The Odyssey and the Iliad (Kinsella Universe Book 7)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “Do I request a Fleet clearance or not?” he persisted.

  “Oh, civilian VFR, a local clearance.”

  “Chief, you’re not supposed to take an armed shuttle into a civilian area. This shuttle is armed, is it not?”

  The chief leaned forward and took a microphone. Steve was startled when he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. “You’re woman!”

  “Yardley, if the next words out of your mouth start with ‘You don’t look like...’ I will castrate you. Step screwing around. The shuttle weapons are not only safe, they are locked. If we fell to a horde of angry civilians, they couldn’t even get Master Start to work, much less anything else. Get the clearance and go.”

  There was a second or two longer delay than usual before he got a clearance. He lifted the shuttle carefully and headed home. “There is no place suitable to put us down at my home.”

  “Surely the road there is wide enough to land.”

  “Wide enough, Chief? Yes. But not for anyone else to get by.”

  “They will have to reroute. They’d do that for emergency service activity, would they not?”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  “Then do it.”

  He did it, setting down gingerly in front of the house. The chief came with him to get his things. His uncle was incredulous, then contemptuous. “You’ve achieved involuntary enlistment! What a hero you are!”

  Steve said nothing, grabbing only a couple of sets of clothes, some underwear and toiletries -- and his calculus and physics texts. It filled less than half a of ship bag. A minute later he prepared to lift. “Where to, Chief?”

  The chief laughed. “Yardley, I’m my captain’s bosun -- that’s her shuttle pilot, plus I do other odd jobs. Do you know the difference between a Fleet versus a Marine pilot is?”

  “No, Chief.”

  “A Marine pilot would do just like you did -- ask where we were going. A Fleet pilot takes off and then would ask.”

  “Chief, I don’t have a clearance,” Steve said patiently.

  “There aren’t very many Marine fighter pilots -- the Marines won’t let them go. That’s something to think about. Apply for the Marines at intake, and you’ll add six months to the time before you get where you’re going.

  “Yardley, do you have a set of cojones?”

  “Chief?”

  “Where I want to go is Grissom Station. Where I am supposed to deposit you is Maunalua. Pick one.”

  “And will I get in trouble if I do what you want?”

  “No. I might, but that’s none of your concern.”

  “Maybe you think it’s none of my concern if my actions get someone in trouble, but that’s not how I think.”

  There was a beep from the comm system, and Steve answered. “Yardley.”

  “Is Pirate asking you to do something you’d rather not?” Steve had no idea who he was talking to.

  “Sort of. I’m not being very cooperative.”

  “Pirate, you get up to Grissom as fast as you can.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain Shapiro.”

  The chief spoke into the radio. “This is Thebes shuttle Four, requesting priority lift to Grissom.”

  “Thebes Four, this is Control. We have your orbit. Downloading now. Lift when ready.”

  “Lift now, Yardley.”

  He flew on autopilot; there was no margin for error this close to Earth, and when he turned his attention to his environment, he gulped. There were a whole lot of ships moving in near Earth space.

  The chief laughed as he looked at them. “This is big props, Yardley. Do you know how many pilots have an ‘All-ships-sortie’ in their records? This is the seventh time since the war started, as I recall.”

  “Should I do anything special?”

  “Monitor the collision avoidance electronics as if your life depended on it. All it would take is one hung-over pilot to ruin our day. You’re not hung over, are you?”

  “No, Chief.”

  “Couple of years ago, Captain Shapiro drew an ambulance flight from Rome to Grissom after the Big Battle. The Rome hadn’t taken any damage, but there were a number of injured pilots out there, some of whom no longer had fighter bays of their own to return to. She had Ensign Cindy Rhodes fly the shuttle, because she was critically injured herself, but it was a radiation injury and they manifest slowly. Ensign Rhodes had just learned where to find ‘Master Start.’”

  “I thought she was described as the best fighter pilot in the Fleet?”

