Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer)

by Hechtl, Chris

  “Well, when you put it that way...”

  Mayweather looked around the bridge with a possessive air. She rubbed her arm rests and smiled. "Captain Harris is asking for another exercise if you have time in dock," the AI said. She frowned and checked her schedule. Harris would want a rematch. And if by some chance he pulled off a victory she knew she'd want one herself. She had a couple of days or so before they went to this conference she noted. Plenty of time.

  "Sure, I can take time to pin his ears back," she grinned and rubbed her hands in anticipation.

  The AI chuckled. "I'll let him know," Firefly replied.

  "Care for a match now?" she asked. The AI shook his head.

  "When in dock possibly. You sure you’re up to MY levels captain my captain? I after all, have decades of experience," Firefly asked. Mayweather's grin made the AI laugh. "All right. We'll be in dock for a day, I can arrange the time. Just remember, youth and treachery doesn't always measure up against age and experience."

  "Schedule it after Harris. Cleaning his clock shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes," Mayweather purred. Shelby chuckled. She turned her predatory grin on her. "Since Firefly copped out, care for a match madam exec?" Shelby's chuckle faltered. She looked up with a mock glower to the AI.

  "You set me up," she laughingly accused.

  Firefly bowed. "Well, since Lt Thorn is off duty..."

  "All right en-garde madam captain," Shelby laughed, sitting back in her chair as the plot formed around her work station.

  Mayweather studied her opponent with pitying eyes. "You ready to get creamed again?" she asked the next day. They'd agreed on two falls out of three each day.

  Harris gave a disdainful sniff. "Brains over brawn. Brains over brawn." He made a brushing motion.

  "You keep telling yourself that," Mayweather grinned. “Maybe someday you'll make it come true. Someday,” she said smugly. He bridled a little.

  "Is this a private party or can anyone play?" Vargess asked.

  Harris's eyes widened then he shot an accusing glare to Mayweather. "You set me up."

  "Am I too late?" Dan asked coming in.

  "You mean you set me up," Mayweather chuckled.

  "No, we're all here, so we're all ready," Logan called over the link.

  “Me too. I mean, we're ready when you are,” Sergio said eagerly over the vox.

  Mayweather sighed. "It's a convention," she laughed. Thorn looked up then back down at her station. Janice turned in her seat, opened her mouth, thought better of it then turned back.

  "No, merely an unscheduled exercise," the Admiral's voice answered. He was in the shipyard, watching the feed.

  She turned a glower on Firefly. "Naughty boy, you set me up," she accused.

  He spread his hands. "You said you wanted a challenge. And I distinctly remember you saying something about unscheduled drills."

  She sighed shaking her head. "Me and my big mouth. The Admiral wrote the book. Hell he even rewrites it from time to time. All right, let’s get this over with."

  “Are you sure about this?” Dan asked. He was still smarting over that fleet exercise yesterday. It had been fun pulling one over on Mayweather, but the bitch had gotten him back rather quickly. She'd kicked his ass three times out of four.

  “Just get it done,” the voice replied.

  “I'm not happy about that. Giving you his schedule is one thing. Getting onto his launch to upload a virus is a lot of exposure,” Dan fidgeted.

  “Is it going to be a problem?” the voice asked.

  “It may be. I'm not sure. Anything could happen. He's also got his own personal security systems. There is no telling what is in there until I'm actually on board. Even attempting to get in could send off a warning signal,” he shrugged.

  “Just do it. No excuses.”

  Dan sighed as the person left. “Great.”

  Sprite looked over to the door and then back to the Admiral. He shook his head and looked up. “Something I should know about Sprite?”

  “Ah. Lieutenant Valdez needs to talk with you.”

  “Indeed. Send him in.” He sat back as Sergio came in and stood at attention. Irons hid a small satisfied smile. Sergio had matured greatly over the past eight months or so. He now sported a classic military crew cut and from the looks of things the gangly youth was filling out nicely with muscle. His flight coverall sported a skull and cross bones patch of the newly minted jolly rogers wing. “What brings you Sergio?”

