by Chris Hechtl
Irons shook his head. “As if I need a keeper,” he growled. “Pass.”
“You said it's a she?” Sprite asked intently.
“Sprite ...” the admiral said warningly as he picked up his glass.
“You have three keepers and we can't do everything, Admiral. Hush,” the commander said. Her avatar looked at Ian. “I'm seeing, ah, okay. I'll interview her personally,” she said, nodding.
“I don't get a say in this?” the admiral asked.
“No,” Sprite said with enough of a female put down in her voice to make him grind his teeth.
Ian hid a smile. He wiped at his chin. “It's like watching a married couple,” he said in an aside to the ensign.
“As you were,” Irons growled, turning a fulminating look on the two of them. “No snickering. Unlike a certain virtual person, you two I can strangle,” he growled. That got a chuckle from Ian. The ensign blinked, unsure if the admiral was serious or not.
“That care package went over nicely,” Ian said. He took a sip of the alcohol and gasped.
“Gotcha?” Irons asked. He cautiously took his own sip and then gasped himself. Raw lava hit his mouth and tongue, then burned their way down his throat. “What is this, paint stripper?”
“Tastes like it,” Ian replied. “He said it's made from a rare tuber on their planet,” he said, shaking his head and looking at the glass. He noticed the ensign now looking doubtfully at his own glass. He turned his full attention on the young man. “Drink up,” he said maliciously, eyes twinkling.
“Do I have to, sir?”
“If you don't you get to handle the scrubber change out next week,” the captain said. That made the ensign bolt the glass in one shot. He gasped, pounding on his chest, face red. Both older men laughed.
“Don't kill yourself!” Ian said, patting the young man on the back to help him breathe.
The hatch opened and Commander Sindri stood there. “What'd I miss?”
“Ian introducing the young and naive to what passes as a beverage on Richalu,” Sprite said dryly.
“Oh?” The small man frowned at the gasping ensign, caught sight of the drink in his hand then to the others, then the one waiting for him. “Ah!” He said, eyes lighting up. He quickly picked it up. “To your health,” he said.
“I wouldn't do that; it's got a kick ...” the ensign gasped out, eyes watering. He was too late. The dwarf downed the glass in a gulp and then paused.
“Is he going to explode?” Sprite asked in amusement.
“No, you'd probably see steam coming out of his ears first,” the admiral replied, shaking his head. “Vestri?”
“Hmm?” The dwarf asked, turning his broad head like a turret. His eyes snapped and refocused on the admiral. He glanced down at the empty glass in his hand. “Got a kick,” he said. “More,” he ordered, brandishing the glass once more.
“That kind of day?”
“Oh hell no. Been there several times already. I like this,” Sindri said.
“Good, you can have the bottle,” Irons said, shaking his head. Apparently it took all kinds.
“Don't get me wrong, I'd prefer a good stout any day, but this hits the spot,” Sindri said.
“Okay,” Ian drawled, returning his attention to the admiral. “As I was saying, the care packages went over nicely. And since we announced our presence in advance people were falling all over themselves to get to it and to join up. We had to turn away hundreds, possibly thousands,” he said with a shake of his head.
“I'm betting the poor and people who want a fresh start,” Sprite said. “The ones you brought us aren't great prizes,” she said.
Ian shrugged. “I'll take what I can get. By the way,” he turned to the admiral. “Hoshi was in no hurry to turn over the care packages you sent with her when she got there. Apparently I slipped and mentioned them, and she then “remembered them” and released them,” he said.
“I see,” the admiral murmured darkly.
“It figures,” Sprite sighed. What the admiral had done was essentially a turnkey update. Food and small class 1 industrial replicators, data centers, water filtration equipment, micro power supplies, solar panels, and thousands of tablets and computer devices. Enough to reboot a colony and put it back on the track for a more modern civilization ... if it was used properly.
“I'll have to chat with her about that,” the admiral said mildly. “After all, she was paid to bring it to them. The least she could have done was deliver it in a timely manner.”
