“You can stand there and look me in the eye and tell me that you’re old enough to make a decision like that?”
Cindy smiled thinly. “I felt entitled to stick my oar in about the conduct of the war. I felt I knew more about that sort of decision than people three and four and even five times older than I am. I made that decision and now I’m living with the consequences.”
“You are young and made an error of judgment. That shouldn’t be a death sentence.”
“Lots of things shouldn’t be. A man I barely knew, did a truly heroic thing -- and died with my name on his lips. A woman I understood not a bit tried to take me under her wing and make something of me. She’s been mortally wounded and will likely die in a few days.
“I sat in front of a compartment with nineteen pilots looking back at me, some thirty-six hours ago. They’re all dead now. A third of Lieutenant Hall’s fellow crew members were killed aboard her ship. Rome’s sister ship, and seventeen thousand men and women of the Fleet, died yesterday. Hundreds of other ships and nearly six thousand fighters were destroyed.”
“Evidently you did your duty,” he told her, his face pale.
“You think I did my duty? I sat at a computer terminal and spent most of the day crying. I was of no value to anyone, least of all myself. Now they’re giving me a chance to actually do something real. Please don’t interfere.”
Lieutenant Hall spoke up. “Sir, I’m Ensign Rhodes' commanding officer. At my liberty, I have authorized your access to your daughter’s unclassified Fleet records. I suggest you review them at the earliest possible time.”
“You’re wired?” her father asked the lieutenant. Cindy had no idea what that meant, until she remembered hearing that Rome was a fully wired ship. There had been no explanation and she’d thought it just referred to microphones everywhere. That’s what she’d taken away from what Ensign Moon had told her as well.
Lieutenant Hall stared blandly at him with no expression on her face, as if she’d heard nothing.
Someone else came walking into the room and with a start, Cindy recognized the woman who’d been Commander Shapiro’s crew chief.
Master Chief Shinzu walked up to her and saluted. “Ensign, a short while ago, I learned that Commander Shapiro has been mortally wounded and isn’t expected to survive.”
“Commodore Heisenberg told me about that a few minutes ago,” Cindy told the master chief.
The other woman nodded. “I just -- I knew you’d want to know. I had to be sure.”
“I did want to know, Master Chief, and I appreciate this anyway.”
“She’s the eleventh pilot I’ve lost, Ensign. I’ve decided I have to do something else.” Chief Shinzu pointed at Cindy’s new ship pin.
Instead of speaking to Cindy, she turned to Lieutenant Hall.
“Once upon a time, Lieutenant, about two months ago, just after Rome returned from our second deployment, I was detached to work on that particular project, since, like today, there wasn’t much use for a maintenance chief aboard Rome for the next few weeks. I’d dearly like to think I might be of use.”
Lieutenant Hall shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure how crew selection will work, Master Chief. I’ll put in a word for you, if you like.”
“I would appreciate that very much, Lieutenant. Are you returning to Grissom?” When Lieutenant Hall nodded, Shinzu added, “Could I bum a ride?”
“Of course. We’re leaving as soon as Ensign Rhodes is done here.”
“I am done here,” Cindy told her.
“Don’t you care that your mother has had a nervous breakdown and is currently hospitalized?” her father told her.
“Is the breakdown because I might get killed or because her grandiose schemes about my future are on hold?” Cindy asked acidly.
“She’s your mother!”
“Well, tell her I wish her well. I wish you well, also. We need to get to the shuttle port, Dad, so we can lift to Grissom.”
“Aye, the window lasts only another thirty-five minutes, and then it’ll be a much longer flight,” Lieutenant Hall told her. Cindy nodded to her father, then spun on her heel and headed for the door.
*** ** ***
Later, as they were en route to Grissom Station, Cindy was in the right hand seat, while Lieutenant Hall was in the left hand seat. Chief Shinzu was in the main compartment, napping.
Cindy cleared her throat. “May I ask you a question, Lieutenant?”
