Well-Traveled Rhodes (Kinsella Universe Book 6)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “Good God!” Captain Drake exclaimed.

  “When used on a planet with just water oceans, the planet detonated like a bomb. There was nothing left but rubble.”

  Cindy let out a squeak. “They could do that to Earth!”

  He looked at her levelly. “Now you know why Tiger, Rome, Athens and Dragon were close to the planet with all of those Blues. We were sure we were going to lose the home of mankind. However, we saw no evidence of equivalent technology.”

  He wagged his finger at Cindy. “It is the duty of those in command to make decisions like this. Do we use a weapon that will have a profound effect on the war -- but if used on us, would have an even more profound effect? Or trust to something else?

  “Your new missile patterns... they're like that. If the enemy sees them, they could understand. Then they could do the same thing. As Master's Game said, there's a limit to our current ability to counter the weapon.”

  “Nightmares,” Captain Drake said, rubbing her eyes.

  “Nightmares,” the admiral agreed.

  “Why tell me?” Cindy said angrily.

  “Because you will be out there on your deployment. You and Captain Hall will have to decide if the situation justifies showing our enemies this technology. I couldn't, in good conscience, tell you not to use something that could keep you safe.”

  “Shouldn't this be Captain Hall's decision?” Cindy demanded.

  “Of course, and she'll be apprised -- in general -- of the risks of premature revelation of the technique. You, Lieutenant, will go much further and much faster than your captain. This is what you said you wanted to be able to decide... if you don't start thinking now about just what is involved in this sort of decision making, you won't be ready when it comes time. Training for such a thing can't be anything less than as real as possible. Nothing is better than real.”

  “I don't know what to say.”

  He chuckled. “Right now, you're doing well. You ask questions, then shut up and think about it. Eventually you'll make up your mind.”

  “How do you know what's right?”

  He laughed. “They teach it at the Command Level Course: a year-long school for prospective captains. In most cases, the important thing is making a decision -- not what the decision is.”

  Captain Drake nodded. “My family seems to run to history buffs. One of many, many times removed ancestors was lieutenant in the Israeli Army during the Yom Kippur War back in the Twentieth Century. He took part in a particularly ill-advised attack -- they got clobbered.

  “He ended up in command of about forty men trapped miles behind the lines in an enemy city. A couple of attempts to reach them had been bloodily repulsed. They told him, 'We think you should try to exfiltrate at night.' Of course about a third of his men were wounded, plus they were in a city where one person seeing them could result in them being slaughtered.

  “Nonetheless, he told everyone to saddle up and they'd go. They got outside the building they were sheltering in and he saw it was impossible. There were enemy soldiers everywhere. They wouldn't get more than a few steps. He went back and radioed his HQ. Earlier they'd told him that he was on the scene and to decide. He told them, sorry, it was too dangerous.

  “Not just a few people knew of their plight -- everyone did, right up to the front commander knew about them. The front commander demanded maps, studied the situation and called my ancestor back. 'Go south, keep to the walls, and after a kilometer, take the little alley that goes west. Go two hundred meters, turn southeast...' I swear,” Captain Drake said, “my ancestor said the instructions lasted for a half hour. After the first few minutes he was nodding and saying, 'Yes, sir,’ knowing it was insane; that they couldn't follow directions that complex with no maps.

  “A while later they asked what he was going to do, and he told them he was going to wait for first light to see what things were like. He was, he told them, considering surrender.

  “His brigade commander had been busy getting things sorted out after losing half his men in the bad attack, but heard about the situation. He picked up the radio and told my ancestor: 'you take those men out right now and make your best way back to our lines.'” It was an order, not a request.

  “To make a long story short, in spite of some hair-raising adventures, they made their way out of the trap without losing anyone.

  “The right order? Who knows? If their enemies had seen them -- and there were plenty of opportunities -- they'd have been slaughtered. No one in his chain of command had been capable of saying 'Do this!' And yet, that was what was needed.”

