Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series

by J. S. Hawn

  George continued, “This is Commander Christopher Perkins our new sawbones.” The ship's doctor was a handsome man obviously of Steader stock, but Steaders of the well-off variety by the way he crinkled his nose when George called him a sawbones. Jonathan could tell he didn't have a sense of humor.

  “This is the Reverend Mary-Beth Hightower, New Anglican Church our ship’s Chaplin.” Mary-Beth Hightower smiled meekly and nodded. She was an attractive woman, light skinned with freckles, green eyes and flowing brass colored hair that floated all around her. She wore a standard Navy khaki undress uniform, but it was devoid of rank insignia. Instead, her collar tabs bore a small silver cross marking her as a chaplain. Chaplains were paid the equivalent of 1st Lieutenants, but were outside the navy hierarchy. Officially the MOD considered them civilian auxiliaries rather than military personnel, which was an accurate assessment. Chaplains were clergy who volunteered to serve with military units. They went through one month basic training and a three month course on psychological counselling, and were then parceled out across military units. The military had trained counselors, but long experience had revealed that soldiers and spacers were often more at ease talking to some one of the cloth than a professional head shrinker. Jonathan was of the mind that it was because the old adage about the lack of atheists in foxholes held true, even in this day and age. Men didn’t worry about their mental health. But their spiritual well being, that they fretted over. Having chaplains around was good for morale, especially as they often shared the same hardships as the men they tended to. Jonathan's own father had started as a Catholic chaplain before he resigned his appointment and rejoined his regiment as a regular officer. Chaplains in Solarian service were enrolled in service for an indefinite period until they chose to resign, which they could do whenever they wished though a surprising number stayed on for years or decades. Reverend Hightower looked to be one of the newer additions to the Chaplain service. In fact, she looked a little green around the gills.

  “Reverand are you ill?” Jonathan asked.

  “Apologies sir, I get um Space sick,” she replied somewhat embarrassed.

  “Ahh...” Jonathan said raising an eyebrow. “Do you wish to go lie down?”

  “No sir, thank you. Um... I have my nausea patch on so I’ll be okay for a few more hours.”

  “Well, make sure you check in with medbay to get the dosage right,” Jonathan said.

  “I can write you a script for a subdural pod,” Perkins said. “Or we can do a series of injections, much better than the patch.”

  “Um, no thanks doctor,” Hightower said. “I’ll stick with the patch.”

  Perkins opened his mouth to argue the point. But Jonathan interjected.

  “Alright then, who else,” Jonathan said looking back to George.

  “Finally sir, this is Major Alicia Kern our new Marine Contingent Commander.”

  Jonathan looked at Major Kern. She was a Provo and a big woman, though it was hard to tell in zero-g. Jonathan kew she was six and a half feet tall, easily a full foot taller than him. She was also well muscled. Her hair was white, though that seemed to be a genetic quirk as she was only thirty-three. Her grey eyes were surprisingly kind and her face was very attractive. Jonathan was tempted to ask why she was in Marine green rather than on the cover of fashion mag. That would be unprofessional though, and Jonathan quashed his very unprofessional thoughts. The Major was a Marine, and the leader of Fury's Marine contingent. He owed her the same respect regardless of her looks.

  “Good to meet you Major Kern,” Jonathan nodded.

  Kern blinked and nodded, “Likewise sir,” she said her voice salted with a accent Jonathan didn't quite recognize.

  “Now, as I am sure you're all aware, I am Jonathan Pavel CO of Fury. This is George Pai the executive officer. Welcome aboard. The Fury is an older ship, but she's a solid hull. She's been asleep for a good while so we have a lot of work to do, I would appreciate it if you get each of your departments in order, and Reverend I am sure you heard we sustained casualties during the docking operation. If you feel able, I’d like you to supervise the handling of the remains and earthly possessions. Also, please make yourself available to any of the crew who need to talk.”

  “I..will sir.” she managed to say in between gulps “I, um.. know a lot of the crew are Stellanauta though. I am not sure if I’m the right person to talk to. Shouldn't it be someone of higher rank?”

