by Chris Hechtl
== ^ ==
The daily routine of picket duty in an empty star system got boring the longer they sat there. Some griping among the crew was natural, but it became more and more pronounced as they realized that life and their careers were passing them by. Massive changes were going on in Pyrax, Antigua, and elsewhere as Admiral Irons dispatched Rear Admiral Subert to take over from Captain Logan in Pyrax, and Admiral White was sent with a small force to take Protodon. Resentment lingered despite the fresh supplies a resupply convoy brought them. “How long are we going to be stuck out here?” Kedson demanded during a morning pilot briefing. “We're a carrier, not a picket ship.
“Until we can barely stand it, it seems,” Jerrica said. “You want to return home with Tomcat?” she asked mildly. Tomcat and a few other personnel had been sent packing back in the resupply convoy in what amounted to disgrace.
Milkman shook his head instantly at the implied threat. “Then shut up,” she said, eyes flashing. He grimaced and sat back to listen to the rest of her brief.
== ^ ==
“The supplies are nice. Don't get me wrong, sir, but our people need some sort of relief. We can't do liberty and the usual parties aren't cutting it,” Jerrica said during the next staff meeting.
“And the parts they are bringing us are only keeping our litany of maintenance issues at bay, the minor ones,” Oddie interjected. “It solves a few, and I admit it keeps my people and some of the section people busy. But …,” he shrugged.
“Every day in space usually means a half day or so in port. I know the meter stick, Chief,” Captain Nax stated. “And we're being stretched on a rack. Ideas?”
“The only thing I can think of, and this is a band-aid for the personnel problem,” Jerrica frowned, “is to maybe send small groups to Hidoshi's world for limited,” she stressed the last word with an upraised finger and her tone of voice, “I say again, … limited liberty.”
“I honestly don't think it would help much—a drop in the bucket really,” the navigational officer said. “And we'd be depriving ourselves of those personnel when we may have need of them.”
“True. We don't want to receive orders to return home with them off in Hidoshi's World,” the XO stated.
“It would give us a bit of extra wiggle room on the ship though,” the comm officer stated.
“But it's not enough of a benefit to outweigh the risks. Sorry, Jerrica, that's a nonstarter,” the captain stated. She nodded. “Any other ideas?”
When no further ideas presented themselves, he exhaled slowly and noisily. “Okay. I want each of you to come up with two ideas before the next senior staff meeting. Bounce it around with your people if you wish.” He knew just the idea of finding something new and fresh to do would be all over the scuttlebutt grapevine for a while. But the fact that the leadership didn't have any ideas wouldn't look well. They were supposed to be out ahead of the problems, finding solutions before they presented themselves.
“We've peaked on training,” Jerrica said. “Pushing them is now getting negative results. Discipline issues will start to crop up soon.”
“I need answers not more problems,” the skipper said. “We need a stress relief. Figure it out,” he said, pushing himself away from the table and rising to end the conference. “Good day,” he said with a sharp nod as he left the room.
The officers nodded but were quiet when he left.
== ^ ==
News of the capture of Protodon made for bittersweet reading and viewing by the crew. Resentment began to boil under the surface. They tried to deal with the problem by keeping people busy with training. Jerrica balanced the training as much as possible between real time and with sims. Everyone knew it was make-work though, but it was better to keep busy then to let boredom eat at your mind.
More and more people turned to listen to the ansible as news of changes in the Federation sent shock waves through their established order. Excitement mingled with frustration at being left out mingled in the air for the crew, sapping their morale. Everyone wanted to be in on it, not stuck in an empty star system.
The captain spent some time trying to carefully craft reports and requests for relief. All were in vain. He tried to put his head together with the naga Captain Snaggle Tooth on Tempest. Neither officer came up with a way to get the powers that be to pay attention and send them a relief.
Jerrica still had her patrol flights tagging rocks and debris. Not much was left in the inner star system or near the B101a1 jump point after Admiral Irons and Bounty had picked things over. They had stripped any and all derelicts as well; the entire derelicts had been fed into the maw of the industrial replicators the admiral had created.
Still, it was good practice for crews, and since not everyone had forgotten what had happened to Tomcat, they kept a wary eye on anything that might be a danger to one of their fighters.
Occasionally she got a green flag to get some practice for a SAR crew by tugging a good rock in to be broken down for fuel. Eventually though that sparked a renewed interest by the engineers. Two of the assistant engineers, one on each ship, got their heads together and pitched an idea of building a base or fortress. That was at first laughed off until it was taken seriously by Chief Oddie. He took the proposal to the senior staff.
“Hell, Skipper, give me enough leeway and my engineers can build you another ship!” Oddie said, waving his hands.
“How? With no replicators …”
“We've got a small one,” the beagle growled. “Let me worry about the how.”
“What would we do with it?” the captain asked. “I know you are bored.” He shook his head at the engineer's earnest expression.
“It wouldn't be up to our standards,” Jerrica said, stopping them. All eyes fell to her. “Think about it. We'd build a ship or fortress without shields or engines or a reactor—another barge.”
