“I do not see why that matters, Joe,” he insisted. “You have ordered Margaret to perform missions when you knew she might be injured or killed; you did not keep her safely aboard the ship when others were taking risks.”
“That is because she would not have accepted remaining behind, Skippy. And this conversation is getting into dangerous territory, I want to drop the subject, Ok? Yeah, technically I am a pirate and the military Code of Conduct does not apply. But we are acting as if the rules do apply, because that is what the team is used to and because it works. The rules are there for a reason, to put the mission first, you understand that? If Adams were here, nothing would change. I would still be her commanding officer.”
“But-”
“No ‘buts’, Skippy. Adams would consider me to be her CO, and I would too, and that’s the end of it. How about we agree we both miss her?”
“Ok. Thank you, Joe, I needed to talk about it.”
“No problem, man,” I reached out to offer him a fist bump, and his avatar floated over to complete the gesture.
“Good night, Joe, sleep well,” his avatar faded away.
Yeah, I thought, as if I could get to sleep after that conversation.
The next morning, I was in a foul mood. Not angry, just depressed. The ship was jumping toward the planet where the Maxolhx manufactured pixies, and I did not have a plan for how to sneak us through the sensor fields around that planet. The operation at the moonbase was high risk, a heist of pixies would be the riskiest op we had ever attempted. We could not afford screw-ups. While putting on my uniform, I called the beer can. “Skippy, that whole operation at the moonbase was a mess. Nothing went right.”
“Except for the part about us getting a Maxolhx dropship in prime, well, good, Ok, crappy but mostly, Ok, barely flyable condition. And your secret didn’t get exposed. And no monkeys were killed.”
“That isn’t the point. Smythe’s team, and us in that cavern, we had to make adjustments on the fly because of problems we should have anticipated, like a patrol of fighters disrupting the sensor field, or problems we should have avoided, like losing that power regulator thing, or Smythe’s team making the crawler too heavy to climb that ravine.”
“I completely agree, Joe. Whoever planned that op has a lot to answer for. What a moron.”
“Hey! You should have-”
“It’s a good thing this crew is not a democracy, Joe, because if you were up for re-election after this latest near fiasco, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Ah, technically, because I disobeyed orders and stole the ship, again, we really are pirates. I read somewhere that pirates crews used to choose their officers.”
“Really? That is IN-ter-esting,” he dragged the word out.
“Whatever. Before we launch the op to steal the pixies, we need to consider everything that could go wrong, and have a backup plan.”
“Everything that could go wrong? Joe, you will not only need a Plan B for every phase of the operation, you will also need backup Plans C through Z.”
“If that’s what it takes, then that’s what we do. Hey,” I cut him off before he could protest. “I’ve been thinking about the cover story we need. The report can’t just state those Maxolhx ships found nothing useful about the wormhole, it also needs to contain something that will make the Maxolhx not interested in a return visit to Earth.”
“Ooh, ooh,” Skippy hooted excitedly. “I can post on TripAdvisor a one-star review of Earth.”
“Skippy,” for a second I had actually hoped he was being helpful.
“No, you’re right, a one-star rating meant the reviewer cared enough to really hate it. Earth isn’t a place anyone hates, it’s just so ‘meh’ that nobody could possibly work up the energy to care about that ball of mud. Earth is the kind of place you fly to, take a taxi along a highway lined with office parks to some anonymous suburban hotel for a conference on dental adhesives and when you are ready to fly back, you realize you have no idea what city or state you are in because all the chain restaurants are the same as every other city. See, Earth is the place where, a couple years later, you are looking at vacation photos and you are like ‘was that Earth or that other place that I also can’t remember’? Yeah, what I should do is leave a two-star rating, with a comment that it might have received three stars except the hotel pillows were lumpy.”
Slapping a palm over my face, I mumbled “Do you have an idea that might actually work?”
