Author: wfheidenreich

Photo: Sunset Outerbanks, North Carolina, Guy Heidenreich, November 2013

 

(Earlier: Chapter 2 Taking on the Lion https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/08/15/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-2-taking-on-the-lion )

Engineers likened the function of a droid pilot to a consciousness for the starships of the United League of Earth’s  Star Force, a meta- system overlaying all of the subsystems of the ship. The integration added a higher functionality critical in combat. With advancements in quantum computing, the ship’s integrative system was pulled out of the mainframe and put into a mobile unit, the quantum droid pilot. The pilot could move around the ship, plugging into ports throughout  the ship’s sections to run local diagnostics, while remaining the overseer of all the systems. This insured that the quantum droid pilot could control the ship from any point in case the bridge sustained damage. 

Computing potential moved to a level beyond that of quantum computing with the refinement of DNA circuitry set in biologic medium.  A biodroid pilot with its neurocircuitry working with the ship’s system performed superiorly to the quantum droid pilot. For the safety of redundancy, the biodroid pilot, or BDP, would be connected to a quantum droid pilot via the ship’s wireless network. The BDP would  upload a constant stream of data in realtime so that there was a mirror copy of itself. The quantum droid pilot, secured on the bridge, did not have the same functionality as the new biodroid, but it would protect the ship if the biodroid became damaged. 

The Research Division of the United League of Earth’s Star Force knew how to keep things top secret when necessary. Only vague rumors escaped from classified projects. This was especially true with work on the biodroid. Supposedly its interface with the ship was seamless, the same as the current module of quantum droid pilot.  A seamless of functionality was going to be critical if the crew of the London was to integrate and test the system before embarking for Mars as part of the Task Force Renewal in less than ninety-six hours. 

The London had just returned to Earth’s Alpha One Base from a point-seven voyage, the equivalent of two hundred and fifty-six terran-days. This duration pushed past the limit of usual deployment and the crew was tired and stressed, having engaged two pirate ships in separate actions. Now, not only would they not get any time off on earth, the crew was going to work extra hard to provision and prepare the London in a fraction of the time normally allotted to a ship back from a mission. 

The twenty-four hours of leave granted on the station barely allowed the crew to stretch out their spirits from the claustrophobic environment of the small corvette. It did not provide enough time to unwind from the pressure of being on top of one another, immersed in a boring routine punctuated by moments of terror. 

—————

Chief Engineer Gerhard Freihoff waited anxiously for the delivery of the new biodroid pilot.  London’s officers were going to be lucky if they would get even a watch’s-worth of time to enjoy the amenities of the station. They had to work with a new droid to integrate and then test it inside their command’s respective systems.  If there was any way he could free his own reports for more time off, he would try. 

He had no idea what the unit was going to look like. All he knew was that it was more independent than London’s current quantum droid pilot. The design engineers of the quantum droid pilot had failed to account for the absence of securing bays in the ship. Someone always had to tend the droid when it moved about the ship in order to help attach it to the bulkhead if they went into 0-gravity. Free floating droids were dangerous . The new biodroid was rumored to be self-sufficient in this regard. It followed, most officers anticipated a humanoid android to replace the current bullet-shaped canister that was rolling about ships. 

Chief Freihoff enjoyed working with the London’s droids. Artificial intelligence allowed them to develop personalities of sorts. He was careful not to get attached to a quantum droid pilot since they were frequently being swapped out for a newer module. He frequently reminded himself that they were only manufactured circuitry. He conducted himself with the utmost scientific professionalism.

He was halfway through the check-in and had found only three problems needing to be fixed. Freihoff had known about two of them before starting the check-out and would have already been working on them before coming into Alpha-One had there been more time.

A squeak made Freihoff look up at the reactors. He was attuned to every noise in the engineering section and this was a new one, quite prominent over the low drone of the reactors. He held breath. He hated it when the reactors made any noise other than their low hum. Gerhard heard the squeaking again, realizing  it came from outside of engineering, a series of high pitched intonations echoing in the hall.

Second lieutenant John Pitt entered the section, looking sheepish and apologetic. He straddled the door looking back at the passageway. After about ten seconds he started to wave something forward. “We’re here. Come on. Come in and meet Chief Freihoff.”

