by Chris Hechtl
“No, sir.”
“I understand the commodore helped us with the implant issue?” the team leader asked, eyeing them.
“Yes, sir,” Leo said with a smile. “The commodore asked for volunteers in the ship's compliment to get the basic ID implants. We,” he glanced at his fellow officers, “volunteered.”
“Good. Do they work as advertised?” the team leader asked. He glanced at Mack.
“They do, sir,” the gloss black and bald human officer rumbled quietly. “They help a bit. We're all still getting used to them. I like that we can interface with hardware. And passing messages is simplicity itself now,” he explained.
“Secure?” the team leader demanded, crossing his arms.
“Not anymore. Now that I know how they work I can reprogram the WiFi nodes to record them, sir,” Leo stated.
“I see. You three are going to be on your own for awhile. You keep an eye on the crew especially the transplants. Don't blow your cover.”
“No, sir. We'll do our best.”
“Good,” Philippe said. If he had any misgivings about losing the services of the trio, he didn't let them reach his face. “Mack, you are in charge. Log everything.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hill wants us to build a case against Logan. Make sure you keep that in mind. Remember who your loyalties are to.”
“Yes, sir,” Gemma said. Leo hesitated but nodded. He turned to Mack. “You only got the basic implants though?”
“Yes, sir. We could have gotten others if we'd had more time. I'm surprised that the Admiralty signed off on it though,” Mack said.
“They didn't. We did a little finagling in order to allow it. What Childress doesn't know won't come back and bite us in the ass hopefully,” Philippe admitted. That made Gemma and Leo raise their eyebrows in surprise. “Don't worry about it. It's above your pay grade,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The good news is it's allowed us to get some more of our people through the implant process. Though now that we know what is involved, it's caused a shitload of anxiety in some quarters. He eyed Leo and Gemma severely. “You two are on my shit list for not pointing them out.”
“Sir? Pointing what out?”
“That the damn ID implants are nanotech,” the team leader growled. “It would have been nice to have known that before I'd gotten them.”
“Are you sick, sir? Any problems?”
“No.”
“Then it's as they said, fine. I checked,” Gemma said. “No nanites left. They get flushed out when they finish their job.”
“It still should have been reported to me,” the team leader growled.
“Had you known you wouldn't have gotten them,” Leo said. The team leader grunted. “If I may ask, sir, if you have them, why did you ask about ours?”
“I just got them this morning. I swallowed the pills and well …,” the team leader grimaced.
“I've been working on a means to modify them, sir. I love the HUD, but it's a pain in the ass to use if you need to keep your eyes open. Some of the images get washed out or interfere with your vision. I'm going to explore a method of putting a screen on your arm or something,” Leo offered.
“Right, sure, you do that. Have a safe trip,” the team leader said, waving his artificial hand dismissively.
“Thank you, sir. Good luck here,” Gemma said. She nodded and the trio filed out.
Philippe tugged on one ear and then sighed. “Luck indeed,” he murmured. “I'm not the one who is going to need it I think.”
~<><{<^>}><>~
“There is something … I don't know, phallic I guess you could say about the design. Tell me, are you compensating for something, Horatio?” Zek teased just as Horatio took a sip of his drink.
That earned an expulsion of liquid followed by a coughing spell from the commodore. The rear admiral grinned at his accomplishment.
“Funny,” Horatio weakly got out. He cleared his throat. “Really funny, sir,” he said as he put the cup down. “Not very accurate though.”
“Oh? How so?” Zek asked, sitting back.
“The last time I checked certain equipment wasn't shaped like that,” Horatio replied. “There are a bit too many parts on her. And she is a she.”
Zek snorted. “Check it often?” he teased wickedly. “You want to be sure now,” he drawled.
Horatio just chuckled and shook his head.
Zek paused and appeared to think about it. “Well, I can't say I've seen your package. I know some have accused you of having a large pair or double pair …” Zek grinned. “But now, some of the other species running around here …”
“You are impossible, you know that?” Horatio retorted, shaking his head.