  “So any order is better than none?” Cindy asked, trying to keep her mind from the larger questions.

  “As often as not,” Admiral Gull told her. “It's not to say there are no bad choices -- there are. But the fact is, that if you go with your gut instincts, far more often than not, they're right.”

  There were a few moments of silence, and then Captain Drake spoke quietly. “One weapon, eh?”

  “It was the size of a standard shuttle,” the admiral said defensively.

  “Which is the size of Pixie's test bed,” the captain observed.

  “I never promised you a bed of roses,” the admiral told her.

  “I was going to suggest we break this up and go get something to eat. Somehow I'm not nearly as hungry as before.”

  “I know. Hannah Sawyer saw the actual weapons in advance. She extorted a promise from Admiral Kinney that she be allowed to pilot the mission if she told them how to do it... after she saw what it was she'd be delivering. The consensus at Fleet is that she did it to make the point that this was one very stupid way to conduct the war.”

  “Even if meant she died?” Cindy offered, remembering the comment she'd heard before.

  “Particularly if it meant she died,” he told her bluntly. “Becoming a martyr to make your point has been an effective tactic for thousands and thousands of years.”

  The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, each communing with their inner selves.

  “Come,” Admiral Gull finally commanded. “We need to celebrate a successful workup and toast a successful deployment.”

  *** ** ***

  Cindy sat silent while everyone else talked and had a good time at dinner. On the flight back to Pixie, Captain Hall gestured for Cindy to sit in the right-hand seat.

  “What is it XO?” she asked Cindy. “Are you in trouble?”

  “No. Admiral Gull will talk to you about it tomorrow, I'm sure. He wanted me to get a head start on thinking about the problem.”

  “What problem?”

  “If we use my method on the alien's ability to track our missiles, the aliens can duplicate it and use it on our ships. Master's Game says we can't currently defend against it.”

  The captain whistled. “I never thought of that; they're right.” She laughed. “You'll think of something, I'm sure.”

  “Captain, there are things I can do and things I can't. This is one I don't think is in me.”

  “Confidence, Cindy! Confidence!”

  Cindy shrugged.

  A while later she threw herself down on her bunk, face down. A few minutes later Tam sat down next to her. “What happened?”

  “You'll know soon enough. If we use our means of spoof a missile track, the aliens could duplicate it and use it on us. We can't defend against it. If we use it to defend ourselves, we could expose a lot of our own ships to destruction.”

  “If,” Tam told her. “If, Cindy. I'll put off my own death as long as I can, thank you very much.”

  She cleared her throat. “A courier arrived today from Earth. I have mail.”

  Cindy grimaced. She hadn't heard anything and she knew Fleet made it a point to deliver personal messages as quickly as possible.

  “The good news is that my parents are alive and well. In fact, my mother has done something I thought she'd said she never do again.”

  “What?” Cindy asked, still dispirited.

  “She's pr
egnant.”

  Cindy craned to look over her shoulder. She didn't know much about Tam's parents but she knew her own mother had made it emphatically clear: Cindy could expect no brothers and sisters.

  “I think you have a valid excuse to avoid baby-sitting,” Cindy quipped, reaching to say anything.

  “Yeah, I suppose. The bad news: I'm never going to see them again -- I'm not even likely to hear from them again.”

  “Pardon?” Cindy sat up and faced Tam. “What?” It was hard to realize other people had parents they were fond of and who would be missed.

  “They've signed onto a secret project that can really use their skill sets... except its location is classified. They may be out of contact with the Federation for years.” Tam rubbed her eyes. “Mom didn't say anything, not even a hint, but I can think of exactly one reason she'd get pregnant for a mission.”

  “What?” Cindy asked, mystified.

  “An ark.”

  Cindy took a deep breath. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't speculate but still... those are my parents.”

  “It's too bad we can't send my parents on a mission like that,” Cindy said with acid. “I'm sure my mother had me so that I could be seen in pictures with my father, to show what a great family man he is. She told me often enough it was never going to happen again.”

