by Chris Hechtl
“Wowa, Doc, it'll do all that?”
“Yes. That's why you've got horse pills to swallow. You can swallow them now or later,” Tucker stated.
“And … how …?”
“Do you really want to know?” Tucker asked. He picked up a bottle of water off the floor from his stash and set it down on the desk. The lieutenant glanced at it, then the package. After a moment he broke it open, popped the pills into his mouth, and then washed them down with the water.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. You'll need directions on how to use them. That is the first step. Baby steps for you I know. The full marine package I can't do without access to a surgical suite and help.”
The marine nodded. “Okay. One step at a time then?” he asked, eyeing the doctor.
“It looks that way.”
“Thank you, Doc. We'll try not to take up too much of your time. Once you show me what I need to know, I think I can train my jarheads and so on and so forth.”
“That would help immensely,” Tucker said as his implants beeped. “I've got about ten minutes before I have to be in a meeting, then make my rounds. So, if we can send them in …”
The lieutenant nodded. “We thought a squad at a time would be good. If you are this busy, I'll tell them to make it a fire team.”
“Yes, that would make it easier,” Tucker said with a nod. “If you let me know in advance, I can be available at night when the hospital is quiet,” he offered.
“Good to know, Doc. The rest though … how …?”
“I'd need a surgical team to support me. I can handle some of the minor implants easy enough. But you always want extra hands-on to pass the equipment and keep an eye on readings and such,” he explained. “More hands make light work.”
The lieutenant nodded as he opened the door. “Gotcha. Thanks, Doc.”
“No problem. Send the next jarhead in,” Tucker replied with a smile.
“Meat! You are up,” the lieutenant said, all business as he stepped out into the hallway and jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the doc. “Keep it simple, just do what he says. Doc, pass on the explanation, I'll give them the lowdown later,” he said.
“Gotcha,” Tucker replied with a nod as a massive Neogorilla turned sideways to enter his office. The Gorilla had his arms and shoulders hunched tight to his body to fit into the room. There was no way the door could swing, let alone shut. “Okay …,” Tucker drawled as he scanned the Neogorilla and started the familiar process all over again.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Vice Admiral Ss'k'ttthhh coiled and uncoiled his tail as he considered the future. His agreement with Yeti was a bit risky but worth it according to the latest black reports he'd been given. He reached over to scratch an itchy scale and then went back to thinking about the future.
He'd gotten confirmation that the Cold Miser had gotten his hands on his personal orders the same day Colton's report had come in about the continued lack of anything treasonous from his two spies within Commodore Logan's team. With it had come a request for them to receive implants.
It had taken him a day to put the two together. When he had, he'd hatched a plan. He'd used backdoor contacts to have a chat with the general. He'd then leaned on Admiral Bolt to “loan” one of the precious medical replicators that was being hoarded and therefore not used.
Getting Ensign Jaroslaw on board had been tricky; they couldn't exactly come out and order the young human to help. They were effectively doing an end run around the implied desires of Admiral Childress, which was why the Naga had cut Admiral Hill out of the loop on the project. He wasn't certain where her loyalties ultimately were. He was certain they weren't fully with him.
Getting his spooks in and out of the hospital was simplicity itself. The marines were another matter he thought as his tail tip flicked in annoyance. That lieutenant had nearly given the game away when he'd shown up with an entire squad. That had been reckless. But, it had brought the ensign on board, and things were working out.
His mandibles twitched. Could he do the same with the other ensign? She wasn't in the same hospital, but that could be used to their advantage. And with two of them, it would effectively double their production. So far they were only issuing ID implants. That was fine with him since they also provided a WiFi link and the ability to text and receive information. His people had thoroughly checked them out. The memory was limited, but he understood that it was just temporary. The more advanced implants could be added to the basic ones … he nodded his massive head. Yes, yes, he would draw on the female. It was worth the risk.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Ilmarinen's crew were visibly nervous on the bridge as they performed the final countdown for the ship's first hyperdrive test. It was a simple affair; power up the hyperdrive to 100 percent, then hold it there as the crew took readings and checked the hardware, then power down.
Bailey and Galiet were on hand to oversee the process. Once the ship hit 100 percent, they busied themselves with the readings for awhile. “Well?” Captain Clayton demanded when the time limit was near expiration. “Are we going to jump or explode or what?”
“None of the above, sir. I'm giving her a clean bill of health,” Galiet reported over the intercom. The skipper nodded and oversaw the power down process. He was still nervous about the space around the ship all twisted and folded and didn't feel an ounce of relief until the power had been bled back into the ship's net and her hyperdrive had been stood down.
When she was all clear, he smiled. The tender had passed with flying colors. That meant they would be moving on to next step, actual insertion.
“How long until you run your calculations? Are we still on schedule?” he asked over the intercom.
“I'd say we're fine, sir,” Bailey said. “But I'm not the hyperdrive expert. Galiet is crunching the numbers now, sir. It may take a shift or two to get results.”
“I'm working on them; it looks good. I want to refine the numbers and algorithms though, see if we can refine her field a bit more before we try an insertion,” Galiet interjected.
