Kinsella (Kinsella Universe Book 1)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “I’m not an expert in military affairs, General, I’ll leave that to you. But I submit, sir, that this is a breech of a direct order from your commander-in-chief. I submit that if the President had a chance to have a do-over when it came to appointing you, both Oprah and Lettermen would have been higher on his Top Ten List than you. I submit that you have no idea what Colonel Saunders’ orders are in the event you exceed your authority. You could be facing imminent relief and possible confinement — not to mention immediate repudiation here and when we get home.

  “Every person on this crew heard the President’s vision for the future before Ad Astra lifted off. If I were you, I’d file a report, sir, saying we were here first and we should have claim to the planet. Give that report to your superiors upon our return. That would, General, be following the proper form, and, if we do have a claim, such a report would go a long ways towards securing that claim.”

  “We’re here first!” the general said, replayed his trump card.

  Stephanie called his bluff. “Were we, General? We know what’s in this system because a robot probe returned from here six months ago. A probe launched by El Al, the national airline of Israel. They didn’t land, but they were here first.”

  “And they didn’t claim it.”

  “No, they merely claimed they visited here first, until the international community decides how to deal with such claims.”

  “The UN! What a crock!”

  “General, the President spoke on that subject before we left. You might not have been paying attention to his speech, but I was. I don’t recall him mentioning the UN once. In fact, he kept referring to an association of the democratically governed countries of the world. I do believe he has something else in mind, General.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “Sir, I’m a professor. It’s my job to be able to answer questions, or, if I can’t answer them, conduct research on an answer.”

  She’d left it at that; you can only try so much to keep someone from butting their head into a brick wall.

  A little later a shuttle took a dozen members of the science team to shore. The general and Stephanie were in the third load. At least the general didn’t crib his speech this time.

  “We have come across the cosmos from the United States of America. We intend to explore this place with the goal of eventually colonizing it. Let us begin that exploration, ladies and gentlemen!”

  A half dozen Marines with the first party had moved out several hundred yards, establishing a perimeter, while the scientists started work, collecting specimens.

  Several more loads of scientists arrived from the Ad Astra, accompanied by more Marines. Stephanie got to smile at Dick Rampling, as he moved towards the perimeter.

  After that Stephanie simply looked benignly on the biologists who were hopping from place to place, exclaiming in glee at their latest discovery. The perimeter expanded slowly, but it was all carefully orchestrated.

  Charlie Rampling came up to Stephanie holding something in her heavily gloved hand. “Look, this plant has pollen! I’ve seen something that looks like an insect! I was going to say the planet was in the late Permian Period, but I think it’s more like the early Triassic. I saw something that might have been a bee!”

  She was clearly excited and Stephanie made neutral noises like she understood what it meant. What she really understood was that the scientists were happy. She looked around her, at a sky too blue, a sun too yellow, and plants with just a slight off-color to their green. She’d done it! No matter what else, she’d done it!

  Then someone was on the all-party com-link. “Medic! Medic! Damn it, I need a medic! South, a bit, two hundred meters! Man down!”

  There were two responses from people qualified as EMTs, and a doctor who rushed south. Stephanie headed that way, and found a cluster of people around the general, who was curled up in a ball in the dirt.

  Stephanie was angry, instantly. “Why is his helmet open?”

  A woman, the same voice who’d called for the medic, glared at her. “Because the fucking moron opened it. I heard his voice on my fucking audio feed! The fucking moron said, and I quote, ‘It looks like a rose, I wonder if it smells like a rose?’” She continued to glare at Stephanie.

  “I looked over and the fucking idiot was undoing his fucking helmet. He brought the fucking flower or whatever the fuck it is up to his fucking nose and fucking sniffed. He turned fucking purple, started gasping for fucking breath and went down fucking hard. I called for help. The stupid fucking useless asshole.”

  Charlotte Rampling was kneeling, examining the flower in the general’s hand. The doctor had already finished examining the general and turned to Stephanie, shaking his head.

  “Death was almost instantaneous, anaphylactic shock is my guess. If he sniffed that flower in a hospital room, if we were ready for it... maybe we could have saved him. Less than a minute, Professor. I would suggest that everyone check their helmets, because it would seem that allergens on this planet are a problem.”

  Stephanie ordered it, then watched as two Marines loaded the general onto a stretcher. “We’ll take him back,” the doctor said, “there will have to be an autopsy...”

  “No,” Stephanie told him. “No autopsy. Put him in an airtight container; stick him in the external specimen freezer. The autopsy can wait until we get back and have him in the highest rated bio-containment facility that exists. You think it was an allergy, but you don’t know. We can’t afford to find out you were wrong aboard ship, if something gets free.”

  The doctor laughed. “I’ve seen this a dozen times; usually milder. Bee stings, peanuts and the like. One day you’re not sensitive, the next you are. The next bite you drop dead. A few years ago, a teenaged girl with an allergy to peanuts kissed her boyfriend who had a PB & J sandwich earlier in the day. He really liked the girl, he’d gargled and brushed his teeth. Took a tic-tac. She kissed him and was dead five minutes later.”

