Tales From the War (Kinsella Universe Book 5)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  She was reading; she did a lot of reading in her job. Not as much talking as she was used to, and far more research.

  “Let me clear it with Commander Warren,” Rachael told the ship.

  “It has been, but it is still a good idea.”

  So, Rachael told Commander Warren where she was going. It wasn't as though either of them had a choice. Rachael entered the Captain's ready room, and he waved her to a chair to his side, not directly in front of his desk.

  “Relax, Commander Ferris, this is career counseling; not a purple rocket.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said as she took her seat.

  “You've been aboard two months now,” he told as a preliminary. “In that time I've heard no substantive complaints about your work.” He gave her a wicked gleam and Rachael nodded. Yamaguichi came to mind; such people were always out there, always trying to pull you down.

  “I had hoped that you would notice the rather glaring deficiency that your records contain.” He chuckled when he saw the confusion on her face.

  “When the word of the attacks arrived back on Earth, Shenandoah had her engines and power plants shut down; we'd been in port less than a day from our first deployment. I ordered them to be brought online as quickly as possible, and messaged Fleet when we'd be ready to lift.

  “I was expecting to be sent right out; instead, I got a message from BuSupply asking my for our deficiencies insofar as consumables were concerned. That's something I'd already prepared, and I transmitted it at once. Thirty minutes later, the slop buckets were lined up at our mooring, Commander, with resupply.

  “Another hour and I was alerted for this mission, as soon as resupply was complete. Then, twenty minutes before we were scheduled to lift, Admiral Fletcher called me personally and told me that I was being augmented by an intelligence officer, one who was also a certified war correspondent. I was to lift as soon as you were aboard. He thoughtfully included your records jacket as attachment.

  “I'm sorry to say that the XO saw it first, and was on the phone a second later, telling me you were unfit and unqualified. I reviewed your records and I had to agree you were unqualified.”

  “I've done everything I could to remedy that, Captain.”

  “If you would please, Commander, just wait until I'm finished talking before you offer comments.”

  Rachael grimaced but shut up.

  “I pointed out to the XO that while you were technically unqualified, Admiral Fletcher had vouched for your fitness, and that was, as far as I was concerned, the deciding factor. The XO wasn't happy, but there wasn't anything he could say.

  “However, the same day he came off of bread and water he formally demanded that you be removed as unqualified. When I refused, he told me that he disagreed strongly, and that he was going to log his statement. I counseled him strongly against that, and when he did log our disagreement, I promptly relieved him. Pettiness is a serious error of judgment in the Fleet; it wasn't something I could tolerate. Not to mention that you'd never done less than your duty, and done it competently.

  “That said, of course, he is quite correct. You are technically unqualified to hold the rank and job that you have. To make it abundantly clear to my new XO and anyone else who expresses I have certified you as fit to carry out your duties.

  “Still, war or no, BuPers is a behemoth, and isn't going to be as lenient as a ship's captain on a war cruise.

  “I had rather hoped that you would realize the issue and address it on your own. I honestly don't think you are avoiding the issue -- but rather, that you are pursuing the basic knowledge that you require to do your job to the exclusion of the formal requirements.

  “We are going to be nearly six weeks on High Fan, Commander, before we reach our first survey targets. We will hit two locations within ten days of each other, then go another three weeks on High Fan. You can expect at least four months of additional time on this deployment.”

  He shifted tracks. “While your records are admittedly sparse, they do contain the data from your survey cruises. You have all of the basic and intermediate certificates required for such duty; you have a number of technical certificates, Fleet certificates, as well.

  “That said, you hold none of the primary Fleet watch-keeping certificates. You've had the prerequisites for some of our primary certificates, but you never had a need - or opportunity -- to qualify for them. Now, Commander, you have both need and opportunity.

  “Technically, at this point in your career you should hold all of our primary certificates, up to and including bridge watch-keeping. I've never heard of anyone obtaining that particular watch-keeping certificate with just four to six months of study, but you're an intelligent young woman, and there's no telling what you can do if you put your mind to it. Please, Commander, put your mind to it.” He waved to her. “Your turn now, Commander.”

  “On the survey missions I was told that while Rim Runners rely on certificates, they were quite willing to make exceptions for people who could demonstrate they could do the work. I was intent, Captain, on being able to do the work. And I did complete the requisite certificates.”

  “Rim Runners, yes,” he agreed. “There is a reason that training is considered a function of operations and not personnel. A long time ago, when Stephanie Kinsella was organizing the Fleet, there was a suggestion that a 'Bureau of Operations' be established, along with a 'Bureau of Training.' She turned thumbs down on both, establishing them as Fleet Aloft deputies, and not Port Bureaus. Bureaus, she said, were a lot like desks; she never wanted anyone associated much with desks having anything to do with operations or training for operations.”

  “Oh,” Rachael said mildly.

  “So, the Bureau of Personnel has established requirements for various Fleet Aloft occupational specialties, including line command. Watch-keeping certificates figure prominently in all of those requirements.”