  Jonathan waved his hand dismissively. Groundsiders got some unusual ideas in their heads about spacer culture and practices.

  “As a practicing member, I can assure you Reverend you are the correct person to talk to. Practitioners of higher rank are expected to lead prayers, but little else. We aren't clergy after all. The religion tradition of having higher ranking crew members speak for lower ones is a by product of the reality of ship life. It's expedient to have the person in charge speak for you. That doesn't qualify them as clergy though, far from it.”

  Hightower nodded her head. Her eyes showed she was confused, but she didn't want to belabor the point.

  “Excuse me Captain, but if there were deaths shouldn't there be an inquiry?” Dr. Perkins asked. All four serving officers stared at him as if he’d gone quite mad. Perkins seemed oblivious to that though, waiting for Jonathan to answer.

  ‘My God,’ Jonathan thought. He was serious. Well with a ship full of reservists, they were bound to get one true civilian in uniform.

  Jonathan chose to answer with as much tact and without patronizing the doctor.

  “No Doctor, I am afraid not. The needs of the service cannot be held hostage to the procedure of the law. We need to have this ship fully kitted out and ready to form up with the rest of the convoy in one week's time. So while it is sad to have lost men, we must go on.”

  “But surely,” Perkins started.

  Jonathan cut him off, “Men die in space Doctor. Often and violently because that's the nature of space travel and of war. It's tragic, but it’s the truth.”

  Perkins looked ready to argue the point, but George interceded.

  “In regards to getting the rest of the ship squared away sir, I suppose it would be wise to do an audit of each department, while the freighters are still docked to us. We all know the quartermaster’s fondness for misappropriating supplies. If we have any major deficits, it would be good to identify them and pull anything we’re short on from the freighter’s stores.”

  “Quite.” Jonathan said. “We will discuss this further at the full staff meeting, which will convene in,” Jonathan glanced at his chrono, “in two hours. That should give our new arrivals ample time to get squared away. Now dismissed.”

  The officers unlocked their grav boots and floated out. Reverend Hightower more gingerly than others. Doctor Perkins though lingered seemingly having a hard time. It took a moment for Jonathan to realize he was trying to swim in zero-g, kicking his legs and flapping his arms.

  ‘Lord have mercy,’ Jonathan thought pushing himself off the floor and drifting over the table. He grabbed the Doctor's shirt in passing and pulled him to the wall.

  “There you are Doc, from here you can use the hand rails.”

  “Um... yes, thank you Captain,” the Doctor said with a distinct lack of gratitude and annoyance in his voice.

  “I say Captain, so long as I have your ear, I am afraid I really must ask why is it established practice not to investigate accidental deaths.” The Doctor said obviously unwilling to relinquish the point.

  “As I said doctor, because men die in space often and with violence. So long as there is no suspicion that it was not an accident. There is no need to investigate,” Jonathan replied.

  “But how do you keep accidents from happening again if you don't investigate them?” Perkins asked pointedly.

  Jonathan shrugged, “Experience, mostly. You see what went wrong and you watch for it. Today though was an act of God. We suffered a line break. That would have happened, and I guarantee no amount of pre-operation inspec
tion or change in protocol would have changed it,” Jonathan replied.

  “Says you,” Perkins said.

  Jonathan kept his face passive. By all rights, he could have Perkins flogged for showing such disrespect to a superior officer. The man didn't realize that he truly was a civilian in uniform.

  “Says me and twenty years of spaceflight experience, and here is how I know it, because that line was checked twice by the Bosun and the head of that line’s rigging crew. No weakness was detected. If there had been, we would have switched to a different line. Safety is drilled into every spacer from his first day until his last. There will be a debrief later, after the crew has time to process their mates deaths. It will be led by a senior noncom and it will be an informal affair. I will ensure it happens, but I won't mandate one and I won't convene a formal inquiry.”

  “But..” the Doctor tried to say.