“And if when we finally do return to port, we'd have to leave it behind,” the XO said. “Or we would have to destroy it to keep it out of the wrong hands. We have similar orders for the ansible. If the Federation decides to abandon this station post, we will have to blow it up,” the Veraxin clacked. That reminder deflated the engineer.
“Damn it,” the chief muttered.
“I know you wanted to, Oddie, but it just wasn't meant to be.”
“I'd focus on parts. Replenishing our part inventory would be nice—not just for the ships but also for the planes,” Jerrica mused. Oddie flicked his floppy ears her way. He'd obviously considered the idea as well. “Just coming up with a bunch of the most common parts would be nice I suppose,” she said. He nodded. At least they were throwing the dog a bone she thought.
“Sir, we're getting a call through the ansible,” Wilbur said over the intercom. They looked up. After a moment he winked into being on the desk. “Sorry. I tend to forget you organics can't see me.” All eyes fell to him. “We've received an alert. Protodon is under attack. We've received movement orders, sir. The Protodon ansible has been destroyed.”
The captain frowned, then stiffened as his implants pinged with the order download. He applied his captain decrypt key then opened the file. His eyes scanned the document for a moment before he passed it on to the staff.
“We've got movement orders, folks. We're leaving Tempest behind. We're to march on Protodon to relieve Admiral White. We'll stop in Kathy's World for an update of course. I want us underway within the hour,” he ordered.
“Aye aye, sir,” the XO buzzed.
“Hot diggity! Some action finally!” the chief engineer said with a grin and wag of his whip-like tail. His floppy ears and goofy expression on his Neobeagle face got everyone going. That earned a chuckle from some of the other senior officers, though it was restrained. The captain shot him a disapproving look even though it wasn't heartfelt. He knew somewhere among the stars his fellow naval officers and enlisted were not only fighting for their lives but also the lives of millions of civilians in that star system and the surrounding area. Somehow gettin
g enthused about their orders didn't seem appropriate.
Even though he too was eager to prove himself and his ship.
== ^ ==
They said their goodbyes to Tempest and made their run to Kathy's World at Kitty's best speed. The captain urged Oddie to squeeze still more speed out of the ship but the Neobeagle was reluctant to do so.
When they exited hyperspace in the Beta 99 star system, they passed through the empty star system without slowing down to allow air ops along the way. Each engineering system was stressed to the limit as they tried to get across the star system and to the next.
Along the way Oddie organized repair parties to make what repairs they could to the systems that did not need to be online during their brief stints out of hyperspace.
It was a remarkable achievement that Kittyhawk arrived in Kathy's World with only minor issues.
As they crossed the star system, they flashed their IFF to the picket forces there. Once their IFF was received, a whisker laser was received with fresh news from the ansible network.
The news was mixed but generally good; the battle of Protodon had been concluded some time ago, which was a foregone conclusion to them. The Federation forces had been victorious but at great cost. Many ships had been destroyed by the marauding battle cruisers before the capital ships had been repulsed.
“So, we missed it,” the XO said in disgust. “Now what? Do we go back?”
“We weren't going to arrive like white knights. Not in time, not with this girl,” the captain said, shaking his head. “That happens in the movies.”
“Or to Firefly.”
“Firefly got lucky. They heard about the movement ahead of time and acted. They also moved a hell of a lot faster than us.”
“I still wonder if we could have shaved a couple weeks off that journey if we'd had that marine selkie kid at the helm,” the XO said.
“It still would have been weeks too late,” the skipper said.
== ^ ==
Since urgency was no longer a concern, they crossed the star system, stopping at the planet to refuel from the refinery platform there as well as give the crew liberty before they jumped to Protodon.
Finally, the wing was allowed to perform air ops. The pilots and ground crew were eager to strut their stuff in front of a new audience.
Lieutenant JG Alonzo “Gonzo” Gonzalez and his craft A.I. were at odds all throughout his flight. He kept attempting to reset the craft's systems, insistent that they were compromised by the virus that had attacked the ship some time ago. He vowed to do a full purge again when he landed his craft and damned to what the BOSS or chief said.
The on-board micro A.I. fended off the resets, but something in its core programming was damaged. Files were overwritten and other files that had been incorrect were dredged up and put into place by the reset. That dropped the ship's altimeter settings to ten meters below the proper settings.
Jane had come off shift as LSO when Gonzo had called the ball. She lingered, talking with Mackerel as he walked the junior pilot through the routine. Gonzo was young like her, but they were all experienced pilots at this point she knew. But there was something there, something that they all loved to see, the proper landing of a ship or the occasional minor scrape that they could rib the other pilot about.
But something was obviously wrong with the approach from the beginning. Mackerel and Orville waved Gonzo off. “Pull up! You are too low!” Mackerel bellowed as Jane's eyes went wide in shock and fright.
Gonzo swore and corrected upward, but the A.I. fought him and overcorrected the craft. “I got this,” he said over the radio.
“Wave off! Wave off!” Mackerel and Orville snarled, signaling the alert signal and last ditch wave off.
“I said I … shi …,” the Cobra yo-yoed up and then dropped down hard to send it into the deck harder than planned. Damage to the undercarriage mounted as the ship careened down the deck, spinning and spitting parts all over the bay. Mackerel moaned as he stood, staring as the carnage mounted and klaxon's wailed.