  “I've.. We've got a problem. Ah, ensign Lajoy.”

  “One of your pilots?”

  “Greenhorn sir. One of the new crop, not one of the sleepers. She's well, she was doing work in the yard for a while before she transferred. We were in a sim exercise and well apparently she stared a little too long into the dark.”

  “Agoraphobia?” Sprite asked.

  “Is that what it's called?” Sergio turned to the AI then back to the Admiral. “We just called it the dark.”

  “Can't hack the black. Some people can't,” the admiral said nodding.

  “Yes well, she was an EVA tech. She did good on her colony, but...”

  “Deep space is an entirely different animal. One few can handle. It's one thing to have a deck or hull, or surface under you, but free floating.”

  “Yes she... ah, had a hard time in a free floating situation.”

  “Free float?” Sprite asked. Sergio shrugged. “Check my last sim. She panicked. We had to sedate her.”

  “Yeah I'll say,” Sprites eyes shifted back and forth. “I've reviewed the security footage. Hysterical comes to mind. Definitely traumatized. Doctor Thornby reports she's catatonic.”

  Irons grimaced. “Okay. So she's a wash out,” he sighed.

  “Pity she seemed to eat up the book part. Perfect grades,” Sprite replied.

  “The last thing we need is for her to break down in a real combat op. And just the memory of this is going to taint her in fighter ops,” Sergio said shaking his head. “I'd transfer her to Lieutenant Zek but he...”

  “He couldn't use her anyway. Chad needs a stable hand there. She's more likely to be exposed to the dark on a regular basis in the shuttle and workpod crews,” Irons replied.

  “A bit of the hair of the dog that bit you Admiral?” Sprite asked.

  “Maybe. When she's stable and given a clean bill of health. Some people who have gone Dutchman or can't handle it at first do eventually stabilize to become semi functional in space. But I think a transfer is in order. You said she can handle the book part of things?”

  “Yes Admiral.”

  “Think she can handle a maintenance billet?”

  “If she recovers sir,” Sergio nodded. “She's good with people.” He grimaced.

  “It's not your fault son,” Irons said. “It's no one's fault.”

  “I pushed her too hard,” he replied. “Too damn hard, too damn fast.”

  “Better to find out now than when it really counts. The last thing you or any of us would have needed was a full bore panic attack during combat,” Sprite replied.

  “Can we get her a billet on a capital ship?”

  “Unfortunately none are available. We're full up,” Sprite reported. “Funny, I wasn't sure we'd ever get there.” Her eyes flickered. She turned to the Admiral. “The doctor reports she's stable and responding to the sonic treatment. Her heart has extensive damage from the cardiac event. She'll need a week to recover.”

  “All right. See if we've got any maintenance billets available. Running a flight wing's logistics group is the best she's going to get for now.”

  “Or in this case a shuttle and work pod wing,” Sprite replied. “Damocles has an opening for a couple of postings if we let a couple people transfer who want to get onto the Bismark or to the yard. Let’s see what she says when she's more... coherent.”

  “Right.” Sergio nodded then paled a little. “Who tells her?” he asked.

  “I will if you want lieutenant,” Sprite replied.

  “Than
k you ma'am but... I think it had better come from me,” Sergio said giving the Admiral a look. “She deserves to hear it straight from me than from someone else.”

  “All right. Have your yeoman cut the orders for transfer. Sprite will get it sorted by the end of the watch.”

  “Already done,” Sprite said smugly. “Isn't it great to have people around who know what they’re doing?”

  “That's one way of looking at it,” he nodded to Sergio. “How is the family doing?”

  “Mama is a bit put out now that we've relocated the modules to the shipyard core. She thought we'd be last but the marines are since their class is a few weeks away from graduation,” he shrugged.

  “She'll get over it. Or won’t,” Irons glanced at Sprite. “I think we can arrange some leave time soon after the next training rotation.”