  Jonathan raised his hand cutting him off. “The reason is, Doctor, that inquiries take weeks. We would need to preserve witnesses interviewed. All this takes time Doctor, time a warship does not have. Furthermore, it goes against the grain. On a ship, the crew is a family. They don't take well to outsiders or even officers accusing them of killing their mates through negligence.”

  The Doctor looked skeptical, but he shook his head slightly, “You’ll forgive me for my confusion Captain Pavel. This is my first deployment, and I am finding Navy culture to be unlike civilian life.”

  Jonathan waved his hand, “It's of no consequence doctor. Out of curiosity where did you do your National Service?”

  “Oh, Singking Emergency Medical Rescue service. I was given a dispensation to limit my service to 6 months since I had been accepted to medical school,” Perkins said with a bit of pride.

  “I see,” Jonathan said. “Well just keep in mind the military is very different from civvy life. Out of curiosity, why join the Navy reserves then?”

  “Well, I looked at the army, but I couldn't think of anywhere better to get a first hand look at level one trauma injuries than the Navy, while also living in something approaching civilized conditions,” the Doctor said matter of factly.

  It was all Jonathan could do to not to let his jaw drop. This man had signed up for Fleet service because he wanted to work on horrible injuries, and sleep in a soft bed while doing it. Jonathan hadn't met many doctors at least not when he wasn't a patient, but he had seen this type before. Somewhere along the way, people like Perkins forgot the interesting, withering specimen in front of them was a person. A person who had friends, family, thoughts, and feelings. A person who was one of Jonathan's crew.

  Jonathan squared his jaw and looked levely at the Doctor. “I can assume then that you will be able to provide the highest quality of care for my people?”

  “Oh well, I certainly will, but a lot depends on the rest of the medical team. Tell me, when do the rest of the medical team come aboard?” the Doctor asked.

  Jonathan blinked. He couldn't be serious, oh but he was. A thought crossed Jonathan's mind, a wicked one.

  “Actually, I believe there all down in medical right now. If you like I’ll escort you down there,” Jonathan said.

  “Oh much obliged Captain,” Perkins replied.

  Jonathan led the Doctor from the wardroom through the ship. It was slow going. Perkins had very little experience moving in zero-g and Jonathan had to help him. They also needed to dodge the high volume of cargo and spacers that were moving through the corridor, storing necessary kit and doing the thousand and one other things required to get a star ship ready to get under way. Aside from Perkins apologizing for bumping into things, he chatted away aimlessly. Mostly about himself and his qualifications. First in his class at medical school, residency at City General then moving to a private hospital. The Ginden Hofer Hospital with a specialization in cardiovascular surgery.

  “One of the few areas that is still 100% manual in surgery you understand,” Perkins said. “We can't trust the autodocs on such a delicate region.”

  Jonathan said something noncommittal in reply. He was beginning to get an idea of the kind of person Perkins was. He was a Steader true, but he was the kind of moneyed, educated professional, who despite not being on the Rolls of the Landeds saw himself as above the simple proles. He had more in common with the more stuck up Landed than working class Steaders or Provos. He also seemed to be a bit of a horse's ass.

  “Also is it common to have god bothers aboard ship?” Perkins asked.

  “Not that I find such backward practices offensive mind you, but I am sure other confirmed atheists like myself won’t like the idea. Not that there is anything wrong with being a believer as you are obviously.” Perkins might have tried to not sound condescending, but he failed. Jonathan amended his earlier thought. The man was a complete horse’s ass.

  “Ah here we are,” Jonathan said pulling Perkins by his sleeve into the sick bay. It was a large compartment with a small surgical theater, a caged pharmacy, and twenty beds. Five crewmen, two woman and three men were floating about busy storing various items.

  “Aten hut!” One cried seeing the Captain.

  “At ease,” Jonathan said.

  “Well Doctor, here is the rest of the medical team. Two Navy corpsmen rated Specialist 1st, and three Specialist 2nd rated as pharmacist mates.”

  Perkins looked and he seemed confused. “Ah I see, but what about the nurses and other doctors?” he asked.