“Hey, you jerk,” the beer can objected. “I’m doing the best I can here, what have you-”
“How about we focus on useful ideas, Ok? Something that will make all starfaring species in this galaxy totally uninterested in making the long trip to Earth. Uh, hey!” I slapped the desk. “I got it. The best part of this idea is,” I grinned and flashed a thumb’s up at his avatar, “it is partly true. I read somewhere that the best lies contain a kernel of truth.”
“That is what all political campaigns are based on, Joe,” he agreed. “What is this fabulous idea that suddenly popped into your monkey brain?”
“It’s simple. We have the Maxolhx ship report that the Kristang and humans on Earth got into a firefight when the lizards tried to take over, humans nuked the Kristang, the lizards retaliated, and Earth is now a radioactive wasteland. So, there’s no reason to go there,” I finished with a satisfied grin, leaning back in my chair.
“No, dumdum, that may be your stupidest idea this week. Although it would have to be pretty dumb just to be your most moronic idea of today. We can’t do that, because you would certainly be giving other species a reason to go there.”
“What?” The beer can had to be screwing with me. “Who the hell would want a radioactive wasteland?”
“Nobody does, that’s the point, Joe. Damn, do I have to explain everything to you? If there was a case of nuclear weapons damaging a biosphere, in direct and flagrant violation of The Rules, that would certainly prompt a joint investigation by the Maxolhx and the Rindhalu. So, if you want both senior species stopping by your home planet to investigate and then, you know, actually nuking it into a glowing cinder, go right ahead and do that stupid thing you suggested.”
His snarkiness pissed me off, so I argued with him. “What if the report showed that only humans used the nukes? There would be no point trying to punish us for violating The Rules, our species would already be dead.”
“Joe, Joe, Joe,” he shook his ginormous hat sadly. “You need to come into Mad Doctor Skippy’s medical bay for a checkup, I suspect you can’t actually hear the stupid ideas coming out of your mouth. First, dumdum, the senior species could punish humanity, by exterminating the humans on Paradise. Unless you don’t care about them? You do? Ok, then think about this as the second reason your idea is plainly idiotic; the Rindhalu coalition would love to find evidence that the Kristang at Earth also violated The Rules, and the Maxolhx would be eager to dispute any such conclusions, so both sides would be scrambling to get there first before the other side could plant or cover up evidence. Did that answer your brain-dead question?”
“Yes,” I said quietly as I could.
“What? I didn’t hear you. Was that a yes?”
“You know it was,” I sighed. “How about we have a new rule; I get to ask one stupid question per day, without being mocked by you?”
“Ha! You would burn that privilege before your first cup of coffee in the morning. Forget it, Joe. Mocking you is my reward for suffering through the moronic babble that your brain dreams up. And it is your punishment for laziness; if you put any effort into thinking through your questions, you would answer them yourself without wasting my time. Here’s a hint; try using logic, it works great.”
Even while trying to develop a plan to save humanity, I needed to deal with mundane personnel issues. Fortunately, we had a small crew of well-disciplined people, so I rarely had anything to worry about concerning the crew. However, an issue came to my attention, and technically it did involve a member of the crew, even if
his unofficial rank in the database was Asshole First Class. “Uh, Skippy, this might be an awkward question,” I called him from my office with the door closed, because it was a somewhat delicate matter.
“Ugh,” he was thoroughly disgusted. “Is this about the birds and the bees again? All right, but you take notes this time while I explain it. Your parents should have-”
“This question will be awkward for you, not me.”
“Me? Ha! As if!” He got a good laugh out of that. “What question could a monkey ask that could possibly embarrass-”
“Listen, do you have a crush on Lieutenant Frey?”
“Whaaaaat?” The high-pitched nervous flutter in his voice did not persuade me of his innocence. “No way, dude. I am strictly PRO-fessional. Why would you think something crazy like that?”
“Because you sure act like you have a crush on her. I’m not the only one who has noticed.”
“Hey, well, excuuuuuse me for trying to make the new crew member feel welcome.”
“Do all the new crew members have a bot to turn down their bed covers at night?”
