“Good job; that was surprisingly well done,” I said, pleased that someone back home was using their brain. I couldn’t see how two thousand new recruits could be critical, but that could be said about a lot of things: they weren’t needed until you couldn’t get them and then you were up a creek without a paddle.
“Yes, Sir,” said the Major. “After that we’ve got us another 1,783 waiting in orbit for the word on the Alliance signing before they’ll disembark their freighters,” continued the Recruitment Officer, “with the final current tally at 5,812 more down on the surface. Mostly they wanted to sign up direct with the MSP, but there’re a few ‘Alliance only’ types in there who’re doing their stint of mandatory military duty to their home worlds.”
I did a quick calculation and the number I came up with left me feeling impressed.
“So…more or less, just under ten thousand,” I concluded, leaning back in my chair.
“Thirteen thousand, sir, begging your pardon—so long as you’re counting the locals,” Major Lafiet corrected.
“Thirteen thousand,” I allowed the correction.
The Major looked satisfied, as well he might.
“With the numbers pushing eleven thousand of them going fleet, that’s almost enough to man two of these automation-heavy battleships we brought back with us,” I said, whistling through my teeth.
“Well, I’d guess it’s more like ten thousand if you’ll allow the correction, Admiral,” the Major said respectfully. “We’ve got about nine hundred of the out-world recruits looking to go Lancer—well, they still call it ‘marine’ but we’ll break them of that before too long once they get into some real training.”
“Yes…training will be a problem,” I agreed, the implications of this massive manpower boost still taking time to settle. Maybe I’d been too quick in dismissing the Border Alliance Delegates…?
Well, what was done was done, and now we could only move forward.
“We’ve done the best we could, bringing the Defense Force up to 10% over establishment and rotating 30% of the crew out for recruits on two week rotations. That system let the regulars get some extra leave time, but we could rotate but a couple hundred of them newbies through,” the old officer said regretfully.
“You’ve done outstanding work here,” I praised him. “I think as soon as we’re able, we’ll start to migrate the waiting recruits onto shipboard assignments. Even if they’re to only be confined to quarters until they’re trained in, a bird in the hand is better than three down in the gravity well.”
“And depending on how the recruiting drive has been going, you should have another two or three thousand raw recruits waiting for you at the Gambit Yards,” he pointed out.
“I think they were going to prioritize people on the technician and engineering tracks for filling out the yard, but no doubt there will be a few over there as well,” I agreed, starting to feel upbeat for the first time in a while. Sure the new hires didn’t know their elbows from their ears when it came to working on warships like those in our fleet but give it a year or two and I’d be willing to put them up against anyone in this region of space.
The original force of two thousand experienced space hands, and six thousand greenhorns, on Druid’s Battleship—even combined with the two thousand survivors of the Phoenix crew and one thousand personnel still spread out on the smaller ships of this fleet—had been dangerously underpowered. But with the six thousand sleepers rescued from cryo-stasis, almost half of them old-style Confederates, and now 13k of new recruits with the potential for more waiting for us at Gambit, I was starting to feel optimistic that we could actually start to crew the various ships we’d captured over time.
The battleships from before the Droid Campaign, the Lucky Clover and the Vineyard—aka Queen Anabella—had both given their all and been down-checked as un-repairable. But the Parliamentary Power, which had come with us, was still alive and kicking. In addition to the partly stripped Royal Rage, captured from Jean Luc at the Omicron, there was also the Armor Prince which had been heavily battered during Second Tracto—but it was still repairable. Both of those battleships had been under extensive repairs the entire time we’d been gone. Add to that our four captures—again, at least two of which should be fully repairable—and things were definitely starting to look up!
When I counted everything we had in the portfolio, it was starting to look like the MSP had collected some serious firepower. Five battleships, by my count, and I wasn’t ruling out the Lucky Clover or another one of our down-checked battleships making a comeback just yet—especially not until the Fleet’s Chief Engineer was back in our Ship Yards and with nothing but time on his hands.
