Court-Martial (Horatio Logan Chronicles Book 2)

by Chris Hechtl

  “Look at the signature of who sent it,” Hobs said, pointing to a line at the bottom.

  “Commander Thistle …” She pursed her lips as a cargo tech pulled the first pallets out. “Open it,” she ordered.

  “Here on the dock?” the tech asked. “We're sort of on a schedule, ma'am,” he pointed out in exasperation.

  “You heard the lady,” Hobs stated flatly.

  “Okay,” the Neodog said, making a puttering sound of annoyance as he pulled a box cutter and cut the plastic, then cut into the package. Once he had the lid open, the two officers eagerly looked inside.

  “What are we looking at?” Hobs asked as Alice picked up a piece of cardboard with a bunch of chips and electronics taped to it.

  “With my compliments, bristle tail. Oh that …,” Alice read the note and then grinned. “He did it!”

  “Did it?”

  She brushed aside some of the packaging to expose the first of the largest boxes on the crate. Sure enough, it was recognizable. “A food replicator though. It'll be tough,” she grumbled.

  “A food replicator?”

  “Two of them, plus, an engineering database,” she said, indicating the electronic board and other stuff. “Damn!” she said, clearly pleased by the turn of events.

  She looked over the goods and then went back to the electronics board. When she saw a line and one word pointing to a chip, she grinned.

  Alice danced a jig over seeing Mercury there, ready for her use. “Now we're really cooking!”

  “Food replicators though?” Hobs asked dubiously.

  “Industrial replicators may have been too much to ask for; they were most likely being heavily guarded. He did what he could for us. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “I'm not. I appreciate all he's done despite the risk he's taken.”

  “I do too. And don't look down on a food replicator. With a little tweaking, you can do a lot if you've got the right keys. Which, I just so happen to have,” Alice replied with a feral grin. “We can't do everything on the wish list, but we can do a lot more than we did before. And two is just gravy.”

  “Good to know,” the chief of staff replied with a nod.

  “And, I'm curious as to what else he'll be able to send us, or I should say, has sent us. I am worried now about that though. Obviously, with Ilmarinen's visit and Admiral Sharp Reflexes coming out into the open, it could be bad for him.”

  “Potentially very bad. Hopefully, he's smart and covered his tracks. Or, failing that, he managed to resign his commission and fade into the civilian population.”

  “I know Weaver, he's not a quitter. He'll stay in the game as long as he can. Too long for his own good most likely,” Alice said bleakly. Hobs nodded.

  “What about this program? Mercury?”

  “It's an A.I.,” Alice replied. Hobs eyes went comically wide as she held the chip up. “It's not a smart A.I. Far from it. It is a dumb A.I.; it barely qualifies as an A.I. at all. It was created by Admiral Irons centuries ago. He passed it on to Admiral Logan. Admiral Logan offered each of us a copy. I turned it down. Apparently, Weaver didn't, or he got his hands on a copy.”

  “And that's a good thing?” Hobs asked dubiously. He stared at the chip like it could bite him.

  “Admiral Irons created this A.I. as an engineering design and repair aide,” Alice replied. Hobs frowned briefly before he caught on. Then he smiled as she nodded. “That's right, you are catching on. This little baby can help design the courier. It'll draw up the spec sheets, all of it. It was Admiral Logan's secret weapon when he designed Ilmarinen.”

  “I always wondered how he did it so fast! Normally the design process takes years, and he blew everyone away,” Hobs replied with a shake of his head. “And you are telling me that computer program did it?”

  “It did a lot. Oh, it's buggy; don't get me wrong. There is no personality core, so it doesn't qualify as a sentient being under the A.I. rights. But with this, I can not only work on the courier design but also more upgrades, some I haven't thought of, plus more software upgrades. If anyone does come with blood in their eye, we'll have more of an advantage.”

  “I see. Okay,” Hobs replied with a nod. “Run everything through Commodore Brunswick of course. But um, I'm not at all sure about an A.I. You might want to keep that to yourself.”

  “You know,” she turned to him with a frown. “I never did get why you folks didn't build them yourselves. You would have been right up there with the Federation years ago if you had. What gives?”

  He grimaced. “Long story neither of us have the time to get into now. Suffice to say, we didn't want to repeat past mistakes, so the tech was banned like nanotech and a lot of other things.”

  “Right. Let's just keep the replicators to ourselves then,” Alice drawled with a shake of her head.

  “Um, okay,” Hobs replied dubiously.

  @^@

  Alice oversaw the unpacking of the replicators personally. “Easy, easy does it,” she said nervously as the Neochimp PO overseeing the work party shot her an exasperated look.

  “What is it?” he finally asked.

  “It's a food replicator,” Alice said, hands out as if to catch the thing if it fell over off the appliance dolly.

  The PO blinked. “Seriously? Why do we need that, ma'am?”

  “It is a replicator. You can do a lot with one; don't underestimate it. Once we use this to get basic parts, we can go from there. We're limited by what keys and blueprints I've got access to, but it's a step up from nothing.”

  “Well, there is that, ma'am,” the Neochimp PO replied.

