by Chris Hechtl
“Wonderful. The sound of marching boots and shouting idiots to fill my day. My life is complete,” the chief engineer said in disgust.
Shelby snorted and waved him to his seat. “You get that thing fixed?” she asked, pointing to the carafe in the corner. It was half full, so it was obvious he was using it.
The Chief looked over and then back. “Yes, ma’am. Replaced the pot and filter; the caffeine was baked in. That and fixed the water run, it had some stainless in it that was giving off an aftertaste.”
“Ah, good,” the XO said, pouring herself a cup. Steam and the fragrant smell wafted up to her. She smiled. Sometimes it seemed like the Navy was run on coffee alone. “We can work out the issues with the repairs in Triang. I understand the navigators will need at least a shift to plot a zigzag course around the periphery to avoid the Oort cloud. Corporal Deja will be wiped out after that jump,” she made a face then took a sip of coffee. Her face cleared. She looked at the cup and swallowed. “Good coffee, Chief,” she said neutrally, saluting him with the cup.
“You can have it ma'am; it's tearing my stomach up,” the Chief admitted.
The XO nodded, cradling the cup. She studied him for a moment then sat across from him. “I know your job, Chief; I had it a while ago. I know it's not easy. It is easy to get buried in the paperwork or get an ulcer or get killed. You've done none of those things.”
“Despite people trying to kill me with paperwork,” the Chief said, “or idiots who don't know to keep their hands out of things,” the Chief growled.
Shelby winced. “Yeah,” she drawled. “I can imagine it's been rough here, which is why the skipper had been cutting you some slack. So, what we're going to do, is I'm going to man a shift here too.”
“You ma'am?” the Chief asked, looking surprised.
“Don't look so surprised Chief; I told you, I've had your job before!” Shelby said, smiling tightly. “I'll take a shift; you get some sleep. You know I'll get the job done while you are down, so rest easy. But, before you do, why don't you bring me up to speed on what is going on and what needs watching and then we'll take it from there.”
The Chief stared at her for a long moment. She looked at him expectantly, then took a sip of coffee. Her eyes never left his. After a moment she put the cup back down. “Well?” she asked.
“Aye aye, ma’am. If you want to get your hands dirty again, we can arrange that,” the Chief said.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
One of the jobs the veteran Marines had was to train the new recruits they had picked up in Antigua. Now that their paperwork was up to date and Doctor Standish's people had cleared them, they were undergoing initial training.
Thousands of people from all races had signed on with the military, either in the Marines or Navy. The ones with some experience in space had been left behind to man the ships they had left to guard the system. They had 40% of Firefly's original crew watching over them.
Firefly had a mix of Marine and Navy recruits on board. Many had basic skills such as reading or some aptitude in the field they wanted to be in. Most needed a brush up in the basics, however, which was what the instructors started out on.
Firefly had filled the blanks in her crew with the new recruits, and then filled the empty bunks in the Marine troop bay, as well as every available space a hammock or bunk that could be set up. AI and some of her Navy crew used the ship to train new recruits on the job; after all, Firefly had been forced to do so during the Xeno war from time to time. But training for the Marines on a ship was a different proposition. With the ship full, it was difficult to get into PT, and Doctor Standish's people were swamped with the wounded in infirmary.
That left VR and sleep teaching. Each of the recruits had been giving a basic physical and ident implant when they had signed on. Major Pendeckle and his officers decided to take advantage of that.
Through the course of the second week, Valenko and Jethro had discovered that although many of their recruits were young, most had some sort of police, militia, or security training. Apparently the Major had thought they would come in handy. What it really meant was that they had a lot of over-eager people who barely knew which end a round came out of their weapon running around in VR barely listening to orders. They had a lot of stupid civilian crap to clean out to get the men and women squared away properly.
GI parties, pushups and counseling sessions helped deal with some of the civilian attitude crap and discipline issues. But the real deal came in training. The more you sweat the less you bleed. The veterans were determined to get the new recruits as squared away as possible before they were delivered to Agnosta.
