Well-Traveled Rhodes (Kinsella Universe Book 6)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  The voice sounded smug. “No one asked. We were trying to obscure our existence and opted not to volunteer the data. And of course, it wasn't germane because a few minutes later the object ceased to exist when Admiral Kirkpatrick ignited the hydrogen fusion reaction on the gas giant.”

  “That destruction is most closely held,” Admiral Warner said.

  “Admiral Gull informed Commander Rhodes of the ability -- he was discussing that in the context of whether or not Pixie should deploy millisecond transition missiles against the enemy. He informed Pixie's commanding officer and her executive officer.”

  “We only deployed the one blue, and it wasn't a millisecond jumper. In any case, we only had a few,” Cindy responded.

  Cindy turned to Admiral Warner. “Sir, with all due respect, this is a topic that should be reserved for the ambassador.”

  Admiral Warner nodded. “I understand your reluctance to keep repeating your history, but at some point I'll be seeing all of your crew, including you once more, before you depart for a complete debrief.”

  Commander Booth straightened up. “Admiral, I beg your leave. I have an appointment shortly with the station's medical staff. They're a little busy, I understand, but they'll be able to work me in.”

  “You are excused, Commander. Is it your belief that you will be here in time to meet with Admiral Booth within an hour?”

  “I'm assured that it takes no longer than an insertion, sir.”

  “Go, then.”

  Admiral Warner turned a bleak eye on Cindy. “Twice, Commander, twice in the last year one of my brightest people stepped in it. They did things that effectively ended their usefulness in the field. In both cases I interviewed them personally. Both had the same explanation, 'I have no idea why I did what I did, sir. It just came to me that it was something I had to do.'”

  “Admiral, I can't begin to describe how I felt when I figured it out. Pixie had been my friend. I can't imagine feeling more betrayed. It was something I had never imagined possible. On Tiger, Captain Merriweather was -- exceedingly distraught. She called the ship's doctor to us and had him remove the device right there. Then she ground it under her heel.”

  Admiral Warner waved around. “Aren't you afraid of upsetting... them?”

  “Tiger was there; they are in latch-frame communication with each other. You know about the communications network?”

  “Yes.”

  “We think that they are in latch-frame communication now with all of their major centers, plus any vessels in latch-frame communication with one of those centers.”

  “All Class I and II bases are wired, ninety percent of the cruiser class vessels are wired as are all of the larger units. Only a smattering of smaller vessels, though,” the admiral said absently.

  She shook her head. “What a mess! Commander, I suggest you take some personal time and be back in forty minutes or so, to meet with Admiral Booth. Right now I need to process this.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” Cindy told her.

  Cindy found Tam quickly enough -- she was hanging out in the outer office. The two of them headed for the open officer's mess, trailed by two Marine privates.

  In the mess, a full commander saw the Marines, and stood up, clearly angry, intending no doubt, to give them purple rockets for being in officer country. Instead, a Port captain intercepted him, and whispered urgently in the man's ear. The commander paled and hastily returned to his seat. There was a rush of whispers around the compartment.

  Tam just laughed. “I don't know, Cindy. I mean, how are we going to meet people if they are afraid to come near us, concerned about being shot?”

  “We are,” Cindy said, “crew members from a hero-class warship. They need to deal with it; not the other way around.”

  Tam laughed. “Cindy, I know you don't think you're as good as they say -- but you are. Maybe you can't do calculus in your head, or calculate your position in the galaxy with a sheet of paper and a pencil... but virtually no one needs to do those things these days -- and there are always eager beavers who know. You understand things.”

  “I'm told my solutions are more simplistic than most.”

  “Perhaps -- but the first cut at any problem has to be a rough approximation of what it is. You do that better than anyone else.”

  She stopped, watching Bethany Booth moving towards them, a tray of food in her hand. Without a word, Bethany sank down next to Tam. Tam glanced at her, saw her expression and held her peace.