  @^@

  Newly-promoted Childress supporters arrived in a series of sublight liners to take control of the fleet and star system. By week twelve of the crisis, the rebels had processing down cold.

  The passengers were immediately screened by the rebels before they even left the ship. Admiral Sharp Reflexes and his staff turned the tables on them, refusing to accept them since they were not promoted properly. But, instead of sending them home packing, he put them in make-work sections to keep them and their information out of Childress's hands. Any who was not for Childress were welcomed after being vetted by NCIS.

  Some of the civilians were veterans. Dozens were former military personnel who had resigned or retired when Childress had first taken control. A few were personnel who had resigned after Admiral Irons’ orders. Many immediately volunteered and requested to be reinstated. They too were carefully screened.

  Some of the civilian passengers were nothing of the sort. One of them managed to bring orders to a marine recruiter a day after landing in New Baltimore. The orders were from Admiral Draken for all Marines and MPs to arrest the senior officers for mutiny.

  General Yetmister had other ideas. Unbeknownst to ONI and Admiral Draken, the marine brigadier had given the Marines standing orders to disregard the orders from Bek's Admiralty until further notice. They were to arrest anyone who issued them those orders, which the young sergeant promptly did.

  The ONI agent tried to bluster his way out of the arrest but was stunned to keep him from doing anything stupid and then handed over to the shore patrol and local NCIS agents for processing.

  @^@

  Alice rubbed sweat from her brow tiredly with the back of her arm but only managed to get more of it smeared in her eyes. She blinked rapidly and angrily as she tried to get the stinging salt out of her eyes. If she'd known that it was going to be a case of biting off more than she could chew …

  Hell, she'd known, she reminded herself. She'd known all along, but she'd still taken the plunge.

  And I would again, she thought.

  She checked the triangular scrape-bruise under her left arm and then grimaced at it. Her implants and body's natural healing processes were dealing with it, but it still bugged her. Just like the 101 other bruises, cuts, nicks, and burns.

  She had thought Admiral Sharp Reflexes would let her start off easy. So much for easy.
Third Fleet had three squadrons of capital ships, forty-five carriers, six squadrons of cruisers, seventeen squadrons of destroyers, and an assortment of lesser warships and support vessels assigned to it. They had one mobile drydock; it was still lumbering across the solar system to the repair yard to help keep those ships functional.

  Not all of those ships were in their current wall of battle of course. Some had been down for repairs, and a couple squadrons had been sent back to Bek for refit, retirement, or to be mothballed. There was no telling what had happened to them or their crews.

  Most of the remaining tin cans were out on perimeter watch. Half of the cruisers were also arrayed with them. The other half were lined up around the repair yard or covering the carrier groups.

  “Commander, we've got confirmation of another carrier group. They'll be on their way in shortly.”

  “You've got to be fracking …,” she stopped herself and sighed. “Okay,” she acknowledged.

  “And, we need you back at the replicators. They've almost run through the sets you programmed.”

  “Roger that,” she said tiredly as she stretched. She checked the time and realized it was indeed nearly time to clear the replicators. She had them making electronic parts that the local industrial complexes couldn't handle.

  She'd finally convinced Commodore Brunswick to allow the machine shops to help out with their refit endeavor. Not that you could get a lot out of an on-board machine shop, especially one in a tin can but every little bit helped.

  They'd had some teething issues with the software, but once she'd clued the coders in with the tutorials, they'd taken over the debugging from there. She was heartily glad that part was behind her.

  She nodded in passing to a few of the techs as she made her way through the section to the replicators. Once she was there, she pulled the parts that had been completed, tagged them into the inventory system by their barcodes, and then set up the next set in the schedule.

  “Any way we can squeeze this down? Make them run faster?” a familiar voice growled from the doorway.

  “No, sir,” she replied as she turned around. “Not with what we've got here. I already stripped off the casing and other bits that the locals can make.”

  “What about the chips?” the commodore said as he came in the room. She opened her mouth to protest as he picked up a board but stopped herself as she realized he was delicately holding it in his long claws. “Ah, not much there,” he murmured, “hell, to diagnose let alone repair in the field.

  “They are molecular circuits. It's all plug and play. You can't really do much to repair them without a replicator.”

  “Oh. Okay,” the commodore said as he set the board back down.

  “This lot is for upgrades to the sensors. I should have enough for a cruiser tomorrow,” she said.

  “Yes, but if you are going to open a cruiser's sensors up, you might as well do it all in one go. There is no sense doing the work twice,” the commodore reminded her.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, bobbing a nod his way. She practically swayed with fatigue.

  He eyed her, noting her scent of sweat. “Is the workload too much for you, Commander?”

  “I'm dealing with it, sir.”

  “I'm serious. You've impressed the hell out of everyone around you, Commander. But if you go full tilt like this, eventually you'll go mad or burn out or worse, cause an accident because you missed something.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “When was the last time you ate? Slept?”

  She frowned and searched her memory but then shrugged. “I think I had an energy bar a while back.”

  “Okay, first, go eat. People are going to think I've gone beyond my usual slave driver reputation if you drop. Then rest.” He held up a hand paw to forestall her objection. “These things will keep for how long?”