Given enough time, at least one division—and maybe two—of the wall would be at our disposal; battleships, man! Yes, I had to finally admit it; in my heart I was a battleship officer. Ships like the Strike Cruiser were all well and good, but there was just something about being wrapped up in all that thick hull armor and surrounded by the strongest shields known to humanity.
The Recruitment Officer cleared his throat, and I snapped back to reality. Embarrassed at my unseemly gloating, I tried to cover for my lack of attention by taking a sip of my tea.
“Well, speaking of ships, I don’t know if I told you but the Fleet will be leaving our lighter units here for repair; the corvettes and cutters. In addition, we won’t be taking the ‘Alliance’ Corvettes with us so, assuming the Alliance Charter is signed, those ships will be staying here until the recruiting convoy runs through here. Then they’ll either go with the convoy or be assigned to a squadron level unit and dispatched to patrol the border. But in the meantime they should provide some much needed fire power until the ships that came back with us are repaired. Right now, the most important thing is to overhaul our ships, repair the battle damage and then and only then start spreading our wings along the border of this Sector.”
“I’ll make sure to touch bases with Engineering, the civilian repair crews, and then work out how many ship crews we’re going to need, Admiral,” said the Officer.
“Good man,” I said standing up, “carry on.”
“Admiral,” he said, saluting professionally. I returned the salute and he headed for the door.
However, the door hadn’t even finished sliding shut behind him when a new officer came stomping into the room.
“Admiral! Just the man I was looking for,” said the most famous engineer in the fleet.
“Lurking outside the door, were you?” I asked with a smile to take the edge off the accusation.
“Seen right through me,” the old Engineer said seriously and then, without ceremony, he plopped himself down into the chair across me with a metallic clang as his duralloy hind end met the metal chair.
“Since you’re here, what can I do for you, Mr. Spalding?” I asked reasonably. The pleasant news that I had something on the order of twenty nine thousand personnel to man my ever expanding fleet and captured battleships had lifted my spirits. A man with as many battleships as I have, even if they still need some repairs, could definitely afford to be magnanimous when the occasion called for it, I gloated unrepentantly.
“If you’re sure you’re not busy, Sir?” the Commander said, only now, looking in any way concerned for my jam-packed schedule.
“For the Chief Engineer of this Fleet, I always have time, Mr. Spalding,” I returned evenly and even more importantly completely truthfully.
“Well, if that’s true then—” he started with an eagerness that didn’t bode entirely well for my future state of mind.
“Ah, before we begin,” I cut in, “what kind of crew numbers are we looking at for the new battleships? I mean to fully crew them once they’re back in action, repaired and at full battle strength.”
Stopped mid-sentence, it took the old man a moment to switch gears.
“Oh…looking at the manuals and such, I’d say 8,000 to fully crew one and, say, 6,000 for proper skeleton crews,” Spalding said after rubbin
g on his chin for a moment.
“Only a two thousand man difference between fully-crewed and skeleton-crewed?” I said with surprise.
“We’ll, she’s not half the battleship the Clover was,” the old Engineer said, as if this were a matter of course, “and besides, being substandard battleships, these girls have been heavily automated. Most of the redundant positions we have on the Dreadnaught class—positions created to make doubly sure and keep the AI’s from taking over—have been eliminated. It’s why the Dreadnaught class can run so well with only half a full crew. But for these babies, the tolerance for missing personnel is a lot thinner if you take my meaning.”
“I do take your meaning, and unhappily so,” I said almost glumly, before reminding myself something crucial: I had a squadron of battleships! It didn’t matter how many people I needed to run them, as long as you have the battleships they will come. That’s one thing I’d learned over the course of the last two…almost three years out here, so long as you took care of your crew and didn’t make outrageous demands the universe had a way of providing. The fact that it had also taken things like Steiner’s original recruiting drive and the recruitment of literally illiterate barbarians from the planet of Tracto were conveniently forgotten.
Seeing his chance now that I was distracted the old Engineer took back control of the conversation.