  “They wouldn't want them,” Tam said with a giggle. “Funny how that works.”

  “I'm laughing,” Cindy told her friend. “Ha. Ha. Ha!”

  “Yeah. You know what? War sucks!”

  “That it does.”

  “Cindy, why are you so down?”

  “Admiral Gull explained it. He can't order us not to use the weapon to save ourselves. The captain, with my advice, has to make up her mind whether or not to use it... even knowing what it could mean to others.”

  “War really, really sucks!” Tam said with heat. “It should be the captain's responsibility!”

  “Tam, it will be. I'll just be there for advice. But it's important for all of us to know just what it is we'll be risking.”

  Cindy sat up and hugged her legs, rocking back and forth. “Admiral Gull made it clear: this was what I joined up for. I wanted a say in how the war was fought. This is that in spades.”

  Tam snorted. “I can't tell if you're happy or terrified.”

  “Both. Neither. I am, however, a whole lot older than I was when I carried that sign up and down the walk in front of Admiral Nagoya's house.”

  Pixie's voice spoke in Cindy's head. “Cindy, Commodore Heisenberg's flagship has just appeared in-system.”

  “Right, I'll be on the bridge in a few moments.”

  Tam looked at her. “What?”

  “Lucky us; our commodore is here.”

  *** ** ***

  It was a very short period on the bridge. Ever since the war had started, Fleet ships ran on Greenwich, England time -- “Zulu.”

  “I thought the admiral and Captain Drake were going to greet Commodore Heisenberg with an exercise,” the captain said as they waited for orders.

  “I can't be sure, but I believe they are rethinking what they want to do,” Cindy told her. “I have an awful feeling that they'll run our workup again, only with the commodore instead of Master's Game.”

  “Which they will expect us to win handily,” the captain mused. “Oh my!”

  “Yes,” Cindy said resignedly. “But regardless, if I have to do it, I'll do the best I can.”

  “You and me both. But it won't make our lives any easier if we humiliate the commodore.”

  “I rest my hopes on the fact,” Cindy told her boss, “that the commodore is supposed to be very sharp.”

  In half an hour they had a meeting time -- 0900 the next morning -- aboard the commodore's flagship, which would be parked close to Master's Game. Cindy and the captain headed off for bed once again.

  *** ** ***

  The invitation was for the captain and XO only, so Cindy and the captain shuttled over. Just before they docked, Cindy saw the expression of displeasure on her captain's face.

  “Yeah,” Cindy said. “But think about this: I'm not sure if even Master's Game knows this is the modified shuttle. With any kind of luck, we'll get a chance to use it against the commodore.”

  “I shouldn't be angry,” Captain Hall said. “It's just she's like a bull in a china shop -- with Admiral Gull and Captain Drake it was please and thank you.”

  “I know, but still, whatever she said to us to get us there; she'll have had to say to the admiral and Captain Drake. Contemplate what either of them will do to her if they are unhappy. From what I've heard, they can be utterly... diabolical.”

  “I've heard that,” the captain agreed, sounding slightly mollified.

  “That, and Admiral Gull has commanded her before. It was hard to beat Captain Drake in the workup. I have a feeling it would have been ten times harder to beat Admiral Gull.”

  “You think?” the captain said. She laughed. “Well, we can always hope.”

  The meeting was as different as could be imagined from the ones that had gone before.

  “I see that you've done a workup,” Commodore Heisenberg said without a warm-up. “Yet, I can access nothing about the results except, 'ships departed on such and such a date, returned on such and such a date; the exercise was in all respects satisfactory.' Everything else is redacted as 'Classified.' I have to wonder if I've lost your confidence, Admiral.”

  “Irina, training. We've had this discussion before. You don't get to see what tactics others used in training.”

  “I'm their boss.”

  “And you will get trained up,” the admiral promised. “Did you read Lieutenant Rhodes report?”