“I couldn't resist. It was a great opening to ask about the ship though,” Zek said.
“What about it, sir?” Horatio asked as he used a napkin to clean up the mess and then set it aside.
“I just realized; it's like your daughter's ship. You couldn't help but make it bigger and better though,” Zek said with a grin.
“Oh, yeah, something like that,” Horatio replied with a brief smile.
Zek snorted. “Ilmarinen is Prometheus on steroids. I bet the brass in Antigua will want her as a standard class when they see her specs,” he said.
“Well, there is that,” Horatio said with a small smile.
Zek frowned as he gamed out why Horatio had gone with that particular design and how he'd managed to win the brass over to do it. Something just didn't fit. And he still wasn't certain what the other man's end game was. Had it been just to get them to try the new tech? Or was something else afoot? Finally, he came right out and asked. “I was wondering why you went for a factory tender though. I mean right off a specialist when you sold the brass on a transport collier,” he said thoughtfully.
Horatio shrugged indifferently. But Zek's eyes narrowed as he noted the casual indifference was mostly feigned. Something was going on; something he hadn't seen up until that point. Something under his nose, under everyone's nose. Horatio was up to something; he'd put money on it.
He knew that Horatio had such a political skill set that no one thought he did. Or ONI might, but …. No, he'd gotten part of his way in getting Bek to retool and start producing more modern parts. But that wasn't it. Not all of it.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it until his thoughts returned to Ilmarinen and her design, then the mission Childress had put together—the mission to B-102C. The ship was perfect for the mission. That was when he finally caught on.
His eyes widened briefly and then narrowed. “You planned this all along,” he texted.
Horatio turned to him and raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
“Don't play coy. I get it now. That's why you chose to build a factory ship,” Zek said quietly, leaning in and risking being overheard or recorded.
Horatio shrugged. “As you said, I couldn't resist building a better Prometheus,” he said with a challenging smile.
“Right,” Zek drawled. He had a sudden newfound admiration for his fellow flag officer. He hadn't realized Horatio could be that devious. He now understood he'd maneuvered Childress into building Ilmarinen as a way of getting rid of Horatio. He'd even maneuvered the situation so Childress had thought of it as his own idea. “But … why …?” he frowned.
“I like a challenge. Remember the station in B101a1?” Horatio asked. Zek nodded. “I thought that would be a great project to be involved in. Then when we passed through B-102c, I saw all those hulls there and thought it was a crying shame to just leave them like that. I know some people think it’s morbid to pick through derelicts, but I've gotten used to it in Pyrax,” Horatio offered.
Zek nodded, but he knew instinctively that wasn't the only reason. This was a well-laid-out plan, but that wasn't the only end game Horatio had envisioned. The commodore was multitasking, getting multiple outcomes from his actions. The old saying about two birds with one stone came to mind.
Suddenly it came to him
. Ilmarinen was a one-off. Once out of Bek, Horatio could pull a Childress and countermand the ship's orders. Was he willing to risk the rapids? He frowned, studying the other flag officer. Horatio just stared back calmly.
He shook his head mentally. No. Horatio was a bit of a gambler. All flag officers had to be risk takers, but he knew it wasn't worth that sort of risk. So … the base yes, but … Nuevo? If he resupplied from Nuevo … and the factory ship would do well to help bootstrap the industry there … slowly he nodded.
And somewhere out there, Irons would have a ship. He could meet Caroline or another ship in B-102c and let them know all the crap Childress was pulling in Bek. And once out from under Childress's thumb, he might be able to pull it off.
“Okay. Be careful with those ships though. They are wrecks for a reason.”
“I know,” Horatio said with a smile. “As I said, I've got a lot of experience with them. I'm trying to get more crew to form prize crews if possible. By my calculations, I think we can handle the station and maybe one ship. Maybe,” he said.
