“Now let’s discuss what you need from me.”
“Of course, sir,” said Gallant.
“What logistic requirements remain?”
“Specialized SIA equipment, listening recorder devices, and spare stealth components, sir.”
Just hours before Gallant had been thinking of his personal relationships; now he was concentrating on military details in response to the admiral’s demands.
“Send my aide a list of special assistance and supplies you need. He will look it over and see that your requests are expedited.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Collingsworth instantly showed impatience and appeared flushed. “Recognize the spy business is not a game. It’s not even a military operation. It is much more dangerous and subtle. Slight errors in judgment can mean more than just your life; they can mean the lives of many, many others.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Ultimately, war is a test of wills,” said Collingsworth. “The one willing to do whatever it takes—to fight longer and harder—will prevail. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Filled with raw emotions, once more Collingsworth turned to Gallant and said, “Young man, buy me time!”
Gallant blushed and said, “I will, sir.”
A pregnant moment passed.
Finally, Collingsworth’s face relaxed and he said, “We will meet again under better circumstances, I’m sure.” Extending his hand, the admiral concluded, “Good luck and good hunting, young man.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Gallant . . . I’m going to need it.
CHAPTER 7
Shipyard
Orbiting 200 kilometers above Mars, the shipyard was an immense facility with an enclosed, two- kilometer central corridor at its center. Twenty-four docks extended from the central corridor and spiraled outward. Each dock could support a ship as large as a battle cruiser. Numerous minor ports also extruded from the core. Each ship rested in its dock where it could be refueled, repaired, or overhauled. There were several hundred meters of separation between the ships around which cranes and lifts could access various sections of individual ships. The shipyard was a city unto itself with a population of over 30,000 workers and residents. Since it had been constructed several decades earlier, it also provided support for the settlements on Phobos and Deimos. It serviced both military and commercial vessels, including merchants and ore ships primarily owned by NNR Shipping and Mining.
Following its shakedown cruise, the Warrior resided in docking bay number five while it underwent repairs from fire damage. Upgrades for specialized equipment designed for the ship’s new mission were being handled by a combination of the ship’s crew and shipyard experts.
All the berths were swarming with activity. Damaged ships that had been engaged in battle were being hauled into the remaining empty docks. Workers and military personnel bustled about their berths.
A sense of relief passed over Gallant when he found his ship under repair. He stood in the enclosed corridor surveying the Warrior’s docking pier while workers continued their construction efforts.
Men in uniform and civilian shipyard workers were completing demanding tasks with wartime urgency. They loaded a wide variety of commodities including food, personal supplies, ammunition, fuel, and hydraulic oil. Crewmen were busily going over an inventory list and deciding where the equipment was to be stored. Along the passageway workers shepherded electronic equipment and complained that they had to get this done or their supervisor would complain. Gallant twisted around to see a many-storied crane hoisting out gigantic scaffolding for them to work from. There was an acetone smell nearby from recently completed welding.
Large, luminous lights bathed the outside of the ship as a small fleet of barges moved along its exterior to conduct repairs on the hull. Men in space suits crawled around the exposed surfaces of the ship. An almost continuous movement of the hoisting cranes brought machinery and equipment to the workers. Even so, the progress in shipyards is always slower than any captain would like.
Gallant tried to visualize the Warrior complete and ready for action. He touched the virtual green display of a nearby console and activated the inventory list of remaining tasks. He then visited the ship’s dock supervisor.
Each berth had a dock supervisor who was responsible for the correct and timely completion of each ship’s work order. There was one shipyard supervisor who directed all the other supervisors, and he was known simply as the “inspector.” He met with the dock supervisors each morning in a small control shack at the edge of the central corridor and set their priorities. Over coffee and sandwiches they discussed current construction decisions about schedule, personnel, and supplies for all the ships currently being serviced. The supervisors were all able engineers with good business sense, but they were always looking over their shoulders for politically correct directives.
When Gallant first ran into this cabal of construction managers, he was slightly intimidated by their seniority, but as he became familiar with the station’s operations, he devoted more of his time with them to ensuring that his ship was given the priority it needed.
As he walked into the supervisor’s shack adjacent to the Warrior’s berth, he was greeted with a loud growl.
“What do you want?” barked a small man with a hawk-like nose and slicked-down hair. He was sitting on an uncomfortable looking chair at the single desk in the small office.
Finally looking up from his work, he stood when he recognized Gallant. “Sorry, sir. I didn't know you were here. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes. The Warrior is behind schedule. I need the work expedited.”
“Yes, sir. The schedule is right here,” said the supervisor handing it to him.
“I am aware of the schedule. The problem is we’re not on schedule. What are you doing about that?”
“We’re making good progress, and I can see daylight. You should realize this work takes time. There’s a war on, you know,” he chuckled, pleased with himself. “I have to yield to other shipyard priorities set by the inspector, you know,” he said, shrugging as if he had dealt with many complaining captains before and was not impressed by a mere lieutenant.