Unfortunately, their zeal and their students’ zeal had some unintended and dangerous side effects. The first recruit to have a seizure did it in her rack without anyone noticing for several minutes. When her rack mate noticed her kicking and complained about it, she called in help. Fortunately, Gusterson was nearby and was quickly on scene to administer aid.
A head check of the other recruits found two others seizing, and one had passed out. They were all transported to the infirmary. Six other recruits reluctantly reported vision or migraine issues. Doctor Standish ordered a mandatory stand down of VR and sleep teaching until an investigation was performed. After a couple of hours, the Marines got an order for the rest of the recruits to cycle through the infirmary again. The recruits groaned but didn't protest. They had learned, standing in line being bored was better than running or doing PT and much lest exhausting as well.
The concern among the veteran Marines was an equipment issue. Since nothing was forthcoming from the medics, Ox checked the hardware, but couldn't find a common fault. Jethro thought something had been missed in the physicals. But then the doctor called for an interview. Jethro remained behind to keep an eye on the recruits while Valenko and Pendeckle went to investigate.
“What we have here is a bit too much for the brain to cope with. As my father would say, you're trying to ram ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bucket. It ain't all going to fit,” he said.
Major Pendeckle snorted at the doctor. Doctor Standish had gotten some of his stuffy rough edges polished off over the past four years on the ship. He'd done even more maturing since the recruits had cycled through. At least he wasn't nearly as condescending as he used to be.
“Okay, this is complicated, so try to follow along,” the doctor said.
So much for not condescending, Pendeckle thought.
The doctor explained that the hippocampus was the window in the brain to download information. The hippocampus controlled and interpreted short term memory from the frontal lobes. It served as the primary form of learning for the brain by making neural connections in connectum and translating that into long-term memory. Level two implants connected directly to the hippocampus, thus making information downloads and sleep teaching possible. But too much information stressed the tissue, which caused swelling and seizures. Some of the swelling was minor, others were potentially damaging if left long term. At least one minor aneurism had been caught in the early stages. Several people had severe migraines. Mandatory downtime to unwind was ordered.
“There is such a thing as too soon and too fast gentlemen. You'd do best to remember to rein in your eagerness and not rush these kids off to die so quickly,” Doctor Standish admonished fiercely. “I just got rid of them. I didn't expect them back so soon,” he said pointedly, looking at the bay filled with recruits being treated. Most were minor things fortunately, headaches of one sort or another. The worst cases were in the intensive care area.
“We're not trying to rush them off to die doctor. We're trying to train them so they don't make stupid mistakes and get killed or get someone else killed,” Valenko growled.
“Well, go slower. If they aren't ready, then stop. Drop them off in Agnosta to get the proper training and pick up those who can handle it.”
Valenko flicked his rounded ears as he rubbed his graying muzzle. “You know, doc, that's a hell of an id
ea. I'm glad you thought of it.”
Standish blinked in wary confusion. “What?”
“We've got all those people just sitting around scratching their ass on Agnosta...why not do a swap right?” Valenko asked, nodding his great ursine head. “Good call, doc, I'll bring it up to the Major,” he said as he left the compartment.
“Okay,” Doctor Standish said, brows knitting in confusion. Finally he gave it up and shrugged. He turned to his work, but his hind brain kept turning the confusion over. Finally, he got it. When he did he snorted. “Now, why didn't I think of that...oh, wait, I did.” He snorted at himself and then went back to attending to his patients.
Chapter 2
“You've got that look in your eye again,” Jethro accused the bear, eying him warily. Valenko was overdue for something underhanded, sneaky and devious, which usually didn't bode well for someone somewhere.
“You know me so well,” Valenko rumbled, flicking his ursine ears in humor. He stretched lazily and then shrugged, rolling his massive shoulders. Muscles rippled under his shaggy brown fur. “You heard about the seizures?”
