Bill Travers shrugged helplessly, “About seven hours ago, during the battle.”
The medic nodded. “In this class of burn the epidermal cells are killed, but they don’t all die at once -- they die over a period of several hours. In a more severe burn they die all at once, or hardly any die in a lesser wound. You can go for hours, thinking you’re fine. Eventually, of course, you find out you’re not. Bad luck, Captain, not bad judgment.” The medic looked around at the assembled crowd. “Like, sure, she was perfectly free to say, ‘Sorry sir, I don’t feel well. You just go and cancel that parade in my honor.’”
“What’s her prognosis?” Admiral Greer asked, cutting to the quick.
“Good, sir,” the medic said. “I’ve called for a litter. We’ll transport her to the base hospital and once there, we’ll whack her with a megadose of antibiotics. If no infection develops in six or eight hours, we’ll do some skin grafts. A day later, she’ll be up and about. Six or eight weeks from now, she’ll only have a few faint scars to remember this by. That and a lot of painful memories from the necessary physical therapy.”
“We were supposed to orbit out, directly,” Captain Travers cautioned, feeling trapped. He’d delayed court-martial long enough; another delay would surely be unacceptable.
“Captain Travers,” Bill looked up at Admiral Greer when the admiral spoke. “I have a formal request for you. So far, you command the only ship I’ve seen with the new lasers; you and your crew have combat experience with them. I was thinking it would be of benefit if you and your crew stayed for another three to six days to go over tactics with my battle staff.” He waved at Willow. “Perhaps the lieutenant will be feeling well enough in a day or so to assist with that. I’m sure her expertise with them would be more than welcome.”
Bill Travers knew he’d put his career on the line ever since Agincourt; all he could do now was nod. Here was another officer doing the same thing as he had. Win. Whatever it took, win.
* * *
Rear Admiral Toby Greer swirled burgundy wine in a glass, staring at it. A few feet away Captain Bill Travers took a sip from his own glass and took up perusal of the view out the admiral’s window looking out over the achingly blue lake.
“I tell myself I have to be positive, that I need to look on the bright side,” Admiral Greer told the captain. “Yet every few minutes I run over my decisions and wonder what else I could have done that might have saved another ship.”
“You saved the planet, Admiral.”
“And you’ve saved two,” the admiral shot back.
Bill laughed uneasily. “True -- with the help of a few friends.”
Captain Travers turned brisk. “Your yard people should have that fan replaced by 1600 this afternoon. I need to get going. Any delay was going to be hard to explain. I’ve about used up my luck.”
The admiral smiled softly. “Captain, the medics say it will be seventy-two hours before Lieutenant Wolf is ready to travel. Starfarer’s Dream is one of exactly two ships in the Fleet that are equipped with the new lasers. Lieutenant Wolf would be an invaluable intelligence source, Captain, if she could talk to some of my captains and weapons officers about their employment.”
Captain Travers whistled low. “I don’t know what to say, Admiral.”
“There are nearly a billion people alive today in this system, Captain, who owe their lives to you and your crew. Trust me, Captain, Fleet will understand. And if they don’t I’ll personally let them know that I do understand.”
Bill suddenly laughed.
“What?” the admiral asked.
“I was just thinking about how many times I tried to buck up Commander Hoyt, telling him to look on the bright side, not to worry about being court-martialed, that we’d done good. What goes around, Admiral, comes around. Now it’s my turn.”
“Absolutely correct, Captain Travers! And doubly true for that very young lieutenant of yours. In order for our species to survive we are going to have to function at well above a hundred percent of our best -- all of us. If some of us can function at a thousand percent like Willow Wolf -- well, in spite of the darkness of the hour, there is the light of hope. With people like you and her, people like Turbine Jensen and Ito Saito -- we have a fighting chance.”
The door to the office opened and a Portie commander stood there. “Sir, sensors report a single vessel has been detected in the outer system, traveling on low fan. All of the active emitters out there were destroyed in the attack so we have almost no information on it.