“Um-”
“I don’t see a mint on my pillow before I go to sleep.”
“Well, that’s just-”
“Colonel Simms says one of your bots has been clipping fresh gardenias from the hydroponics, and putting them into a vase in Frey’s cabin.”
“Jeez, can’t a guy just-”
“Just what?” I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair. “I can’t wait to hear you talk your way out of this one, beer can.”
“Fine,” he pouted. “Maybe I do like Katie a little better than most of you other monkeys. You know why, Mister Nosy?”
“Because she is pretty?”
“Oh, come on, Joe,” he chuckled, in a way that again was not convincing. “As if I consider any of your weird species to be attractive. Puh-lease, dude, I like Katie because she is nice to me.”
“Uh, what?”
“Nice. You know, nice? Like, not calling me ‘beer can’ and not thinking I am clueless and ridiculous sometimes.”
Crap. Skippy was way too often clueless and ridiculous. If I tried to protest, he would analyze my heartrate or eye movements or whatever and know I was lying. Maybe Frey just didn’t have enough contact with Skippy to be jaded like the rest of us.
Before my slow brain could grind out a reply, Skippy continued. “The other morning, she sang a duet with me while she was in the shower. She pretended a hairbrush was a microphone, and-”
“Skippy!” I closed my eyes. “It would really help if I did not have to think of any female crew members in the shower, if you don’t mind.” Aaaaaand right then, my traitorous brain popped up a vivid image of a woman, none of your business which woman, in the shower, with warm soapy water cascading over her shoulders and running down between-
“Ok, how about guys in the shower?”
“Ugh, not the guys either, please. Ok, I am sorry, it is great that the two of you get along so well. Sorry I mentioned it, I apologize.” The only thought in my confused brain was; how bad was Frey’s taste in music, that she enjoyed Skippy’s singing?
So, I asked her. She was getting coffee in the galley and I walked over to stand by the coffee pot. “Good morning, Frey,” I said in what was supposed to be a neutral tone.
Being in special operations apparently had given her Ninja lie detector skills, or she also had a Spidey sense for trouble. “Good morning, Sir,” she peered a me over taking a sip of coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I was instantly on the defensive. “Just, uh,” I jerked my head to indicate we should go to a quiet corner of the galley to talk. She sat down across the table from me. “Skippy tells me you like to sing in the shower with him?” That was said with a nervous glance at the ceiling. Nagatha was supposed to be covering for me, so Skippy could not hear the conversation.
Her eyebrows flew up and she set the coffee mug down firmly. “Skippy tells you what I do in the shower?” She hissed a bit too loudly, other people turned to look at us. Her hands closed around the mug until her knuckles turned white. “He had better not be taking pictures, or that little-”
“No pictures,” I waved my hands in a downward gesture to keep her voice low. “And no details. Just, he mentioned you are nice to him, and,” I spread my hands on the table, “one thing he likes is you sing with him while you’re in the shower. So, uh,” I really was trying not to think of her in the shower but my stupid brain was not getting the memo. “I was wondering, you actually enjoy Skippy’s singing?”
“No, eh?” She laughed. “I like to sing, and, um, you’ve heard me at karaoke night?”
Indeed I had. Lieutenant Katie Frey had many talents, singing was not one of them. Wisely, all I did was nod.
“I invited him to sing with me, because when I’m in the shower, I really can’t hear him,” she explained. “It makes him happy, without me having to listen, you know?”
“Crap,” I slapped my forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You won’t tell him my secret?” She asked with a fearful glance at the ceiling.
“Hell, Frey, I would like to start singing duets with him in the shower so I wouldn’t have to listen to him sing other times, except he would get suspicious. Keep doing what you’re doing and I won’t say a word.”
She tilted her head. “Can I ask why you wanted to know, Sir?”
“Truth? I couldn’t believe any sane person would want to hear Skippy sing.”