Around the door’s edge stepped a miniature humanoid, maybe a meter tall, carrying a large duffle bag as large as its body. Its head was just short of the entire length of the rest of the body. Gerhard wondered how it could hold up its head. The head was wide with large brown eyes set wide apart. Freihoff thought of one of his daughter’s dolls, based on an ancient figure, that was all head, all smiling eyes with a small body. He could not believe this was the biodroid.

“Is this a joke, Pitt? Where did you get such a thing. I thought you were retrieving our biodroid to plug in. We have no time to play around.”

“Sir. This is our biodroid pilot. See how large its brain case is!”

“No,” Freihoff said. “This is a bad joke. Did you insist on getting the real unit? If this is the real unit, they sent a defective one.”

“Sir, they were dead serious.”

The unit looked from Freihoff to Pitt and back as they spoke. It had a mop of tussled hair that bobbed as it swung its head back and forth. Freihoff turned away and shook his head. Turning back he said. “What is your identity?”

“Your RXC-42 biodroid pilot is here. Fourth generation. Latest model now being deployed in the Star Force.  Assigned to the ULE London. It is hungry. It has been twenty-nine hours without nutrition. Do you have any fast energy food?”

“What does it come with, a feeding and care manual?” Freihoff said.

“They told me it is a high energy consumer and would be looking for food right away,” Pitt said.

“I am told the ULE London needs me to integrate with the overall rdfrsystem and the crew as soon as is possible. Discussing disbelief in my appearance interferes with ‘as soon as is possible’.”

“I’m serious. What do we feed it?” an exasperated Freihoff said.

“Maybe we ask it?” Pitt said

“Well? What powers you and for how long?” Freihoff said.

“The RKC-42 model performs optimally with one power bar every twenty-four hours.”

“How long can you go right now, without shutting down?” Freihoff said.

“This RKC-42 will shut down in eleven hours. Work output will slow down in seven hours.” 

“Chief, I’ll go to the galley and get some power bars.” 

Pitt left Engineering at a near run, leaving Freihoff staring at the biodroid. He called the bridge. “Captain? XO? Can you come down here to Engineering. Our BDP showed up. You have to come and see it to believe it. No screen view will do it justice.”

While Freihoff spoke, the RXC-42 biodroid wandered about the engineering section, looking around. 

“What are you looking for?”

“The RKC-42 BDP is looking for a place to set its bag,” the biodroid said.

“Here, let me take that from you,” said Freihoff taking the bag from the biodroid. He found a ledge high above its reach and secured the bag with straps.

“Now what are you looking for?”

“To start the work of check-in, a stool or ladder is needed.”

“You don’t come with cables that reach our ports?” Now it was Freihoff’s voice that squeaked.

“Yes. The cables reach. This unit is most efficient when elevated.”

“Is that a defect?” Freihoff said.

.

“There is no defect. Being elevated is an enhancement of functionality.”

Freihoff swung out a seat at a console of near the reactor and looked from the seat to the biodroid skeptically. While he looked from the seat to the biodroid, it crouched and hopped up onto the seat with the adeptness of a cat jumping onto a counter. The seat spun and the biodroid raised  its arms for balance. Once stable, it pulled out cables from behind its neck and plugged into the network.

“What is this?” Captain Maureau said. Behind him, gathered in the doorway, stood the XO, Lieutenant Commander Song, and Lieutenants Akhtar-Gatewood of Navigation and Madelaine Gray of Security.  Lieutenant Wu was behind them, trying to see between them. 

“We all came down to see the new pilot,” Akhtar-Gatewood said. “Where is it?”

“This little one is it,” said Freihoff. They were all staring, speechless. As they stepped into the Engineering section, Pitt came back from the galley and offered the biodroid a power bar. It took it from him, ignoring the group and started to chew it slowly, eyes closed, head bent down. It was crouched with its buttocks nearly touching the console’s seat, making it appear even shorter than it was. It had one arm touching the reactor.  With eyes closed and head bowed, it looked like it was praying for the reactor, trying to heal it.

“What’s it doing?” Gray said. She had stepped next to Maureau. 

“It looks like it’s meditating,” said Maureau. 

Pitt explained to the group how he had gone to Alpha One’s Technology Section to bring the new biodroid over and protested that this gnome-like entity could not possibly be the pilot for a United League of Earth ship of war. He was assured it was. Now, as the group discussed their incredulity, it appeared to be checking the London’s drive system. 