  “She probably is, but we’ll never know. She is not allowed near an actual fighter and anyone who allowed her to participate in an actual battle -- and survived -- would be shot the same day. After Hannah Sawyer, that sort of officer just isn’t exposed to that kind of risk. She’s a sim queen, and will remain one for the rest of her life... at least as a fighter pilot. She’s headed out to Adobe to help out with operations and training there.”

  Steve noted that a lot of the earlier traffic was gone now. “Where did they go -- most of those ships weren’t anywhere near the fan limit.”

  “Grissom’s claim to fame -- they are at the Earth-Moon L-1 point. You just cast off from that station, reorient and zoom! You’re off to the races.”

  “I didn’t know that, Chief.”

  “There are many things about the Fleet you don’t know, Mr. Yardley. That’s the purpose of Officer Candidate School and fighter transition.”

  “I heard that OC class is like the Academy.”

  “It is. Except instead of four years, you’re done in ninety days. About three-quarters of those who start, finish. But you are going to generate a lot of skull-sweat in that ninety days. Then fighter transition. That’s six blessed months, teaching what most Rim Runner kids learn by age six. It might sound easy -- but only half get through fighter transition.

  “One thing that is important -- the wording of the ‘All ships sortie’ command. There are certain magic words in the Fleet. Forthwith is one -- it means comply with the order as fast as humanly possible. The most important words, though, are ‘No drill.’ You will never hear those words in a real drill -- they simply don’t use them. In the first all ships sortie order of the war, back when we were all fat, dumb, and happy, was ‘No drill! No drill! All ships stand to and sortie!’ Sometimes they’ll give the commands, and then the magic words.

  “It’s not supposed to make a difference whether or not they are there.” She waved at the traffic lidar. “They didn’t say those two words today, so this is a drill. We have our orders and we’ll fulfill them.”

  “Yes, Chief. Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Cindy Rhodes was two years younger than you are when she was forcibly enlisted in the Fleet. She came to Captain Shapiro with recommendations from Admirals of the Fleet Nagoya and Fletcher. Nagoya looked in her eyes for about two seconds and decided she was bound out for the Fleet. Her rise in the Fleet was even more spectacular than Willow Wolf’s. Three days after her enlistment, she was the operations officer of a fighter squadron. Three days later she was the squadron exec and the next day the squadron leader. A day later she was the XO of a cruiser-class warship.

  “They sent her off to help scout our attackers. That took a couple of years, and thank God they have stopped giving her new jobs, or she’d be Admiral of the Fleet now, I think.

  “Nagoya and Fletcher saw something in her. Neither of them ever said what -- it was left for the rest of us to see the results. Cindy Rhodes was the senior surviving officer of those negotiating with the AI computers. She was the first person to recognize the threat. She’s a genius, do you understand?”

  “I’m not a genius.”

  “And if you were to ask her, she would tell you she isn’t, either. She has a string of major discoveries that are mind-boggling... and even more, she figured out for herself, independently, what a whole lot of other people had come up with during her absence.

  “There is something about you, Yardley. I saw Rhodes for about two minutes the first time. I co
uld see there was some sort of spark in her. I told my boss, Admiral Tennyson, and he gave me the early story, and the update after the Big Battle. Unless I’m seriously mistaken, you have a spark.”

  “I’m just a former Rim Runner, now dirty-foot secondary student, trying to do my share.”

  “And I’m a Fleet Master Chief Petty Officer trying to do my share as well. Unfortunately for you, Admiral Tennyson gave me a direct order after I told him about Cindy Rhodes’ spark. ‘If you ever see the like again, run and grab the sleeve of the closest fighting admiral and tell him or her what you’ve seen.’ I’m going to do just that.”

  “And if I have grave doubts?”

  “Nagoya generated about ten ‘special project’ officers. Two are dead, the second youngest now has two stars and commands one of the largest warships in the Fleet; she’s not the only admiral. There is not one of them who survive who won’t be an admiral one day, and the battle for who is going to lead the Fleet is going to be awesome. Every last one of those ‘natural leaders’ had grave doubts. And now, no matter how much success they’ve had, they still do. Endure, Mr. Yardley.”