“The Port Admiral requests guidance, Admiral.”
“Declare an alert. Dispatch the ready cruiser to intercept -- that’ll be Babylon. Have all the other ships come ready and prepare to engage if necessary.”
Admiral Greer turned to Captain Travers. “I’m sorry, Captain, but Starfarer’s Dream will have to go out without you.”
“There’s no time,” Bill agreed sadly. “Still, she has a hot pilot and Naomi is in command and Jake reported that the laser is once again working, with a seven minute charge time. With luck, this newcomer is one of ours, a cripple.”
“Except we aren’t missing any ships. Come, Captain, let us go to the Operations Center and observe what’s happening. You can learn why promotion to rear admiral isn’t the sinecure that most feel it is.”
Admiral Greer listened to the duty officer in the Operations Center report. “Babylon has jumped to intercept, sir. The ship appears to be very light, Admiral. If we’d detected this ship before the war I’d have evaluated it as a transport that had suffered a severe malf.”
“You’re sure it’s not a warship?”
“I can’t say that, sir. The ship is barely forty thousand tons, however. We’re too far away to get a good look at her and the active sensors in the outer system were destroyed, as well as the latch frame transmitters. All we can do is wait. Right now all I can tell you is that the two ships are running parallel at about a half light second apart,” the sensor officer reported.
An hour later they had learned nothing further, causing Admiral Greer a great deal of anxiety. Finally the sensor officer reported, “Sir, Babylon has gone to High Fan -- and is down in the inner system.”
Almost at once a wall screen lit up with Captain Gladys Tovar, commanding the Babylon, appearing. “Admiral Greer, the ship is Fleet Transport Guam. They have lost two fans and they've had to scram their fusion power plant. They are coming in under emergency power.”
“You’re sure it’s not hostile?” Admiral Greer asked.
“I put Marines aboard her, sir. Admiral, Guam is out of New Texas, which was also attacked and successfully defended. Guam was being utilized as a transport to return several thousand Fleet dependents to Earth. They are about twenty-eight hours away from orbiting New Helgoland.”
“Thank you, Captain Tovar. Please, return to the outer system and provide an escort for Guam.”
The captain’s laugh was bitter. “Guam did better at New Texas than Babylon did here, sir. They scored. I’m not sure who will be escorting who.” She saluted and a moment later, her image was gone and the sensor officer reported that Babylon had jumped to High Fan.
Admiral Greer turned to Bill Travers. “Captain, it is with deep regret, but I must ask that Starfarer’s Dream remain a little longer. It will take more than a day for the Guam to orbit in. We’ll need a couple of days to detach the passenger modules and transfer them to Starfarer’s Dream.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Bill replied levelly.
For a long moment the two men looked at each other, and then they stunned the others in the Operations Center when they started laughing like schoolyard boys who’d pulled a particularly good practical joke.
II
Terry Morrison sank wearily into the chair that was his in the conference room. From next to him, Captain Shi Gong patted him lightly on his shoulder. “You’ve done well, Lieutenant. You have nothing to fear from this proceeding.”
“It was my responsibility to deal with the reactor,” h
e said, his voice sad.
“And you have to sleep now and then, Lieutenant... as must your captain. At least this time the fan containment worked and once again the reactor didn’t run away.”
Terry nodded, trying hard not to sob. No, the fan failure hadn’t hurt anyone, but the sudden drop in load had finally done in the reactor. A half dozen men and women had walked into hell to manually shut things down when the control circuits had failed. All of them were in sick bay now, including Commander Douglas. Their injuries were a lot more serious than heat shock and singed fingers.
Terry looked around the room. At the head of the table was a vice admiral, with a rear admiral sitting at the other end of the table, facing the vice admiral. Across the table from Terry and Captain Gong were a row of four captains, three Fleet and one Port.
He’d had a crash course in the new awards and knew full well what he was seeing. And the one captain in the center. Four battles! It was mind boggling! Survival was problematical in one battle! Four? The stuff of legend! Four Death Stars! Good God! They’d felt enormously proud that Guam had won one, even if Captain Gong had declined the award.
