* * *
Midshipman Neumann spent all of thirty minutes turning the Communication Division over to Gallant. He quickly ran through the classified documents, equipment, and personnel files. He demonstrated the procedure for taking incoming messages, decrypting them and distributing them to the appropriate recipients. He explained how the internal ship communications interfaced with the Artificial Intelligence computers and personal comm pins. He took Gallant to the Combat Information Center (CIC) where radars, telescopes, communications, weapons, and data plots were collected, integrated and the intelligence analyzed.
“This is the division’s Leading Petty Officer, Chief Benjamin Howard. He’ll introduce you to the sixteen men in the division and give you a tour of CIC and the communication division’s spaces.”
One look and Gallant could tell Howard was a seasoned veteran. The jaunty way he walked marked him as a man who had developed his ‘sea-legs’ navigating a varying gravity. His thinning brown-gray hair and a slight potbelly took nothing away from his immaculate uniform, well-creased trousers and mirror glossed shoes. The cluster of decorations on his chest delineated an illustrious career.
“I’m glad to meet you, Chief.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” came a reserved reply.
Impatiently, Neumann offered a tablet for electronic signature. It described the turnover status of critical elements of responsibility within the division.
Gallant began scanning it, but his gaze became riveted on the final column. His heart gave a jolt. It showed a perfect one-hundred percent operational readiness with zero outstanding deficiencies in any of the critical categories.
He looked directly into Neumann’s deadpan eyes. He knew what he should do; must do. Tempted, he took a deep breath. But he let the critical moment pass. He didn’t challenge Neumann's reported status for the division. Instead, he signed the tablet and returned it for countersignature.
Neumann signed and turned away smartly, marching rather than walking out of the compartment without further comment.
“Would you like a tour now, sir?” Howard asked with a pleasant smile.
“Yes, please.”
They prowled the Combat Information Center together, squinting under the glaring lights of the brain center of the battle cruiser.
Howard pointed, “Over there is the sensing equipment; including seven different types of active radars and four passive telescopes. On this side of the compartment is astrophysics and plotting. They compute the course and speed of contacts. Every object we track has a specific emission signature that we can identify. The spectrum of our emissions is strictly controlled. We restrict all electromagnetic emissions in order to prevent others from detecting and tracking us. Engineering plays a major role in controlling emission, but so does communication.”
Gallant was familiar with some of the detection arrays from his academy classes. The various active scanning radars were broken down by frequency and pulse rate. He recognized the optical telescope instrument controls, as well as the x-ray and gamma detection controls.
Howard waved, “Over here is the communication array, including both internal and external gear. The information flow we regulate is critical for command and control. One of our most clandestine communication devices is this burst transmitter. It emits a focused beam only the recipient can detect. We handle priority and action messages. The ultimate responsibility for carrying out action orders is the captain’s, of course, but he knows where to come if any messages are lost or gabbled.”
“Speaking of responsibility, the turnover report showed classified files and messages at one-hundred percent integrity with zero deficiencies,” commented Gallant.
“That’s completely accurate. Our equipment can detect, decrypt and translate every letter of a message even at minimal signal strength. Our encryption and decoding equipment is the best and we have been meticulous in documenting our work.”
“The unclassified monitored message traffic was also marked one-hundred percent with no defects. Can you tell me how that is possible?”
“Even the best equipment has limitations. For unclassified monitoring of routine communication, we can keep almost perfect records.”
“Almost, but not one-hundred percent?”
“Well, if the signal is logged out before it has faded to the degradation level we do not have to account for it as lost information.”
“And Neumann was able to make that standard practice for the division?”
Howard shrugged.
"What about that decryption equipment that those two men are working. The turnover sheet showed one-hundred percent equipment operational with no deficiencies.”
Howard dropped his smile. “Haggman and Curtis are repairing the main long distance transmitter. That’s one of the things you should have asked Mr. Neumann, before signing the turnover.”
“True, but I’m asking you now.”
Howard’s face was a rampant contortion of conflict.
“Could you give me the unofficial version, Chief?” Gallant realized he was asking for a leap of trust, he hadn’t yet earned.
To his credit, Howard revealed, “Well, according to the captain’s standing orders, equipment malfunctions must be reported no later than noon each day. Mr. Neumann orders were that we do not report any equipment out of service until noon. Instead, he required us to drop everything and repair any faulty equipment immediately. That prevented placing it out of service on the central status report.”
“But that means others wouldn’t know they couldn’t depend on that equipment being available.”
Howard look troubled, but didn’t add anything.
“What about maintenance? Is everything perfectly on schedule with no deficiencies there too?”
“There are lots of demands throughout the ship, and equipment down for maintenance interferes with operations. Mr. Neumann found that there is a thirty day grace period for exceeding a maintenance due date, if parts have been placed on order. He believed in ordering plenty of spares, even if we have some on hand."
“How much of the equipment is actually behind their maintenance schedule, unofficially of course?"
“Eleven percent.”
“Wow,” Gallant gasped in amazement.
“It’s your division now, Mr. Gallant. What are your orders?” asked Howard, looking to take the measure of his new boss.
Gallant reflected for a few seconds, and then said, “Any equipment out of service will to be reported to CIC, immediately. It will remain there until it is fully tested and back on-line.”
A smile returned to Howard's lips.
“Also, you and I will work out a maintenance plan that will get us back on schedule as soon as possible, despite the inconvenience to normal operations.”
Chief Howard looked at Gallant with a sympathetic eye. “If you’re feeling a little overwhelmed just now, let me assure you, sir,” He wore an ear to ear grin, “it’ll get worse.” It seemed obvious that the man loved what he did.
Gallant hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision. He put on a questioning expression, “I’d appreciate any help you could give me, Chief.”
Howard said, “I’d be glad to help, any way I can.”
“Thank you, Chief. I'd appreciate that.”
“Okay. Let’s get started and I’ll show you how to keep things running without losing any action messages. That at least will keep the captain from shooting you right off the bat.”
Gallant knew he was going to like Chief Howard.
Midshipman Henry Gallant in Space Page 5