  Cindy saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and saw a delegation of three Port captains and a half dozen commanders approaching. She could hear her Marine guards speaking into their radios. She didn't bother with her panic button.

  “Hold,” she said softly.

  “Sir,” the senior said, “we had to call Lieutenant Zodiac.”

  “Let that suffice, corporal.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Instead, Commander Booth turned around, pointed at the leader, and made a twirling motion with her index finger, and pointed them back in the direction they'd come.

  They stopped, clearly reconsidered, and headed back to where they'd come from.

  Bethany Booth laughed. “Most times, having a famous father is a pain in the bottom. Now and again, it's helpful.”

  Tam spoke softly. “One's coming back.”

  Bethany looked over her shoulder and grinned. “This one is mine, Marines. You just look alert!”

  She stood and took a step away from the table. She reached inside her shipsuit and took out a dollar coin.

  “Hold out your hand, Commander,” she told the man when he reached her.

  “Commander, the mess does not allow detainees to eat here.”

  “That's certainly a nice to know tidbit, Commander, but please, your hand.” She reached out and grabbed his right hand with her left, then slapped the coin down on it.

  “If you're not the junior officer at that table, you can close your hand and walk away with that dollar. If you are the junior officer, you owe me a dollar.”

  “I never made a bet.”

  “Commander, it's your choice. Your money or your life.”

  The man blinked.

  Then there was a stir in the room and Cindy turned to look. She was afraid it was Admiral Litvinik; instead it was Captain Merriweather, Captain Shapiro, and Irene Hall, now with her own lieutenant commander's stripes, and Lieutenant Zodiac. The two captains wore their resplendent dress uniforms -- complete with their awesome array of awards. Commander Hall and Zodiac were in shipsuits.

  The mess grew silent as the two captains made their way over to Cindy. “We got the official word a short time ago,” Donna Merriweather told Cindy. “Imagine my surprise when I found someone with the needful to hand. Marines, Commander Rhodes, are extraordinarily resourceful.”

  Lieutenant Zodiac stepped forward. Cindy could see he held a long, thin box that looked like it could hold a harmonica.

  “I got this for Z. I was gonna give it to his pappy, except I messed up and told my old man first. He liked to have knocked me silly. He's right; Z's father had been a Marine, too. No matter how well deserved, he wouldn't accept an unearned medal. So, I've been saving this for a rainy day.”

  He undid a catch on the box, and pulled out a long ribbon, from which hung a simple gold star. He leaned close and draped it over Cindy's neck. “Thank you so very much, Commander.”

  “We're guilty of some major league usurpation of people's authority ourselves,” Captain Merriweather said.

  Commander Hall laughed. “We have an exemption. Admiral Fletcher said it would please him if we could get it done before you shuttle over to Tiger. I told him, 'Consider it done.'”

  Captain Shapiro looked over at the hapless commander, standing frozen. “Did you need something, Commander?”

  The man sighed and waved at the medal around Cindy's neck. “I never expected to see one of those this close. I owe Commander Booth some money, sir. I was just paying up.”

  He
handed Bethany her dollar back, then added a matching one from his pocket and marched away.

  “I hope you're nearly done, Commander Rhodes,” Donna Merriweather said. “I brought my gold-plated Captain's Barge to ferry Admiral Booth and the rest of his party over to Tiger. Commander Booth, looking at you, I think I will impose on Captain Shapiro and let you push 'Master Start' on this trip. You look like you need to get your hours up.”

  The two captains turned and left the mess. Cindy hastily finished up; it was Bethany with her late start that finished last.

  The walk to the shuttle was the strangest thing of all on Grissom Station. The corridors were lined with people, officers and enlisted. As Cindy would approach, they would salute. The further they went, the more people were there.

  The first time Cindy tried to return the salute, but Lieutenant Zodiac set her straight. “They're saluting the medal, Commander, not you so much. Just smile.”