“Very well, carry on. Keep us posted.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
~<><{<^>}><>~
“Damn, she's a sweet ship. So far we haven't seen anything major wrong with her,” Admiral Creator of Things observed.
“It's always nice to make a lemon instead of lemonade,” Horatio said dryly. “I think we're going to see the real test when she jumps though, sir, so I'll withhold my final judgment until then.”
“You have concerns, Commodore?” the T'clock asked.
Horatio cocked his head and didn't answer immediately. When he had formulated his thoughts, he started slowly. “It's not so much the ship or her software that can be concerning. We're essentially sending a green crew out. A crew who has never been in hyperspace, who have zero experience. That is … a scary thought,” he admitted.
“I see.”
“If I could, I would have stuck Bailey in and staffed her with as many people that had come with me as possible. Put V'l'r in charge of navigation for instance. But I admit, V'l'r has some experience in navigating a ship but not a lot. His real skill is in teaching it.”
“So …”
“So I think I am glad it isn't all up to me, sir. We'll see how the jump goes. Until it is over and she's back, I'll have my fingers crossed,” he said.
“I agree. I can't do that with my digits, but I too will be praying to the god of luck that they have her blessing.”
“Thank you, sir.”
~<><{<^>}><>~
Two days later Ilmarinen was ready to try it for real. The Delquir navigator counted down the time until the ship was ready to jump. Outside her, space crackled and popped silently as it folded around the ship.
“LOS, sir. No outgoing or incoming sensors or communications, sir. We're on our own,” the communication's rating reported.
“Understood,” the skipper said, looking at the rating and then around his bridge. H
is eyes cut to the countdown in time to see it hit zero.
“Jump,” he ordered as he settled himself the best he could in his seat.
He gulped as he felt a strange twisting sensation then some odd gravity. It felt like he was being yanked around in his seat despite feeling it firmly pressed into his back. After a moment, that changed and settled into a back pressure of acceleration. After a moment that too began to fade as the computer and life support techs got a handle on the changes and compensated with the inertial dampeners.
“Medical is reporting a lot of nausea, sir,” a green human rating said, visibly gulping.
“If you've got to do it, get up and do it in the head. Anyone who barfs will answer to me,” the skipper growled.
“We'll …”
That didn't last as a rating got up from her station and ran out of the compartment. The captain grimaced and tapped in a code to echo the empty station on one of his consoles until the young woman was back.
“So far so good, sir. I am not sure we're on course though. This is all new,” the Delquir said.
“Do your best. Just don't overshoot,” the captain ordered.
~<><{<^>}><>~
“Good jump,” Commodore Logan said from the observation ship. “And now we wait,” he said, crossing his arms. He was grateful Admiral Creator of Things had finagled his schedule to allow him to be on hand. It was nerve wracking watching as an observer, but it was better than being on the planet.
“How could you tell it was a good ship, sir?” a rating asked.
“Because she didn't end up a twisted mess and there was no explosion,” Horatio said, looking over his shoulder to the Veraxin. “Up until loss of signal, her telemetry was spot-on to what we were expecting.”
“Ah … thank you for explaining, sir,” the rating said.
“No problem,” Horatio murmured, returning his attention to the plot.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Captain Clayton was pleased as the jump countdown started. They hadn't pushed things; in fact, he'd kept Mack in check and Ilmarinen limited to the first octave of hyperspace. That meant they had transited to Bek B in roughly eighteen hours.
When the ship exited hyperspace, it was a bit bumpy, but there were no problems. “We'll get better with practice I suppose,” his XO said.
“We'd better. Otherwise, I'm not eating a big lunch beforehand anymore,” the captain said, one hand on his stomach as he clenched his teeth against the nausea. “I don't remember anyone mentioning that.”
“It will pass, sir,” the Delquir navigator said. “We are off our designated jump zone, sir,” he reported.
“How off is off?” the captain asked, glad of the distraction.
“Fortunately, our exit point is clear. It seems I went a bit short and off course by about ten million kilometers,” the Delquir reported. “Make that 10.4 million kilometers off course. We're plotting our exact location now.”
“So, we need to do a bit more work on navigation and the hyperlog it seems,” the captain replied. He nodded to himself.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, Lieutenant. This is after all your first time. Hell, it's my first time too. You didn't nail the bullseye, but you didn't put us into the belt nor did you put us into a star. I'm good with that.”
“And we're not a Dutchman. I can appreciate that too,” the XO echoed.
“That too,” the skipper said, glancing her way.
“Mack? How is engineering doing?” the XO asked. “We're still getting reports from around the ship. The nausea has stalled a few people it seems,” she said.
They heard a voice clear its throat over the PA. “We're alive if that is what you are asking. Hyperdrive is saved and powering down now. Mister Bailey has checked it and said all lights are green.” Mack reported. “I think we're all green down here,” he said.
“Definitely more training needed, and some fine tuning is in order,” Bailey's gruff voice chimed in over the intercom.
“Thank you, Mister Bailey, that will be all,” the captain said stiffly as he cut the circuit. He noted he wasn't the only officer to be a bit prickly about the backhanded slap. “We did it though, people,” he said with a brief smile.