Lunch that day was good, not just sandwiches this time, but something about it made me suspicious. After I finished and put my plate in the tray to be washed, I walked to a cargo bay where Simms had a sort of office. Normally, the bay would be stacked to the ceiling with crates, this time there were only three lonely crates sitting in a corner. Simms had a tough time letting go of acting as our logistics officer in addition to my XO, despite Nagatha being fully ready to handle logistics. “Hello, Sir,” she barely looked up from her tablet.
“How is the garden?” I started with small talk. The previous morning, I had worked in the hydroponics garden and the little plants appeared to be growing well, the science team amateur biologists working there were pleased. But they did not have years of experience growing food in space, Jennifer Simms did.
“Well enough. We don’t have enough peppers to eat, those seeds weren’t aboard when we stole the ship-”
“Appropriated the ship,” I insisted. “There’s a difference.”
“Not to the plants there isn’t. We will use the first two crops of peppers for seeds, then we’ll be all right.”
“Good. Hey, at lunch, I noticed we’ve been serving a lot of mac and cheese.”
Silently, she stood up and waved a finger for me to follow her aft, to another cargo bay. This one was half full, and many of the crates had been opened, I guess so she could inspect the contents and balance our nutritional needs. Simms knew stuff like that, we were very lucky to have her aboard. With the toe of her boot, she tapped the side of a crate. “Somebody dirtside screwed up, and there wasn’t time to fix it before we left. We got a triple shipment of these boxes, and we need to use up what we have.” She picked one up and showed it to me. “Pasta shells in white cheddar.”
For some reason I can’t explain, because I do not know how the sack of mush in my skull works, an old classic rock song popped into my head, and I made up my own lyrics. “Shells in white cheddar, how much did they send? Boxes I’ve eaten, never reaching the end. Cause I love theeeem, yes I love them. Ohhhhhh how I looooove theeem-”
Jennifer Simms bowed her head, holding a hand over her face. Her shoulders were shaking, so I lightly put a hand on her shoulder to see if she was Ok. She looked up with tears in her eyes, but they were tears of laughter. She reached up and patted my hand, then squeezed it. Wiping away tears with the back of a hand, she shook her head. “Thank you for reminding me why I love being a Merry Pirate.”
“You want to know what is re
ally funny? That is one of my mother’s favorite songs, and for a long time, like years, I thought it was about knights. Knights, you know, wearing armor.”
She cocked her head at me. “The song is ‘Nights in white satin’.”
“Yeah, I thought those knights were wearing white satin capes over their armor.”
“Seriously? What kind of knights wear satin?”
“What kind of guy sleeps in satin sheets?”
“Porn stars?” She guessed. “That song was written back in the ‘60s.”
Seeing the crate of fancy mac and cheese got me worried. “We have too much of this stuff, so maybe we don’t have enough of something else. Are we missing anything important?”
“No. We’re light on some things, but with the reduced crew size, we’ll be Ok. I insisted on combat loading, so the ship would be ready to go at a moment’s notice. What I didn’t expect was not being able to call down to Earth for any last-minute items we forgot. The garden is the same size, we even have some improved equipment there. With fewer people being fed by the garden, we will have plenty of fresh food. This time, we’re trying dwarf fruit trees like apples, peaches-”
“We could have fresh peaches?”
“I’m hoping so,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.
“I love fresh peaches. Simms, I will be in that garden every day if you need help.”
“Your job,” she tapped the name tag on my uniform, “is to stop those ships from coming to Earth. You do that, and I’ll take care of the garden. We have plenty of crew who appreciate a break in the garden, and some of the engineer-scientist types are eager to help me with the garden.”
“Don’t let them take over, Simms. It’s your garden.”
“Three of them have PhDs in biology and biochem-”
“Yeah, and zero of them have practical experience growing food aboard a starship. Your garden, your responsibility, your rules. I’ll speak with our unexpected science team if I need to. While I am happy to have them with us, they are passengers. They can’t be allowed to compromise operation of the ship.”
Renegades (Expeditionary Force Book 7) Page 34
