Well-Traveled Rhodes (Kinsella Universe Book 6)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  “I could go on and on about our XO, but I'm sure you'll all have plenty of time to do that. Now, go aboard and she'll have a few words for you.” The master chief laughed. “I did say that the pax module comes tomorrow, right? Tonight you will bunk in the sick bay -- unless you'd like to stake out a piece of the deck.”

  They followed the master chief through a series of corridors rather emptier than Tam expected. Then she realized that with a crew of a dozen, it wasn't as though the corridors were going to be jammed. She checked the ship specs and mentally whistled. Pixie had been on the large side before; now she would be huge, a bit more then three hundred meters when the final changes were complete.

  Tam realized then that the master chief had deflected the question about manning the defensive modules. The truth was plain to see on ship's Table of Organization and Equipment. One officer to work the blues, another to fire missiles in each module. She swallowed. The only way to do that was to fire on automatic... that wasn't supposed to be a good idea.

  The XO was part and parcel of everything else that had been strange so far. Tam had been older the first time she'd gone to a prom on Ganymede. Gany didn't run to many such: every other year before the war and none at all since. Of all of the officers and NCOs she'd seen so far, the XO had the fewest medals -- just one, but a blue and white speckled ribbon from which hung the same black star as you'd see on a battle medal.

  Pixie whispered in her ear. “Lieutenant Rhodes was present for the Big Battle.” Tam didn't know what to think; she'd been a little surprised at the master chief's characterization of the XO's service as “adequate.” That wasn't much of a plus for any in Fleet Aloft.

  The XO looked them over and smiled thinly. “Yep, you got it in one! Today is my sixteenth birthday. Be sure to have presents for me at the bridge party to celebrate it about 2300 hours tonight. Before then, lucky me, lucky Lieutenant Farmer, we get to dine with Admiral Gull and Captain Drake.”

  Tam flinched. Dinner with the admiral? Why hadn't she heard? Pixie's voice came again. “You had other plans, maybe?”

  Tam almost jumped. She'd never heard an AI offer a joke before. It was unnerving.

  “Lieutenant, you were a late addition. Even Ensign Roeser doesn't know he's been bumped yet.”

  “Sorry,” Tam said, more disconcerted than ever. Clearly, the computer could read her mind. It was one thing to have it explained. To have it demonstrated...

  In the meantime the XO was continuing on. “You are weapons officers. You will just be serving more weapons than you had imagined. Of course, if you're needed Pixie is going to have failed at one of our most important mission objectives: escape unnoticed. It turns out that is almost certainly impossible. Have you heard that we can detect ships on High Fan?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tam led the chorus.

  “Think about it. If we can detect them, what do you think they'll be able to do with us?”

  Tam blinked. Oh! Oh no!

  “So, we've opted for a little more defense. We're not supposed to use them, but oddly, not a senior officer has blinked at the likelihood we might need them.

  “I'm still working on the watch lists. There are four of you, so it should be simple -- one of you added to each watch. Except Master Chief Shinzu is our chief engineer and she's requested Lieutenant Farmer to assume that position. I'll have it worked out here shortly, but Lieutenant Farmer: congratulations, you have a unique position. You are our chief engineer except at battle stations.

  “I've asked Senior Lieutenant McVey to take a watch as a weapons officer. You are going to have to get used to the fact that Pixie doesn't have a large crew and some of us are going to have more hats than you might expect. Lieutenant McVey is in the middle of the final coordination on integration of our extra modules tomorrow, and I don't want to bump her elbow. Earlier today she was a BuShips lieutenant commander.

  “One last thing. Captain Hall will be engaging you each in sims, with you acting both as weapons officers and as pilots attacking Pixie. The captain alone will determine who is assigned which class of weapon.

  “Moving on to other subjects, our junior officer is Ensign Tin Tin Roeser. I'm told that a more common metaphor for his rank would be a reserve commander recalled to duty as an ensign. He's our navigator, sensor and comm officer.”