  “Consider it done,” Sprite said nodding.

  “All right then,” Irons nodded. “Carry on Lieutenant.”

  Sergio snapped to attention, saluted then left. Irons stared at the bulkhead for a moment then sighed.

  “He's doing okay,” Sprite said softly. Her avatar sat down on the edge of his desk. “This wasn't his fault.”

  “Nope. Wasn't my train of thought at all. Lajoy was what? First in her class?”

  “Yes. She's... Yes. One of the best of the new crop actually.”

  “Pity,” he grimaced. “How many does that make?”

  “Current fighter wing strength is... four squadrons with the current manning table. That is if we ever get more than two fighter squadrons for them to man. Production keeps falling behind when it is bumped for priority projects. They really need their own factories and assembly centers.”

  “We're working on it. One thing at a time. Just remember, it's easier and cheaper to fix things if they bang it up in a sim rather than in real life.”

  Sprite winced. “Point.” She shook her head. “About that all up exercise. I think Dan needs some work on his relativity compensation. Perhaps a real world exercise will help him put it into perspective?”

  “We'll see. He does still need work though.”

  Chapter 32

  Logan grinned with pride at the sight of the shipyard. In seven short months since they started the project they had worked miracles. In another year things would really begin to change and this would seem like baby steps.

  He chuckled at the thought. It was odd. A century of doing dead end work, nursing elderly dying fusion reactors while trying to teach people how to make bricks without straw or water. Now this.

  “How's it going?” Shelby asked, coming over to him. He turned and nodded politely to his daughter. This was turning into a weekly or monthly thing, these meetings. They were in a public viewing place so he couldn't hug her. Firefly was in dock for a couple of days while she dropped off her latest asteroid captures and picked up cargo and people going out. “I heard we're laying new keels?”

  “Yes.” He looked back to the view port. Out there the Admiral was suited up. It was a short ceremony for the cameras now that the word was out that for the first time since the Xeno war someone was building a starship. “Prometheus, Hecate, Farragut, and Kincaid,” he said pointing to the frame of each ship. Hecate was ahead of the others in completion time. There had been some problems with Farrgut and Kincaid that had slowed them down.

  “Prometheus?” Shelby asked, wrinkling her nose. “Odd name for a warship.”

  “Greek Titan of fire and forethought. Benefactor of man He brought fire from the heavens to man but for his generosity the other gods punished him by torturing him for the rest of eternity.”

  “Again, odd,” Shelby shook her head.

  “She's not a warship, she's a factory ship. Technically a Cabeiri Epsilon class tender like Io 11. We're keeping Hephaestus thirty three here in Pyrax for a while. The new governor elect insisted, despite thirty three being an inducted navy vessel. The Admiral bowed to that demand for once. Something about diplomacy or letting them think they won this round I think he said. So we, the navy that is...” he turned to her with a smile which she returned, “...decided to send out a different ambassador of our own. Prometheus will be that ambassador. She'll be a small fully stocked factory ship, built along the same lines as the Io 11. She'll go along the path the pirates took and try to fix up the colonies and sort them out into a defensive line.”

  “Isn't that a little, ah dangerous?” Shelby asked, looking concerned. “She'll be a big ripe target for the pirates all on her own.”

  “Which is why we're building the others. The others are escorts and a supply ship. Hecate and Farragut are convoy escort frigate-corvettes. They are the first of four. The other four will be follow ons we'll build time permitting as soon as these are done and working up. I was hoping Prometheus was further along. I'd love for her to be sitting there making stuff for us while doing her running up exercises and waiting for the other ships to be finished,” he smiled. She smiled back.

  “Kincaid is a supply ship with a bit of extra tankage to supply the fleet with fuel when needed. All the ships are Federation navy, so we're building them from the keel up with military grade gear and weapons.”

  “That is if we ever get her done,” Shelby said smiling and shaking her head. It seemed like there were a thousand and one projects sprouting up all over the system. Activity was frantic. Space was starting to get crowded. They had even had to institute traffic rules last week to curtail the near accidents that had been going on with some of the more fractious civilian pilots.