Gallant stood quietly for a moment. He could hear a far-off hiss of fresh air exiting ventilation ducts, the drone of air conditioners struggling against the heat, and the many other machines adding to the noise pollution.
The supervisor sensed his mood and said, “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll have everything on track before you know it. I was here a year ago when the NNR Company first laid down this ship’s keel.” He said it with some sense of pride, but Gallant surmised it was a token of intimidation to show his seniority and the authority of NNR.
The thought came to Gallant that everyone and everything were conspiring to delay the Warrior’s departure. If he had any sense, he would go running to the admiral’s aide and beg for additional assistance, but the admiral might see that as a lack of ability on his part.
Instead, Gallant decided to redouble his efforts and reevaluate key component upgrades—supervising their installation himself. He was aware that several of his officers and the supervisor would not be pleased with his direct involvement. They would interpret it as a slight, but he couldn’t help that. The jobs needed to get done, and he could not trust to happenstance that they would be completed on time.
He left the shack and went to work. Tests for all kinds of equipment—electronic, mechanical, and hydraulic—were scheduled. Hour by hour new problems and delays occurred as fast as existing jobs were being completed.
***
After three arduous days, despite some remaining concerns, there was progress. Before he began the final walk-through inspection of the Warrior with his officers, Gallant gave the crew a short liberty. Four hours wasn’t much for a crew about to deploy for months on a hazardous mission, but it was all Gallant could afford. There was a mad rush to shower and change into a liberty uniform. The
crew could not have been quicker to leave the ship if she were on fire from stem to stern. Four hours was barely enough time to reach a New Annapolis tavern and return. But their thirst could be quenched and they could enjoy one last good meal.
Not a single man returned late, and only one never left.
“Chief Howard, why aren’t you on liberty?” Gallant asked.
“I’ve been on liberty before, sir. Besides, there’s no way you’re going to inspect my ship without me.”
Chief Howard and Gallant marched through the ship, stopping in every compartment while the responsible officer presented it for their inspection. Chief Howard kept a watchful eye and maintained a complete log of all remaining deficiencies.
The walk-through began in the operations compartment where Roberts reported some problem areas, though none were critical to meeting deployment requirements.
In engineering, Walker reported a serious problem with the dark matter engine that could only be addressed using a gigantic crane.
In CIC, Clay reported a critical problem with the stealth technology that required calibration using shipyard equipment. He also complained about calibration of the Wasp’s stealth system. He made it clear he expected trouble with the new technology.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Gallant said. “I will be leaving to see the shipyard inspector shortly. Please provide detailed specifications to Chief Howard about the identified deficiencies.”
As the officers returned to their duties, Gallant said, “Mr.Clay, will you join me in my cabin?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Clay followed Gallant to the door of the captain’s cabin. Clean-shaven with freshly trimmed hair, Clay tended to display a lack of patience and often exposed his aggressive nature. Gallant realized he was going to have a difficult time dealing with his weapons officer.
“At ease. Have a seat,” Gallant said. “From your weapons report, it’s going to take a great deal of resources and manpower over a period of several days before the stealth system will be fully operational.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please give me your frank assessment of the operational readiness of the ship.”
“All weapons systems are ready with the exception of the stealth technology,” Clay said. “I am still finding calibration flaws, and there remains an issue with the battery charging that causes leakage which reduces the charge lifetime.”
Gallant didn’t let his focus wander: “You’ll be responsible for getting these systems operational. I will arrange for assistance from the shipyard, but you will be held strictly accountable.”
“I need to do a recalibration of the system using the shipyard equipment.”
Gallant bit his tongue and said, “If we get a recalibration, do you think it will hold up on deployment?”
“I can’t say for sure, sir, but without a recalibration, there is no chance at all.”
“Alright. Once we depart, I want a weekly report. You’re going to spend a great deal of time in this cabin briefing me.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“I want you to make arrangements to keep the force shield up. See if we can get equipment and men to support our efforts.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We have only one Wasp with stealth technology, so we’ll have to test it thoroughly.”
“I’ll get Chief Howard started on it.”
“Good. I expect you to supervise all operations. I want maximum cooperation.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
As a classmate of Anton Neumann, Clay didn’t have to explicitly state his reasons for being dissatisfied with his commanding officer, but Gallant recognized the look on his face—it was all too familiar—a look born of doubt over his genetic background.
CHAPTER 8
Delicate Touch
Gallant swallowed his queasiness as the blustery gale wind whipped the space elevator’s cable about—causing an erratic acceleration which rocked the glass vehicle like ocean swells rolling against a ship’s hull. He hoped the braking system was still sound as they approached the ground platform at seven g’s.