  “Four hours each, sir. About what you said earlier, I just remembered. If we get better quality raw material, it'll speed up the process. And if we have subassemblies, we can speed it up that way.”

  “Good to know, but I'll put someone else on that. You,” he reached out and poked her gently with the tip of his right index claw. “Go eat and rest. That's an order.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her stomach growled right on cue.

  He chuffed in amusement. “I think your stomach is making a pass at me, Commander, or you really do need to feed it.”

  “I'll feed it,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air in surrender.

  “Good, because you really aren't my type,” he said as he motioned her out. She blinked, then shook her head as a tired smile threatened to split her face.

  As she got out into the corridor though, two lieutenants and a commander were there waiting to pounce. She put her hands up again. “I'm off duty, folks. Commodore's orders.”

  “Yes, yes, it is,” the bear growled from inside the room. He poked his head out. “Whatever it is, it can wait,” he growled.

  That sent the officers packing. Alice chuckled and then headed off to the mess.

  @^@

  Admiral Sharp Eyes passed on a simple ROE. His Rules of Engagement stated that they were only to fire if fired upon or if their vessels were under immediate threat.

  They were under strict orders to not push a situation if at all possible. Many had friends and sometimes family on the ships on the other side.

  There were a few problem children for the senior staff to iron out. There were some tense standoffs in some areas like the bases. But slowly, they began to consolidate and expand. Holes in their chain of command from resignations were filled in by temporary promotions.

  “How long is this going to last?” Commodore Perot asked when he noted a standoff was still ongoing at the Delta armory and magazine.

  “If they are talking, they aren't shooting. Count your blessings,” Commodore Yashido replied.

  “Eventually someone will. Give it time.”

  “I'm actually hoping that with time cooler heads will prevail,” Admiral Sharp Reflexes stated.

  “I think it could be that way, or people will get impatient, angry, and decide someone needs to act. To be honest, at this point it could go either way.”

  “The good news is, with the bases they aren't going anywhere.”

  “What about the ships? Not everyone is on board with us, right?”

  “Some might be playing lip service to us for the time being. We'll root them out eventually, or they'll come over to our side. We'll have to wait and see,” the T'clock admiral stated. “Now, Governor Nibs has requested my presence for a face-to-face meeting. Before I go, what do I need to know and what should be conveyed to her? What do we need from her? And where do we stand?” he asked.

  “Well, we deeply appreciate her support for one. And she's been passing on intel and even arresting ONI suspects on her own initiative,” Captain Houser began. “I think we can all appreciate that. And she's doing a good job keeping a cap on the media. Beyond that …”

  @^@

  “Thank you for seeing me Admiral,” Governor Nibs said as the T'clock admiral scuttled into the room. “I'm still trying to rally support.”

  “I know, ma'am. I appreciate that and the money you have found for us so far. It has helped a lot.”

  She indicated he should take a seat. He sat on a saddle and cocked his head at her as she came around from behind her desk and took a seat across from him. “So, you are still getting a handle on personnel. What about the tech side?”

  He explained about Commander Wallengrad and her replicators. It was the Neocat's turn to cock her head and listen inquisitively.

  “Unfortunately, it's not as simple as we'd hoped. They are food replicators, not industrial replicators, so their uses are limited. She is doing what she can with the small size, her database, and keys. Fortunately, there are emergency provisions in her implants she can draw on. However, she can't replicate major components.”

  “I see.” The cat frowned thoughtfully. “What do you intend to
do to rectify the situation?”

  “Rectify the situation, ma'am?”

  “How are you going to get your hands on an industrial replicator, a raid?” she asked carefully.

  “Don't be absurd. We'd never get in and out, ma'am,” he buzzed.

  “Okay, so …?”

  “Right now, our only hope is for Commander Thistle to sneak them out if he hasn't already. Considering we've got another week or so of shipping coming in before the ships dry up, I am not sure. Commander Thistle stated the industrial replicators were nearly impossible to gain access to since they were in a high security lockup.”

  “Ah. So, that's out?”

  “Pretty much. We can't expand our industrial capacity to meet the needs of the fleet. I was a bit, call it optimistic, about how much and how fast Commander Wallengrad's changes to engineering could affect the fleet. We have a lot of ships.”

  “I know. So, I've got industrialists asking to help. What can they do? Can she send them the plans?”

  “Unfortunately, there is some red tape there but some parts yes. We'll need to implement our own quality control to make sure everything is up to standard.”

  “Are you sure that is necessary? Don't you think they'll want to get it right?”

  “Normally, yes. But if even one part is out of spec, it could cause a problem or an accident. We've seen enough of those over the years.”

  The governor grimaced. “Agreed.” She looked away with a sigh when the admiral didn't venture much more. “We've got our hands full keeping a lid on things, but I've got a lot of veterans asking about what we're going to do. And there is a growing movement to split out of the Republic all together.”

  “That's been going on for decades as I understand it,” the admiral replied in a neutral tone of voice.

  “I know. The consensus is that eventually Childress will go down. His backers might go down with him in the process, but it won't be pretty or quick.