by Chris Hechtl
“I think we can do the minimum, sir, if you'll authorize the time and fuel use,” the XO stated.
“That's tricky,” the captain said. “I understand some of the people of Bek are in Admiral Iron's camp when it comes to dead ships.”
“Oh?”
“They make for useful materials,” the captain replied.”
“Oh,” the Xo said in a slightly different tone.
As they moved through the star system on course for the jump point, shuttles and robots were dispatched with work parties to gently move the derelicts away from jump point.
While that work was just getting started, the various senior officers got together to decide on the ship's fate. Admiral Zekowitz wanted to board and repair the ships if possible. He was even eager to do so right away and send a prize crew back to Bek.
Admiral Sienkov shot that idea down. They argued over what to do. Admiral Sienkov and several of the Bekian and Nuevo officers wanted to sun scuttle as many of the ships as possible. Angie and Lieutenant Brock agreed with them.
But Chief Galavant, Admiral Zekowitz and others insisted on performing salvage and argued passionately for the ship to do so.
Finally, Captain Perth realized they weren't getting anywhere and Admiral Sienkov wasn't ready to make the hard call. He had to come up with a compromise. “With all due respect, we don't have the manpower or resources now. I recommend we move them out of the way and then we can deal with them at a later date. They aren't going anywhere, sirs,” the captain said patiently. “We can always scuttle them when a ship returns,” he stated.
“A good and wise answer. It banks our haste and eagerness to do something right away without thinking it through but tempers traditions,” Admiral Sienkov observed.
“I'd like to resolve traditions, sir, but we may need these ships. I doubt it. We've got dozens of ships now, and I know we can build more,” he smiled and politely indicated the admiral. “But every little bit helps,” Captain Perth said carefully. He was still getting a handle on the elderly officer. The doc had run a check of everyone who had come aboard, and she had given them their up-to-date vaccinations and performed the same for Caroline's crew with the materials the Bekian medics had provided. She'd even done some preliminary work to help each of the delegates health-wise, and every single one of them now sported an ident implant.
“At the very least we could fix them and use them between Nuevo and Bek again,” Miss Sema said. “Eventually I mean,” she said hastily.
Captain Perth turned to eye her and then nodded slowly. “Wise.”
“I think we should write up a proposal to build a station here,” Zekowitz mused. The other delegates stared at him. “If we do, we can transship materials from Nuevo, Bek, and the outer Federation to each destination. We can use the ships here as a basis for the small fleet or salvage them for their components while burying the crews and use the rest of the material to build the station or other ships,” the rear admiral proposed.
“It's an idea. One I won't reject out of hand. There isn't much in this star system to support a space station, otherwise, one would have been constructed before the war,” Admiral Sienkov admitted.
“True,” Miss Sema acknowledged.
“Captain, I think it's time we returned to the Federation.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Captain Perth stated as he nodded.
* * * *
“Haven't I seen you around before?” a voice asked from behind Qilaq. The Neo-sea-lion turned and then cocked her head at the Neoorangutan. He was also replenished in a white smock. “Yeah,” the orangutan drawled, snapping his long fingers. “The Midshipman? Aren't you supposed to be up on the bridge right about now?”
“It's complicated,” Qilaq stated.
“The only thing complicated is a tonsillectomy on a Gashg child who doesn't like it, and whose parents don't believe in using anesthetic or analgesics,” he retorted, crossing his long arms as he stood in front of her.
She dropped her flippered hands into her pockets. “I suppose sickbay does have a lot of people here,” she said, looking around to the staff and the crew who were trying to bed down. “But I'm a medic in training. Doctor Naroob allowed me to do some intern work here since I was shanghaied for this mission.”
“Not a conn artist?” the Neoorangutan asked, eying her.
“No, the term is helmsman,” she replied. “And no, thank you no. I'm a doctor, or at least I wish to finish my training, get my degree and become one, despite all the road blocks being thrown my way.”
“So … why are you here? Wait, you said shanghaied? Seriously?”
“When you are in the navy, you go where you are told despite agreements to the contrary,” she said tartly. He quirked a shaggy eyebrow upward. “Sorry, old wound. I'm not sure if I'll be in the navy after this mission. Most likely not.”
“Because they made you become a pilot?”
“Because they did, yes. I've had people on me about becoming a pilot since I expressed an interest in the navy.”
“And yet here you are,” the doctor said, indicating her in the sickbay.
“Yes. I'm still fighting for the path I want,” she said.
“Good for you. You go, girl,” he said.
She snorted. “That was almost a joke.”
“Almost? Almost? Clearly I haven't been trying,” the doctor replied, blowing his massive cheeks out and going cross-eyed at her. She couldn't help it, she giggled.
“Ah, see? That normally gets them every time.”
“Not every time. I bet the bosun …”
“I still want to see that scar,” the Neoape growled.
“Scar?”
“Don't ask. I'd offer to shake your hand, but this is the one I pick my nose with,” he said, holding up his right hand. After a moment he let all but his index finger curl into a fist.