Pieces of debris from the craft speared upward into the pilot compartment as the fuel leaked. The pilot's eject system fired off to save him, but in doing so, it sparked a brief explosion as it ignited its compromised rocket pack. The pilot was instantly killed when his ejection pod slammed into the hangar's ceiling deck and burrowed itself through the bulkheads into the next deck above, breaching it.
The fireball tore into the ship's hull and sprayed FOD all over the inside of the main hangar.
That DX'd all craft in the bay and both catapults until they could be thoroughly checked. The damage shook the ship briefly. Klaxons wailed throughout the ship. Fortunately, the vacuum sucked the fire out. Unfortunately, the shimmy and sudden explosion sucked several suited crew members out or threw them against the deck or parked craft.
Fire and rescue teams raced to the scene. Jane stared, aghast at what she'd just witnessed.
== ^ ==
As DCC survey teams worked through the carnage, the Veraxin JAG ensign launched his crash investigation with the XO. A death and crash was always a moment for investigation, and at first Gonzo's insistence that the virus had remained in his aircraft's systems was taken for granted. A check of the other fighters and precautionary purge showed errors. Orville was a witness so it fell onto Wilbur to run the cybernetic forensics. Careful analysis of the ship's black box lent clues to the problem.
A comparison of the fighter's basic stock programming with notes from the various patches showed that the altimeter was compromised. A check was run to see if that was the problem. A simulator was set up and loaded with the basic stock programming. It performed a crash. Apeman tried to run the simulator in different ways but couldn't find any other problem.
The investigators concluded in their initial report that the crash was due to a combination of pilot error and coding error. The ground crew were let off the hook since Gonzo had been the one to purge his flight computers and reset them several times.
However, that wasn't the end of the problem for the crew. The damage to the ship was extensive. The upper deck breach had destroyed several of her dorsal grav emitters as well as her hyperspace sensor array. It was no longer safe to enter hyperspace. They were stranded in Kathy's World until new parts or a factory ship came to help them.
== ^ ==
Jane had to deal with grief like many of the other pilots. Mandatory counseling for all pilots had been ordered by the counselor and medics. It was extended to all involved in the crash as well as those who volunteered to take it. The ship's counselor, XO, and JAG officer were overworked. Jane took her session with the counselor but made it clear she wanted to get back to work.
“Gonzo was a good man. He screwed up. He was so insistent he was right he screwed himself. I'm sorry. I'll miss him, but I …,” she took in a shuddering breath and then let it out again. “I don't want to dwell on it. It was a stupid waste. I hate it. I'll go on hating the stupidity. But can I get back to work?”
The counselor frowned but then signed off on her returning to limited duty.
A service was held for Gonzo a week after his death and once the damage had been contained. It was a solemn affair; the crew attended in formal uniform. Gonzo's remains were interned in a space coffin and sent to a sun scuttle after a brief speech by the captain. Not many lingered after the service. It seemed they all wanted to return to work.
== ^ ==
The senior staff did their best to get their crews to deal with the crash. There was no point sending for parts; they needed a repair ship to make good on the extensive damage. After the admiralty reluctantly agreed to send one from Protodon, the crew heard the pilots attempted to return to normal.
The main hangar was closed so the shuttles had to be launched from the external docks on the ship. It was a hassle.
Jerrica called a session to discuss the situation and let the pilots know what had happened and why. She replayed the black box data, showing them everything in a blow-b
y-blow. It wasn't pleasant for any of them, but that was tough. They'd take their medicine. Hopefully they'd learn from it.
“This ship doesn't have a clear path out of the landing deck. You get it right or you walk home. Don't put the lives of everyone on the ship second. They die; we all die,” Jerrica said. “He screwed up. He should have swallowed his damn pride and followed directions of the LSO and did the wave off.”
“The next pilot who doesn't will be shot down,” a familiar voice growled from the open hatchway. The CAG's eyes shot to the familiar form standing in the doorway. Her attention and the newcomer had heads turning to see. But that was overridden as instinct kicked in as the person started to walk into the room without invitation. Everyone lunged to their feet to stand at attention as the skipper stalked to the podium. “Do you mind CAG?”
She stepped silently aside.
“Thanks,” he said, turning to address the group. “That was stupid. I know it is wrong to speak ill of a dead comrade, but it was monumentally stupid. He thought he knew better. Knew better than the experts who are supposed to keep his plane flying, better than the LSO, better than Orville, better than anyone. He was wrong. I know you have a reputation as hot dogs, more balls than brains.” He grimaced. “Start using the latter a lot more or I'll have your balls and anything else attached,” he snarled, baring his teeth.
Ordinarily that would have earned a snicker. But the captain's foul mood was keeping the pilots mute.
“I am passing an order on now and informing each and every one of you. The next idiot who endangers my ship, I'll fire on with my point lasers. You either listen and obey instructions or you can damn well sit out there until you run out of air. You read me?” he snarled, knuckles going white as he gripped the podium.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Jerrica and the other pilots thundered.
“That is all,” the captain said, storming off.