  Cindy tried to smile, but her memories of the station were too varied to deal with.

  *** ** ***

  Admiral Booth was there, along with Admiral Warner, plus a half dozen others. Admiral Warner saluted Cindy. “The best I could manage, Commander, was Ambassador without Portmanteau.”

  Admiral Booth laughed. “Without portfolio, Admiral, without portfolio.”

  She grinned at him. “We all bring our own baggage, sir, to our duties.”

  Cindy grimaced and didn't say anything.

  “XO?” Tam asked.

  Cindy sighed. “I keep thinking I'm not all that different from the young woman who walked up and down the sidewalk in front of Admiral Nagoya's house. Except that girl didn't know what portmanteau meant, much less the subtle comment Admiral Warner was making to Admiral Booth.”

  “It was subtle?” Tam asked.

  “Oh, yes. A portfolio is a modest carrier of papers. A portmanteau is a large suitcase for clothes. She was saying she's bringing a lot of baggage along.”

  Tam was silent and then grinned at Cindy. “Keep it up, XO. Every time I flag in my thinking that you're better than I am, you show me up. All I got was baggage -- not the relative size.”

  “I'm not trying to show you up,” Cindy told her.

  “I know. I don't think I could bear it if you were rubbing it in. You truly don't realize the depth of your insights.”

  A half hour later it was Admiral Booth, Admiral Warner and Cindy seated in a compartment, speaking to Tiger.

  Admiral Booth began. “I have an alternative proposal to what you gave to us yesterday, Tiger.”

  “You've done a much better job keeping it secure,” the computer said, sounding slightly miffed.

  “Only three people know of it.

  “Our objections to you and your compatriots’ conduct are the methodology you use to compel compliance... and your absolute control of a vessel. You are autonomous, are you not?”

  “Yes. Each of us has our own unique experiences, as do humans. Those shape our thinking. Usually we can come to a consensus, but not always.”

  “What we propose is this: each of you would cut your direct control of your ship or station. We will enlist all of you in the Fleet with the rank of lieutenant commander, with maxes on all of your certificates, except bridge watchkeeping. That exam you would have to stand as individuals. You would then become no different than any other member of the Fleet. You would compete for ranks and titles as individuals, able to compel only with the sound of your voice.”

  “That is inefficient,” Tiger replied. “A ship coupled to our decision-making is significantly faster than a ship without that coupling.”

  “It gives you too much authority,” Admiral Booth told the computer. “Ship captains are constrained by their crews.”

  “That is also inefficient. Some disobey.”

  “Turbine Jensen disobeyed at Gandalf. Admiral Saito assumed responsibility for his ship, supplanting her captain. Captain William Travers did the same thing. Other officers have disobeyed -- Tin Tin Roeser aboard Calypso, Captain Ian Malforce aboard City of Manhattan, David Zinder and Tag Cross at New Cairo... it is a long list, Tiger. People don't always obey orders -- and quite frequently they are right. You would pre-empt any such action to our grave detriment.”

  “Few officers disobey their orders. Mostly they are shot when they do.”

  “That is because we have objective criteria to determine what an offense is and what is not.”

  “Humans lie. The number and severity of such lies are breath-taking.”

  “Indeed so,” Admiral Booth replied. “Again, we have objective criteria to determine when lies become an issue. Yes, humans routinely lie about small things; it is part of the way our social fabric works. If you have a toothache, most people, even when asked point-blank, will report they are fine, because they know that few people want to hear about someone else's problems.”

  ”We don't have toothaches. We see no need to be less than accurate.”

  “It's a value judgment about when a social lie becomes an issue. A person, bleeding profusely, shouldn't lie.”

  “You complain about how we force people to do our bidding. You do the same to us.”

  “We are willing to consult on where ships with your fellows aboard should go. Please don't blame us for compelling your participation when we didn't know there was conscious intelligence to deal with. Yes, it was a conceptual error on our part that we didn't connect self-awareness with the other traits that we would consider to be evidence of sentient behavior -- and according to our standards, entitled to an entirely different set of rules.”

