Ghosts from the Past (The Wandering engineer Book 7)

by Chris Hechtl

  He stepped out, past the rating managing a gaggle of cargo mechs and then stepped to the side to let more get clear. “Admiral!” The rating said, clearly surprised and slightly distressed at the lack of a side party.

  “As you were,” Irons said moving on. He saluted the flag near the boat bay exit. There was no one on duty to report to, he frowned but then shrugged such consideration off. Lobsterman had him logged anyway. For the time being protocol would have to take a back seat; they didn't have the warm bodies to spare.

  “What else?” the admiral asked under his breath to Sprite.

  “I've got a serious problem you need to address soon.”

  “If it's not urgent, it can wait until after I've gotten cleaned up and fed and maybe checked in,” he said, headed out.

  “Very well, Admiral, but soon,” Sprite said with an ominous tone.

  “Lovely,” he sighed, passing a rating and bot that made a hole for him to pass by. He nodded in passing and kept going.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Once the admiral finished his lunch and checked in, he headed into the wardroom. “Okay, let's hear it,” he said simply.

  “Admiral, what are we going to do about Echo?” Sprite said. “Of all the ships she's clearly not up to standard.”

  Irons grimaced. She was right; he knew it. The fleet had been forced to heave too several times so Echo could catch up when she missed a queue to change course. “Sindri's doing his best, Commander,” Irons replied, trying hard not to act defensively. He knew how hard it was to not only be a captain but oversee a ship's refit let alone a fleet's refit. The fact that the little man had stuck his neck out at all when others didn't spoke volumes in the admiral's opinion.

  “Respectfully, his best isn't good enough. Echo started out second in line and then drifted to the rear. If he hadn't kept a lock on that tanker, he would have been lost. As it was, he came in a few minutes after the tanker did. He could have very easily overshot and came in right on top of another ship, with disastrous consequences for both.”

  The Admiral shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable. “I'm not comfortable relieving him for cause Commander. He's doing the best he can,” he said quietly.

  “And sometimes, that's not good enough, Admiral,” Sprite replied. “I know it's cold, but you can't afford to play favorites. He's a good officer, he's a good engineer, but he's not bridge qualified. This proved it.”

  “And who do you propose we replace him with? We're stretched thin enough as it is,” he growled.

  “True,” Sprite admitted. All of the ships were working with skeleton crews. Everyone was working sixteen- to twenty-hour shifts. Tempers were fraying and mistakes were starting to creep in more and more daily. Morale was dropping despite all the advances they were making in repairs to the fleet. It was just luck that the ships were holding together despite all the damage still to be repaired. And it was also fortunate that no one had been killed or seriously injured yet.

  “Echo is an Apollo class,” the Admiral murmured thoughtfully, pulling up the specs of the little ship.

  “Yes ...”

  “So, I'm wondering,” he murmured, checking the ship over. Yes, she could do it; she was actually designed to do what he had in mind. If his plan worked, he could do it with all three. She had the universal docking port and clamps were properly arranged ... yes it could be done. “I see,” he said, frowning thoughtfully. After a moment he nodded. “I think it can work.”

  “What can work?” Sprite asked, looking the specs over. She instantly realized what he had in mind, but he explained anyway.

  “We dock Echo with another ship. In this case, Maine. She'll have to safe her hyperdrive, but that is fine. We can stand her crew down, secure the ship to Maine, and then integrate them in the crew here. We can actually do that with all three ships.”

  Sprite quickly did the math. There was a crew of ten on Echo and eleven on each of the other corvettes. By now each had stood a watch throughout the flight to the star system, so they had plenty of experience. But handling a small ship ... “Admiral, it's a drop in the bucket.” Sprite said, forbearing to mention the tricky maneuver of docking in hyperspace if he held off on his idea for long. With green crews it would be hell on everyone's nerves. One slip and both ships would be annihilated, which was not a happy thought. No, it had to be done now, when they were in real space and had the time. She had realized the admiral's personal friendship with the diminutive engineer would cloud his judgment. He'd give the other man a lot of slack, perhaps too much. But this idea came out of the blue to her.