“Certainly,” the lieutenant responded.
“Why did all of those people stand up for me? Most of them have never met me.”
“Since the war started there has been a massive, ongoing hunt for good line officers. Admiral Nagoya had this idea that we could search among young people and find some who could be brought along much faster than others.
“Willow Wolf was sixteen when she became an ensign, although she was close to her seventeenth birthday by then. David Zinder and Bethany Booth were seventeen when they became ensigns -- there were quite a few very young officers at first.
“For the most part they were either Rim Runners or those who'd prepared for the Fleet their entire lives. But that's not what got them where they are today... those that are still alive. They did the jobs of those who would normally have to be older or had more experience. They did those jobs brilliantly or better.
“I'm one of Nagoya's 'project' officers now, myself. You understand that the Fleet has to grow enormously to fight this war?”
“Yes, I understand that.”
“Well, technicians and technical people abound. There are more than enough to meet the Fleet's needs, no matter how large we have to grow. But all those people do is support the effort. The line officers are the ones who lead -- they are the ones who go places and make things happen. And just like every other human endeavor, there are some who are head and shoulders above the others. Those people are the ones Nagoya is after, and the reason they stood up for you.”
“I've never led anything in my life.”
“I know... but you're missing the point. One thing about the great leaders -- they know each other when they see them. They saw it in you. Me? They think I might be pretty good, but like you, I've never led anyone either. I was just your average junior lieutenant, with nothing sparkling in my record. Both Captain Heisenberg and Captain Wolf took one look at me, and somehow decided that I'm in their class.”
She paused and Cindy saw a gleam in her eye. “Now, I have a question for you, Ensign Rhodes.”
“Okay,” Cindy said warily.
“You're a dirty-foot; I'm led to believe, with no academic preparation for either the Fleet or even space.”
“Yes, Lieutenant. I'm told I'm about where a six year old Rim Runner is, academically.”
Lieutenant Hall laughed. “Perhaps, perhaps not. One thing you will want to remember: dirty-feet suffer from the fact that they will never be Rim Runners. A six year old Rim Runner has a better chance of surviving a malf than you do -- they have the right instincts and you don't. So while you might be able to do long division on paper and they couldn't, they know how to check hatches for vacuum on the other side... or any of a hundred other things you've never had to deal with.
“What you have to do is learn as much as you can and never pay any attention to that 'dirty-foot' nonsense. You are who you are.”
Cindy spent the rest of the flight chewing over the notion she wasn't as capable as a six year old born in space. More than ever she was angry at her parents and her teachers.
Humanity had been in space for hundreds of years... and her knowledge of that was limited to having read the history books she'd been assigned. What was the truth? She remembered Zodiac telling her to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth... she wanted to cry again.
Instead, she lifted her chin. She was not her mother, after all. And now that she'd seen something of the real world, she shuddered at the thought of having to return to her old world.
They docked and disembarked. They went
to the BuPers office on Grissom and got berthing assignments. They were scheduled for a briefing in four hours and Lieutenant Hall made sure they all knew where to go.
The lieutenant left and Shinzu spoke up. “I'm going to see if they'll let us see Lynn. I know you didn't have much reason to like her, but she liked you. It might help her to see another familiar face.”
Cindy nodded. She still had no idea exactly how she felt about Commander Shapiro. She had seem cold, aloof and forbidding, except when she was among the old members of her squadron. She'd done things to Cindy and for Cindy that left Cindy dizzy, trying to figure out which way was up.
It turned out, they couldn't see her. “I'm sorry, Master Chief, but right now she's in therapy and you can't go in. After that, she'll be pretty wiped. Tomorrow morning, though, she should be up to company.”
“We may not be here,” Chief Shinzu told the clerk. “When you can, would you tell her we were here?”
“Of course.”
They went just outside the medical area and the Chief turned to Cindy. “Want to get something to eat?”
