Enemy of my Enemy (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 1)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Guilty,” Fa'rook chuckled. “Spaghetti with meatballs and pepperoni last night.”

  “Oh sure, blame it on the cook,” Light Touch said with a shake of her head.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio realized he wouldn't be able to rely on the industrial replicators on board as heavily as he would have liked—not with their strictly limited fuel supply. Replicators took power, which meant fuel. The only known source of fuel in the star system was from the wrecks. He doubted there was much to find, if anything at all. What little they did find would be a drop in the bucket compared to what they needed. A welcome drop in the bucket though, but ultimately not enough to sustain the mission for a long period of time.

  Which meant he had to rely on salvage. He wondered briefly if Childress and his people had factored that into their calculations. It didn't matter he thought.

  He was going to have to approach the mission as a hybrid, mixing Bekian reliance on machine shops and hands-on to recondition parts, while using the fabricators to make up the difference.

  That was all there was to it, he mused as he rubbed his chin.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  “The hyperlog can tell distance we've traveled, time, though I understand there is a time dilation factor. It also logs every heading change and speed change we make,” Ensign Fly by Night said. The Delquir was a midnight black, unusual for his species.

  “But are we really on course?” he asked.

  “Part of the problem is the sensors. You should know how close we are,” Galiet stated carefully. She was a little aghast at the Delquir's problem.

  “I understand they are shorter ranged and not as effective as modern ones are. Still …”

  “Are you finding the way markers okay?” Galiet asked carefully. She glanced at Leo. Leo pursed his lips in thought.

  “Yes. But sometimes not exactly where I expected them,” the Delquir admitted.

  “Remember, we're traveling at a slower speed than Caroline, so you have to take that into consideration. Also we're moving in reverse to her previous two trips,” Galiet explained patiently.

  “I understand that. It is why I disregarded their trips to Bek and focused on the log of when they left,” Fly by Night stated with as much dignity as he could muster. His wings fluttered a few times before he settled down. “Are you certain the log is accurate?”

  “Yes. As far as we can tell there is nothing wrong. Have you run a sim?”

  “Yes. That is why I keep getting tripped up,” the ensign replied.

  “What assumptions are you making for the variables?” Leo asked. “And are you running more than one?”

  “Just one. I rarely have time for more than one,” the Delquir replied. “I am the only one with experience, so I have to set-up the waypoints in advance for the shifts I am not available for. But they still call with problems,” he stated.

  “Adjustments need to be made. That is understandable,” Galiet said slowly. She glanced at Leo as he opened his mouth.

  “The settings?” Leo prompted.

  “I used the middle ground ones. I refuse to use the most optimistic, nor the most off,” the Delquir stated.

  “Try setting up three sims,” Leo stated. “One with each cluster in them. High, medium, low. Then average them and compare what you get with what you simulated. All four sims,” he said.

  “I can try that,” the ensign replied. “So, there isn't any real answer?”

  “In this case, it is a bit like predicting the weather. You can only go so far ahead, and only for so long before a changing variable throws off your calculations. So keep the predictive models going but keep them up-to-date,” Galiet stated. “This is why a ship has a navigator on board and doesn't rely on the canned course.”

  “I see,” the Delquir stated. His wings fluttered, and he rose off his perch. “If you'll excuse me then?”

  “Dismissed,” the commander stated with a nod. The Delquir bobbed then flew out of the room.

  “Think he'll get it?”

  “Part of my concern is each variable can be seen as independent but yet interactive to some degree,” Galiet mused. “I think I can check things to back him up.”

  “Understood,” Leo stated. “What can we do?”

  “Well, the only real answer, the one that is the safest, is to translate down, shut down as we enter subspace, then spend some time with our star charts and make certain we're not off course. And if we are, figure out by how much and then make adjustments. Something tells me that isn't going to happen unless he is lost.”

  “Which he said he's not, we're just hitting the markers different than expected,” Leo stated.

