Well-Traveled Rhodes (Kinsella Universe Book 6)

by Gina Marie Wylie

  Suddenly her eyes widened. “What have you done to that ship?”

  “Minor modifications. They took a day,” the admiral said with a grin.

  “There are two commanders on the crew? One serving as an ensign?” she exclaimed.

  “I thought it was a rather good idea when I heard what Commander Roeser had offered. When Commander McVae requested the same thing, it seemed to be reasonable to accept her offer.”

  “The technical term for this sort of thing,” the commodore said with heat, “is playing with 'ringers.'”

  Cindy knew she should keep her mouth shut. “You and me, Commodore. I understand they can do sims on machines here at the base. You and me. One to one.”

  The commodore's flag captain leaned close once more. Admiral Gull was quicker. “Captain Malley, you have my highest regard. If you have something to contribute, contribute it to everyone.”

  “Sir, with respect, sims aren't Commodore Heisenberg's strongest suit.”

  “If I can't beat a fifteen year old, I should turn in my star,” the commodore said angrily.

  “Commodore, I'll give you leave to withdraw your statement, or the sim will be for different stakes than boots and tutus. It'll be for your star,” Admiral Gull told her. “Besides, Lieutenant Rhodes is sixteen.” He counted on his fingers. “Four days now.”

  “My squadron against Pixie,” the commodore said with venom.

  “Irina, for heaven's sake,” Admiral Gull. “I won't be able to ignore this. Chill. Relax, rest a day or so. Let this be an officer's bet of a dollar.”

  “No. If I can't beat Rhodes, then I don't deserve my rank,” the commodore pontificated.

  Admiral Gull eyes had narrowed. “You were about to say something Captain Malley. But changed your mind.”

  “It's personal, sir.”

  “Illuminate me.”

  “It's personal, sir.”

  “Once again, Captain. You thought about sharing it with commodore. What?”

  “A personal observation. I realized it would make things worse, not better, so I decided it should be unsaid.”

  “Ken, what is it?” the commodore asked.

  “Commodore, it is my evaluation that Lieutenant Rhodes could have beaten your sister -- at the very least, she could have given her a better fight than you would.”

  “And you base that on what? Her age, her experience?” the commodore sneered.

  “No, Commodore. Captain Hall was tasked with developing sims for Dragon. She beat Sophie every time. She has never beaten Lieutenant Rhodes.”

  The commodore tugged at the star on her shipsuit collar; it came off and she placed it on the conference table. She pulled a Federation dollar from her shipsuit and set it next to the star.

  “I started working towards that star when I was six. I knew Sophie was better, but she saw stars in a different way than I did.

  “Now, I have my heart's desire. The question in my mind is whether or not I should risk the dreams of my lifetime for something not germane. I'm tempted, I tell you true; I'm tempted. But I'm not stupid, either.

  She pushed the dollar out towards Cindy. “If you can't cover that, Admiral Gull will spot you some gelt.”

  Cindy grimaced. “I do believe I can match a dollar, Commodore.”

  Admiral Gull looked unhappy. “We'd be a lot better off briefing on the tactics that have been developed. But maybe this will drive a particular point home.

  “Irina, you are dangerously close to where I relieve you. The first and most important thing an officer has to know is themselves. You have to know and understand your own limitations so that you can take them into adequate account.

  “I, for one, am a total mess at logistics. I have some of the finest logistics planners in the Fleet on my staff so I don't mess up. I make sure my weaknesses are covered. You... you seem to revel in them, letting your personal opinions and emotions cloud your professional judgment. If command is your heart's greatest desire, right now you stand on the brink of failing utterly.

  “You need to get a grip, and stop being an ass.”

  “Since we're speaking candidly, Admiral,” Captain Malley interjected, “I think it would be best for all if we let this play out.”

  Commodore Heisenberg turned to Captain Drake. “And I can have Master's Game for the exercise? You'll let Malley and me have control of your ship?”

  Ken Malley spoke up. “It would be better if we brought the whole staff.”