  The XO went on to describe the other crew members and their duties. For Tam, the small size of the crew was one of the first times in her duty in the Fleet that reminded her of home. Her parents were exobiologists at the Ganymede Research Base. Except Ganymede's surface was harsh, and the actual base was twelve kilometers beneath it, anchored at the top of Ganymede's world girding ocean. An ocean buried under a dozen kilometers of ice.

  It took three weeks or so to leave -- you got in a passage module and cast loose from the base. You moved about two kilometers away from the station, and then the fusion reactors went into overdrive and the resultant heat would melt your way to the surface. There were never more than about sixty people at a time at the base; a lot of the time it was forty or so. She'd been born there, raised there, learned to love space there... a reaction to claustrophobia, Tam's mother had joked.

  Everyone on Gany had more than one job; they had to cover more than one post. She could deal with it.

  “Senior Petty Officer Shore will see to your berths in sick bay. Explore the ship, but don't get too familiar with it,” the XO quipped. “Tomorrow it will be very different. BuShips will finish tomorrow and early the next day we'll put out for a short workup cruise.

  “We'll be going out about a light year and then Master's Game will come looking for us. The idea is for us to detect them, without them detecting us. Your weapons will be locked and will stay locked barring something extraordinary... eventually we will attempt to defend as well against a boarding attempt from Master's Game.

  “Master's Game has a devilishly clever AI. It's supposed to be able to think of everything. I'd like to think we can think rings around it. Sleep tonight with your brains engaged, trying to come up with a way to avoid being boarded and captured.”

  Later Ian was concerned. They were sitting around a table in the mess -- a combined mess, which suited Tam, but bothered Lee Jedburgh, who thought that officers were above everyone else. Guiscard Knowles was the fourth one of them from the weapons school, and he was, as usual watching everything that went on around him... with rarely a word of his own. Now Ian spoke.

  “I just don't figure it. They give you your certificates back -- but then drop you a rank.”

  “Ian you need to pay more attention,” she warned him. “Pixie's crew was handpicked by the most senior people in the Fleet. You wouldn't want to be the one to tell Admiral Nagoya that you replaced his hand-picked captain with a lieutenant from the weapons school. And Lieutenant Rhodes... “ she shuddered. “I sat for my bridge watchkeeping exam with Willow Wolf. Earlier that day they shot two people for interfering with her duty.

  “They've shot one person already for interfering with Lieutenant Rhodes' duty. Don't make a mistake -- it would reflect badly on the rest of us.”

  “I was going to say how did you know all of this, but then, it's there for the asking, isn't it?”

  “It is. Look, I don't know about the rest of you, but this is why I'm here. This is what I'm about -- going out to put paid to some of the monsters that are killing our people. There are exactly two officers in the Fleet that have killed more aliens than our captain -- and one of them died doing it. Willow Wolf and Irene Hall have the right of it -- you kill them, then live to do it again another day. And then again and again and again...”

  Her eyes glittered. “We have a busy day tomorrow. I for one want to watch what's involved with integrating those modules to our ship. Then I intend to get familiar with a real installation, as opposed to what we had in the sims.”

  “And, there's that dinner tonight,” he said with a hint of bitterness.

  “I never asked for it, and if asked, I'd have declined. I just want to do my job.
.. the aliens are enough of a distraction.”

  Chapter 11 -- Trials and Tribulations

  Cindy touched Tam Farmer's sleeve as they entered the shuttle. “You won't mind if I fly?” she asked the older woman.

  Tam chuckled. “You're senior; you get to do whatever you want.”

  “On the flight out here I got a lot of sim time, but my real hours are limited.”

  “Like I said, XO, you can do whatever you want. I've flown around ol' Jupiter for years and years. After that, you're glad of any stand-down time that comes your way.”

  Cindy settled into the left hand seat and Tam in the other. Cindy didn't hesitate, and put in the coordinates of the Master's Game, which was where the admiral was having his dinner. As soon as they were moving, Cindy turned to Tam.

  “You have engineering watchkeeping certificates?”