The rear admiral called the meeting to order. “I am Rear Admiral Toby Greer and I have convened a Special Board to investigate some engineering malfs. Captain Travers, I’m sorry to say you’re going to have change sides of the table. I have appointed Vice Admiral Booth to chair this Board and he has informed me that we need to deal with both malfs.” He paused. “I have invited Lieutenant Wolf to join us, as well as Commander Warren.”
There had to have been a signal, but Terry didn’t see it. A man in his forties came in, wearing something Terry had never seen before -- his shipsuit was engineering blue -- but it was rumpled and stained, not something you would expect at a board of inquiry. And the admiral had called it a Special Board, which was an entirely different kettle of fish than an official inquiry. That meant Captain Gong, Chief Douglas and Terry were on trial for their lives.
Then another officer was wheeled in. If a bedraggled engineer was remarkable, the lieutenant was like a supernova. She was younger than Terry, younger by a couple of years. She wore a weapons-black shipsuit, but pinned above her right pocket were four Death Stars and four Battle Stars.
And she didn’t arrive under her own power; she was wheeled in, sitting in a wheelchair. She moved well enough into a regular seat at the table, taking a place next to Terry.
Admiral Greer promptly popped up of his chair and saluted the young woman. “Lieutenant Wolf, my very great honor.”
The vice admiral coughed. “You know I can’t permit outbursts, Admiral Greer. Please, sit down.”
Admiral Greer, his deed done, did sit back down with what was clearly a smug grin on his face.
Rosa had explained it when Terry had asked what Captain Gong and Commander Douglas had meant when they used those words to Terry. It was a senior officer telling a junior officer that the senior officer was indebted to the junior, and had but to call on them for help of any sort. Such help consisted of advice, help in avoiding career-ending assignments and help in obtaining career-enhancing assignments. Call such a person a mentor, a rabbi or whatever -- they were telling you that you had a marker with them that you could call in at any time. Such individuals were greeted with the words, “My very great honor.”
The vice admiral stood. “I am Vice Admiral Dennis Booth, now the Fleet Staff Officer for Training, designate. Admiral Greer has requested me to convene a Special Board to review the engineering malfs about Fleet Transport Guam, Captain Shi Gong, commanding, and engineering changes aboard Fleet Auxiliary Starfarer’s Dream, Captain William Travers commanding, and the possible relation of those changes to subsequent engineering malfs aboard those vessels while aloft.”
He smiled benignly. “I did so, utilizing the three captains you see before you as members of the Board. In addition, Captain Travers participated in the first inquiry, in regards to the malfs aboard Guam. The Boards finished their work this morning and have rendered their opinions.”
Terry wanted to stand up and complain. The boards had already met? They’d been tried, but hadn’t been allowed to defend their judgment? Captain Gong’s hand applied gentle pressure to his arm, quieting him and keeping him from standing up and voicing his opinion of the proceedings in no uncertain terms.
“In regards to the malfunctions about the Guam. The board has concluded from reports received from serving officers that Admiral Wu at New Texas was fully justified in assigning the task of returning dependents to Earth to Guam, in spite of her known engineering deficiencies.
“We have reviewed the damage reports prepared by Fleet Lieutenant Morrison, Fleet Commander Douglas and Fleet Captain Gong and have concluded them to be an accurate depiction of the events and assessment of damage received by Guam at New Texas. We reviewed the records of the repairs and preparations for flight and found them to be adequate. We reviewed the records for the second malf moments before the Guam was to arrive in the New Helgoland system.
“It is our belief that no officers or crew in the Fleet could have done their duty more professionally or more bravely than the crew of the Guam performed theirs.”
Captain Gong spoke up. “But, the bottom line is that Guam is going to be in the dock for six or eight months.”