  “You think I'm going to fail! You want everyone to see!”

  “I think training lessons, where applicable, should be applied as broadly as possible,” he replied levelly.

  “Let's stop screwing around,” the admiral intervened. “Captain Hall, you and your XO shall repair forthwith aboard your ship. You will exit the system along your original approach vector. When you reach three and a half light months, you will reorient and prepare to reenter the system. The exercise will commence when Tiber appears again on your screens.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral,” Pixie's captain responded.

  “You may do what you did before -- or something else. Whatever you think best, in order to safely approach the system.”

  “It's a pity that we can't do IFF on High Fan,” Captain Hall said.

  Cindy had been seething. She remembered the actuality of the IFF -- a simple series of letters and numbers, broadcast to positively identify a ship.

  “Piece of cake,” Cindy said, her voice harsh. “We can detect a cockroach tap-dancing on a fan. Small changes in the fan output could be used as the equivalent of the code used in IFF transponders.”

  There was a sudden silence in the compartment. Cindy looked at the frozen faces of the other officers. Master's Game broke the silence. “I watched. Five seconds? More like three. One to recognize the problem, one to formulate a response and one more to put it in a form to be articulated. Lieutenant Rhodes, I am going to be analyzing those three seconds for days! I want to be able to do that!”

  “See that the concept is passed at once to BuResearch and my sensor chief and Captain Drake's,” Admiral Gull said instantly.

  He turned to Commodore Heisenberg. “I will take no pleasure in this, no matter how things turn out. If Pixie loses they'll redouble their efforts to improve. I hope the reverse is true.

  “We all have things to do. Captain Drake, get Tiber underway ASAP. They aren't to be told of the IFF idea.”

  He turned to Captain Hall. “You may assume any vessel you detect without IFF is an alien. Get going!”

  Captain Hall bounded to her feet, with Cindy just a fraction of a second behind her. As they wound their way through Master's Game, the captain told Cindy, “I've ordered General Quarters; they'll be ready by the time we're there.”

  “Tell them to undock; they can pick us up on the fly,” Cindy told her.

  Captain Hall sat down in the command seat and turned to Cindy. “I know she got your goat; you have to realize that that is going to happen for years and years, no matter what you do. Maybe, in spite of what you do. If you let people like the commodore get to you, you'll be the worse for it.”

  “I suppose, Captain. I can't help feeling like I want to rub her nose in things. Unpleasant things.”

  “And that's probably the worst motivation. What you want to do is the best you can -- the best any of us can. Pixie is a team, Cindy. Don't ever forget it.”

  “Sorry,” Cindy said contritely. “There are times that I think I can't possibly learn what I have to learn. To have the calm wisdom of the admiral or Captain Drake -- I dream of it. Then I meet someone like the commodore or those other Port officers and contemplate what a terrible job those who educated me did. Rim Runners don't have a lock on wisdom, not by any means. But it seems to come easier to them.”

  “Admiral Gull is from the old US of A, not the Rim.”

  “Like I said, Rim Runners don't have a lock on wisdom; it just seems to come easier to more of them.”

  “Space is a hard taskmistress. You can on
ly go so far and still be an idiot. Then space kills you. Remember those numbers we talked of before? A tenth of the best of you dirty-feet die in learning the skills you need to survive out here.”

  They were silent the rest of the way back to Pixie, each contemplating what they had to do.

  “Captain?” Chief Shinzu asked, as they came off the shuttle.

  “Master Chief, secure the shuttle and then report to the bridge for a briefing.”

  “What's up?”

  “Once, I just want to explain it once. A bet.”

  “Oh wonderful! A bet! It'll be three minutes and I'll be there.”

  Cindy and the captain hurried forward.

  When they reached the bridge, everyone except Chief Shinzu was present. Captain Hall was blunt. “Lieutenant McVey; it is my understanding that Pixie can display any crew member's combat position from the bridge.”

  “Of course, Captain. You could fight a battle from your bunk if you were so inclined. Pixie adapts the nearest wall screen as needed. One spot is functionally identical to another. However,” she added, “traditionally combat positions are grouped by function, so they can be properly supervised.