“Anyways, Admiral, I came here to talk with you about a pair of tricky situations. The first I think I can manage on my lonesome, so long as I have your approval, but the other one,” at this the old engineer started to look particularly glum, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to handle. But even if it calls my competence as an officer into question, and rightly so, I can’t ignore the problem any longer. Slacking is the favorite tool of the Demon you know so much as I hate to admit it, in this case—”
“What are you talking about?” I cut in, in an attempt to bring the now rambling request back to something resembling brevity, “what are you going on and on about, just spit it out man! Surely it can’t be that bad.”
“Oh it’s worse than you thought now but don’t rush me. Let me put it all in order first,” the old Engineer said testily.
“Well carry on then but make it quick,” I urged not liking the part about underestimating the problem one bit and then when he still hesitated while gathering his thoughts, “spit it out man.”
“Well alright then! First is those droids we’ve got,” Spalding said glaring at me mulishly.
“What about the United Sentients? They seem to be doing their job just fine and staying out of our way the rest,” I queried wondering what was wrong with the droids this time.
“No-no not those droids the other ones,” and then at my furrowed brow he added, “the ones we liberated from the Conformity droids.”
“Ah,” I said understanding of at least which group we were talking about finally arriving, “so what did they do this time?” I asked wondering if we were going to have to space a few of them or throw them in the brig or even have to turn around and give some of them medals. Knowing Spalding and his ‘problems’ it could go any which way.
“Well anyway it’s like this,” the old Engineer said irritably, “in order to get us them 8 motherships patched up and brought back with us, not to mention keeping that Constructor on task I—”
“The ones with the crews of ‘droids’ you had us send over to run the things?” I cut in.
“The very same,” Spalding nodded, “anyway see, in order to keep everything on track I had to cut a few deals,” he said only now appearing uneasy.
“Deals…” I said deliberately letting the moment drag on.
“Well anyway this is the thing I’m pretty sure I can handle on me own,” the old Engineer said hastily, “I just wanted to inform you first that’s all.”
“Inform me first…after you’ve already cut the deal…all the way back in Elysium was it?” I asked in a mild voice. However while I was irritated and I certainly was, at the same time I was pleased to see the old wheeling and dealing Chief Engineer back in action. It’s not that he hadn’t performed up to expectations during the Droid Campaign, he had. It was just that this was the old, telling it like it was, man with a plan, Engineer I’d come to know and rely on. He’d been awfully silent cooped up in his hole on the Intelligence half-deck of the Phoenix for most of the campaign.
The old Engineer colored.
“It’s only a couple of thousand units,” he said defensively, “I mean what use are a bunch of unwilling workers, shanghaied into a forced labor arrangement, compared to 8 capital ships-of-the-line with antimatter pumped spinal lasers!”
I placed a hand on my forehead as the general shape of the ‘deal’ Spalding had cooked up with the Droid Assembly began to take form in my head.
“So you traded them,” I said neutrally.
“Yep I traded them,” Spalding said with a sharp nod and then immediately started backpedaling as if realizing what he’d just said, “although I made it clear that any droid that wanted to stay had to have the rights as any other man to sign on with the fleet and take their chances at getting assigned to the greatest ship that ever sailed the space ways! So it’s more like I was just offering them a choice, not a real trade as such.”
“You realize Akantha might have something to say about her…. ah, whatever you call them, the droid captives being just handed over like that,” I said stumbling over even using the ‘S’ word in conversation with a subordinate. I mean on the one hand I was thrilled, let’s get rid of them! But on the other…I wasn’t eager to be the one to explain this ‘deal’ to my bride.
“That’s why I said I can handle it, so as long as I have your go ahead, just leave the explaining to the Lady to me,” the Engineer said sounding a lot more confident than he looked, which of course wasn’t surprising, as no one I knew liked to rile the bear that was my beloved wife.
Then my mind focused like a laser back on something he’d said earlier on in the conversation.