“I think she wanted to hang onto it as trade goods. There is little on the planet worth trading for. Stuff like that maybe,” Ian said, waving to the bottle. “And people. Not much else,” he said, shaking his head.
“Well, we'll figure it out. In time,” Sprite said.
“If you say so, ma'am,” the commander said.
...*...*...*...*...
Edna “Cookie” Garrett finished the dishes just as a sound came from the intercom. She looked up with a frown. “Yes?” She was still getting used to living on a ship.
“Miss Garrett, you have a call from Commander Sprite,” the rather harried rating said.
“Oh lordy,” the woman said, now flustered as she picked up a dish towel. She dried her hands and then went to hit the reply. “Okay ... um ...” She leaned towards the speaker, unsure what to do.
“Miss Garrett?” a new voice asked.
“Yes? Who is this, is this Commander Sprite?”
“Yes ma'am. Can we take this conversation to a tablet or a display device?”
“Can you come over and see me?”
“I'm an AI, ma'am,” Sprite replied with a bit of amusement in her tone. “I am currently in your ship now.”
“Oh,” the woman blinked. “Okay ...” she turned in place until the bus boy helpfully pointed to a battered tablet on the head cook's counter. She picked it up. “Now what?”
“Accessing, I see you have a tablet. Accessing the device ... I'm in,” Sprite said as the tablet turned on. After a moment her image appeared on the display. “Hi. It is nice to finally put a name with the face,” Sprite said.
Miss Garret blinked in shock. “Me too,” she said. “Oh dear, my hair,” she said, now even more flustered.
“Not a problem, ma'am, believe it or not, I understand work and how such things can damage a person's wardrobe. That is a part of my concern with the admiral; he's always getting dirty.”
“I see. And appearances are important.”
“Yes, tell me about it,” Sprite said, rolling her virtual eyes. “And soon it will be vital if our mission is to succeed. He has to be professional. I am assembling a staff for him and you expressed an interest so your name jumped right to the top of my list for steward.”
“Steward? Isn't that a man's job?”
“Male or female or other gender, ma'am,” Sprite replied. “It is essentially a keeper. Someone to make certain the admiral is dressed properly to look the part, his quarters are clean, he's fed, and takes care of his other day-to-day functions. That way he can focus on running the fleet.”
“I understand,” the woman said with a nod. “When do I start?”
“Not so fast,” Sprite said, putting a check mark next to the woman's name. She liked her spunk and demeanor. She calculated that the admiral would be more responsive to a female, and an older woman would be make him instantly respectful. Now she had to get through the interview process and then work on how the woman's training and first critical interaction with the admiral. After all, they had to get off on the right foot immediately.
...*...*...*...*...
As the admiral's chief of staff and acting G-3 and G-5 ... well, technically G everything Sprite thought, she began the task of shifting the crews around in a dance to put the new people in the right slots their MOS said they could handle or wanted. Not everyone would get what they wanted, many didn't have the training or proper mindset.
As she worked she took on additional petitions. Apparently some of the civilian
s on the Le More, and Deianira, and the other freighters asked to join the navy in a fever of patriotic vigor and excitement. They'd had their chance before but apparently changed their minds. Sprite sent them brochures and briefing documents on all their options. A few signed on as reservists after that option was properly explained.
The additional crew took some of the load off the overworked crews. But training the new recruits presented additional challenges. Fortunately they'd experienced the challenge twice before so they were starting to get used to it.
A day before their scheduled jump the courier vessel Paul Revere was launched in a brief ceremony. She took station with the fleet as her crew began working up simulations and exercises. The selkie crew were a bit flighty; they moved the ship about like a dancer or swimmer. It was sometimes beautiful, sometimes scary to watch them fly her. She also ate up fuel with their antics.