  “Yes, all of them. General engineering, power and propulsion.”

  “I had an idea this afternoon,” Cindy told her. “I asked Pixie, but Pixie didn't know the answer, so I thought I'd ask you.”

  “Why not the Master Chief? There's nothing she doesn't know about turbines and the like.”

  Cindy blushed. “She was... busy.”

  Tam laughed. “Oh, yeah. Busy.”

  “What would the effect be on turbines from very rapid and short fan transitions?”

  “Pixie should know that! We've a lot of data on those. The consensus is that it's harder on people than on the equipment, but no one is comfortable taking that big of a hit and assuming that the equipment isn't taking a hit as well.”

  The shuttle went to High Fan for six seconds, and dropped again. Cindy watched Tam carefully and saw the discomfort on her crewmate's face.

  “You felt the transitions?” Cindy asked softly, apologetically.

  “Of course.”

  “Only the instruments told me that we went to High Fan; I don't feel the transitions.”

  “Ah!” Tam said and sighed. “A long time ago, I stood for my bridge watchkeeping exam. I was a fresh ensign, just a few weeks out of the Academy -- and I'd graduated early from there. I was stunned to see that Admiral Fletcher was on the examining board. I mean, he's the number two in the Fleet; he's the operational commander of the war.

  “One of the other officers, a captain, had a raft of the new medals... well, they were new back then.” She shook her head.

  “I thought I did really well; in fact I scored in the upper five percent of exam takers. But I was sixth of eight taking the test. Willow Wolf and Terry Morrison got minuscule dings; three others scored in the top half percent of those who take that exam.

  “I was sure it was rigged; but back then no one had heard of Willow Wolf, Terry Morrison, Bethany Booth or David Zinder. We did after that! Captain Wolf doesn't need anything rigged in her favor!”

  “I met her, back on Earth,” Cindy offered.

  “You did? Gosh! What she's done... I dream about doing things like that.”

  “She was Captain Hall's department head on Dragon.”

  “I was jealous of someone getting all of that attention; I tell you true. I thought she was there for all the wrong reasons and I was jealous. The one and only time in my life I've ever been jealous.” She laughed. “Until just now. You don't feel transitions?”

  “No.”

  “I do,” Tam said simply.

  “Well, back to fan transitions. I know about fast transitions, but I'm talking about really fast transitions. One or two milliseconds apart.”

  Tam turned and stared. “It would be like getting hit with a truck for most of us. Willow Wolf is like you; she stood up under an incredible number of fan transitions at Epsilon Eridani... but even so they were frequently minutes apart. But half of her crew spent the trip back to Earth in sick bay.”

  “Millisecond transitions,” Cindy reminded her.

  “I have no idea. I mean, if we're taking a pounding, it's hard to imagine the machinery isn't. Still, I've never heard of a fan transition repeated too soon causing a malf. Lord knows, though, there are enough malfs on normal transitions. It stands to reason.”

  “At dinner, I'm going to ask the admiral if he knows of anyone else who isn't affected... I don't want to ask Captain Drake, because we're going to be in sims with her and her ship in a few days...”

  Tam was aghast. “You can't talk to the admiral about something like that! It's something that has to come from Captain Hall.”

  Cindy made a face. “She was busy this afternoon as well.”

  Tam grimaced. “There's a lot of that going on. Seriously, XO, you have to tell the captain first. Maybe if she gave you permission to ask, it would be okay, but otherwise...”

  Cindy watched on the monitors as they made a clean dock with Master's Game. “You and most of the others spent your lives preparing for duty with the Fleet. I've been a screw-up since the start.”

  “XO, you're here because you are bright, smart, adaptable and driven... just you weren't aware of it like we were. Pixie played the recording of you talking to the gunny about our original mission profile for me. I'd heard what the profile was; I was comfortable with it. I guess Captain Drake and Admiral Gull figured it out what was wrong about it as well, but the rest of us were clueless. Right there, that puts you in a class nearly by yourself.