Cindy couldn't help laughing. “I have no idea when I ate last.”
“Come,” the master chief told her. Cindy followed the chief and in a while they were in something that looked more like an upscale restaurant. The maitre d’ glanced at Cindy and cleared his throat. “Master Chief, that's an officer.”
“She's my guest. If you believe it will cause too many twisted panties, you can put us in a private booth.”
The man nodded and a short minute later they were in a booth that was in an obscured corner. Chief Shinzu grinned at Cindy. “This is the Master Chief's open mess. The private booths are used mostly by people who wish their discrete relationships will not be made public. That is, by being here with me, you're causing a scandal. Chiefs are the worst gossips in the universe.”
There was good service and Cindy ordered a moderate-sized steak and a baked potato. The chief had crab legs.
“Thanks, Master Chief,” Cindy said after she'd had a few bites.
Chief Shinzu smiled at her. “Did Commander Shapiro tell you about her unfortunate love affair with Hannah Sawyer?”
“In some detail,” Cindy replied.
“For what it's worth, while I don't think it would have changed the outcome, I believe Lynn would have done better telling Hannah sooner, rather than waiting until she did -- if nothing else, it would probably have spared her a broken shoulder.”
Cindy shrugged. It was history now, and since she didn't understand half of the personal motivations or professional decisions she just filed things away for mulling over later.
“Did she tell you that she managed to get herself transferred within Rome to Hannah's squadron?”
“Yes, like I said, I heard the story in some detail.”
“Well, and like I said, I thought Lynn should have spoken up sooner -- and I think she should never have transferred into the squadron. That put Hannah directly in her chain of command and would have enormously complicated things.”
“That's one of the things I picked up in the briefing I had aboard Rome... you're not supposed to become romantically involved with someone in your direct chain of command -- but otherwise it's okay.”
“Do you understand that there differences between a ship like Rome with thousands of crew members and a ship like Pixie is going to be, with only a dozen?”
“I'm not sure what you mean.”
“It's there in the manual -- right at the top. 'Regulations are for the guidance of a commander.'”
“I thought you had to follow regulations?”
“That's the intent. One of the more important regulations is that Fleet officers and ships are dedicated to the defense of the Federation, the people and planets of the Federation and the general peace and tranquility.”
“I saw that, yes.”
“Do you understand the Turbine Jensen at Gandalf ignored the clear interpretation of those regulations? That he never tried to stop the attack on the planet? That instead, he fought his ships through the attack, doing a good bit of damage, but that his intentions had nothing to do with defending Gandalf?”
“I never really thought about it. I just read that he was a great hero.”
“Have you ever heard of Captain, now Admiral, William Travers?”
Cindy shook her head.
“He was Willow Wolf's first captain. He has twisted more panties in BuPers than any other serving officer of the Fleet. There is a rule, for instance, that says the youngest age a person can enlist in the Fleet is seventeen. He told them to go... well, let’s just say he was rude. He told them that Willow Wolf hadn't enlisted, he'd drafted her, and the regulations didn't say anything about how old someone has to be to be drafted.”
“So I've learned,” Cindy said dryly.
“He promoted her over and over again. By the time she'd been in the Fleet for ten weeks she had the bridge watchkeeping certificate and he made her a full commander. When Commander Wolf returned from her next deployment -- after having personally destroyed dozens of enemy ships, the sorry sons-of-bitches took away the half stripe, saying she didn't meet the time-in-grade requirements or time-in-service requirements.
“Never mind all those dead aliens. That lasted, oh, I think it was less than thirty-six hours. The Federation Council awarded her the two Federation Stars she'd already earned and had been denied, and made a point of every official document referring to her as 'Fleet Aloft Commander Wolf.' Then they issued a directive to Admiral Nagoya requiring that he issue written reprimands to any officer who had anything to do with Commander Wolf's personnel actions, and a request to transfer them to someplace unpleasant.