  “Nonetheless, it’s not something we can take a chance with,” Stephanie told him. “Bag him, please. Colonel Saunders can overrule me if he wants.” No one saw the wicked gleam in Stephanie’s eyes.

  An hour later Stephanie was back aboard. She went to her quarters and put on her Caltech Nerd t-shirt, then pinned the stars they’d given her to show her rank in the new Space Service to her shoulders.

  She walked quickly up to the bridge.

  Colonel Saunders saw her. “Professor, I’m reviewing the general’s files. I’m assuming command.”

  “Sir,” Stephanie said, then handed him the envelope she carried.

  “What’s this?”

  “A code word instruction, Colonel, that you were briefed on before we left as a mission option. There is an envelope with more orders in your safe, under the code word.”

  He looked at the piece of paper she’d proffered. It wasn’t much different than the one she’d given the general. A simple, one sentence order signed by the President of the United States. The colonel politely excused himself and went to his safe and fetched the requisite envelope.

  After a few seconds, he lifted his eyes to Stephanie. “This is most irregular, Professor.”

  “What’s irregular about it? I’m a rear admiral; you’re just a lousy colonel. Admirals outrank colonels — you know that. I was a rear admiral before we left and you knew that. The President is just making the chain of command clear.”

  “The general told me I was his deputy,” Colonel Saunders protested.

  “You were. Now you’re mine. Except, I believe, Captain Gilly has date of rank on you. I’m going to write an order appointing him my designated successor, if anything happens to me. You, Colonel, will remain in command of the Ad Astra.”

  Clearly Colonel Saunders was frustrated, clearly he was concerned, but the President’s orders had been specific.

  Later there was a meeting with the staff of the ship. Stephanie was still wearing the stars on her t-shirt. “As of 1417 hours tod
ay, per order of the President of the United States, given in the event of the general’s death, I have assumed command of this expedition. The relevant documents will be posted shortly on the ship’s intranet.”

  “Thank God,” Charlotte Rampling exclaimed. “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you!”

  Stephanie grinned. “Enjoy the euphoria, people. Adults are now in charge. Talk to me, science team, what do you have?”

  Charlotte stood up. “I tasked three of my people to collect samples right off the landing. One went north, chopped some leaves and came back. One went south, scooped dirt and came back. The third dipped some water from the lake.

  “DNA, ladies and gentlemen. We are on a DNA planet, I can’t explain it, but it’s certainly an interesting tidbit. Plant and animal cells here have nuclei, we’ve seen some in the process of what strongly appears to be mitosis. Plants have cellulose cell walls, animals don’t. We’ve seen perhaps two hundred microscopic protists; any competent taxonomist could identify most of them down to family, although most appear to be new species. Some though... we can’t tell from critters we have on Earth.

  “Professor Kinsella, this is the single most stunning discovery in modern biology. We’re a dozen light years from Earth, and the plants and many of the animals here are biological matches for what we have back home. A dozen of us will be putting our names on a paper declaring DNA a self-organizing system, something we will find on all terrestrial planets. I expect a lot more names on that paper before we get home.”

  There was a lot more before they were done. Finally someone rose and asked the obvious question that hadn’t been asked before. “Is the death of the general going to stop specimen collection?”

  Stephanie tried not to grin ghoulishly. “I’m sure the general would have wanted no such thing on his account. His death was accidental, as a result of his failure to follow proper procedures. I hope you’ve reminded everyone in your departments about the risks.”

  “And the overall research scheme?” Charlotte asked Stephanie.

  “We have a schedule. Six more days, ladies and gentlemen. Then we lift for home. I will tell you in advance, even if you find the Holy Grail, we will be lifting on schedule for home.”

  A few days later, they lifted for home. The general had been right about one thing; there was a lot of research yet to be done, and the scientists spent the return flight working on nothing else.

  Stephanie was sitting in the general’s cabin, her bare feet up on his desk, petting Thomas who was sitting in her lap, when John Gilly came in.

  “Stephanie, a moment?”

  “Always for you, John.”

  “What happens back home?”

  She looked at him, curious. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “About the general?”

  “He died in a tragic accident. Rear Admiral Kinsella, Space Service, assumed command. Nothing to write home about.”

  “And that’s it?”

  She smiled. “No, of course it’s not it. I told you and the President in the beginning that wasn’t it. From now on, I command my expeditions or I’ll take my marbles and play elsewhere.”

  “He’s not going to be President forever.”

  “Three and a half years, John. Long enough for a handful of expeditions. He confirms Ad Astra as my ship to command, or he can start learning how to whistle Dixie.”

  John grimaced.

  “John, a man sprained his ankle on Mars. No big deal, right? The man was one of the Space Service officers attached to the ship, seconded to us from the Air Force. The general went and smelled the roses. Too bad! So sad! His death left me in command.

  “John, the Air Force mentality, their mind set, caused all of the deaths and injuries on this expedition. The reason those men engaged in a foot race on Mars was because they knew that their commanding officer didn’t care. I learned my lesson the first time, John. I let my people know about things I really, really care about.

  “The general is dead because he was a general. Rules, orders, all of that paled in comparison with his authority. John, the man wanted to see the pilot officer’s control stick, the one he uses to guide Ad Astra.”