“That we did, sir. I think we'll wait on breaking out the bubbly though,” Lieutenant Koba said.
“Oh, gah,” a female rating said, racing from the room with one hand on her stomach and her other hand on her mouth.
“What? Was it something I said?” Lieutenant Koba asked as the captain shook his head.
“Comm, raise the star system. Send our IFF and let them know we are here. Then tell engineering I want a full diagnostic before we try that again,” Captain Clayton ordered.
~<><{<^>}><>~
Horatio stood on the bridge of the observation ship patiently. Ilmarinen's return window had started four hours ago. He'd doubted she'd make it spot-on, no ship did. The most likely cause was the engineers wanting more time to check things over before they jumped.
But he was pretty sure they had jumped back. She was a good solid ship with a good crew. A stubborn crew who were eager to prove themselves.
“Will we know if they made it? I mean, will we see their jump out?” a tech asked. Horatio shook his head. “They are three light weeks out. It will take that amount of time before the light of their emergence gets to us,” he explained.
“Oh,” the Veraxin replied. “Thank you for explaining that, sir,” he said.
“We've got hyperspace emergence!” a sensor rating said excitedly.
Horatio looked up and over to the plot in time to see the backlash of energy as it began to fade. Apparently, Ilmarinen had succeeded in her return jump. She was a bit off course, but he wouldn't quibble with it.
“Sir, we're getting requests for comment from the media. I think the celebrations have begun. Now we really do have a starship,” Captain R'v'll said.
“One step at a time,” Horatio murmured. He nodded. “I'll take them in the wardroom,” he said over the thunder of cheering on the bridge.
“Very well, sir,” the Veraxin said, indicating first-degree relief and approval.
Chapter 37
The more he saw the shenanigans, the more Horatio became fed up with the accounting games and the business as usual sweep under the rug that went along with them. When the navy's public affairs department had him do a series of live interviews about the ship, he pointed them out.
Calling them out like that instantly sparked controversy and a promise of a check by the Senate investigation arm, the justice department, and then the naval accounting department, and finally, JAG. It also pissed off powerful people.
“I thought we'd put a muzzle on that bastard,” Admiral Childress snarled.
“Apparently, we haven't,” Admiral N'r'm'll said, echoing his boss's ire.
“He's right. If he pointed it out, it was obvious for anyone to see,” Admiral Hill said with a shake of her head. “Someone got greedy and sloppy. That's not a good combination. Add complacent and the idea that they won't get caught or called out on it and it leads right over a cliff none of us want to face,” she warned.
Admiral Childress turned a cold look her way. When Admiral Draken grunted, his eyes cut to his Ops officer. “She's right, sir,” Sherman said quietly. “I'm kicking myself for not catching it myself,” he said.
“You should have,” Admiral Childress said.
“Technically, accounting isn't his department, sir,” Admiral N'r'm'll stated, turning half of his eye stalks to the red Chimera and then all four to their boss. “I admit it was mine. I'm put out that no one caught it, nor did the commodore bring it up to our people through channels,” he said.
“Given how things have been run, can you blame him?” Admiral Draken said. Startled eyes turned to him. “Come on, we all know he is an outsider. We've kept him on the outside looking in. If he'd played whistle-blower internally, we would have shut him down. Our friends would have covered their tracks. Gr
anted this isn't pleasant, but …”
“But me no buts. It is his butt I want,” Admiral Childress snarled. He didn't like getting his hands caught in the cookie jar, especially when it technically wasn't his own hand. He didn't want or need scandals on his watch. He wanted smooth sailing. “I want him gone. The question is, how do we affect that?”
“Without drawing attention to the fact that we're effectively punishing him for doing what he did? And doing a good job with the Ilmarinen project?” Admiral Draken asked. “I don't see any sort of exile as anything less than a boomerang that will hit us in the face when it lands.”
“If it does, it does,” Admiral Childress said indifferently.
Admiral Draken knew that Childress wasn't going to back down. It was a problem, but one he had the germ of an idea on how to handle. He hid a grimace. “He's a public figure. We need to do this carefully,” he warned.
“He is indeed,” Admiral Hill said. “I think part of the problem is you want him out of the public eye, sir? A muzzle on him as you put it?” she asked. Admiral Childress gave a choppy nod in reply.
“That will have to be carefully handled then,” Admiral Bolt said. Admiral Childress turned cold appraising eyes on the diminutive admiral. He knew that the commodore had his own supporters within the senior officers. Creator of Things was one. He hadn't expected Draken or Bolt though. It made him stop and rethink the situation while he tried to get a handle on his soaring temper before it got too far out of control.
Commodore Logan's history, his work in the yard, his relationship with Admiral Irons, and his occasional sighting by the media was a continuous sore point with him and his civilian backers. His pointed reminders were souring a few and getting the hopes up of some of the new guard as well as some of the startup contractors who wanted to change things.
He was aware that several of the contractors had tried to wine and dine the commodore from time to time. In fact, they'd used their contacts with Omar to get the commodore to cooperate. They in turn had greased the wheels when Horatio had politely deferred or declined their requests with excuses that he was busy.