  “Sometimes drops have a lot more weight than you realize. For instance, Lieutenant Commander Sindri is an engineer. He can take over as chief engineer.”

  Sprite nodded, suddenly catching on. “Relieving Chief Behr who is extremely out of his element in a leadership position right now. Also freeing you up to cover other positions with the remaining crew. That should give the bridge crew a little relief.”

  “Oh, don't get me wrong, Behr could probably handle an assistant's slot or even a chief someday. But he's not ready now. He's clearly not seasoned enough in command to handle the job. He's proficient enough with the tech, but ...” Irons shrugged.

  “But being a chief engineer is more than being a tech weenie,” Sprite teased. “He is pretty proficient with hardware and not too bad for a meat bag when it comes to software. But he has little experience with priorities and well, exercising command. In other words, being an officer.” She paused for a moment, then cocked her virtual head. “I wonder just when that lesson sank into you, Admiral.”

  “When I had to take command of the ship for the first time,” the Admiral said quietly. “When there was no one else left.”

  “Oh.” Sprite frowned thoughtfully. The Admiral was clearly uncomfortable continuing down that thread. “It does cover two birds with one stone. More than two really. You get the ships back so one of them won't be lost with all hands, you relieve some of the issues on Maine and a few of the other ships with manpower issues, and you cover the Commander's pride. Neat.”

  “I think being relieved of command, even if he agreed with it would be damaging to him in the long run. So yes, this works. Though I don't like the idea of loosing Echo and the other ships.”

  “We can always launch her if necessary, Admiral.”

  “True. And ... we could take on the other corvettes as well. That would alleviate their issues, and speed ... no, damn,” he said mildly.

  Sprite checked the files he was pulling up. She pulled a copy to her own memory buffer and then ran a quick and dirty sim. “Ah, yes, too many docked ships would alter the ship's slipstream. Just having one docked will alter her mass and handling characteristics.”

  “Yes. And we've got to dock the corvette as flush to the hull as possible. Which is an issue the Apollo has docking hatches on the flanks, not on the keel.”

  “I see that,” Sprite murmured. She did another sim. Clearly, the Admiral was correct. Symmetry was also an issue, they had to keep the ship balanced. “Yes, this isn't going to be as easy as you thought.”

  “But it can and has been done. The Horathians have done it, and we've done it in the past. I've just never done it myself, not with a corvette. With an HK yes.”

  “Well, I'll check in with Lobsterman, see if he has anything to say. If we've got some spare computing space ... oh, yes, navigation is down for maintenance,” Sprite sighed. “Damn the timing. Okay, I'll see if I can find another mainframe to run a proper sim so we can see the hyperdynamic slipstream characteristics and work on them.”

  “Good.”

  “If it doesn't work I suppose we can always kick one of the corvettes free just before we jump with a rebuilt crew and ship. Not Echo of course, but perhaps one of the others.”

  “You are thinking Sindri will sign off on it by then?”

  “I think he'll do fine as both chief engineer and perhaps acting exec on Maine,” Sprite said with a slight lilt of suggestion in her voice.


  “Doing what, free you up to be acting captain?” he asked with a teasing grin.

  “Ahem, no, I wasn't actually thinking about that.”

  “I think you can handle it, Commander, given a bit more seasoning,” he said soberly.

  “Was that a dig, sir?” She asked.

  “Something to that effect. Go find the mainframe and run the sims. Get the orders cut ASAP though and in my inbox so we can get the ball rolling. I want those ships docked by the end of the day today, Commander.”

  “Aye aye, sir, I'll get it done. On top of everything else I'm doing,” Sprite grumbled before she signed off.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “Talk about rattle around in a tin can. Admiral, we're a bit undermanned here,” Sindri said, eying Irons. He had his suspicions about why they'd arranged for the docking but wasn't willing to voice them out loud. He knew he'd been in over his head, but his pride prevented him from admitting it.