“I won't ask what you do with the other one as long as you wash afterwards,” she said, smiling as she held out her hand. He looked at it, then shook it with a grin. “You, I like. You've got potential.”
“You are a goof. I heard some of the best professors have that. You feel so much the humor helps deflect the pain.”
“Something like that,” he said, breaking the handshake. “It helped a lot in the pediatrics ward.”
“Then why aren't you …,” she saw the distress and stopped herself. “Sorry.”
“It's … complicated,” Dwight replied. “I … there was a fire. A lot of kids died.” He saw her stricken look. “I know, it sucks. We're doctors; we fight the god of death all the time knowing we won't win all the time, knowing she'll win in the end anyway. But … yeah. Sucked,” he said, sucking in a breath then blowing it out. The entire compartment had quieted. “I sort of dropped out for a bit. Fell into a depression, the bottle. But then I pulled myself out. Sober six months, honest injun.” he said, holding up one hand in a swearing sign. “I was shopping around, but no one wanted me. Then this mission fell in my lap.”
“I see,” she said.
“So, I wanted to better myself. Better the state of medicine on my homeworld. Make sure something like that didn't happen again. And definitely make certain a lot of the ailments I ran into I know have cures are fixed. Preferably quickly and as painlessly as possible.” He smiled at her. “So, teach, consider me a fellow student on the path to discovery.”
“You're a doctor,” she said in disbelief.
“You are never too old to learn,” he quoted.
“Don't tell some old dogs that. They might bite,” she warned.
He snorted. “Lady, I think this is looking like a b-eautiful friendship,” he drawled.
She chuckled. “Well, we've got a few cases, mostly minor. But I've got my classwork, and Doctor Naroob is off shift. But I can pull up what I've gone through, and you can cherry pick what you want to know more about, then go from there. Good?”
“Good. Start with how to surgically remove someone's sense of humor,” he said. She looked at him in confusion, then a
s he started to smile broadly she groaned.
“I fell for it!” she wailed, making a show of slapping her forehead as he chuckled.
* * * *
“Hyperdrive spooling down. Secure from jump, sir,” Lieutenant Brock said, glancing over his shoulder to Captain Perth.
“What a ride,” Admiral Zekowitz said.
“It isn't normally that … frisky outside the rapids, sir,” the captain replied, glancing at the admiral. The engineering admiral had taken the previous jumps in engineering, hassling the chief engineer over every step. This time he'd taken the opportunity to experience it from the bridge giving Chief Galavant a break. Admiral Sienkov had decided to remain in his room and watch the jump exit from his small LCD monitor there.
“Secure ship from jump. CIC?”
“Jump space is clear for one million kilometers. Active sensors are expanding the zone now, sir,” the CIC rating said.
“Once we're secure, Nav, plot us a course to the Pyrax jump point.”
“Aye, sir. Course plotted and loaded, sir,” Lieutenant Brock reported.
“I thought as much. Helm execute when you are ready,” the captain said. He turned to the admiral.
“You make it look so easy.”
“It's easy once you've done it a few times. There are checklists and procedures to follow. From my perspective I let the section heads do their jobs and spot check.”
“I see. You aren't the micromanaging type,” the rear admiral replied.
“No, sir. There is too much to do. I really trust me crew. It's how we get things done,” the captain replied.
“I see that.”
“Sir, IFF challenge from Voyager over the tachyon network. It's followed by a short message,” the comm rating stated.
“Well! That was fast! Send our IFF and response comm, then play the message,” the captain ordered.
“You really went to Bek?” Captain Hathaway's voice said, making him look up to the overhead speaker and smile.
“I see news of our mission leaked,” Captain Perth stated, looking at the plot where Voyager's icon blinked. “Comm, we're not allowed to reply to that question. But I think an emoticon will do. Let's give them a smile as we go on our merry way, shall we?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Admiral, a belated welcome to the B101a1 star system,” Captain Perth said, indicating the plot.
“And you said this is where Admiral Irons had battle here recently?” the captain asked, eying the map.
“Indeed he did. I wasn't there for it however. We have the files loaded in our database.”
“I've seen them. But to see the actual site is … impressive,” the admiral admitted.
“We've had a lot of battles, sir. We the Federation Navy, sir. This is actually a part of the front,” the captain said. The admiral turned to look at him. He smiled. “It's why we're interested in getting away from the jump point so quickly. It's not just about efficiency and getting everyone to where they need to go as quickly as possible. We've got strict instructions to clear the B102c jump zone with a minimum ion wake as quickly as possible. That way if anyone does come nosing around, they won't catch us and wonder what we are up to.”
“I see,” the admiral said. He nodded once, eyes still on the plot. “Carry on of course, Captain,” he murmured.
* * * *
“Ensign …”
“It's midshipman, sir,” Midshipman Mahoe said coming to attention stiffly. He was beyond tired and sore from his ordeal in the tank. They were getting steadily closer to B101a1, but it wasn't easy. It was a bit easier now that the computer and crew knew what to expect, but it was still taxing. “What can I do for you, ma'am?”
Moira hesitated then frowned thoughtfully. “Is this a bad time?”