  “We don't have enough positions on the bridge -- but we do have space for them, do we not?”

  “Yes, Captain. You want combat positions for everyone on the bridge?”

  “Yes. Pixie isn't like the big dogs -- we can fit everyone on the bridge. Let's make that happen. Group the positions by function, so they can be as well supervised if they were remote, but everyone here.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “As for now...” she paused as Chief Shinzu arrived.

  “Our XO has struck again. I lamented that it was too bad that we didn't have IFF on High Fan. Three seconds, is what I'm told, that it took Lieutenant Rhodes to come up with an answer. We'll let the Porties worry about it for now. In the meantime, we're going to rerun our approach to Adobe.”

  “Ah,” Tin Tin said. “That explains why a few seconds ago the ship that we followed into the system departed from near where we last saw it and then at a rather high percentage of max power.”

  “They're designed for it,” Captain Hall said absently.

  “We will once again see what we can do to sneak in.”

  “They already know what we're going to do,” Tam Farmer complained.

  “Well... no,” Cindy said. “This time it's us against the commodore.”

  Pixie spoke just then. “The commodore has decided to change the bet. She is going out in her own flagship -- the Breitenfeld -- she turned down the admiral's offer for her to command from Master's Game.”

  “XO, any ideas on how we can improve on the first time?”

  “Admiral Gull gave it away; he said to treat any ship without IFF as an alien. The ship we'll be shadowing isn't going to have IFF. As soon as they drop from High Fan -- this time we'll fire one of our Blue homing missiles at them. We'll fire another that will drop from High Fan at the same spot we will. It'll trace our path into the debris belt... only it will be faster. If someone is waiting for us, it'll see them.”

  “And the new method for fast fan transitions?”

  “It is my understanding that the aliens likely have observers in the system. In my opinion then, I don't think we should. A High Fan homing missile will force the ship we're following to flee. Ditto, anyone waiting for us.”

  Cindy looked around. “Admiral Gull didn't explicitly state it to us, but I'm sure he has to Commodore Heisenberg. This exercise is the opposite of the first one. Then we couldn't be sure what we were seeing, and we acted with caution. This time, we've been told that without IFF, a ship is hostile. No ship will have IFF yet, so clearly we're being told that the system will hold hostile vessels.”

  “Pixie, prepare to go to High Fan, give us a vector that intersects our approach vector. Stop, reorient and prepare to resume High Fan towards the Adobe system, according to our original vector.”

  “There's something you're not telling us,” Tin Tin said bluntly.

  “Commodore Heisenberg wasn't fond of Ensign Rhodes. She's less fond of Senior Lieutenant Rhodes,” Captain Hall told them. “I'm not going to get into the personalities, but even though Admiral Gull and Commodore Heisenberg have some personal history that appears to have been satisfactory, he's not happy with her current attitude.”

  “She's bet me a dollar she can beat us,” Cindy explained.

  “She did what?” the master chief and Tin Tin Roeser said at the same time.

  Tin Tin looked at the captain. “Oh my!”

  “Yes,” Captain Hall told him. “It couldn't be worse.”

  “Oh my!” he repeated.

  “Surely someone told her where Lieutenant Rhodes ranks in sims?” Chief Shinzu asked.

  “I have no idea,” Captain Hall replied, “I have to assume so. Her flag captain cautioned her verbally.”

  “Verbally?” Tin Tin said, and leaned back. “Oh my, oh my!”

  “I have a rank in sims?” Cindy asked.

  Captain Hall nodded at Tin Tin.

  “Cindy, Rim Runners compete. It's who we are. We bet; we try to get better scores sooner than anyone else. Scores are a proxy for competence; betting is to work out ties.”

  “Okay,” Cindy said. “I understand that. I understand that this was more than a simple bet. But I have a sim score?”

  Chief Shinzu laughed. “The captain and Tin Tin have been trying to run it up. Shamelessly, I must say. You have to understand that no one would dream of throwing a sim?”