  “From the beginning of the war we've found things that everyone overlooked because they 'knew' the answers. You're one of those who can find out those things we've missed, XO. It's even a more valuable skill than dealing well with fan transitions.”

  “But, you don't know what the effect will be on the fans?”

  “No, I don't.”

  “Would I be stepping on someone's toes if I ask Master's Game?”

  “No, although the AI might report the conversation to Captain Drake.”

  Inside, they were met at the docking bay and led quickly through the ship.

  The dinner was wonderful, and Cindy was stunned to find out that the crew of the Master's Game included an orchestra. Captain Drake assured her that the concert had been scheduled ahead of time, and that it was on the same night as her birthday was a coincidence.

  Still, it was a good concert and Cindy was feeling replete and content when the musicians took their final bows.

  After the concert though, things went off the tracks. A few minutes afterwards she and Tam Farmer were in Colinda Drake's quarters. To her surprise she was handed one fine crystal goblet of bubbling champagne. “A toast to you, Lieutenant Rhodes,” Admiral Gull told her.

  “I'm flying, sir,” she told him politely. “Also, I do believe I'm a little young for bubbly.”

  “Nonsense. I believe the captain of Pixie authorized her XO to decide questions like that. Besides, you only get one glass -- that's expensive champagne. Even Captain Drake only gets one glass.”

  “And it's not like you're going back to your shuttle intending to disengage the computer, light it up manually and fly by the seat of your britches back to Pixie,” Captain Drake added.

  Cindy sipped; it wasn't bad at all, and she thanked the admiral for it.

  “You're wondering why you're here, Lieutenant,” the admiral told her bluntly. “You both are wondering.

  “You, Lieutenant Rhodes don't think you're worthy -- I'll grant you most of those in BuPers would agree. I could give you a list as long as your arm of other officers they didn't think were worthy, either. Forget it.

  “This is pure and unashamed self interest on the part of Captain Drake and myself.

  “You will be given your choice of assignment when you complete this one. I want to put in a plug for serving out here, under me. I don't know what they'll do for you back on Earth, but here, particularly if you have your bridge certificate, I can guarantee you your own ship... either a Pixie or Fargo class -- and a bump to lieutenant commander.”

  “I was told I should go to the Fleet Academy first, if possible,” Cindy told him.

  “That wouldn't be a bad choice,” he agreed. “But I can guara
ntee you that you will learn at least as much, and certainly more, aboard your own command than you would ever learn at the Academy.”

  He steepled his fingers. “Lieutenant, I've been studying you, and, for that matter, other young people in similar situations. We've made a fetish in the Fleet of massive over-preparation of our officers. It's all well and good if you're interested in that sort of thing, but I really don't see that it's all that necessary that you be able to build a starship from scratch... or compute a minimum time orbit from Point A to Point B.

  “I could go on and on about this, but you are living proof that a good grounding in general knowledge suffices to get you started. Yes, there's a lot of work to come up to speed in all of the necessary disciplines, but the amount of the nitty gritty detail you will actually use in your duties -- it's nothing like what we teach.

  “It strikes me then, that our professional education is inefficient. You, Lieutenant, will demonstrate that there are better ways to do it. You won't disappoint me, will you?”

  “No, sir. I don't know enough, right now, to know what I want to do after our deployment.”

  To her surprise he gave her a thumbs up. “And that is as it should be, Lieutenant! As I said before, all I'm doing is raising the flag, showing you what is possible. Now, in the spirit of fairness, even if I didn't give her the first shot, I'll let Captain Drake ply you with opportunities.”

  Colinda Drake smiled at Cindy. “Pretty heady stuff, flattering and all of that. It would be easy to let your head get turned by all of that.

  “Yet, I find that during the concert earlier you were talking to Master's Game about some technical questions. To my surprise, my computer tells me that the topic was 'training related' and thus I was not allowed access to the contents of the conversation beyond the fact that you held it with my computer and that it was training related. The Fleet is, as Admiral Gull mentioned, paranoid about training... unless you have a need to know what it consists of, you'll never learn it.