  “I knew about that. I swear to God, Stephanie, if I thought you wanted to know about it, I’d have told you.”

  “You understand why it was important?”

  “Now I do. He hadn't understood anything about what you'd given him to read.”

  “Then, John, I think this conversation should move on. Ancient History is dull, boring and dry.”

  He chuckled. “And here, I came to ask you what you were planning on doing when we got home. I want to be a part of it.”

  She smiled gently at him. “John, if your wife tells me she’s okay with you going on the next trip, no problem.”

  His face fell. “She won’t say that.”

  “You could always tell her the truth,” Stephanie told him quietly. “That I’ll bring you home each and every time but if you stick with rescues, one of these times, I’ll be bringing you home like I’m bringing home the general.”

  He leaned close and kissed her on the forehead. “Stephanie, I have to live with myself. I can’t stay home; no matter what.”

  She traced a line along his cheek with her fingers. “I know. We’re alike, you and I. You won’t die in bed and probably neither will I. How do we explain to those we love, that sitting home isn’t something we want when there are things out here to do?”

  A bit later Thomas hopped down from Stephanie’s lap, ran across the compartment and batted the mouse he’d seen scuttling along the wall. He sat for a second contemplating the lap he’d come from. No, there were some things he wasn’t willing to share.

  Chapter 10 — What Rescue Really Means

  Dick Rampling was sitting on his bunk, spit-shining a pair of dress combat boots. Outside, in the barracks proper, a stentorian voice roared, “Attention on deck! Admiral in the barracks!”

  He dropped the boot on the floor next to its mate and stood up. An admiral? In a Marine barracks? Still, he faced the door, assuming the blank stare all Marines learn so well as boots.

  Outside another voice, feminine, growled. “As you were!”

  He blinked in astonishment. That admiral! What was she doing here?

  It was worse, even, than he imagined. A second later, his mother poked her head in his door. “Dick, got a minute for us?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He saw his mother grimace, but tough! If she wanted to enter a Marine barracks, she had to live with the way Marines talked. Four letter words were, of course, the most common words used by Marines, although not usually in reference to one of their own parents.

  Admiral Kinsella came around the corner as well. “Dick! Good to see you! I’m sorry about the Ad Astra trip! You never got a chance to save me. I see they gave you a promotion anyway.”

  “Yes, Admiral. Every Marine who made the flight got a bump.”

  “I realize you probably want to hobnob with an admiral about as much as you want to deal with an IG inspection. Still, I have a present for you.” She was carrying a briefcase and now she handed it to him.

  When he took it, he blinked. It was rather heavy.

  “Carry on, Sergeant,” Stephanie Kinsella told him, waved something that wasn’t much of a salute and was gone.

  Dick looked at his mother. “What was that about?”

  “You hold, there in your hand, your future.”

  He hefted the briefcase. “What’s in it?”

  “Books, data discs. Information, in other words. Dick, Stephanie is a person who invariably gets what she wants.”

  He smiled at that. Stephanie had introduced herself to him, the first time they’d met, as the bridge rat who made coffee for everyone else. The President of the United States had, a few minutes later, told him that Stephanie was the genius who designed and built Ad Astra, the first human-manned interstellar craft. A while later he learned she was indeed the bridge rat in charge of making coffee. She
was, in short, very confusing.

  And if that wasn’t confusing enough, the bridge rat in charge of making coffee had orders from the President of the United States himself that if the general in command of the expedition did something stupid and got himself killed, she was to take command. He’d gone to his mother, a biologist, afterwards and asked her what was going on.

  “Dick, it’s simple. You’ve seen Star Trek episodes. Babylon 5, Star Wars. The captain is the one who always goes on the risky missions, right?”

  “Yes. I suppose that’s not very realistic.”

  “It’s nuts. Generals aren’t supposed to be in front of their soldiers except before they start, in order to exhort them on. Afterwards, they keep out of the line of fire. Stephanie was off ship just the once, until the general killed himself. After that, she stayed aboard. And let me tell you, it hurt her to do that. She reviewed every picture, every report, nearly as fast as we could get them to her. But she knew what her job was.”

  Now he looked at his mother once again, confused again. “Obviously, I’m supposed to bone up on this material. Why?”

  “Do you want to go off-planet again?”

  That stopped him. He met his mother’s eyes. “Yes.”

  She nodded. “It’s dangerous, do you understand?”

  “Do you want to go off-planet again?” he riposted.

  “Damn right! Which is why I helped Stephanie with what you’re holding in your hand. You see, Dick, not only do I want to go — I want to come back. And frankly, Elmer’s-Glue-for-Brains officers are likely to get me killed. Even Marine grunts, wandering around a landing zone, armed to the teeth could, in their ignorance, get me or someone I care about thoroughly and completely killed.”

  “So, I have some things to learn,” he said, nodding in understanding.

  “Stephanie and I are en route to Australia, Dick. We’ll be back in a week. That’s a Saturday. The following Monday, Stephanie will have a green light to start her testing program. At least the US will start testing people for professional competence for duty beyond the atmosphere. And those tests start the Monday after we get back.