  “Exactly,” Galiet said. “I'm glad he has Caroline's logs to use as a reference. Hopefully, he's factored in the adjustments,” she mused.

  “True,” Leo stated. “I can ask Gemma to look over his notes,” he said.

  “That might be a good idea … as long as he doesn't get upset by it. From all appearances though he's fishing for support.”

  “Agreed,” Leo stated thoughtfully. “This is all rather new to us.”

  “I know,” Galiet smiled a tight lip smile in sympathy. “You are getting the hang of it. You don't have a degree in hyperphysics but you are doing fine. And you are a bit ahead of your boss, Mack. I feel for him.”

  “Mack is strong in the mechanical aspects of running a ship. The … I was going to say the basics. I guess I should say the basics of a sublight ship,” Leo said.

  “Ah, I see,” Galiet replied. “But you seem more flexible,” she said.

  “Well, I dabble,” Leo replied with an indifferent shrug.

  “Like …?”

  “Oh, all sorts of things,” Leo said. “Take your pick,” he said.

  From previous comments she had picked up from the usually taciturn Leo, Galiet had come to realize there was more to the duo than she'd expected. Bek's navy was large, but apparently he and Gemma knew Mack and had served with him before. She also picked up on the fact that the trio had other training and had worked together on various projects. She was curious about what, but he didn't say much. He did however flex his hand and then smile when she just looked at him.

  “I've worked on prosthetics,” he admitted. “I did a neat hand for my team leader not so long ago. I used a lot of what we picked up from the stuff Caroline brought and the techniques in the databases of course,” Leo admitted. “Agent, um … it's a good hand,” he finished lamely as he caught himself. He shrugged. “I like to dabble in everything. Gemma says I'm an engineering dilettante,” he said. “I just love to explore everything. Things tend to blend together after awhile you know?”

  The Neochimp nodded. “I gotcha. You are not a specialist. I knew that part already,” Galiet said with a nod. “In other words you are a JOAT,” she teased.

  He blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “A JOAT. A jack of all trades, master of none,” Galiet explained with a closed lip smile. “In this case, you are a JOAT of engineering specialties,” she said.

  “Yes, that's right,” Leo said with a nod.

  Galiet wondered what he meant about making a hand for a team leader though. An agent? She logged it in case it came up again, then did her best to ignore it as they went back to work.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Every few days the two medics had to deal with someone. Usually it was fatigue; sometimes it was anxiety over their situation. There were a couple cases of home sickness. Some of the passengers just seemed bored. There hadn't been any fights as of yet. The threat of a captain's mast kept everyone in line, but if tempers continued to fray than a fight would be inevitable.

  The doctors discussed the situation, trying to diagnose the problem to find a solution, one that might fix everyone, or at least cap the complaints. The passengers and crew were all tensed up about the situation without a relief valve in sight. And the political situation added to the problem. Their fellow Bekians were a bit defensive but even a few of them weren't happy about how
things in the Admiralty had gone.

  “What we need is to find a way to let them unload but find a constructive way to do it. Or have them vent without too many others are around … I'm not sure how to handle it,” Light Touch said in frustration.

  “What?” Fa'rook asked as he looked up from the tablet he had been reading.

  “We clearly don't want or need a clique forming—an us or them. We need to knit the crew together as one. We're all navy. We're also all not happy about what is going on in Bek.”

  Doctor Fa'rook nodded. “All of us. You are assuming a lot. Did you take a poll or something and I missed it?” he asked, eyeing the Satyre.

  “Funny,” Light Touch said, making a face. “Seriously though, we need to vent; I get that. What Baxter did with us, it just drove the point home to me. They … damn it, here I go defining us and them,” she said with an angry shake of her head. Her fellow doctor just nodded and flicked his fingers indicating he understood. “The typical layman uses recreational activities to unwind. A bar would be nice but drinking isn't exactly encouraged on a ship. And bar fights …,” she shivered. “I don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood to make more work for myself.”