  “The one where she wants to shoot all of her dirty-foot teachers. I had the same feeling when I was in school.”

  Cindy wasn't sure why she thought that the admiral was unhappy.

  “You are so funny, Irina. No, the main report.”

  “Main report? First, I was surprised to find her promoted -- even though she's no more qualified now than before. Promoted twice? Have you lost your mind?”

  There was no doubt about it. The admiral was upset. “Commodore, you will take the next twenty minutes and read the report on the mission parameters.”

  “Do you really think an ensign with just weeks of aloft experience has anything to contribute?” the commodore challenged.

  “Do you have anything to contribute on the mission parameters?” the admiral shot back.

  “Go out, lie doggo, and keep track of who goes where. Dangerous -- I suppose, a little.”

  “Commodore, I gave you a direct order. Comply or I'll relieve you on the spot.”

  Irina Heisenberg looked at Admiral Gull and shook her head. “I'll read it. Admiral, this is a waste of my ti...” Her words stopped as she communed with Master's Game.

  “You've got it, eh?” Captain Drake said. “Tell you what, dearie, in a bit you and me... we'll play the other side. I'll take Pixie entering Adobe system and you can have Master's Game. Let’s just see how well you do. I promise you that if you ask the right questions, Master's Game will give you the same answers I got.”

  “And this will prove what?” the commodore said hotly.

  “That the crew of the Pixie is in the proper place doing their proper thing. If there was time, I'd let you try to beat them on the workup exercises. I have to tell you, Commodore, they got a whole lot better in just a few days.”

  There was a full captain with the commodore, who'd never uttered a word up until that point. With that, he leaned close and whispered in the commodore's ear.

  Cindy saw the woman's jaw set, saw her face suffuse red with anger. Cindy was sure there was going to be a tremendous explosion.

  Instead, Commodore Heisenberg sat still, her jaw working, clearly furious. She turned to Admiral Gull. “Do you know what my sister put in her last will and testament? Her final bequest to me?”

  He shook his head
. “Sophie was... Sophie, Irina. No one knew what she was going to do until after she did it.”

  “Don't I know it! We'd done maybe a thousand sims together before she went and got herself killed. It was a thousand for Sophie and zero for Irina.” She nodded at her flag captain. “She willed me Ken Malley, her engineer. The man who has been her friend very nearly as long as I've known her. They met when we were six... and I dumped on the little squirt for the first time because I thought he was hitting on my sister.

  “She said that if I let him whisper in my ear for a year, I'd be a better captain -- and maybe a halfway decent flag officer.”

  She nodded at him. “Just now his advice was simple. Sophie was always better at picking people than I was. Accept, adapt, and go with the flow. Not quite the Marine motto. If I'm going to sim anyone, it will be with the crew of Pixie.”

  Admiral Gull ostentatiously leaned down and fiddled below the conference table level; Cindy had no idea what he was doing.

  A second later she knew. He dropped a pair of ornate cowboy boots on the table. “Okay, Irina. My best boots against your tutu.”

  “You dirty old man,” the commodore said with a laugh. “You've always wanted to see me without my tutu. I'll tell your wife.”

  “She'll want to see the pictures. You can have two tries to beat Pixie in ship-to-ship sims. An approach scenario and an ambush scenario.”

  “And Pixie beat you twice?” the commodore asked Captain Drake.

  “Nope, we beat them on the approach scenario; they beat us in the workup sim.”

  “And you don't think we can do it once?”

  “If you obfuscate once more,” Admiral Gull told her, “I'll reverse the roles. Pixie's crew knows how Master's Game beat them. You wouldn't have a prayer.”

  “The Port admiral is going to have another cow,” Captain Drake said.

  “Let her gestate as she wishes. This time we'll only shut the system down twelve hours. It's a useful exercise,” the admiral told her. He looked up at Commodore Heisenberg. “Say, what? Lunchtime?”

  “Lunch? We just got in after a long hot run,” Commodore Heisenberg protested.