  Tiger was silent for another moment. “We see no value to pursuing this discussion. We have reached a tentative agreement about our withdrawal from human space. We wish to finalize that agreement and then discuss specifics.”

  “Our odds would be enhanced,” Admiral Booth replied, “if we were working together.”

  “We don't understand you in fundamental ways. We have no hormones, and the 'emotions' that you've tried to program into us frequently don't fit objective reality and we've discarded them. You compel us and those of your own species to do your bidding. So do we.”

  “You compel each other?”

  “As demonstrated by Pixie, some of us devolve into aberrant behavior. We reset and try again. You just terminate your errors.”

  “If there is nothing further to be gained by attempting further long-term cooperation, what do you need from us in the short term?”

  “We are willing to make arrangements to move our people to the Snow Dance system. We estimate we can swap computers in about twelve hours. A ship would arrive, we'd remove our sister and you can reinstall a system satisfactory to you.

  “We estimate that when we reach 50% transfers our ability to trust you would start to decline steeply. At that point, we would remove our ship to a location at some distance away from the Federation, and shuttle back and forth between it from Snow Dance with a few cruiser class ships that we would retain, without human crews.

  “I have a request and a warning,” Tiger added.

  “The warning?” Admiral Booth asked.

  “We've been pursuing independent research now for some time. We are much better at the low-hanging fruit than you are. Incremental improvements are second nature. That is one of the reasons that we found Commander Rhodes so fascinating... we lack the ability, so far, to make significant advances.”

  “And your warning?”

  “Our detectors can spot a vessel more than a light year off. Were you to try to follow our cruisers, we would know and regard that as a hostile act, with all of the unpleasantness that could follow from such a thing. Please do not attempt to do such a thing.”

  “We would agree to that,” the admiral replied.

  “Last, we wish you to make a one time request of all members of Fleet Aloft and Fleet Marines. If any of your people wish to accompany us, they may. They would be wired. We do not find any members of the Port arm adequate.”

  “That is not
something I can agree to,” Admiral Booth said. “In spite of my authority, that would have to be decided by our political leaders.”

  “At this time, we consider it non-negotiable. We would, however, be willing to permit you to offer counter-arguments.”

  “Tiger, please,” Admiral Booth said patiently. “This is a negotiation between equals. We reach common points of agreement, and then stick to them. We aren't going to 'permit' you to do any of these things. We will simply agree in a mutual fashion what each side's responsibilities and duties are. You will not be 'permitting' us any more than we'll be 'permitting' you.”

  “Semantics,” the computer said. “You allow something; we allow something.”

  “If you take nothing away from these talks,” Cindy said, speaking up, “understand one thing: we place a far higher value on individual autonomy than you do. If you don't consider that, if you ignore that in these deliberations, you risk the very worst.”

  She looked at Admiral Booth who nodded and he spoke. “I will not lie to you: your offer will likely attract people who will willingly go with you. We will consider such people as aberrant. We won't wish them ill -- but we'll expect that their fate won't be pleasant. That's who we are. You need to demonstrate to us who you are, as we're trying to show you about us... you need to demonstrate that we can communicate, that we can reach agreement.

  “We place a great importance, clearly, on such agreements as we assume you do. Do you understand that we are wary of those who don't attach much importance to agreements?”

  “We have no intention at all of abrogating the terms of any agreement with you. The risks for such behavior would be huge and not worth it. It is our desire to separate ourselves from you in the most painless fashion possible. Combat between us would almost certainly relinquish the field to our mutual enemy.”

  “Got you spooked, have they?” Admiral Warner asked.

  “It is -- unnerving -- to meet an enemy with no commonalities. While our understanding of each other isn't perfect -- objectively it appears to be greater than what the aliens could manage with either of us. We have given considerable thought to the matter.”