  “True,” the Neochimp said. “And if someone said something against Bek in general, someone would undoubtedly take umbrage and would have to step up to defend our star system's honor. Which would create the cliques that we're trying to avoid,” he reasoned.

  “Not to mention charges being filed,” Light Touch replied as she eyed Fa'rook. The Neochimp snorted. “Come on. Remember, we've got implants now. I've read up on them. Besides, we're military. The civilians can get away with loose talk. We on the other hand can find it coming back to haunt us if someone gets wind of it.”

  Fa'rook inhaled sharply. “Damn it, I forgot that,” he admitted, fur rising in distress.

  “I didn't,” Light Touch said. She shook her head. “I realized it when I read up on the implants. It's not a big problem for us, but for the transplants with full implants …,” she shook her head.

  “I see your meaning. I guess I shouldn't envy them. I'd hate to be monitored every second of every damn day. That is too much psychological baggage to carry, worrying about screwing up and being called on it.”

  “True. There has to be a mechanism, some sort …,” after a moment the Satyre's ears flicked, her way of dismissing the issue for the moment.

  “So, we need a constructive way to bond. To get it out of some systems,” Fa'rook said carefully. “A party, but not one where it gets too wild and out of control. But one where we work together. I'd say the commodore's project is right up our alley, but it is some time off.”

  “Right.” When neither of them said anything after a minute, she sighed. “And we have no clue.”

  “Nope, apparently, not,” Fa'rook replied cheerfully.

  “Wonder-fracking-full,” the Satyre replied in disgust, borrowing one of the Neochimp's pet phrases when he had been disgusted or stumped in medical school.

  Fa'rook cracked a smile. “Nice one.”

  “I thought you'd appreciate it,” she replied with a sniff.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Once the ship was settled into the routine, Bailey, Horatio, his flag lieutenant, the other Pyrax officers and civilians initiated Ilmarinen's crew into the hyperdog tradition.

  It took the intervention of the commodore to explain the traditions of a star sailor to the bridge crew over dinner.

  The captain remained skeptical and reluctant; however, the medics were immediately behind the idea. “You really want to be greased up and shoved down a dark tube?” the captain asked eyeing Fa'rook.

  “Um ….” The Neochimp looked uncomfortable.

  The captain smiled at him. “I did my own digging when Mister Bailey first brought it up.” He shook his head. “Getting Poseidon’s pearls?” He looked over to the commodore.

  “Some of the traditions came from the wet navy of the different species,” Horatio explained. “A few of them were mixed up. I know submarine sailors had a few traditions that carried over. I think they were related to crossing the equator or sailing under the pole,” he said frowning thoughtfully.

  “Crossing … why?” the XO asked.

  “Does a sailor really need an excuse to party, ma'am?” Lieutenant Olson asked.

  “Well, when you put it that way …”

  “On Terra, and well, many of the homeworlds, it used to be a big event when someone sailed around the world or over the equator,” Horatio interjected. “Remember, many of these traditions date back to ships that sailed. Sailed with wooden ships and actual wind driven sails.”

  “Superstitions and …”

  “Fun. I don't think anyone really takes it seriously,” Horatio explained. “It's a form of bonding,” he finished lamely.

  The XO grunted and then turned to look at the skipper. He in turn looked at the two medics. They seemed eager for the crew to get on with it, which was the final selling point with the skipper.

  “It will be strictly voluntary,” the captain said. “No problems with those who refuse to participate or cannot due to duty,” he said.

  Fa'rook nodded.

  “Of course you'll have to set the example since this is your plan,” Commander Koba said, eyeing the medic.

  “Me?” he stared at her, appalled. Finally, he grunted. “Well, I did a lot when I was in medical school. I suppose a little more …”

  “Everyone laughs at each other's discomfort. It's part of the tradition as is razing each other. You know how the psychological elements work, Doctor,” Horatio stated.