  “Sir, in that case, I will apply myself very diligently to making up my lack of formal qualifications.”

  He nodded and spoke as an aside, “I'd have let you continue the way you were going, but the Port Admiral back on New Cairo wanted you off the ship... since you lack the requisite certificates. I had to go to the mat for you -- which I don't mind doing -- but at some point one of the BuPers morons will get very insistent. And that would delay and obstruct our mission... I'd prefer to head that off at the pass, Commander.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Chief Mesa is in charge of training. He will go over with you the resources available and the prerequisites that you'll need as you go. We have five full commanders and myself aboard; that will do to get you through all of the certificates except the bridge certificate. If we can get you ready for that upon return, the fleas aren't going to do much more than whine and complain.”

  Later, Rachael explained to Commander Warren that she would be spending extra, non-duty time studying for her certificates. “Commander, obviously you aren't used to the ins and outs of the way Fleet does things. Professional education is an acceptable activity during slack times on watch. I would have no problem if you were to devote yourself to such things for an hour or two of watch time.”

  “Thank you, Commander.”

  When Rachael explained the day's event to Vargas, her friend was contrite. “It never occurred to me, Rache! I should have thought to check. It's just we're so used to everyone having all their certificates.” She shook her head sadly.

  “And enlisted people have their own certificates?”

  “Oh, yes! Actually we have more than the officers. Occupational certificates, leadership certificates... all sorts of certificates. There are a lot.” She hesitated. “Do you have the Ship's Law certificate?”

  “No, why?”

  “I'll get a class organized for you. It's required to be taught by a living, breathing person, and it's pass-fail. You never want to take a chance on failing a certificate exam if you can avoid it -- but fail the Ship's Law certificate, and the captain has to put you o
ff at the next stop. There are a million things you can say or do wrong aboard ship that before saw you beached. Now... now I don't want to find out what they'd do.”

  The Ship's Law course was taught by a Marine captain of all people. He was brisk and efficient and didn't seemed at all fazed by having only one student in his class. He taught the class as if there were a dozen students, making no concessions that Rachael could tell to the fact she faced him alone.

  At the end he he handed Rachael her copy of the certificate. She took it and thanked him and he grinned. “Commander, I am no longer your instructor; if you would a moment.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  “Back in the day, they called the regulations that controlled the American wet Navy, the 'Rocks and Shoals.' Those rules laid out the responsibilities and obligations of the officers and enlisted personnel of the navy of the time. The consisted of seventy articles; typically they were read to the members of the service once a month; it took less than an hour.

  “Would you care to guess what the breakdown of the articles was?”

  “I'm not sure what you mean, Captain.”

  “What percentage of the articles dealt with conduct required of the officers and enlisted personnel of the navy and what percentage dealt with how to punish misbehavior?”

  It had to be a trick question, Rachael thought. She thought back on what she'd heard in this class and other things she'd heard in the Fleet. “I don't know that answer to that, Captain.”

  “The first twenty-one articles dealt with how a person should behave. The next fifty or so dealt with how to punish transgressions. In short, Commander, there weren't very many rules on what you were supposed to do -- mostly, do your duty and don't mess up, but the procedures to punish malefactors was laid out in considerable detail. The Fleet is the same way, except a lot of the rules are unspoken and heavily socialized as you come to learn about the Fleet.

  “In that respect, Commander, you are seriously handicapped. You never came up in the Fleet. You didn't have schools where your instructors would shiver and shake with some possible infraction of the rules, and explain in breathless detail what fate some poor wight who fell afoul of the regulations suffered.

  “Commander, half of all Port officers seconded to the Fleet listen to this lecture and subsequently offend because they either weren't listening or didn't take what they heard seriously. Now we're at war. I'm just a captain and technically you outrank me, but we both know the answer to the question: 'which of us is best prepared for duty with the Fleet?'

  “You need, Commander, to think carefully about personal conduct. There was a reason our ancestors called those 'Rocks and shoals.' Such were navigation hazards at the time. Now we're in a war, and I'm willing to bet that before we get back, violations of a lot of the behavior regulations are going to be stringently punished. Perhaps even with capital sentences.

  “Be careful!” He flashed her an upturned thumb and left.

  Later, Rachael talked it over with Vargas. “Is he too carried away with is subject matter?” Rachael asked.

  Vargas frowned. “You told me that the captain explained why he relieved the XO. Did you think about it?”

  “The man was petty; I wasn't sure if the punishment fit the offense.”

  “Rachael!” Vargas seemed genuinely scandalized. “Think! Think hard! What does it mean when some one is petty?”

  “Someone who wants tit-for-tat payback for real or imagined offenses.”

  Vargas swallowed. “Rachael, being petty means tit-for-tat payback for real or imagined offenses. An officer being petty has allowed his or her personal feelings to overcome their duty. It can't be permitted, Rachael. Further, the XO went against both his captain and Fleet Admiral Fletcher. Sure, you are expected and encouraged when a plan is being discussed to offer your opinions. However, once command has made the decision, you're expected to shut up and implement it. If you absolutely, positively, can't go along with it -- you're expected to resign in protest. There is nothing in the regulations about 'being petty' to excuse your actions.”