“Yes, sir,” Jethro replied, nodding. They had cut off all sleep and VR training for the next week. That actually fit well with the ship's schedule, the hyper skip would use up a lot of computing power anyway. Right now the recruits were getting the necessary downtime to recover and decompress.
“I was thinking,” Valenko said, tapering off to look around and scratch lazily. He licked his chops as long claws got some of the kinks and itching out. With so many bodies on the ship it was hard to get enough time in the gym or in the latrines to get sorted out good and proper. He wanted a long soak in a hot tub.
“I was thinking,” Valenko said again, as he picked up his harness. “We've got too many people laying about. Won't do. So, I thought maybe you could take a squad of noobs around.”
“Tag alongs? Babysitting?” Jethro asked, hiding his dismay with difficulty. He hated how the noobs stared at him like he was some alien creature. Some had learned some manners, but most hadn't. One had even stepped on his tail. He flicked it in agitation. He missed being in his suit. He'd run a brief check on it once, but the Captain had locked it down for now. He couldn't blame her, having it go rogue on her ship was bad enough, having it go rogue while in hyper could doom them all. Commander Firefly had convinced her to give him visitation rights to keep the AI that was apparently in the suit content. She'd relented but with ill grace.
He knew she couldn't wait to get him and the trouble he seemed to bring with him off her ship. He didn't think it was all his fault, but he had to admit he'd caused a few incidents in the past.
“Sure. I think we, we meaning veterans, should all do that. Take a small group, no more than three or four and show them some practical duties,” Valenko said, using the royal we.
They had been working hard to get the noobs schooled on basic military etiquette and protocol while on the ship. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, Jethro thought, at least they wouldn't muck up a sim or ask too many stupid questions. He frowned, ears flattening over that last thought, realizing the lie in it. “And I'm getting this thought came to you naturally or from up chain sir?” Jethro asked in resignation.
“Oh, this is my own idea.”
“From that twisted bog you call a mind?” Jethro asked, ears forward as he twitched his whiskers in humor. “One does have to wonder what you are up to.”
“Keeping people busy for one.”
“Right, me, answering stupid questions while trying to keep my tail from getting trod on. Again,” Jethro said shaking his head. “Yes, sir.”
“Pilot project. I'll send a couple to you.”
“Great, noobs looking over my shoulder while I do damage control. Lovely.”
“Oh, that should be interesting,” Valenko murmured, tapping his chin with his index claw. Jethro looked at him, but the bear just smirked slightly. The panther sighed internally and went off to his rack to finish getting ready for what was about to be a very long day.
---( | ) --- ( | )---
Jethro pulled the panel off and then nodded to his tag alongs. “Okay, what do we do first?” he asked.
“Um, log where we are, sir?”
“I'm not a sir, I work for a living,” Jethro growled. “But you are correct,” he said, pointing to the panel's barcode identifier. “Panel number is here. So I look at it, and click with my implants...”
He traced a box around the code in his vision and then clicked it with his internal mouse icon. The square blinked as his view shifted. The numbers highlighted and then he felt his implants open a channel to the ship's server. “And now the computers confer and log where I am and then upload the schematics to my implants.”
“Which we can't see since we still don't have any.”
“Well, some of you do have civilian implants. But you can't see some of it anyway since you have civilian grade,” Jethro said absently. He'd toned down his desire to bark at them like the raw recruits they were. That awed them, yes, but it also drew unwanted attention from the ship's crew.
“The computers tell me what they want me to do if they are up. If not, I have a list of things to check. The readings are in my implants so I can compare them without having to memorize a million different things.”
“Now, this is a coolant panel. We've got coolant lines all over the place, and even though they are shielded and insulated, you don't want to stick your hand in there if there is a leak. Even a small one can freeze your skin and do damage. So, first up, check for leaks.”
He ran them through a visual inspection of the hoses.