“Well, I think you should pick the right ship then,” Zek said thoughtfully as their conversation turned onto different lines.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Admiral Hill made her report on Horatio and Zek's conversation. That sparked conversation within the senior staff. She sat back and watched the fireworks commence. She noted as she did so that her Naga boss wasn't exactly happy with her report.
“He's not going to risk the rapids, is he? Even in alpha band …?” Admiral N'r'm'll demanded.
“I have no idea. That's what scares me. Does it matter if he does? Good riddance, right?” Admiral Childress asked indifferently.
Admiral Draken scowled, aghast at his boss's flippancy to the situation. “I can't countersign loosing those assets—the personnel and the hardware.”
“Then why are you letting him go in the first place? And I understand you signed off on him taking half the A.I. constructs as well,” Admiral Bolt pointed out.
Admiral Childress scowled darkly. “I'd rather see them used elsewhere than here.”
“Okay, but letting them go at all? The risk of just getting to B-102C? In a freshly constructed ship with a crew that has little experience in hyperspace?”
“He's mad. I know; that's why he insisted on taking the techs and Pyrax officers. They should make the difference for him,” Admiral N'r'm'll stated.
Admiral Draken nodded slowly. “And the extra personnel?”
“He's picking mustangs. I say good riddance to them,” Admiral C'v'll said dismissively.
The Neochimp rear admiral cocked her head and then nodded slowly. “I see. I must have missed that.”
“You've missed a lot it seems,” Admiral Childress said with a glare her way.
“I can't be everywhere. I can't see and listen to every conversation that goes on. I do what I can with what I have,” Admiral Hill said with as much dignity as she could muster. That she was willing and able to fire right back at Admiral Childress made the senior officer frown ferociously.
Admiral Draken shot her a quelling look. Sometimes the Neochimp forgot herself and the titles due to the more senior officer in the heat of the moment. But calling her on it might irk her further and seem petty. Most likely Admiral Childress was still smarting over being upstaged. Tough. “I think we'll let him pack the ship with whoever he wants. As long as they've got the life support …,” he shrugged. “He's picking the firebrands. No one over a commander's rank has signed on to his lunatic expedition. They know better.”
“Yes, sir,” Admiral N'r'm'll said carefully to help divert attention from Admiral Hill. After a moment Admiral Childress looked away and worked his jaw, seemingly getting control of his rising temper.
Good, Sherman thought as he considered the problem from N'r'm'll's point of view. The officers and enlisted in the navy were frustrated by the situation. He had his own watchdogs keeping an eye on their gripes in the forums. Apparently, they weren't the only ones. He hadn't run any sort of a poll, but he'd been told that roughly a third of the navy was impatient of the situation and they wanted a change. A change in the direction of Admiral Irons' orders.
Which … was the smart thing to do. He rather regretted not getting them in motion before Admiral Childress had come out of retirement. By rights Yorgi and Pashenkov should have implemented the changes before they had left too, he thought, passing the buck. Now it was on his shoulders. And he had to try to make small changes to appease the rank and file … and Irons when he finally did something to land on Childress.
Well, not quite, he thought as his eyes turned to the more senior officer. “Are we just going to give him a blank check, sir?”
“If it keeps him busy and out of our hair, I'm all for it,” the admiral growled. “Find him the money in the budget.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the Chimera sighed.
The admiral looked at him sharply. “Mark my words. Once he's gone, things will settle down to what they once were—out of sight, out of mind. And definitely out of the hearts and minds of the people here and the eyesight of the media. We can do a bit of tidying up of the chain of command while he's away too. I'm assembling a list of everyone who's helped him,” he said. “And Hill here is keeping tabs on everyone bitching about the situation. We'll fix their wagons,” he growled.
The Chimera flag officer fought to keep his ears erect. It was hard; it was instinct to bring them back in his current emotional state. But he couldn't let the admiral see his distress over how vindictive he was going to be … and what that could do to the politics in the star system.