  “So, the XO screwed up twice?” Rachael asked.

  “Indeed so. The captain was by far more angry about the XO questioning your qualifications, given who had signed off on them. It might not have seem like much, but it was a direct confrontation with captain on who was the best judge of someone's qualifications.”

  “And the captain stood up for me?”

  “Of course he did; so did Admiral Fletcher. You were given tasks to do and you did them superbly. That's what they pay us for in the Fleet. No one expects perfection from any of us, but some come closer than others. You, Rache, are super! Keep on doing what you're doing!”

  VII

  Day followed day. Inside the Shenandoah, clocks ticked and time passed. Rachael doggedly studied the massive amounts of data she was supposed to know, and whenever she'd show any signs of flagging in her zeal, somehow her people always won some ice cream. It was silly, foolish and unreal to have become so heavily dependent on such a simple thing, but it was true. Her people in the I-Branch offices reviewed intelligence, coming up with insight after possible insight, now matter how sparse the data was.

  Commander Warren had become even more aloof and cold than she'd been in the beginning. Every time she showed any signs of warming up, it quickly vanished in a flurry of cold shoulders and cold showers.

  Rachael spent nearly a third of her time on preparing for the watch-standing certificate exams. Some, like navigation, sensors and communications, weren't that difficult; she had most of the requisite knowledge already. Navigation would have been the most difficult but her undergraduate degree was in astrophysics. And that was critical to navigation and a huge boost in the technical areas of physics engineering.

  The reached their survey area and began to survey in earnest. They would approach systems cautiously, assuming each was hostile. After four such approaches, all eventless, the captain had another battle stations drill, running an exercise Chief Vargas had designed.

  Rachael hadn't even been aware her friend was working on something like that, and like everyone else, was surprised at the exercise parameters. At least they did better than the first such detailed exercise.

  Two days later Rachael sat for three watch-keeping exams: navigation, sensors and communications. She did well on each of them. Three weeks later she took the propulsion engineering exam and passed that with good marks as well.

  VIII

  They were almost ready to head back to Earth when Rachael asked the captain for some time to explain an idea. “We're here, sir,” she said, pointing to a star chart. “We're on the edge of the local spiral arm here. For the next hundred light years, stars come in fewer and fewer clumps, until the region between the arms, where most stars are singletons.

  “But that's heading away from the Federation. Our most logical flight path for a return is a direct shot for Earth. That'll be eight weeks on High Fan.”

  “This is all well known, Commander,” the captain replied impatiently.

  “Yes, sir. Here, sir,” she pointed out a small open cluster of stars above their flight path, “is a cluster of about twenty stars. Examination of their actual vectors show that this is just a chance association... none of them are really related. They are above the plane of the ecliptic by about twenty-eight light years. Since those stars are halfway home, I think they might be worth a visit.

  “They are twenty light years above our flight path back to the Federation, and not in a direction that we've been expanding in. Moreover, there is another forty light years before you run into significant numbers of stars again.

  “While I don't think that the cluster could be the origin of our enemies, they could surely use it as a base, as it 'hangs' over the Federation. If their home planets were on the other side of the gap, we might not otherwise find them for some time.”

  The captain considered the star chart. “Twenty light years off our path...”

  “Yes, sir.
But you have to consider the angles. It's fifty-eight light years back to Earth from here, and seventy light years if we visit that cluster. This costs us about two or three extra weeks is all.”

  Rachael laughed. “I could sure use those weeks for my bridge watch-keeping certificate prep, sir.”

  He ran a finger over the star cluster. “This is like a knife, aimed at the heart of the Federation. Their line of attack could be such that they get half way, swap battle fleets and continue on with fresh forces. We might not even notice.”

  He turned brusque. “I'll take this under consideration, Commander.”

  Rachael told Vargas who nodded. “This is a good idea, Rache; don't worry about it. You said we would add another couple of weeks to our mission... and we've already explored forty percent more systems that we were tasked, and covered almost a sixty percent larger volume. This will be icing on the cake.”

  “I don't suppose it could be topping on the ice cream?”

  The two laughed and then once again turned to the topic of a good way to get the captain.

  Three hours after they'd gone to sleep, Rachael sat straight up in bed. “By golly! I've got it!”

  “Got what, love?” Vargas answered sleepily.

  “How to get the captain.” She explained and Vargas could only laugh.

  “Rache, my love, there is no doubt any longer in my mind. One day you'll be an admiral, commanding a fleet of ships dealing out major hurt to our enemies. I can think of nothing finer in my life than to be there, supporting you in whatever way I can -- even if it's just back rubs.”

  “You don't think he'll be upset?”

  “Surprised, yes, indeed! Upset? I've known him most of my life. Surprised, yes. Upset? Who could be upset? The most problematical thing is letting him know in advance. It won't be our fault if he takes it wrong.”

  Vargas looked at Rachael and spoke a few word. “I can live with that change, Vargas.”