her crop of shiny new overeager pilots. She saw Kedson, arms crossed in the back, snort as a kid practically bounced in his chair with one hand up. She fought not to roll her eyes as she pointed her laser pointer to the young man.
“Why is this ship designated as a carrier at all, ma'am?” a new marine pilot asked, hand tentatively up. “Aren't fighters on other ships? Like Firefly?”
“Technically, yes,” Jerrica said slowly. “I'd prefer you wait until the end to ask questions in briefings,” she said frowning at the pilot. She had his name hovering over him on her HUD but only made a mental note about who it was. The recruit nodded, dropping his hand and sitting back. “But yes, we have a squadron on Fire
fly and wings on the three fighter orbital forts, along with fighters stationed in the Annex and San Diego. There are also Raptor class fighters deployed on the destroyers. Kittyhawk, however, was built from the keel up as a carrier. She's all carrier. She has no other weapons; we the flight wing are it.”
“Oh. Sorry, ma'am.”
“We just got out of dry-dock ourselves; we're on our second shakedown cruise now. Be glad you are here now and not then, before it was a nightmare.”
“Nightmare?”
Jerrica shook her head. “Up until a week ago, we had one class one micro fusion reactor, solar panels, heat exchangers, a microwave receiver to accept beamed power from the solar array, and batteries to power the entire ship. Two functioning sublight drives. No shields, no power... the ship was little more than a barge. We had to be towed to get to our station. No hot water, no hot food, dim lights, rust in the air, one functional catapult … the list goes on and on. It quite frankly sucked.”
More than one pilot winced at that bald statement. Some were probably wondering what they were getting into now. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. Some called us cursed. It wasn't curse, despite what CPO Gray says; it was just shitty all around. When that sort of thing happens, morale goes in the crapper and stays there. The only thing keeping us going was the idea that we were the first carrier and we wanted to do it right.”
“Yeah, that and if we failed it we'd be piloting garbage scows,” another pilot said.
“True.”
“With one reactor, we could only run a few things at a time; for instance, the catapult,” Jerrica said, waving to the board behind her.
“But that's changed, ma'am?”
“Yes. Now that the admiral's back in the loop, we've gone back and been fitted for the proper hardware. Three fusion reactors, not the piddly little dinky thing. A class II hyper drive, shields, ten proper engines, all frigate class but I'll take ‘em. And we've got a proper PRIFLY and our point defense lasers. We finished the shake down last week; now we're going to test the hyperdrive.” She grinned. “We now have a decent body to go with our sharp teeth. Once we're good to go we'll be able to project fighting power wherever we go.”