The Odyssey and the Iliad (Kinsella Universe Book 7)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “Captain Lestonte tells me that we will be able to do another pair of transitions before we have to stop. I’ll come to you as soon as we go to High Fan.”

  Shapiro waved her hand over her head. They went to High Fan again. Susan was aware that this was her limit. She was only half aware of Captain Shapiro launching herself off at the moment of transition.

  The next transition brought her to her knees, and her universe shrank to pinpoints. She fought it, but was unsuccessful. The last transition had been more than she could endure.

  *** ** ***

  When consciousness returned to Susan, all she saw was a vague blur standing next to her. “Sorry for letting you down, Captain.”

  The person laughed, a surprisingly deep voice. “Thanks for the promotion, Cadet. You are, I fear, a little early.”

  Susan sank back on her bed, having seen the red shipsuit. “Sorry, I didn’t see your shipsuit.”

  “Not a problem, Cadet. Now that you are awake I can share my cross. Let me wake Captain Shapiro.”

  She saw Captain Shapiro asleep in a chair near her.

  When the corpsman shook her, the captain came awake at once.

  “Sorry, Captain,” Susan repeated.

  “My sweetie is transition immune.” Captain Shapiro waved around. “You lasted to the last transition, Susan.”

  For the first time, Susan looked beyond her bed. It was a large sick bay, and hundreds of beds were occupied.

  “More than a thousand of Tiger’s crew are down,” Shapiro said. “Knock on wood, we didn’t kill anyone, but we sure pushed a lot of limits. They’ll all get Purple Hearts; so will you. We just couldn’t afford Tiger off-station for this long.”

  “I was only worried about myself. I’d been warned about the testing -- I just didn’t understand.”

  “You thought you were going to be the guinea pig?” Captain Shapiro whistled in amazement. “Ruiz was wrong, as was her boyfriend. He got a purple rocket on the subject from Admiral Merriweather. I’m not into purple rockets for someone who will never be a fighter pilot -- but you should learn that no Aloft officer would ever dream of allowing a cadet to go where she -- or he -- hasn’t gone before.

  “We dinosaurs pride ourselves in our devotion to our young.” With that, the captain left.

  Susan fell back on her pillow, exhausted. The medic allowed her a sip of water and smiled. “You got rid of her. That will allow me to help everyone else.”

  “I shouldn’t be stopping you,” Susan said.

  “She has a Star; my chief told me that ‘What Shapiro wants, she gets.’”

  “I’ve looked at her public records; I never saw the Star.”

  “The stupid woman desires it to be a secret. My chief is an admiral; she knows the secrets.”

  Susan sank back on the bed. The medic grinned. “You are fatigued; bed rest for another twelve hours is indicated. You will recover perfectly well alone, subject to your monitors. I assure you, Cadet, if anything even looks as if it going into the red, I’ll be here like a flash. It does not bear thinking about what my admiral will do to me if I lose a special interest patient.”

  “I never asked for special interest.”

  “If nothing else, learn from this experience. Anyone who asks for special interest for themselves is making a serious error of judgment. But you have to play the hand you’re dealt.”

  The bed seemed like heaven, reaching out and cradling Susan in comfort. Sleep came on stealthy feet, and she never remembered anything until she awoke again.

  Later, Susan was back on the command deck of the Mad Hatter. Captain Shapiro was morose. “At least we didn’t kill anyone, and Captain Lestonte learned he needs to test his crew to at least the equivalent of a fighter pilot. If Tiger engages, they will be doing rapid transitions. The whole point of patrolling in one of the Lagrangian points is the ability to respond quickly to any emergency and to go quickly everywhere needed.”

  “I am sorry, Lynn, it was my fault -- worse, when I realized what was happening, I continued the test,” Makaa told her friend. “I should have stopped the test. I knew Susan was having difficulty -- I should have extrapolated to the larger crew.

  “I’m sorry, Susan. I was trying to make a point, but I’m afraid it was me who had a hard lesson.”