  “Oh we will,” her father turned back to the port. Robotic arms were already bringing in parts from storage bays. An EVA tech and a robot guided them into place then tacked the modules together. The carefully choreographed ballet was moving into full swing as other workers started to pick up the pace.

  “We were having so many problems with repairing the Bismark that we went ahead with these three while our designers and the Admiral go over her plans again and try to iron out the problems.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. Personally I'd rather we started with a Ninja class.”

  “Ninja?” she asked amused.

  “It's a small frigate-corvette. Tiny thing. Spy ship. Cloaking device, packed with sensors and communications gear and little else,” he explained.

  “Oh.”

  “No guns, just layers and layers of stealth. But that's the problem. We don't happen to have the plans for a cloak, or the neutrino and tacheyon dampers, or the special smart skin they have. Or the baffle designs for their engines. So, that's out. For now.” He shook his head in annoyance.

  “Yeah,” Shelby said shaking her own head. It was just as well, she didn't think anyone would want to try to sneak around a hostile system in a tiny unarmed floating target.

  “The tricky part with this is coordinating everything. We need to keep things flowing smoothly which means schedules and loads of planning ahead of time. We don't want things to back up at one point for too long. We don't want crowding but we also don't want people sitting idle waiting for parts. That ripples down the line making a mess.” He shook his head. Already he spotted a few problems. He started to call it in but he heard the radio traffic from the shift supervisor. Zek was already on the problem.

  “He's a god send,” he murmured.

  “Who?” Shelby asked. She came over and nodded her chin as a work pod went by.

  “Zek. He's good. Very good. His knowledge of a shipyard's inner workings is just like the Admiral's, but from a different perspective. He still wants a ship billet though.”

  “Ah. Well, I can look into something on Firefly when we have an opening.” She shook her head. She didn't want to give up her present chief engineer, he'd just settled down into the job. “The way we're turning over people that won't be a problem.” It felt odd, just as she would get used to people they would move on to other posts, other opportunities. The Admiral was cycling people through Firefly and the other units in the fleet quickly, getting them experience w
hile trying to keep their core crews intact to keep day to day ship functions stable.

  “Nah, I was thinking of sending him out on Prometheus. As chief engineer or XO. Have to run it by the Admiral though. That is, when she's ready,” Logan said smiling.

  “Interesting. Also an incentive for him to get her finished as soon as possible,” Shelby said nodding. She turned her back to the view, crossed her arms and leaned against the rail. “Are you going to send a medical contingent on this expedition?” she asked.

  “Come to think of it, I don't remember much on that score. We've got a lot of corpsmen, sick berth attendants, orderlies, assistant and full nurses, and paramedics of varying degrees, but we've still only got a couple good doctors. One of the sleepers was on track to become a nurse She's become one of Thornby's best doctors with a bit of encouragement and prodding.”

  “I didn't know that. Where did you... never mind,” Shelby shook her head. Her father tended to wander when he didn't have a project in front of him.

  “Thornby told me when she and I had lunch the other day,” he replied. She smiled.

  “But you mentioned medics,” Logan said looking thoughtful. He watched the ballet outside for a few seconds as he accessed the files. “No, just the usual medical personnel on each ship. Why?”

  “I'd suggest a much larger one. Maybe adding another ship if you could, or expanding Kincaid,” Shelby said. “I seem to recall we had a lot of medical problems even with Doc and her free clinics. Imagine what it's like out there,” she said turning back to the view port.

  “Come to think of it, that's a very good idea. It would spark some good will,” Irons said coming into the view port. They turned and came to attention.

  “At ease,” he nodded to them. Logan smiled. “Grooming your daughter to take over for you again Horatio?” Irons teased. He was still in his skin suit.

  “Hardly. Handling this and the paperwork that goes with it? I'd rather be cleaning toilets or fuel injectors. Anything is better than this... chaos.”