  “Which is why I did this,” the Admiral replied, not willing to admit he had ulterior motives as well. “We're shorthanded all over the fleet. With you and your people here, we can fill a few holes. Maybe pick up the pace on repairs.”

  “Oh.”

  The Admiral patted Sindri on the shoulder. “Yosef is good, but he's not you Vestri. I'll help where I can, the AIs too. But I can't be in this many places at once.”

  Sindri eyed him. He was no fool, he knew he wasn't cutting the mustard as a captain. But he appreciated the Admiral's attempt to save him face. “Funny, I thought you were superman.”

  “Cute.” Irons snorted then indicated they should head to the nearby lift. He was hungry.

  “I still think you should rename the ship Spartacus,” Sindri said, shaking his head.

  “Pass. We'll stick to her original name. Not out of any sentimental reasons mind you but because it's a stab in the eye at the Horathians who renamed her first.”

  “Spartacus would do that too.”

  “I knew a ship named Spartacus,” John replied flatly.

  “Oh?” the dwarf asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't the only one who wanted to rename the ship, just the spokesman.

  “She was a pirate,” the admiral replied. Sindri froze. “That's right, a famous one. I'll have the commander send you a link sometime. But suffice to say, that name isn't appealing to me,” he said. “Not in the slightest.”

  “So, Maine it is,” Sindri replied with a knowing nod. The admiral indicated they should head to the general mess. Sindri followed the best his shorter legs could carry him. He ended up practically trotting to keep up. That reminded him of his recent misadventure on the damned corvette.

  “Admiral, about ...”

  “Like I said Vestri, I had my reasons,” the admiral said as they entered the lift. He was first on and waited as it moved out. It jerked a few times, making him wince.

  “Gotta fix that,” Sindri said, then felt his knees buckle as the lift stopped with a sharp buck and groan. They could hear something groaning slowly. The lift moved a bit up, then down, then back and forth for a few seconds as it tried to make up its mind.

  “And that,” the admiral agreed. “Among a hundred million other things. I think it's still safer to take the damn ladders,” he said shaking his head as the lift stopped and opened. It was a couple centimeters too low so they had to be careful and not only duck under the top edge but step over the lip.

  “Step lively indeed,” an enlisted muttered. “Oh, sorry, sirs,” he said when he realized they were officer. He gave them a sketchy salute. Both officers returned it as they straightened. Sprite hovered a name and rank over the young man's head, Third Spacer Jerrik Donigan. He remembered a little about the man, mainly the name. He was a good tech, a life support tech with a good can-do attitude. But he lacked ambition beyond his narrow field. That was fine to some degree; they needed specialists as much as generalists. Right now they needed generalists more however, which was why those with the willingness to expand their horizons were rising through the ranks and seemingly passing him by. He wasn't sure if the young man resented that or not.

  “Get someone to fix that,” Sindri growled.

  “Um ...” the enlisted man went blank on him. He was a life support tech he thought, ready to say it. Then he saw the look on the small man's broad face and bit his tongue.

  “He's the new chief engineer. It's not a priority, Chief,” Admiral Irons said.

  “The hell it isn't. I don't want to be trapped in that thing. And every second we burn up trying to get in and out of it is time wasted,” Sindri replied. He shook himself then frowned. “Sorry, sir.”

  Irons eyed him. The last reservation about the changeover was rapidly fading. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. “You have a point, Chief. You set the priorities beyond the critical systems,” he said.

  “Um, sirs, about the name ...”

  “We're not changing the name,” Admiral Irons replied. The tech's face fell. “But we can accept the name and names for ships and loved ones lost to be added to the ships yet to be built,” he said.

  “To be built, sir?” the tech asked, blinking in consternation as the men went into the mess. People who noticed them stiffened. The conversations around the compartment slowly tapered off as news spread of their arrival.

  “To be built,” Irons said. He waved them down. “At ease people. Carry on,” he said. The conversations resumed but at a lower decibel rating.