“Rumor has it that in that order the word 'unpleasant' had been preceded by 'exceedingly' and that latter word was underlined, circled, highlighted and with a handwritten note from the President of the Federation in the margin saying 'utterly exceedingly unpleasant.'”
“I understand the words,” Cindy told the chief. “Everything else is murky.”
“If the regulations get in the way of your mission, ignore the regulations.” She laughed. “Not, mind you, that they directly want to admit it.”
“That I can understand.”
“There is one more personal tidbit about Admiral Travers. His ship, Starfarer's Dream, was a civilian cargo ship when the war started. He was a reserve officer and he called himself back to active duty and federalized his crew. His crew included his wife, who was his executive officer.
“When he got his star, he made his wife his flag captain. Again, it's just a rumor in the Fleet, but the story is that some captain from BuPers went to Admiral Fletcher and complained to his face that Admiral Travers was violating good order and discipline by having his wife in his direct chain of command. No one will say for sure, because only that captain and Admiral Fletcher were present, but it's said Admiral Fletcher's reply was 'Admiral Travers works best with his wife under him' -- and made that captain a lieutenant.”
Cindy grinned. Now that was a double meaning she understood!
“There is one more example for you, Ensign. I was two meters away from Hannah Sawyer when she climbed down from her fighter after a really, really bad malf. She explained what she'd observed and what she thought the malf was -- not that there was any doubt. She spoke in a clear and level voice. Then she took a few steps and leaned against a structural member and for ten minutes, she shook like a leaf. At the end of that time, she straightened back up and went about her duties as if nothing had happened.”
She pointed her thumb at Cindy. “The first time I saw you, I could tell you were mystified and terrified -- and Commander Shapiro was dumping on you. Yet, you held your chin up and looked her in the eye.” She smiled slightly. “Master Chiefs have their own intelligence networks. You understand that before the party that evening, I knew as much about you as Lynn did.
“I watched you at the party. You'd never done anything like that before, so you had no idea h
ow hard it is to put someone into a fighter squadron and have them quickly accepted. Yet, you were. You can't fool those people. The pilots, some of them, had been there and done that. Almost all the techs have -- Admiral Kinney keeps bringing them back home safe. You simply can't fool people like that about what sort of a person you are.
“That lieutenant that sassed Zodiac and insulted you... she'd have been ostracized from her first moment in a fighter squadron -- right up until she was killed. You, Ensign, are ignorant. She was stupid.”
“The distinction has been made crystal clear to me,” Cindy said bitterly.
“Well, I'm going to work on that ignorance,” the chief told Cindy. “First, we're going out on a mission that will probably last three or more years. That's a very long time.”
“It is,” Cindy agreed. That was about a quarter of the time she could remember things well from.
“I have directed that a general education curriculum suitable for a Rim Runner Academy prep school be included with our mission logistical requirements. For the entire time we will be deployed I will make sure that you progress as rapidly through the material as possible.
“I was not the only one to think of this,” she went on, “there were a half dozen other requests for the same thing as well. I have also had requests that I supervise you at this -- after I'd already decided I wanted to do it.”
Cindy didn't know what to say. “Commander Shapiro told me I was totally unqualified for any job in the Fleet.”
“Heavens no!” Chief Shinzu said. “There are a dozen Occ-specs I could teach you in just a few weeks.”
“Occ-specs?”
“Occupational specialties. What Commander Shapiro meant was that you're not ready to become an officer yet. I normally wouldn't advise anyone to take three years out of their career and prepare for college, but in your case, it will do you immense good and I don't think it will hurt you at all.”
“And you think I can do it?”
The chief smiled at her. “I will focus on this and so will you. You might also find that nothing concentrates your attention -- and interest -- better than operating at a remove, a far, far remove from your fellow human beings. Not to mention the very real chance hostile space aliens will be shooting gigaton thermonuclear weapons at us.”
Well-Traveled Rhodes (Kinsella Universe Book 6) Page 11
