"You'd really leave the Prometheus?"
"I love the Prometheus–– but I also loved the three ships I captained before it. Time moves on and so must we. We've talked about someday visiting distant galaxies, but that won't be possible if we mire ourselves in the present or the past. We must keep pushing the envelope of technology and design if we're to open new frontiers for mankind and the Galactic Alliance. Right now, the Prometheus and its sister ships are the biggest and baddest battleships in the fleet, but that will change with the next generation of ships. The Prometheus' design is already fifteen years old, and the small Colorado now holds the record for speed. It's only a matter of time before that speed is incorporated into all new ships and possibly adapted to older ships. Things change and we have to change with them."
"I guess you're right, but I'll always have a special place in my heart for the Prometheus."
"I have extremely fond memories of my first real command, and I wouldn't trade those days for anything, but I also look forward to new ships and new adventures."
"You're right. Sentimentality has its place."
"If I were you, I'd ask Admiral Moore if I could have one of the new battleships that are being built now. You're one of the senior admirals in Space Command at present, and the single most important officer in our defense of Galactic Alliance space."
Jenetta looked at him without speaking for a few seconds. "I've never asked for any favors."
"Maybe it's about time you did. Lord knows they owe you a few. You've done everything they've asked of you and far more. It's about time they reciprocate a little. It can't hurt to ask; and it might make having to remain on Stewart for a few more years, more tolerable. Try to pin him down to a commitment. Don't threaten him with resigning, but if he hesitates, ask him why not. Ask him why you can't finally be given a ship."
"I've always intensely disliked the idea of playing politics for personal gain. It seems so dishonest and against the principles of the oath we've sworn."
"We swore to protect and defend to the best of our ability. Asking for a little consideration in ship posting assignments doesn't violate that, especially when the one making the request is as deserving as you are."
"I appreciate that, Larry. I'll have to think on it."
"I once read an article about selling, written by a top salesman. He said the reason most inexperienced salespeople fail to close a sale is that they don't ask the buyer to complete the sale at the end of the pitch. The successful salesperson wraps up his spiel and then says something like, 'Do we have a deal?' It's time you asked Supreme Headquarters if you have a deal. If you don't speak up, they might just continue shifting you around from place to place wherever they have a serious problem that must be resolved, without any regard to your feelings or wishes."
Jenetta took a sip from her coffee mug. "They haven't exactly been using me for a doormat. I've been given a great deal of latitude to handle my commands as I judged fit."
"They know that you play by the rulebook; that you're smart, honest, brave, and worthy of their trust, but that doesn't mean they won't continue to use you in ways that give you little personal happiness."
"I don't remember anything in the oath about being promised happiness. Shouldn't we just be satisfied that we're being allowed to serve?"
"The oath neither promises happiness nor precludes it. Any crewmember aboard my ship can request a transfer to another command where they might be happier. Shouldn't we, as commanding officers, have the same rights as a cook's assistant?"
Jenetta smiled at the example. "Yes, we should."
"Then compose a message to Admiral Moore and tell him you'd like to be given command of one of the new battleships that have just begun construction at the Mars shipbuilding facility. He knows it will be more than five or six years before any of them are ready for space trials and that will give them time to get one more boring posting out of you before they lose you to a shipboard command. And make sure he commits."
"Thanks, Larry. I'm glad you stopped by today. You've given me the first laughs I've had in this office in a long time, and I appreciate the advice you've given me."
"My pleasure, Jen. You've done so much for Space Command and the Galactic Alliance that you deserve a little happiness. And I know that nothing would make you happier than having command of a battleship. You know I'll support you in any way I can, and I'm sure Admiral Holt will do everything that he can also. Now I guess I'd better get back to the Prometheus and see about organizing my remaining crew into a fighting force. The weapons simulators will be getting quite a workout over the next five or six weeks."
* * *
"Is everyone in agreement?" Admiral Moore asked, looking around the table at the Admiralty Board members. After each had nodded, he said, "Good. Admiral Shindu will assume full command of the base as soon as he can wrap up his present duties and travel there. It should take him about a year to a year and-a-half to reach Retting SCB. Admiral Edwards will return to headquarters for his final months before retirement. The next item of business concerns Admiral Carver." Turning to a clerk, he nodded. A head and shoulders image of Admiral Jenetta Carver appeared on the wall monitor and all heads turned to watch the message.
"Admirals, preparations to meet the Milori threat are nearing completion. Most ships have returned to base and taken up position in their designated staging areas fifty billion kilometers from Stewart. The areas were carefully selected for their isolation and it's unlikely that any private or commercial ships will be traveling in their vicinity. All warships under my command will wait until they receive the appropriate signal from me and then attack the Milori ships surrounding the base. Although vastly outnumbered, I promise we'll acquit ourselves with honor, and, should we fail to defeat the Milori, we'll at least reduce their numbers dramatically. I expect any remaining Milori forces will pose little threat to the overall safety and stability of the Galactic Alliance.