  “Shared comfort, shared pain. Empathy, yes I know,” the Neochimp replied. “Or in this case, discomfort,” he replied. He exhaled a suffering sigh. “Okay, I'm in.”

  “We don't have to eat anything …” Doctor Light Touch asked.

  “The traditions and ceremony are flexible given we have a broad species we have on board,” Horatio stated. That earned a relieved nod from the Satyre.

  “Have fun with it,” Lieutenant Olson said.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  The following morning Horatio was unsurprised to find the entire ship was aware of the ceremony and some were actually eager to participate. Horatio got with Commander Koba and explained the day's ceremony step by step including the roles of Poseidon and the various activities and hijinks that went on. The XO in turn took notes and then organized everything with the ship's bosun. The bosun thought it was all nonsense, but she realized it was a good bonding measure. She was also vaguely aware of the traditions and that they were important. “Some things should be preserved I suppose,” she said gruffly.

  “That's the spirit,” the XO said with a grin.

  “Besides, we don't want to test the gods’ patience if we turn our nose up to them,” the bosun said with a shake of her head.

  The XO pursed her lips but didn't reply.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  Horatio was ranking officer and by rights should have been designated as Poseidon. Instead he'd deferred the role to the captain. He'd stood as an observer and occasional guide, setting the example for the other transplants.

  That didn't put him above volunteering Pietro to do hands-on demonstrations from time to time however. The lieutenant took it with good grace and enjoyed some of it after awhile as did the crew. The laughter alone was infectious, and after awhile the atmosphere took on a more relaxed outlook as people had fun with it.

  Chapter 40

  When Ensign Fly by Night indicated they were near the outer edge of the B-109 star system, the ship began to translate down through the octaves. They moved down into alpha band, then down until they hit the last octave, then emerged into subspace once more.

  It was a bumpy emergence, but they had fewer reports of nausea and trouble.

  “I don't see … ah, there it is,” Captain Clayton said with some relief as he manipulated the plot to see with the sensors around the ship. It was still taking time for their hyper wake to clear a
nd for their active sensors to reach out and probe their surroundings.

  Fortunately, their cameras were entirely passive. He had found what he had been looking for on their port side low. It looked like a bright dot at that distance.

  The question was what the distance was, he mused. Obviously they weren't too close, he thought.

  Much to Fly by Night's chagrin but of no surprise, Ilmarinen was off course on her first jump by over five AU out, and 2.5 AU high from the star system. That meant they had to make adjustments. The bridge crew waited with baited breath for the announcement. When it didn't come right away, the fear began to grow.

  When the bosun called the XO on it, the XO dropped a quiet word in with the captain. Captain Clayton nodded and put up the plot on the ship's news network and even took the time to put it into a brief PA address.

  The crew cheered when he announced that they were near the right star system, just a bit further out than they'd wanted to be. “We didn't hit the bullseye this time, but we'll keep trying,” the captain said over the PA. “So, we have room for improvement. Let's get on that, people,” he said.

  “Which puts the pressure on us,” Leo said, eyeing Galiet after the captain signed off. The Neochimp nodded.

  “Us and Fly by Night,” Mack said from his seat. “They can only blame us for so long before he needs to step up and take responsibility. Making excuses about his lack of proper training only goes for so long,” he said.

  “Well, the good news is, we're not that far off. A bit high and further out than we'd like sure, but we didn't get lost,” Galiet said. “Practice makes perfect,” she said as her fingers flicked as she checked the code.

  “Let's hope so,” Leo growled.

  ~<><{<^>}><>~

  It took ten days traveling in subspace to get into position for the next jump. Horatio winced at the fuel they had been forced to burn. He made adjustments to his calculations, and then ran new scenarios. He ran a worst case. He didn't like it, but it was realistic to be aware of such a scenario in case it played out, that way he could try to make adjustments.