  Jonathan looked at him, “You misunderstand Doctor, you are the only doctor aboard ship.”

  Perkins looked at him his expression unbelieving and his face suddenly went very pale.

  “You mean..I..but there are almost 800 people on this ship.”

  “Yes,” Jonathan said, “and you're their doctor. Now you better see to that audit, staff meeting in an hour and a half.” Jonathan turned and pushed off, behind him he heard one of the corpsmen call out, “Oh god, I think he fainted standing up.”

  Jonathan whistled as he pulled himself up the passageway to the bridge. It was good to be the Captain.

  Chapter VIII

  Solaria System, In Orbit of Zhong, Solarian Republic

  Onboard RSNS Sound of Fury

  October 20th 843 AE

  The next two days dragged by at a steady, yet grueling pace. Taudown and Doneghy proved easy enough to unload, but the sheer quantity of goods that had to be moved left Jonathan bouncing all over the ship resolving one issue after another. The zero-g was also wearing patience a bit thin. Working in zero-g was something spacers either loved or tolerated, there was little middle ground. Overall though, Jonathan was happy to see how the crew was shaking off. Despite roughly half being reservists or greenhorns, they were proving to be competent and adaptable. Having the reservists was a boon. Most reservists civilian careers revolved around the myriad of Solaria’s spaceborne industries such as merchant crewmen, asteroid miners, and dock hands. That bonus of experience was paying dividends and balancing out for the greenhorns’ lack of experience. A good number of the new recruits were ridiculously young too. Watching a group of 18 year olds who all played on the same high school football team in some rural town in the Western Estates haul ammunition plates, Jonathan mournfully realized a good number of those he was leading were children. It was a thought that disturbed him. Fortunately, Knowles was showing himself to be just the kind of Bosun a Captain could rely on. Knowles had assigned reliable noncoms to each section with a good mix of experienced spacers to help guide the pups along. While Fury's crew was shaping up, the officers were also proving to be up to snuff though it seemed to be alternating between inexperience from the younger ones, and a need to shake the rust off from the reservists. Both Dr. Perkins and Reverend Hightower were proving to be enormous pains in Jonathan's rear. Perkins had filed numerous protests with the Office of Personnel Bureau of Medical Services regarding the working conditions, the lack of modern medical supplies, and the deplorable conditions aboard ship. Lt. Commander Tai Heath, the coms officer, had initially declined to se
nd those protests to spare Perkins the humiliation of having such ridiculous statements on his record. Jonathan had quietly prompted Tai to just send the communications along. It was Perkins right to file such protests, nothing would come of it. With everything else going on in the Admiralty, it would be a long time if ever before someone read Perkins’s protests. Hightower was proving to be a regular barrel of fun for other reasons. While she seemed to be a kind woman, she also seemed to be completely out of her depth. Her constant inquiries to Jonathan on proper naval protocol and Stellanauta practices when Jonathan had a million other more pressing things to worry about, was proving to be very irritating. At first, Jonathan had delegated Lt. Commander Heath to deal with it. That had brought up a whole host of new issues. Heath was not long on patience, and despite his Albonian heritage was from a religious sect that had some very strident disagreements with Hightower’s sect. Heath had declined to act as the Chaplin’s ‘babysitter’ reducing the poor nauseated woman to tears in the process. Fortunately, Lieutenant Alan Sing the assistant tactical officer, who was a long serving spacer and a practicing Stellanauta had quietly stepped in and started assisting the Reverend with her various challenges. This left Jonathan to focus on his real job, which was getting Fury ready to get underway. The continuous work and long hours was wearing. Finally, with the majority of the heavy work done George managed to get Jonathan to go off duty, after having been on for 18 straight hours. Unfortunately, Jonathan's com began buzzing as he floated blissfully in his sleeping bag. Blearily, Jonathan opened his eyes and reached for the com. Pulling it in he checked the chrono, and swore silently, four hours of sleep. Silently Jonathan promised himself if someone wasn't dead or seriously injured they would be. Clicking on the com.