Perhaps he should find a way to tag along with the commodore as well he mused.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“As you humans would say, you rang, Admiral?” Admiral Creator of Things quipped as the vid call initiated.
“I've got a serious question for you,” Admiral Draken said, all business. “I need to know the truth. Can he pull off his mission?” he quietly asked.
The T'clock paused and cocked his massive head as if thinking about it. Finally, his mandibles fluttered, and he nodded a human-style nod. “We loaded him down with a lot of gear, almost everything he's asked for on his wish list. He's taking everything he can, including the kitchen sink. They are packing additional fuel pods and inert cargo on the exterior hull as they did on Caroline. Admiral Bolt is signing off on it since he isn't sure what they will need,” the T'clock admiral replied. “I don't know why he's given him such a blank check, but as you humans say, the commodore isn't looking the gift horse in the mouth.”
“I see,” the Chimera said. “But the last part? The part he mentioned of sending back a prize ship? Is that even possible?”
“I don't see it happening, not with the limited materials and personnel we are sending. Even he can't make a hyperdrive out of thin air! I suppose it is possible if a ship's hyperdrive and critical systems aren't too badly damaged,” the T'clock replied, flicking his antenna. “I will be curious to see if they pull it off.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” Admiral Draken said with a nod.
“The real test is going to be right off, right when they leave Bek,” the T'clock continued as the Chimera reached to shut the channel off.
“Oh?” he asked, forcing himself to stop and listen.
“The navigational issue is the biggest question mark. They do not want to be thrown too far off course. That could spell death to them and the mission,” the bug warned. “All this additional mass throws things into further doubt,” he explained.
The Chimera stilled and then slowly nodded. “Thank you Admiral. I wish you'd brought that risk up during the latest meeting,” he scolded.
“With the attitudes going around the room, I thought it would be pointless. And I didn't want to see certain parties actually gleeful about that potential scenario, thank you,” the T'clock said dryly.
“Understood. Carry on,” Admiral Draken said as he cut the channel.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Commander Koba and Ilmarinen's overworked but highly prized Veraxin Quarter Master Lieutenant V'r'x started to enjoy Commodore Logan's contacts in LOGCOM. With his quiet help they stocked the ship with whatever supplies they could.
Since they were going where there was no fuel, personnel, or parts, they had to plan accordingly. They stuffed the ship to the deckheads with gear. The additional fuel and gear threw the budget into chaos. Horatio was aware of it, but he didn't care. He was also aware of some of the more questionable midnight requisitions that he put down as comfort items for the crew.
They were having trouble storing it all, even with such a large ship to begin with. Every cubby was filled, even some of the Jeffrey tubes were pressed into impromptu storage areas. The hull was peppered with cargo and bladders of water. “Ilmarinen is starting to look like a bus I heard about,” Horatio said, shaking his head.
As the scheduled departure date approached, Horatio took the time to talk to Commander Thistle. He borrowed the XO's office to make the call while she was out. “I wish I was coming, sir,” the commander said with a shake of his head.
“I do too, Commander. I know you are good and could handle engineering, but we can't all have what we want.”
Weaver snorted. “I'm proof of that, sir,” he said.
“Keep your head up. The good news is, once I'm gone you, Admiral Zek, and Alice will be the running authorities on modern tech. So with a little bit of Lady Luck's blessing, you'll be transferred to help them soon. Perhaps to my slot,” he said.
“Really?” the Chimera asked, brightening up a bit. “Are you sure, sir?”
“I said maybe. I don't honestly know. You know BuShips can be perverse about such things. Just keep your chin up.”
“Thank you, sir. I think enough is enough with the requisitions though, sir. People are starting to ask questions.”
“I know. The extra mass is going to slow us down, but we need it. There is no telling what we'll need and we don't want to be caught without it,” Horatio said.
“I thought that was what replicators were for, sir?” the commander asked.