  Even at two gravities, it took a while to get out nearly to the moon. It gave Steve a lot of time to chew things over. Of course, there wasn’t anything he could say. Evidently a ‘genius’ was the last person to know it. In spite of that, he doubted very much that he was a genius.

  While it wasn’t quick, the trip was finite. They swept up to Grissom station, and then broke off and docked with a huge ship a hundred kilometers away. The Thebes, he was sure. It looked like an asteroid that had an infection. There were bumps and tendrils all over the surface what had obviously been a substantial asteroid.

  They debarked in a shuttle bay. The chief gave curt instructions to a few hands who leapt to do what they’d been told. “You might as well know, Mr. Yardley. When I’m not Captain Shapiro’s bosun, I have the duty here. This is my bay; these are my people.”

  “You’re just a chief.”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, there’s some doofus commander that’s the officer in command. He’s some Portie dirty-foot trying to transition to Fleet Aloft. After a month, I’m happy to say that at least half the time he can find his own bottom with at least one hand.”

  Steve blinked. While Rim Runners disparaged dirty-feet routinely, he hadn’t thought it was done in the Fleet. Evidently he had some mistaken thoughts about that.

  He was escorted quickly to a Fleet captain. “Captain Hargrove, I have orders to take this young man to Admiral Merriweather.”

  “What’s one of my cadets done to get himself in trouble? Good grief, it’s just been a couple of hours!”

  “He’s not in trouble, Captain. Please, this is an order from Admiral Tennyson.”

  “And Admiral Tennyson is currently out at Fleet World working up five blessed new carriers. I’m sure to have been in the loop if he sent a message.”

  “Captain, he reminds me of Captain Rhodes.”

  “Ha! The admiral told me about that, after the battle, while I was in the body and fender shop! By all means, take him off to see Admiral Merriweather. Oh, and speaking of that, expect rough weather... we have to sortie in six hours.”

  “They said it was a drill, Captain.”

  “That’s what they said to everyone else. That’s not what they told the admiral. We’re an engineering casualty coming ready. We have to limp out of orbit.”

  The chief turned to Steve. “In case you are curious, Mr. Yardley, the very first thing we do with a ship like this is install the fans. Then we move it to where the rest of the work is going to be done, and the ship never moves again until it begins the workup. The hope is that the alien observers in the system think we’ve removed the engines. When, in fact, we can move at any time.”

  She turned back to the Fleet captain. “Captain Hargrove, we have no fighters aboard.”

  “Five. We have five fighters aboard, for engineering testing. We have about thirty shuttles. We’re going with what we have. Go and see Admiral Merriweather.” The captain leered. “I just can’t wait to hear how that turns out, Pirate.

  “You took the scenic route, Chief. The admiral lifted at four and a half gravities. She feels just a little put upon.”

  The woman tucked Steve’s arm in hers, while they walked through interminable corridors. “That was Thebes’ flag captain, Yardley. At least you didn’t faint and embarrass me.”

  Steve grimaced. What a great way to meet Thebes’ captain! As they walked people greeted the chief as they passed them in the corridors of the ship. Finally Steve couldn’t help himself. “Can I ask a question, Chief?”

  “You can always ask questions, so long as no one else is talking.”

  Steve grimaced. “I’m a Runner, Chief. I just don’t know what I have to do here.”

  “Ask,” she said impatiently.

  “I realize that I don’t understand things, but I heard only fighter pilots had call signs. But so do you. Are you a fighter pilot?”

  “Me? I’m an enlisted person. They don’t let enlisted persons fly fighters. There aren’t but a couple of fighter pilots aboard just now... do you know how to tell them from weapons officers?”

  “No, Chief.”

  “There are no ornier, contrary critters in the universe than fighter pilots. They know they are going to die. Just a dozen or so have survived long enough to get promoted to a desk.

  “They have their own way of doing things. One of those things is that they are the captains of their fighters and thus they are the captains of their own destiny. You can tell a fighter pilot because he’ll have a plain black ship suit -- with a wavy ring, where there shouldn’t be one.