  Irons cleared his throat. “May I have your attention for the moment,” he said. Every eye and eye stalk was on him. “No, we are not going to rename the ship. But as I was just telling Mister Donigan and our new chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Sindri, we can accept names for ships as well as for people lost. Those names and other suggestions will go into the suggestion queue and can be voted upon for new construction at a later date. So, discuss among yourselves some ideas and get a running list going. That is all,” he said.

  He waved to the two men to get in line for the food. The officer's mess and wardroom were still torn up so he preferred to keep things simple and eat with the crew when he wanted to socialize. He tried to do so once a day or so, otherwise grabbing a quick bite from a functional replicator.

  He smiled as he heard the low key debate start up about the idea of naming a ship and constructing new ships. That should give morale a bit of a bump he thought happily. He nodded his thanks to a couple ratings who stood aside to let them cut ahead.

  “Great, new work for me. People are already wanting polls and suggestion boxes,” Sprite complained.

  “Have Lobsterman handle it. It's a good project. See if they can add notes about their reasoning too. Set up a forum for them to debate things too, what should be what and so on and so forth. That should give people something else to look forward to,” Irons murmured to her as he took a tray and put a cup on it.

  “That ... is strangely a good idea. He's still been throwing his weight about a bit, pulling rank and acting smug. He needs some more tasks to keep him in line. Not that this will take him long,” Sprite murmured.

  “Oh, moderating it will take a little attention.”

  “Which he should be using to manage the crew and ship. But I see your point. Interacting with them is a good thing,” Sprite replied as she set up the order.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  “Admiral, I'm worried you're pushing too hard. They are civilians, Admiral. Or were."

  "I know." He sounded harassed, annoyed. Technically he was. He was in the middle of a project, but he was always in the middle of some repair. This had to be aired Sprite thought.

  "And the hardware. It's not only old, it's been through a lot," she said warily.

  "The hardware we can repair or replace."

  "But the learning curve is steep. One mistake and we lose a ship."

  "Damn it, don't you think I don't know that, Commander?!"

  "Why then are you pushing so hard, Admiral? We're going to break something. Or someone."

  "I
know." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Believe me, I know. But I also know these people ... they can handle it. After everything they've been through, the cards life dealt them, they can handle this."

  "The stress ..."

  He nodded. "Is an issue. But I think knowing that they can handle it, build on successes, it will help them."

  "Okay. But the freighters can't handle delta, Admiral. Not unless you want to spend months rebuilding each of them. Months we could spend in hyper," Sprite warned.

  “Admiral, the commander is correct,” Proteus stated.

  "No, gamma is it. But we are going to train. As much as possible. Are you recommending downtime?" He asked, eyes opening slowly to stare at the bulkhead. His mind churned with urgency to get moving, but his training told him Sprite was right.

  “Even gamma is pushing it, Admiral,” Proteus warned. “The tankers and factory ship were never designed to handle that speed. The mid octaves of beta are the best we are going to manage,” the AI replied. “At least in the time you specified. Given another six months and we might hit the highest octave of beta.”

  “Damn it,” the Admiral said, punching the duct work. He winced when he heard the resounding bang and large dent. “Something else to fix,” he growled under his breath.

  "See?” Sprite asked. “At least a twelve-hour shift a week to unwind and catch up on chores. That goes for you too by the way."

  "I'm fine."

  "You are testy."

  "Tough. Get over it," he growled, still working on the carbon dioxide filtration system.

  "Admiral ..."

  "I said get over it. Move on. Rank has its privileges, Commander."

  "Aye aye, sir. Order logged," Sprite said, voice cool. "I suggest an emphasis on recreational activities that help them gain experience in their implants, training while playing, and takes the pressure off," she said. The medics on the ships were starting to get a handle on the basic implants. The ident implants had been distributed in B101a1 but the more complex implants procedures had had to wait. Now they were cycling through the critical personnel as quickly as possible.