"Jenetta A. Carver, Rear Admiral, Upper Half, Commander of Stewart Space Command Base, message complete."
"She sounds pretty confident they'll essentially stop the invasion at Stewart," Admiral Burke said.
"She's overconfident," Admiral Hubera said gruffly. "Always has been. I've said that all along. We must accept that the Milori will destroy Stewart and be prepared to engage them at their next target. Admirals Martucci and Rhinefield must begin assembling their forces now."
"They are, Donald," Admiral Platt said, "but as Admiral Carver requested, they're doing it subtly, without actually conveying the reasons for the revised patrol routes to their captains. Once the Milori attack Stewart, the entire Galactic Alliance will learn about the invasion and we can prepare openly, but for now the enemy must believe that we are unaware of their plan to attack."
"Stewart is hundreds of light-years from its nearest neighbor so there will be plenty of time for the other forces to prepare, Donald," Admiral Hillaire said.
"Admiral Carver's forces are outnumbered three to one," Admiral Plimley said, "by a force whose ships are comparable to our own. Hull integrity on our battleships might be a little better, but that margin of difference can't make up for the disparity in numbers. I feel certain Stewart will fall. And knowing that our people will fight to the last, I fear that the entire force is lost to us."
"I feel so helpless," Admiral Woo said. "I want to do something to help Admiral Carver battle this enemy, but I can't think of a thing we haven't already done. The rest is up to her and her captains. The fate of the Alliance is in her hands."
"Her very capable hands," Admiral Moore said.
"Of course, Richard," Admiral Woo said. "That's what I meant."
"A few hours after we received that message, I received another one, addressed to me," Admiral Moore said. "Since the subject is one that should come before the Board, I'd like to play it now." He nodded to his clerk.
Again, the image of Jenetta filled the wall screen.
"Admiral Moore, for most of my life I've desired nothing mor
e than to be posted aboard a military ship in space. The thought of senior command was never uppermost in my mind, and while I naturally wish to make as great a contribution to Space Command as possible, I desire to make my contribution aboard a ship. I have served the Galactic Alliance faithfully, and I believe well, during my years in uniform and have performed every job assigned to me to the best of my ability. I believe the time has come for me to ask when I will be allowed to return to a ship. The responsibilities that you've entrusted to me in recent years make me believe you have confidence in my abilities and judgment, and with that in mind, I request that I be named as captain to one of the new class of battleships currently beginning construction at the Mars shipbuilding facility. I expect the years between now and their completion will be sufficient to accomplish whatever administrative job you had intended for me when Admiral Vroman was sent to relieve me at Stewart. Thank you for your consideration. I await your response.
"Jenetta Alicia Carver, Rear Admiral, Upper Half, Commander of Stewart Space Command Base, message complete."
"I guess she saw through my little ploy to have Admiral Holt break the news of her reassignment," Admiral Moore said smiling.
"She's extremely intelligent, Richard," Admiral Platt said, "and I'm confident it didn't take much for her to realize she wasn't getting a ship."
"Should we even be discussing this now?" Admiral Hubera asked. "I mean, she probably won't even be alive in a few weeks."
"All the more reason to discuss it, if we really intend to give her one of the ships," Admiral Ahmed said. "If she is to die, let her die happy."
"We can't promise her a ship unless we really mean it," Admiral Bradlee said. "Should she miraculously survive the Milori attack, she'll be expecting us to keep our promise."
"If I could, I'd make her present rank permanent, thereby preventing her from ever getting a ship," Admiral Moore said. "Not because she isn't capable, but because she's too capable. I hate the idea of seeing her returned in rank to a Captain because of her value as an administrator, tactician, and leader. There are so many places where we could better use her talents, but we have to face the fact that this is what she wants."
"I think she deserves to be a ship's captain," Admiral Hubera said.
"Anything but a flag officer, eh Donald," Admiral Hillaire said. "You can't wait to see her lose her stars."
Admiral Hubera scowled.
"All in favor of posting Admiral Carver as the commanding officer of one of the new battleships?" Admiral Moore said, then looked to each of the admirals at the table. "Agreed. One of the new ships will be hers, if she can be freed from whatever duties she's currently assigned when the ship is ready to be launched."
* * *
Jenetta sat at her desk a week later, contemplating the message from Admiral Moore. Although delighted that he promised her one of the new battleships, she was concerned over the condition that it would only happen if she could be freed from whatever job she held when the ship was ready to be launched. Under conditions such as those while commanding Stewart, she would have lost the ship before she even got it because of the kidnapping of Admiral Vroman. For that matter, if she had been traveling to Mars, and been turned back as Captain Gavin suggested, she would have lost it when news of the Milori invasion became known. She shuddered to think they might actually have given her another star so she could reassume control of the forces at Stewart without Admiral Vroman losing face. That would have been the death knell on her chances of ever becoming a ship's captain because the promotion would have had to be permanent. The worst part is that she knew she wouldn't have refused acceptance of the star if it were the only way she could participate in repelling the invasion. Duty still came first, above all else.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
~ April 15th, 2280 ~
Fresh vegetables highlighted the noon meal at the camp. Lieutenant Pyers, the farm manager, had had his hands full trying to get the vegetables close to ripened maturity before they were picked. As it was, they should have had a few more days in the sun, but he knew everyone was salivating just thinking about them. The camp had been living on gelk meat, fish, tubers, and bread throughout the winter, and they desperately needed the luscious green and yellow vegetables. Pyers suspected that the hunters were gorging themselves on wild vegetables they found during their hunting trips because Commander Fannon was eating very little at evening meals, a highly unusual situation with someone as active as he was.