“How is it inside our system? Did you give it access?” Gary spoke with an intensity that was often in your face. She was taller than Freihoff and stood looking down on him. Her light brown eyes were golden in the light of the Engineering section. Her short auburn hair, high set ears, and tapered jaw made her look severe, even feline. Tensed musculature gave the appearance she was about to pounce on Freihoff.

“I don’t think that is possible,” Freihoff said. “It must be awaiting orders, while, ah, refueling, as it were.”

“Confirm that,” Gray said.

“Ah, London RKC-42 BDP ? Are you in the system?”

“We need to give it a name,” Maureau said.”

The biodroid’s eyes popped open and it swallowed. “Yes. Your RKC-42 BDP is done checking the drive reactors.” 

“That’s impossible!” Freihoff and Gray said in unison.

“You just plugged in. It takes at least an hour to check-in the drives,” Freihoff said over Gray’s “How did you get into the system without authorization?”

The BDP looked at Freihoff. “You can adjust the RKC-42 BDP’s work speed down if desired. Slowing it down does not improve the accuracy of the unit, nor conserve energy. Do you want your RKC-42 BDP to slow down?” It waited for an answer, its hand held in suspension half way to its mouth with the remainder of the power bar.

Freihoff looked uncomfortable, embarrassed to be interacting with the BDP in front of the officer staff. “No, no. Hold your functioning level at its current level.”

The unit turned and looked at Gray who was glaring at it. “Lieutenant Gray, your RKC-42 BDP is assigned to run a check-in of the London’s systems. Chief Freihoff ordered it to plug in. It did not wait for a “go” order. Your system was wide open to the RKC-42 BDP. The London’s RKC-42 BDP can improve the security if given an order.”

The BDP took another bite and closed its eyes. Maureau said, “It’s ‘meditating’ again. I wonder if it’s half way through Navigation’s systems. I recommend we do no underestimate this little fellow.”

Kristina Song stepped up and around Gray and carefully inspected the biodroid. “You’re right. It is kind of cute. Chief, you better find out what it’s doing right now.”

“RKC-42! Stop all check-in analysis, now. What information do you already have for us?”

The RKC-42 BDP opened its eyes again. “Analysis of Engineering’s reactor drives is complete. Analysis of Navigation is eighty-five percent complete. Do you want the results?”

“I wonder if you can modulate its voice. That squeak is grating,” Gray said. Freihoff ignored her.

“Let’s see the check-in of the drive reactors,” Freihoff said.

“The report has been sent to your box.”

Freihoff took his tablet off his belt and studied it. He read the biodroid’s report. 

“Well, Chief. What do we have?” Song said.

“According to this report, the reactors have four items to optimize. One is potentially a significant drive problem at a forty-five percent probability. It needs urgent repair.” He cleared his throat. “Three of these problems I already knew about before starting the check-in.  They were minor and could wait until we docked. The significant drive error was missed by the check-in we just completed. We will need to confirm it and, of course, act on it. That really concerns me.”

“Well, Captain. I knew you would be interested in our new pilot. Pretty damn efficient, I guess.” Freihoff spoke begrudgingly. “All the section officers will get to spent time with it.”

Song bent slightly forward with her hands on her hips while shuffling backwards. Gray needed to back up and move aside. Neither acknowledged one another.

She smiled and the RKC-42 BDP looked at her. “Well, little one, not-to-be-underestimated. We need to assign you, no give you, a name. ‘London RKC-42 BDP’ is way too awkward.” She stood up tall, throwing her shoulders back, and looked at Freihoff, raising her eyebrows. Then, as if an idea just hit her she turned again to the biodroid.

“So, what name would you like for yourself?”

The London’s RCK-42  biodroid pilot closed its eyes with its hands folded at its waist. Its cheeks tensed slightly.

“I think you asked it a question it can’t answer,” Gray said. “You’ve presumed a droid can have a personal desire.” 

Song locked eyes with Gray for an instant.  “Maybe,” Song said. “What do you think, Chief?”

“I think it’s working very hard and showing it on its face.”

“Yoshi,” it chirped.  

“What?” everyone said together. Gray and Ahktar-Gatewood laughed. Wu ooo’ed. Maureau looked at Song who beamed triumphantly, the biodroid looking earnestly at her.