  “Makaa, it seems to me that the Union must know the gene or genes that control transition sensitivity,” Captain Shapiro inquired.

  “Yes, but modifying the gene simply removed the worst of the symptoms. I don’t suffer from the symptoms, but there is a limit to how many transitions I can undergo. One too many -- and I would simply drop dead. It’s nearly a hundred in five minutes, without a rest, but it is finite. Officially, we are not permitted more than thirty transitions in ten minutes.”

  The discussion descended into a discussion of fighter tactics, with Captain Shapiro describing what worked and what didn’t, with occasional questions from Makaa and with Susan’s rapt attention.

  Then the communications alert came and Captain Shapiro answered it. She spoke only a moment, before returning to the others. “Admiral Merriweather has asked for a personal -- meaning physically present -- report on her test results. She has already heard from Captain Lestonte about his issues. I told her we would dock with Thebes in six hours.”

  “Ah!” Makaa exclaimed. “Time for lunch and a nooner! Susan can get a nap as well!”

  “Susan! Plot us a course that gets us there in plenty of time. Get a clearance!” Captain Shapiro ordered. “One last thing, Susan. Would you be offended if I permitted Makaa order authority over you?”

  “Of course not, Captain.”

  “Good! Consider it done. Now, whose turn is it to fix lunch? Not you, Cadet! That clearance has a priority!”

  *** ** ***

  Steve was weary beyond words when he returned to his room. Cliff was out of his bed and in Steve’s face before Steve got to the bathroom. Being made to wait seemed to make the older young man even angrier.

  “What’s this deployment you’ve gotten me shanghaied into?”

  “The operation is classified, Cliff. You’ll go aboard, have classes half days and watches half days. Any department you want.”

  “What kind of classes?” he demanded.

  “Well, for the first two weeks you’ll have the Admirals Swenson for their famous classes. After that, the other class time will be concentrated on preparing you for a watchkeeping certificate in your chosen department.” Steve laughed. “I’ll be right there in one of those classes myself.”

  “Including the Swensons? I heard you and your girlfriend had your ways greased.”

  “I’ll be taking them. Yolie completed the practicum yesterday. And Thor Swenson thinks it would be a waste of her time to take his class.”

  “She finished the practicum? That’s supposed to be very hard. You have to give a written and a verbal report and then defend it.”

  “She did that, except the written report. And she certainly defended it! A board of admirals.”

  “And you! She said you solved her mother’s murder in an afternoon, when Scotland Yard hadn’t in a month!”

  “Cliff, I read micro expressions. It’s my claim to fame. One of the people she knew had behaved oddly; we went to meet the woman and it was clear she knew more than she’d told the police. Then she tried to kill Yolie, but she was stopped. There was a man sitting inside the restaurant we’d met the woman in. When the police arrested the woman; he was the only one who never looked at what was happening.

  “Q.E.D. Cliff. The police hauled him in for questioning and he revealed that he was the one who killed Yolanda’s mother. They were Union assassins intent on killing Yolanda and her mother regardless of the risk.”

  Cliff’s face changed and Steve chuckled. “You can read up on micro expressions. They are universal among humans; always the same. For the most part, they are involuntary. I imagine there are people I can’t read, but I haven’t met one yet.

  “If I were you, Cliff, I’d
pack and go right this second. Think about a department on the way out to Thebes.”

  “You’re I-branch, aren’t you?”

  Steve laughed, rubbing the compass rose on his shipsuit. “Egad! Undone by an amateur!”

  “Maybe that’s what I would like to do.”

  Steve grinned again. “The Intelligence Department head on Thebes is Commander Bethany Booth. Her disposition is far from sunny. Far!”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Do you know why they mentioned the first fighter transition class?”

  Cliff shook his head.

  “You need to go back over it and figure it out. You won’t be any good in I-branch if you don’t. Let me give you a hint: Commander Booth fired everyone in her department before our last deployment except for two of us.”

  Cliff was gone before Steve got up the next morning. He packed his ship bag. picked up Yolanda a little later and they shuttled up to Thebes.