“Captain,” Admiral Booth mildly reproved her, “the bottom line is that Guam and her cargo survive. Given the priority that will be given to the repair work, you are too pessimistic -- a month, perhaps five weeks, Captain, and Guam will be fit and ready to go.”
The admiral lifted his eyes and met those of Captain Travers. “A slightly different board met to review the ad hoc engineering changes aboard Starfarer’s Dream. The board voted four to zero that the engineering changes were accomplished by an officer particularly well-qualified to make those changes. The board voted four to zero that those changes were signed off by both the ship’s captain and her chief engineer and that those individuals used their best professional judgment to reach their conclusions.
“The board voted four to zero to make special note of the engineering change method used by Lieutenant Wolf to align the ship’s weapon and that word of that change should be transmitted to the Fleet with an ‘Operational Immediate -- Flash Priority’ as said engineering change may directly impact the operations of every ship currently aloft.
“The malf aboard Starfarer’s Dream occurred in a switch panel that the various modifications made to the ship had not touched. That panel had, in fact, been last changed while BuShips was working on Starfarer's Dream when she was in orbit around Earth while she was undergoing refit.
“The board voted four to zero that the response of crew of Starfarer’s Dream to the malf, to whit, the shorting of the input of a fan operating in the High Fan mode to ground was of the highest standards of professionalism and courage expected of members of Fleet Aloft. The board voted four to zero to confirm the award of the Legion of Honor to Captain Travers, Commander Travers, Commander Warren and Lieutenant Wolf in regards to the rescue of the surviving members of the crew of Catskill.”
He nodded to Admiral Greer. “That, sir, concludes my report.”
“Thank you, Admiral Booth. We will now adjourn for a few moments.”
“We’re adjourned?” Admiral Booth asked. Terry thought it an odd question, because Admiral Greer had just said so.
“Yes, Admiral.”
Admiral Booth turned to the young woman sitting next to Terry and saluted her with alacrity. “Lieutenant Wolf, my very great honor!”
Captain Gong all but dragged Terry to a small buffet table set up in the outer office. He took something to drink, sure that they’d reverse the verdict because he chose a bottle of beer. But maybe because the only options were a varieties of beer might mean that perhaps they’d been sent a message.
Captain Gong had a beer as well, and now tugged him into a corner.
“Lieutenant, Admiral Greer has inquired if I have a bright young man who could step
into a Second Engineer’s slot.”
That was, Terry thought, clearly him. “I hate to leave Guam, Captain.”
She patted his arm. “I admire your spirit, Lieutenant, but the fact is that you are not legally part of my crew. They asked me as a courtesy -- it’s not like I could say no. Lieutenant, Guam is going to be in the body and fender shop for weeks if not months. You should be out there doing something.”
“I’d like to do my part, Captain.”
“Good, I thought you might. Did I mention that you get a bump to first lieutenant?”
Terry blinked. “No, Captain, I don’t recall that.”
“Yeah, you do. Did you understand what that was all about?” she waved at the conference room.
“Not really, Captain.”
“It’s called double jeopardy, Lieutenant. Admiral Booth decided that there was a risk, although probably small, that the pinheads back at Earth, might want to have their own Special Board for us. So, he opted to hold it here. No one is going to tell an admiral who successfully defended his planet and three captains, two of whom who have fought and triumphed against our enemies, that they don’t know what they are talking about.”
Terry nodded then, in understanding.
Captain Gong chuckled. “Ah, the joys of being young, Lieutenant! At a certain point in your career you will find yourself having to deal more and more frequently with political matters.
“Do not think for a moment that they cared about us, those men in there. They did it for that young woman.”
“The weapons officer?”
“Yes. Do you understand that if it wasn’t for her, that none of them would be alive now? That if we’d arrived in a destroyed system, our survival would have been problematical?”
Terry contemplated that. It was true. Perhaps he could have cobbled together a working fusion reactor with what he had left, but it would have been a nightmare. Half the parts would have glowed in the dark. Half of the engineering crew would have suffered from the same problem.
Starfarer's Dream (Kinsella Universe Book 4) Page 21