“When you said the droids should get the same chance as anyone at serving on the greatest ship to ever sail.... are you saying the Lucky Clover might come back into service sooner than later?” I asked a feeling of eagerness sweltering up inside me.
“The Clover?” Spalding looked confused and then sorrowful and then confused again before his brow finally settled on a sad furrow, “no-no she just can’t do it lad, I’m sorry. No one wants to admit it’s worse than me, but there’s just no way the Queen can return like she is. I’m afraid 2.0 is the only way to go. Every bolt, every weld, every…” he trailed off into incoherent mumbling.
“2.0?” I demanded. “What are you saying?”
Spalding threw his hands into the air and stomped back and forth across the room, looking more like a mad man than a seasoned professional officer—heavy on the ‘seasoned.’
“This is all beside the point,” he declared, leveling a finger at me and shaking it wildly, “I’ll explain trading the droids for those ships to the Lady, but you’re going to have to do something about that son of mine!”
Spalding, using the hand with the finger pointing at me, made a fist and slammed it into the palm of his other hand. I noted, however, that his finger was still leveled at me the entire time, which meant that soon after he was once again wagging his finger at me.
“Tiberius?” I blinked at the way the conversation had just switched up again. Was it just me, or was the old Engineer getting more and more erratic the longer I knew him?
“Ah!” Spalding cried as if he were having a heart attack and clutched at his chest.
I was half way out of my chair before the look of pain on his face evaporated into a mournful—decidedly not an ‘I’m dying’—expression.
“He’s a Spalding, that one; loyal to fault, just like his old man,” the Engineering Officer said waving his hands in the air and temporarily looking proud before his face once again crashed down into mourning.
“Well…isn’t that’s a good thing?
” I wondered sitting back down in my chair now that the potential healthcare crisis seemed to be over.
“That’s the very problem!” Spalding barked stomping over until he was looming over me.
I blinked in surprise wondering if I should feel threatened as his red droid eye stared down at me.
“The boy’s not to be trusted. Ah, my poor heart,” Spalding reached up and grabbed at one of the few ragged pieces of hair growing on his head close to his neck. “He’s a parliamentarian, that one, through and through…and my old heart, it’s been weakened. Those…those…those quacks did it to me, I’m sure—a tragic organ mix-up, quite possibly. Anyway,” he rounded back on me with a renewed fire, “I can’t be trusted when it comes to this.”
My eyebrows shot toward the rafters as the old man sank down to his metal knees in front of me and clenched his hands together, as if he were praying.
“So that’s why I’m beggin’ you to just put him off on a penal colony and not execute him. Don’t you understand?! He’s my flesh and blood!” Spalding finished in an elevated voice, and then squeezed his eyes shut as if awaiting a physical blow. “So…I take it he’s not to be trusted,” I said neutrally. It’s not like I was completely unaware that something was seriously wrong. Almost an entire shift’s worth of the Phoenix’s engineering crew was still locked up on medical suspensions—this despite the fact that we’d needed every hand on deck just to get back to Tracto. However, knowing that Tiberius had somehow been involved, I’d been willing to let it rest until Commander Spalding and the medical team decided to lift the suspension. But now it looked like I had a call to make.
“Mutiny!” he declared furiously. “I seen him plotting with those friends of his from the Power—back when it was a parliamentary ship—and the way he was always going off and making plans with that sister of yours, where the coverage was weak and a body couldn’t hear what they were saying. That’s why I used the knockout gas and put them all to bed before they could set their plan to take the ship into action—couldn’t have them interfering with the battle, no sir. I suppose I was just hoping he’d come to his senses, but it wasn’t to be,” he said sadly. “I should have killed them, of course; it would have settled things the way it ought to be b-b-but,” Spalding shook his head, “I guess I’m just not half the man I used to be. Couldn’t do it…I just couldn’t, Admiral—you have to understand. But that’s why you’ve got to set them straight now more than ever,” he finished glaring at me with one mechanical and one blazing eye.
Admiral's Challenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 8) Page 8