  Emily Rosen met them in the shuttle bay. She smiled at them and then spoke in a loud voice to the people who had shuttled up with them. “Attention! You new Thebes! Your first stop is BuPers, a hundred meters down that corridor.” She pointed it out. “There are no twists, no turns. There you will report aboard and they will provide you with a ship’s diagram and a berth.

  “You have nothing to do until 0800 ship’s time, Monday. You may eat at the officer’s open mess; you may use the ship’s recreational facilities. On Monday at 0800 you will report to auditorium one, whether you are a cadet or here for fighter transition.

  “Do not wander around this ship until you are far more familiar with her than you are now. We are in the process of landing on two thousand fighters. The launch bays are very busy and it takes six months of training before you can expect to cross one and arrive at the other side alive. It is a giant, very complicated dance, choreographed to a fraction of a second.

  “Yardley and Ruiz, you are with me. The rest of you have a date with BuPers.”

  They walked through interminable corridors until they got to a familiar compartment. “I have been given a cross to bear, Steve. The three of us will bunk together.”

  “Emily, it didn’t bother me before and it doesn’t bother me now. Hopefully this time you won’t be distressed by my using your first name.”

  “I grew up, Steve. It wasn’t just that you saved my life and it wasn’t that other thing. Being Admiral Merriweather’s aide has taught me a lot.”

  Steve nodded. “That said,” Emily went on, “Commander Booth wants to see you as soon as you’ve reported aboard. She wants your input on her new crew.

  “As for you, Ensign Ruiz, I’ll show you where Lieutenant Carter works.”

  “Thank you, Emily,” Steve said.

  They dropped their ship bags on their bunks, then went their separate ways.

  *** ** ***

  When Steve reported to the intelligence department, he was surprised to see the same yeoman he’d met on his first day aboard Thebes.

  You didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know his opinion.

  “Lieutenant Yardley reporting in from detached duty,” Steve said levelly.

  He could see the man was having trouble with his appearance. “Welcome back, Lieutenant. You heard about what happened to I-Branch?”

  “Yes, yes I did. A massive failure of nerve.”

  Commander Booth popped out of her office. “I thought I heard you out here, Yardley! Come into my office! We have a lot of work to do and not much time!”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  In a few seconds he was seated in Commander Booth’s office. She didn’t waste any time.

  “I understand that you see auras -- or something like them.”

  “Something like them, yes, sir,” he replied.

  “I want you to pick some who are compatible to you; you’re compatible with me, so I won’t get any more purple rockets for firing my entire department.”

  Steve grimaced and Commander Booth caught it. “We are compatible, aren’t we?”

  Steve sighed. “Kind of, sort of, at least a little.”

  “Are you saying you’re not compatible with me?”

  “Not exactly, Commander. I can make adjustments and I do. I can sense what would be the wrong thing to say. Unless someone is a telepath too...” he let his voice trail away.

  “You came upon your ability late in the game, yet we worked well together, I thought.”

  “Commander, when you focus on a goal, you go all out in pursuit of that goal. First I had questions, then when we met the Union representatives you were focused on them.”

  “Hmmm... I suppose I was.”

  “Commander, may I be blunt?” Steve asked.

  “I’m a big girl, Steve.”

  He smiled at her use of his name. “Did you object when Admiral Merriweather asked for Emily?”

  “I thought the reasons for the choice were good and sufficient.”

  “You were already planning on firing the department. Ensign Rosen was the only one you could keep. Admiral Merriweather expected a protest.”

  “So, she down-checked me...”

  “That, Commander, is between the two of you. In my brief time as an officer, I’ve learned that officers frequently come at things with cross-purposes, they occasionally don’t communicate those purposes well and the junior usually smiles and accepts it.”

  “That’s an astute observation from a junior officer.”

  “Sir, this junior officer has been on the receiving end of cross-purposes since I joined. It is the voice of experience.”

  “What do you recommend, Steve?”