Tweedle Dee was returned to the dock with the battlecruiser and her expected hyperdrive slipstream was adjusted accordingly. The crew integrated back into the ship's company but the admiral made it clear they would be deployed in their ship on an on call basis. Therefore they took pains to arrange training and maintenance as a crew at least one day a week. Sprite set up a similar crew for Echo with the same training and maintenance arrangements. The great thing about having the three ships tied together like they were was that all three could practice virtual battle simulations using their own ships. Training ship's companies to fight each other or to fight in concert would go a long way to increase their proficiency.
She wanted to sigh when she noted the e-mails from the delegates on Le More. The admiral had paid Captain Hoshi to carry the delegations to Antigua, transferring them from Captain Herschel's Collier 2 to her ship. Well, most of them, there was a single family that had transferred to Maine so their little boy could undergo reconstructive surgery. According to the doctor it was going to take time for young Geordi to get his newly grown face and eyes and adjust to them.
Apparently out of spite, or just to fend them off, someone on Le More had introduced the techno ignorant delegates to the joys of e-mail and video chat. She'd so far fended off the video chats. She and the admiral were busy officers, but e-mail was another story. The worst of the lot was Mrs. Yuzle who had the hots for the admiral and made no bones about it. She flirted with him heavily whenever the admiral felt masochistic enough to answer her call.
She opened the file and scanned it quickly. One of the joys of being an AI, one could put a human on fast forward and use a bot to pick up their speech and even emphasis points and digest it. It boiled down to the woman wanting to invite herself over to the ship for a dinner with the admiral with a bit of sexual innuendo that it could lead to more.
“Hussy,” the AI thought, then passed the file on to the admiral. She stamped it with a low priority as well as a warning. She then jotted a note out to the woman informing her that the admiral was currently busy with working up exercises and preparing the fleet for the jump.
“Paul Revere better get the lead out. The good thing is the woman can't come over when we're in hyper,” Sprite said to the admiral.
“I don't think I want to know who you are talking about,” he said to her absently. She checked what he was doing and then retreated. He needed to focus on the hyperdrive specs of the courier. He was the only one who could untangle the drive's issue so they could jump.
Sprite's little surprise was doing well; Miss Garrett had come on board and was tucked away for now learning her job while also getting a health check up. Once they were underway and the admiral couldn't put her off, she'd find a way to introduce her and then let nature take its course.
...*...*...*...*...
The admiral looked up as a shadow approached him. A rather short woman was there; a plump woman with an ample bosom dressed in a maid uniform. She had a snow white apron to go with her silver hair, dimples, and Asian eye folds. Her crow's feet and squinty look make her look cute he thought. Her hair done up in a bun told him he was in for a handful. Apparently Sprite had been serious he thought.
She took one look at him and then harrumphed. He watched her as she crossed the room and went into his bedroom suite. She came back a moment later with a uniform in a garment bag draped over her arm."That uniform is all wrinkled, Admiral. Up, out of the chair, sir,” she said imperiously. “Change into this right now," she said firmly, twitching the folds of the uniform over her arm.
She handed him a garment bag with an undress uniform, and then pointed to the door to the nearby empty compartment. "I'll have dinner on the table for you in ten minutes. You are dining with the rest of the senior staff in the officer's mess and then you need to be in the wardroom at 1600." She said. “Now, hurry and don't be late,” she scolded, making shooing motions.
He got up, amused and decided to humor the woman. Something told him she wasn't one to be trifled with despite her looks. He noted Sprite grinning evilly on his HUD. “Not a word, Commander,” he growled, shouldering the garment bag as he headed for the hatch to his bedroom. “Not one word,” he growled under his breath.
“What was that?” The cook asked.
“Um, nothing. I was talking to Commander Sprite,” he said. “So, what do I call you?” He asked.
“Miss Garrett. Edna Garrett sir. You can call me Cookie. That's what I'll primarily be doing after all, cooking. You've got nine minutes admiral. Chop chop,” she warned, clapping her hands to urge him along.