“I'm headed to my rack, ma’am; I just came off shift.”
“Oh, I see,” the woman said thoughtfully.
“Is there something you need?” he asked carefully. “I can get the ship's A.I. to help you.”
“No no, I well, this is going to sound awkward, but I wanted to thank you and the others for your service. Also, I wanted to know if there are more like you, and if they'd be willing to emigrate to Bek. We've got plenty of ocean space and well …”
He blinked both sets of eyelids, startling her.
“I'm certain if you make your proposal known to others they will be interested, if only for new oceans to explore. Here I thought you were going to press for more of my people to join the navy or civilian ships,” he said.
“Well, there is that too,” Moira said. That was actually the thrust of her long-term goal, but she'd hoped no one would notice it. “We need people to get as many ships and people in and out to generate regular traffic. You see, we don't want to be cut off from the rest of the Federation. It's just how it is I suppose you could say.”
“Which was a benefit to you, ma'am,” the middy said, tucking his long arms behind his back. “It allowed your star system and Nuevo's to remain untouched during the Xeno war. Others weren't so lucky.”
“I know. But well, we need more diversity. If you could lay eggs or something …”
He blinked again, mohawk rising in amusement. “Wrong gender. It takes two to tango, ma'am. I'm young,” he said, “and you aren't my type.” She flushed in embarrassment. “But I see what you mean. I'll tell others of what I saw and of your proposal when I write home, ma'am.”
“That's all I ask,” she said with a nod. “I won't keep you then,” she said stepping out of his way.
“Thank you, ma'am. Morpheus is calling, and he's getting louder by the minute,” the Pican said. He yawned into his fist. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” she said smiling as she made a hole. “Have a good … um, rest.”
“Thank you, ma'am. Enjoy your time here, ma'am,” he said with a nod as he passed her.
“I will,” she murmured thoughtfully. She intended to hit all the middies up but now she wasn't so sure it was the right approach. Nor was she certain about her end game and goals, so it might be best to back off and reconsider her objectives she thought to herself as she made her way to the galley.
* * * *
A familiar ship jumped into the Pyrax star system at the B101a jump point and squawked an IFF to the watching fortresses and ships standing guard there.
Almost instantly word of Caroline's return winged across the solar system and invariable found its way through the ansible to Admiral Irons' office. Schedules were abandoned as all work screeched to a halt to hear the news.
Invariably the work slow down made its way to the media. A few people talked out of turn, and that let the media know that something was going on. Since the star system was unnamed, Knox news dismissed it in initially, heaping praise on the navy for going out of its way to bring in lost star systems.
That ended when news spread of the delegation on board Caroline. The attempts to interview them were met with a list of individuals with their ranks. When the media noted two flag officers listed, that raised some eyebrows and more questions.
Admiral Irons put a hold on a press release until he had more information. He was still processing what limited information they had gotten, and fresh updates were being sent regularly as the light cruiser sailed inward to the naval complex.
The news was good. Very good he noted as he read the digest.
Bek and Nuevo had been officially found and both star systems were not only intact, they had functional advanced civilizations to go right along with them. Bek had a full military but had lacked the keys to build modern equipment to keep them up-to-date with modern hardware. They had a full space navy, but it was all sublight. They had a few civilian survivors from the Xeno war. All of them were ancient, they'd played peter pan time skipping with stasis pods to stay alive and help guide the star system's industry and research.
According to the report, the jump chain had remained untouched by the Xenos during the Xeno war. The rapids were apparently too much for them to handle, or t
hey'd left the star systems to die on the vine. Apparently they were also too much for the ships Bek had attempted to send into the Federation to find out what was going on. The last one had been lost thirty years after their last contact with the Federation. After that the local governments had decreed that their remaining ships wouldn't be risked.
Their two remaining starships had continued to ply the space between Bek and Nuevo for nearly six centuries, keeping the two star systems in contact with one another as well as doing some anemic trading along the way. Those two ships lost speed over time as parts wore out, however, slowly dropping into the lower octaves and hyper bands to keep functional.
They had done what they could to keep the ships up and had used many of their components as templates to recreate lost manufacturing arts. The ships had kept up the contact and trade until one had been lost with all hands. The last had been judged unfit to continue the jumps so she had been reluctantly retired and mothballed in Bek 122 years ago.
Bek's space industry he had invested in while in the star system had been leveled when their replicators had gone off line a century after the loss of contact with the Federation. They'd fought the decline by relearning ancient methods of construction and fabrication as much as they could, anticipating the need for such lost arts. One of the civilian sleepers had been a historian; she had worked tirelessly to resurrect the various processes involved with just what she had in her files and her own organic memory. The files, however, had been more of a guide, telling them something was possible, but not the steps involved. It had been a very slow tortuous process to rebuild as much as they had.
Up until a century ago, their sublight ships had lacked force emitters. A push by the administration in Bek at the time had been geared at education and research to redress the balance they saw between what they had once had and where they were at the time. They knew it was possible, had the general idea, so it might seem like they had reinvented the wheel but they had eventually gotten some things done. The emitters were crude but functional.