  “No one sane,” Tin Tin added darkly.

  “I'm lost,” Cindy said. “I understood that sims were what people did to practice. There is a competition?”

  “There is always a competition,” Tam said. Then she blinked. “Oh my!”

  It had to be her score. Pixie supplied it. “You are number 257, Lieutenant Rhodes.”

  “Is that good?”

  “There are currently nearly two million people in the sim pool. It is stellar.”

  “And the commodore?”

  “She is in the top ten percent. As good as that is, you just barely miss being in the top ten thousandth of a percent.”

  “I lose regularly!” Cindy exclaimed.

  “Lieutenant, some sims are designed so that no matter what, you lose. The score you take away from such exercises is how much and what you do, no matter what, to avoid the final result.”

  “And I walk on water or something?”

  “No, Lieutenant, you are simply difficult to beat. It can be done,” Pixie told her. “If I was eligible I'd be in the top one percent; Master's Game would be in the top thousandth of a percent.”

  “Master's Game won once.”

  “Yes. It applied brute force to the problem and guessed your approach. Before we went to High Fan Master's Game was trying to get Admiral Gull to take a thousand to one odds that Commodore Heisenberg would win. He refused, saying it was no bet.”

  Cindy looked around. From experience she could tell from her crew mates faces that they indeed were on High Fan.

  It went like clock-work. Tiber went to High Fan and they set off trailing her. As before Tiber approached the same gas giant and went off fans.

  Pixie fired one of their special homing missiles at the ship.

  A few minutes later the Tiber went to High Fan again, and Pixie fired a second missile, this one down their own course.

  Tam was following the first missile. “I wonder what's going through that captain's head just now?” she mused. “In theory, the missile should have dropped from High Fan, reoriented and come on a new intercept course.”

  Pixie sounded a little smug. “This is my programming! The usual plan to avoid such a missile is to reorient to drop close to a gas giant, and let the missile fall into the gravity well because it can't think fast enough to avoid the trap.

  “Instead, the missile is going to continue nine tenths of the way, where it will reorient as before, but now it will be nearly between t
he ship and the gas giant.”

  “There are other gas giants,” Tam pointed out.

  “But none along the current vector,” Pixie reported. “They will have to reorient. If they try to return, the missile will have an easy time with the course change. Another gas giant -- well, none of them are in favorable positions. The missile will be able to duplicate the maneuver for them as well. It is my belief that they will have to flee the field at high speed.”

  Tam was confident. “The delayed course changes are rattling that captain. He's pretty good, but the missile is clearly out-thinking him -- and he knows it. Pixie is right. He either bugs out or is toast. On High Fan, in any case, he won't be in position to report on us.”

  “Any other ships detected?” Captain Hall asked later.

  “None, Captain,” Tin Tin told her.

  “And the missile went clear through the debris belt without any detections?”

  “That's correct. If a cruiser had been where Master's Game was, even off fans, it would have been detected.”

  “Unless they are hard docked on a rock,” Captain Hall pointed out.

  Tin Tin turned to Captain Hall. “Are we willing to play hard ball?”

  “I'm not sure what you mean,” the captain replied.

  “First, we drop another missile along our original path as we resume being rational, leave it inactive for now. Then we reorient the active missile towards Adobe, and then have it go to High Fan.”

  “They'll just knock it down,” the captain pointed out.

  “If aliens have captured the system, would that hold?” Tin Tin said reasonably.

  “I have no idea. They'd have had to expend a lot of ordinance to get all of the missile rocks. If they captured the planet instead of destroying it, a threat might make them give away their positions,” Tin Tin told her.

  “I don't see any downside, Captain,” Cindy told her.

  “Lieutenant Farmer, reorient the active missile at Adobe, and send it off on High Fan.”

  “Captain, lets go off High Fan first even if we're a little early,” Cindy proposed.

  “That's a good idea! They'll be able to see us on their gravity wave sensors, but we'll be able to coast at not quite three G's to our final spot.”