He shook his head. She already had him hopping about and it was only their first meeting. Obviously she knew who the boss was, and it certainly wasn't him! He shook his head again as he went to change.
...*...*...*...*...
“Admiral, before we begin, Captain Hoshi wishes to speak with you,” Lobsterman informed him just before the next series of exercises were to begin.
“Oh?” The admiral asked from the captain's chair. He wasn't quite comfortable turning over command to any of the other officers, well, Sprite possibly, but that was about it. Even Ian had a ways to go before he could be considered able to manage the battlecruiser in combat. “What about?” He asked mildly.
“I believe she is impatient to get going. Since we've delayed three days from our original departure date ...”
“That wasn't our fault! Paul Revere needed more time and some additional repairs!” Mia said indignantly, clearly annoyed. Her eyes flashed.
The admiral studied her profile, smiling slightly as he picked up a cup of fruit juice and took a sip. Mia had come a ways since she'd signed on. She was starting to blossom and mature into a good officer.
“Settle down Mia,” Meia said softly, looking at the JTO. The younger woman nodded.
“Put her through,” the admiral ordered, flicking a finger to the main view screen.
“Admiral ...”
“Yes, Captain Hoshi?”
She looked at him for a long moment then seemed to settle herself. Her nostrils flared briefly as she took the image of him on his bridge in. “I take it your virtual minion told you what I'd like to talk to you about?”
“I believe he said you'd like to know the new schedule.”
“Yes. We need to get going,” she said.
“Why? Yes we have a mission to complete. I agree. But Paul Revere needs additional time to finish her working up.”
“Then leave her behind! She can catch up later!”
“I don't leave people behind. Not when I don't know if they can catch up or not captain,” the admiral replied, voice cooling. “Feel free to bird dog if you wish. We'll be along in a bit,” the admiral said when she looked even more impatient and mulish.
That brought the Asian woman up short. Her eyes flared wide briefly, then narrowed. “Um ...”
“Of course we're jumping into unknown territory. We don't know what's on the other side in Kathy's World. There could be an enemy ship there waiting on the other side,” Meia said looking up from her station. “We know the system was on the list of pirate targets. Accord
ing to our Intel at least one ship was sent there to invade the planet,” she said mildly.
Hoshi paled slightly and then gulped. “Um ... I'll wait,” she finally said.
“Wise lady,” Mia chuckled.
“I believe we have a fleet exercise to start?” The admiral asked, turning to Lobsterman.
“Minus Le More and Paul Revere. Aye, sir. I am polling the other ships now and prepping flag bridge to take over here.”
“Not the CIC?” Zen asked.
“I thought CIC would do better to lend you a hand,” Lobsterman replied. “Feel free to relocate there if you wish,” he said to the senior sensor tech.
“He's fine where he is,” Sprite said.
“Something tells me CIC is up to something,” Meia said, eying the two AI. Sprite put her best cheery innocent expression on. That just made the TACO groan. “You are ... great.” She sighed, shaking her head in resignation.
“Yes I will be running the op force. This is another realistic simulation. Again, it will be virtual,” Sprite said. “We're going to exercise what could happen when we jump into Kathy's World space. The time chop is twenty to one to keep it quick since this could be a long sim.” She had planned it so the fleet would be placed in a dilemma. They would see a pair of tin cans and a freighter pounding the planet. The admiral would have to split his force to go after them, leaving a small escort behind to protect the slower unarmed ships, or he'd come in concentrated. He could also dispatch a force to go wide to cut off the enemy if they chose to run.
What he didn't know was the series of contingency scenarios she had programmed in advance. Whatever he did they'd get a pounding. If he split up she'd show him what defeat in detail meant by striking his train when he was out of range to support it. If he stayed concentrated she'd hit him with hit and fade tactics or let the bait ships run. She was curious which way he'd jump. As the saying goes, there were no right or wrong decisions. He was going to be given a menu of choices with no right answer and then he'd have to deal with it.