“Sergeant, I thought the equipment used heat recovery systems?” a recruit asked, clearly puzzled.
Jethro looked over his shoulder to the Veraxin and then flicked his ears. “You heard right. Where did you hear it?”
“I have a nest four cousin working on Anvil Prime.”
“Ah,” Jethro said thoughtfully before he nodded. “Well, your cousin is correct. We have them. I'm not an engineer, but I asked a similar question when we were given the basic training. What I was told other than to never mind and focus on my job,” he flicked his ears in humor. “Since they say Marines don't know squat...it'd help if they'd answer the damn question and not expect us to know it...” he smiled slightly. The glitter of fangs was brief.
“What I found out is that the heat recovery exchangers are great, but inefficient and slow. In a crisis, such as combat, you need to get rid of the heat quickly. Things happen fast, and heat builds up fast, too fast for the recovery system to handle, so we have a back up, heat exchangers, sumps, and coolant like this,” he said pointing to the system. “These are coolant lines. They run to radiators and pumps on or in the equipment. Then away to a sump or bigger exchange system. But something's wrong here,” he said, plugging his test kit into a test port on the valve assembly on his upper left. He had to lean inside the space, carefully brushing aside some of the hoses and wiring bundles to do so.
“Careful jarhead, don't yank on the cables,” a crewman passing said.
“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “Bite me,” he muttered under his breath. He checked the readings and then nodded. “Okay, here we've got a clean reading and it matches what the computer uploaded to me. So, we move on...” he unplugged the diagnostic device and then leaned back.
“S...I mean, Sergeant, why are we doing this? Can't the crew handle it?” a recruit asked.
Jethro turned to him and then back to the panel. He traced the hoses and then got up and moved further away. He popped another panel off and then reached in and plugged the diagnostic in. “Yes and no. They are supposed to, but Marines have many duties on a ship. One of them is damage control. Since the ship took some damage in the recent battle, it's taken some time to go through everything.”
“But I thought they gave the ship a going over before we left?” a girl asked.
Jethro looked at the human. She could be in her twenties, but then again, she cou
ld be a teen. He wasn't much of a judge on human age. “Yes, but no one can catch everything...,” he frowned at the reading. “And sometimes you catch things others overlooked or forgot about. Which, in this case...,” he shook his head. “We just did. Lucky us. I've got to put a call in,” he said. He looked up and frowned.
A few minutes later a bored ensign came lounging around the corner. He was wearing a navy issue coverall, navy gray trimmed in engineering department yellow on the hem, shoulder boards and breast boards.
“Yes, Sergeant?” he asked as the panther popped to attention.
“Sir, found a problem.”
“You did. No one else did?” the ensign drawled. “A jarhead?”
“Sir,” Jethro said, ignoring the put down. “I checked the readings twice; they don't match.”
“Oh? Well, did you clear the line and retest?”
“Sir, it's a red line. Red fittings. Which means, don't touch. Protocol said call in engineering support.”
“And here I am. Okay, let's have a look at this so called problem,” the ensign said. He pulled Jethro's diagnostic tool out and then plugged his own in. He frowned at it, then at Jethro. “This is wrong. What did you do?”
“I plugged my diagnostic in and found it wrong. That's what I'm reporting. The pounds-per-square centimeter is 250. Downstream, it's the proper regulation two hundred.”
The ensign grunted thoughtfully as he unclipped his tool and went downstream to the open panel where the students were. “Who are they?”
“Recruits, sir. Here to observe.”
“Ah,” the ensign said with a sympathetic nod. He plugged his device in and then frowned. “You are right. Something's hinky.”
“Obstruction or pinched line?”
“One or the other. Upstream of that line or in the valve itself. It's not an equipment malfunction. I wonder why no one has noticed it?”
“Not my department, sir,” Jethro said carefully.
“It could be new. Something got flushed. Or a flake or something came off recently,” the Veraxin recruit said.