  “I don’t like to talk about it, but I can’t do what the bosses of the fighter bays and the crew chiefs that work there do. Send my people out and not have them come back. That makes me a soft touch for those that do go out; I’m a real inventive soft touch, and when any of those folks who go out need anything, anything at all, I get it for them. By hook or by crook. Hence, Pirate.”

  A second later they were in a tube, being whisked off who knew where. The bridge as it turned out. Pirate went across it and fetched up at the diminutive admiral that Steve had seen before.

  “Admiral Merriweather, if you have a moment.”

  “I have a moment,” she replied with emphasis on the pronoun. “No one else on my Goddamn bridge better have one.” The last was spoken in a loud voice.

  “Admiral, I told Admiral Tennyson that I could see the spark in Cindy Rhodes. He asked me a bunch of questions, none of which seemed to bear on the matter.”

  “Do you see small spark here or something else?”

  Steve grimaced. A flicker, maybe? It wasn’t to be.

  “Something a lot more,” Pirate said.

  “Then, I’ll ask you to bear in mind Admiral Tennyson’s order. If you ever see this again in a person, officer or not, young or old, do whatever he told you to do.”

  “He told me to take him straightaway to the nearest fighting admiral and inform them of what I’d seen.”

  “That, then.” The admiral laughed. “And here you are!”

  The admiral turned to Steve. “Relax, adapt. Overcome. Welcome to the Fleet. Pirate, take this young man to see Commander Booth forthwith. This should be interesting. Tell her, he’s for her shop. Oh, and he’s a junior lieutenant. See my yeoman about the paperwork, I want it ready before Commander Booth hits the overhead.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  There was a brief pause, then a fairly short walk, across the bridge, down a corridor and into an office. Pirate saluted a junior lieutenant sitting at a desk. “Admiral Merriweather’s compliments, Lieutenant. This officer is for Commander Booth. Forthwith is the word the admiral used.”

  The lieutenant, who was at least ten years older than Steve, grimaced and reached for a phone. Steve couldn’t hear what was said, but he wasn’t left in suspense.

  “Commander Booth’s yeoman says to go righ
t in.”

  In a few seconds he was standing front of an officer his own size, and six or seven years older -- but not as old as the lieutenant in the outer office.

  The woman regarded him levelly and he regarded her back. She was no beauty, and if he was any judge of character, a bitch.

  He made that observation about the same time she looked at Pirate. “Master Chief, make yourself as comfortable as possible.”

  “I’m fine, Commander.”

  “Like I said. Lieutenant Yardley, you are mine.” She pointed at a simple chair in front of her desk. “You sit there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Pirate. I rarely see the likes of you around here.”

  “I’m a yard dog in the boat bay, sir. I don’t get to the bridge very often.”

  “Have you heard that we are going out, Pirate?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you heard why?”

  “No, sir. I was off the ship until a few minutes ago.”

  “And you, Lieutenant Yardley. I see you were off the ship until a few minutes ago as well. Do you know what we’re going out for?”

  “No, sir.”

  “The AI of another capital ship went rogue. Luckily, someone shut it down in time -- but not before it nearly started another war.”

  The master chief grimaced.

  “Do you understand the expression on the Master Chief’s face, Lieutenant?”

  “Ma’am, I’m ignorant.”

  “Pirate knows that the first time an AI went rogue, it killed my father and a whole lot of people I admired and respected. As bad as that was, it tried drive me insane in an attempt to distract the greatest danger to it -- Cindy Rhodes.” She made a looping motion near her head. “Completely loopy, Lieutenant. I stood in the officer’s mess aboard then-Commander Rhodes’ ship, and tried to brain anyone who came near me with a mess bench.

  “She ignored me, Lieutenant.”

  Steve swallowed.

  “So, the rogue AI has been stopped, the war is, at least temporarily, is on hold. Do you know what a ‘Koopianer’ is, Lieutenant?”

  It was impossible to miss Pirate’s sudden inhale.

  “No, Commander.”

  “Who they are is a question on most Fleet certification exams. They were a group of people in the early days of the Federation who played with the human -- and other -- genomes. Designer babies.”