When at last he escaped the miniature craft, he found his legs a little wobbly. It was late morning when he reached SIA headquarters and asked to see LCDR McCall.
“Here’s a copy of my orders, Commander,” he said to the SIA agent when he was ushered into her office. He reached over her desk to hand her the tablet, but she didn’t take it immediately.
Her wispy blond hair was cut in a smart style and her well-tailored uniform drew attention to her curvaceous figure. She stared at him with her dark blue eyes exuding a mischievous boldness as if she expected him to comment in a particular way. After a moment she looked disappointed as she reached out and took his tablet.
“Well, Lieutenant, I’ll need some additional information.”
He nodded.
“You’ve had several personal relationships over the years. Are you involved with someone special now?”
“I beg your pardon,” he responded lamely. Surely, she had been through his file and was well-briefed on him.
She got up and went to the coffee station across the room and returned a minute later with two cups.
As he sipped the brew, she studied his orders, quickly sifting through the documents. She handed him back the tablet with several forms to fill out and sign. As he did so, he was amazed at how often this process involved her touching his arm, or hand. It was surprising how small the office now seemed.
Was that deliberate? What’s she playing at?
Gallant was flattered by the close personal attention of a beautiful woman, but even as the blood course through his veins, he was apprehensive about what kind of situation he might be getting into.
She started to asked, “Would you like to . . .”
They were startled as a captain burst into the room.
Gallant stood and came to attention.
The captain gave McCall a pointed look and handed something to her. As he left he said, “Carry on.”
McCall’s attitude was all business now and she said, “These are some tests for you to take. It’s part of our ENIGMA research, so we can evaluate your progress in translating the Titan messages.”
Taking the tablet, Gallant started the first test and breezed right through it.
He paused from the testing process and commented, “Their approach to numbers is fascinating once you examine how they manipulate them.”
McCall asked, “What do you mean?”
“Think of the number one as if it were a smooth pebble on the beach. Now think of the number five as five individual pebbles on the beach in the shape of an L; with three pebbles forming the vertical part of the letter and two pebbles as the horizontal base of the letter.”
He drew on the tablet:
5
5
555
“OK,” she nodded.
“Now; picture of the number seven as an L-shaped configuration of pebbles with four in a vertical column and three pebbles forming the horizontal base.”
Again he drew,
7
7
7
7777
"In fact, all odd numbers can be represented as L-shaped groups of pebbles.”
“What does that accomplish?”
“If we add consecutive odd numbers together, we get 1 + 3 = 4, 1 + 3 + 5 = 9, and 1 + 3 + 5 + 7 = 16, and so on. Can you see that combining odd numbers this way produces squares, 4, 9, and 16? The insight you can find is that when you stack images of L-shaped objects together (1 + 3 + 5 + 7) you build square shaped objects (16). Try it for yourself, draw them out.”
She drew the representation of 16 pebbles,
7531
7533
7555
7777
“Huh. So you think that's how the Titans perform their mathematical thinking—by combining natural shapes into geometric objects to find visual solutions.”
Gallant said, “Yes. It’s rather a different exer
cise in understanding and manipulating numbers. If we add to that the other sensory perceptions they combine with their communications it gets rather complicated. Sometimes, I find that their language is like listening to the music. The sensory evolutions are magnificent, filled with emotions and thrills, even if you don’t understand the words.”
“I’ve a feeling you’re going to be rather good at translating their messages,” she said.
“I hope so.”
“Oh, you have a unique talent, but don’t overestimate your abilities. Do you think you’re going to win this war all by yourself?” she asked.
Gallant said, “No, but I believe I have a role to play.”
“Things don’t always end well for those who are different and can’t fit in. So—Natural talent—or not, you need to get better at translating.”
He blushed,
Was that a genetic slur?
Later, on the seventh subfloor, Gallant continued his communication training with the prisoners under McCall’s watching eye. While savant syndrome was exceedingly rare in humans, it could produce astonishing islands of ability or brilliance. As he studied the alien’s savant skills, he saw them exhibit prodigious memory and superior mathematical skills, as well as, extraordinary sensory sensitivity.
“I think I’ll nickname this prisoner, ‘Raymond,’” said Gallant.
“Raymond? Why would you do that?” asked McCall.
“It’s a reference to an old movie about an autistic savant who displayed remarkable intellectual talent, but was unable to function productively, or independently, due to profound social deficits,” said Gallant. “I think it suits him.”
She nodded and then said, “We’re built from very small particles, but we live in a very large universe. We only see visible light which is a trillionth of the electromagnetic waves traveling across the universe because we aren’t equipped with the right sensory receptions to find them all. However, some animals, such as, the echo locating bat can use other waves to understand the world around it. Perhaps the Titans have extrasensory receptors too.”
Henry Gallant and the Warrior (The Henry Gallant Saga Book 3) Page 5