Initially, each crewmember was limited in the portion size they were permitted, but that would change in a couple of weeks as the farm output increased dramatically. The doctor was perhaps the happiest person in the camp, not because he longed for the taste of fresh vegetables more than anyone else, but because he had lately started to worry about hypovitaminosis outbreaks among the vitamin deficient crew. The vegetables would improve their well-being tremendously. The mood in the mess hall was noticeably lighter this day, with far more laughter and grinning than was normal. After lunch, many rubbed or patted their stomachs as they left the mess hall very sated.
The camp had made great progress during the months since the attack by dinosaurs at the North Pass. Before the dinosaurs had been turned away last year and been forced to find a new trail North, it was hoped they wouldn't even try to use the old trail this year. Come fall, the camp would again be on high alert until they were certain the dinosaurs had already migrated north, but having completed the wall at the South Pass, they now felt very secure. Numerous excursions outside the valley were already planned for the winter months, and Lieutenant Rimes had prepared a long list of ores and minerals for which the explorers would search. Each find had improved the living conditions tremendously, but there was a long way to go. Number one on the list was to find a source of copper, with tin being number two, and bauxite being third. Bauxite, when processed, can yield up to twenty percent of its weight in aluminum ingots. Of course, there were still problems to be resolved with refining the aluminum, number one being the amount of power needed for the electrolytic process.
The engineers were presently completing a new two-lane bridge over the river to replace the crude single lane bridge constructed during the first few months in the valley. Since it had originally been necessary to wade across the river, they had chosen the shallowest part when selecting a crossing point, and the road on the other side was found at this spot. The new bridge would rest on piers constructed from stone blocks like those used to construct the walls in the two passes, with the superstructure being made from hard woods found in the forest.
Except for small patches of trees scattered about, the rows of trees used to prevent soil erosion, and the trees lining the roads, the entire forest on the east side of the river had now been cleared for farming. An aggressive program of removing stumps using teams of gelks had been underway for months. Although the east side of the river comprised only a very small portion of the valley as a whole, the cleared land was considerable. It ran six kilometers from the North Pass to the gorge where the river disappeared in a series of quickly descending rapids.
Another project underway was construction of a new cold storage warehouse. The old warehouse had proven to be much too small, and it couldn't lower the temperature to desired levels since it relied on simple convection. An arrangement of terracotta pipes funneled cold water from the mountain stream through the building. The new warehouse would also use the stream for cooling, but additional refrigeration would come from a compressor under development by the engineers.
Admiral Vroman moved from project to project, discussing the progress with each of the supervisors before moving on. His health had improved and the doctor had even stopped requiring daily checkups. He was standing on the new bridge over the river, discussing the surface covering, when Lt. Commander McCloud suddenly pointed to the sky and said, "Look, sir!"
Vroman and Lindahl immediately turned and looked skyward. A blazing object was streaking across the sky. They watched as it
passed directly overhead and continued moving away.
"Is it a rescue ship?" McCloud asked.
"Impossible to say for sure," Lindahl said, "but I'd have to say no. It was definitely something entering the atmosphere, but it could have been a small meteor or just a piece of space junk caught in the gravity of this planet. A ship under control would have slowed its entry enough to reduce friction to a minimum."
"I agree," Vroman said. "No ship's captain would ever subject his vessel to that kind of heat stress and possible damage if he was still in control. It must have been a tiny meteorite or something."
It was the first time in months anyone had even mentioned possible rescue, but the subject was dropped almost immediately. The crew had accepted that their internment might be a very long one and were working hard to make this planet into their home. The engineers were even working on developing a Stirling Engine that would run on a form of Ethanol made from the farm produce. A few donkey engines and farm tractors would increase productivity tremendously.
* * *
Exalted Lord Space Marshall Berquyth entered the office of Emperor Maxxiloth after knocking and receiving an invitation to come in. The Emperor was lying on a sofa with his eyes closed, but he was fully awake. "What is it, Berquyth?"
"My Lord," he said, in the usual soft voice used when speaking to his monarch, "we've received a message from Supreme Lord Space Marshall Dwillaak. He reports that the invasion force is on schedule and will reach Stewart on the projected date. He asks that we immediately relay any new instructions that would contravene those of the plan. If nothing has changed, he requests that we send the attack code as soon as possible because of the transmission distance."
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