  He smiled. “The last group consisted of Portie morons. Like me, Commander, intelligent Rim Runners just roll with the punches. I can tell you who can measure up.”

  “That’s what I want. Not only don’t I like purple rockets, I don’t think it reflects well on my leadership ability.”

  “I’ll stick up for you with the admirals, Commander.”

  “Admirals, Lieutenant. Admiral Merriweather I knew about... are there others?”

  “The Admirals Swenson, and I’m sure Admiral Cloud will be hovering close by.”

  “A fourteen-star cruise! I thought we were trying some new Academy courses.”

  “Admiral Fletcher will be up before we depart; you’ll be briefed then.”

  Commander Booth frowned. “Rule One of a junior officer: never let your boss be surprised.”

  “It was a direct order from Admiral Fletcher. Admiral Merriweather knows, the Swensons don’t. I know, but Yolanda doesn’t. Commander Booth, this is a code word situation.”

  “Silly me, I thought I’d be briefed before a junior lieutenant,” Commander Booth lamented.

  Chapter 15 -- Alignments

  Steve was reading a history of Fleet Intelligence while in his bunk. It was not the typical HDD stories; he was amazed at some of exploits of the earlier members of I-Branch. There was a knock on his door and he yelled, “Come!”

  It was Cliff Maitland. “I’ve come to tell you that I want I-Branch.”

  Steve just nodded. “Would it affect your decision that Commander Booth will be your training officer? She fired nearly everyone in the department after our first deployment.”

  “That was a bum steer, Yardley. That had nothing to do with the first fighter transition class.”

  “A tenth of the class was bilged for turning in an assignment on the due date. Captain Bachman was a softie compared Commander Booth. Those pilots in the first fighter transition class went to other duties -- frequently flying. Commander Booth beached the whole bunch of the officers in her department. Right now they have learned the BuPers rules for officers relieved for cause.”

  Cliff shook his head. “If you can do it, so can I!”

  “Did I tell you about the time Admiral Merriweather smacked me upside the head?”

  “You? You seem like such a...” his voice trailed away.

  “Goodie-goodie? Yep. I made a misjudgment of
her intentions.”

  “An admiral shouldn’t strike a junior!”

  “And she apologized later, but in truth I’d made a serious mistake. Do you know what got the others fired?”

  Cliff shook his head.

  Steve said, “They were all physical cowards. They were asked to do a dangerous task and refused to volunteer. Whereas me and another member of the department were jack-in-the-boxes, out of our seats as soon as we were asked.”

  “Sucking up to the department head!”

  “Don’t be daft! It was really dangerous. The other volunteer was an ensign who has a bad reaction to transition. Just one knocked her cold and put her in sick bay. She takes medication for it now, but a few hours after she was in sick bay, she volunteered.”

  “And yet, here you are!”

  Steve could read that he was being goaded. He found that when you know what someone is doing, it’s more funny than not.

  “Thebes went out to meet the Union delegation. The meeting was held some distance from anything because the Federation was afraid of a bio-plague. Not even everyone on Thebes shuttled to the meet -- only about seventy of us. We expected to be in quarantine indefinitely. There’s more to the story, but it’s classified.”

  “You seem to know a lot of secrets.”

  “That’s I-Branch in a nutshell. Little secrets, big secrets, top secrets and secrets you never want to talk about. The longer you are in, the more you will learn.”

  “And you’ve been in I-Branch what? Four or five months?”

  “Sometimes, Cliff, even routine duties expose you to those secrets you can’t talk about. This is your choice, and yes indeed, as a cadet you aren’t going to learn much unless things don’t go as expected. In that case, you could well be killed.”

  “Are you trying to get me to quit?”

  “I’m trying to tell you what to expect.”

  “And where does your girlfriend fit in all of this?”

  “She is engaged in top secret research, of the kind we can’t talk about. We are unlikely to ever be able to say to each other, ‘How was your day, dear?’” Steve laughed. “Maybe on vacation. But that presupposes I wasn’t next to her every minute. That’s not going to happen for a while.