“You want to be ‘Yoshi’?”

“Yes. I am Yoshi.” Yoshi smiled ever so slightly.

“And so it is,” the XO said. Turning towards Freihoff but addressing Gray, she said, “Chief, get to work with Yoshi and then send him to Security next. That is critical for our check-in. I’m sure it can retain its work on Navigation. With that, she left the Engineering section. Captain Maureau followed her.

Next: Chapter 4 This is Not Impressive https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/09/23/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-4-this-is-not-impressive/

Photo: Sunset Outerbanks, North Carolina, Guy Heidenreich, November 2013

(Chapter One: Rite of Passage: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/home/science-fiction/ )

The undeniable appearance of alien technology on earth rocked the existential foundation of mankind 1497 years After the Darkening (A.D.) of its apocalyptic nuclear winter. The armored androids did not cause the earth to stand still in its rotation, but they might as well have. Some fifteen hundred years after mankind crawled out of the darkness of a nuclear winter, disciples of the Apocalypse fell into another ecstasy while the elation of conspiracy theorists took a quantum leap.

In the meantime, an impending war between Earth and its Martian colonies had to be put on hold, as each side feared the other had the androids as their allies. To  more optimistic observers, it seemed like this might all be an intentional intervention by an alien race to prevent the war. The aliens behind the appearance of the androids apparently had no directive to not interfere with encountered civilizations’ affairs.

The androids assimilated the surviving languages and over a few decades recruited select humans to act as Emissaries for the aliens. These human Emissaries received training by the aliens who were never seen and were named “The Hidden” by humans. No one, other than the Emissaries, ever met the Hidden. The Emissaries became a secretive order shrouded in mystery.

It was only natural that many hated the Emissaries as traitors to humanity, doing the bidding of the Hidden. The technology available to the Emissaries was vastly superior to anything Earth or Mars had and this fact nurtured fear, despite the peace that this deterrence brought. Initially, war with the Emissaries was avoided. The observation of the Emissaries’ superior martial arts skills transformed into a belief they had supernatural powers. Earth and Mars no longer had the freedom to wage war. They felt subservient to a higher power.

Using the Hidden’s technology, the Emissaries built a ring twenty kilometers in diameter sixty thousand kilometers off Mars. This ring provided gateway ships instantaneous interstellar travel to a single star system the Emissaries named Girassia. The Hidden gifted humanity with travel to a pristine, earth-like exoplanet also named Girassia where they had built another portal. These were the only known portals. Located in the terminus of the Milky Way’s Orion Arm, mankind now had a paradise fifteen thousand light-years away, accessible instantly through the Mars Portal.

The Emissaries protected and operated the Mars Portal. They strictly controlled who and what went through the Portal to Girassia. Favoring Martian expeditions of exploration and colonization over the nations from the United League of Earth, Girassia developed solely into a Martian colony.  Otherwise, commercial trade from all three planets flowed freely through the Mars Portal.  

The Emissaries prohibited movement of weapons through the Portal, except for small starforce ships that served as escorts. Slowly, a nation modeled after the Martian Federation established itself, developing the resources of Girassia in cautious, measured steps. The Emissaries provided Girassia with starforce ships for their own defense. Because of the Emissaries’ protection, Girassia did not develop their own military-industrial complex. These ships were far superior than anything Earth or Mars had and this technology was not shared with Earth or Mars.

Most people doubted that any alien race would act altruistically in gifting mankind. The hatred of the Emissaries and the fear of the Hidden allowed some political parties to establish themselves, using this animus as the foundation for their party platforms. 

An uneasy, resentful peace existed between the United League of Earth and the Emissaries until one of the nine nations of the League, the Confederation of Southern America (CSA), attacked the Emissaries at the Portal in 1607 A.D. The attack severely damaged the Portal and inflicted hundreds of casualties on the Emissaries. It also resulted in complete annihilation of the CSA’s ships. Fortunately for the United League of Earth, the Confederation had acted alone.

The CSA became the pariah to the Emissaries. After the Emissaries repared the Portal, they prohibited all trade between the CSA and Girassia while they allowed trade from the other nations of the United League of Earth. In the hundred years since the attack on the Emissaries, the CSA had become the most influential nation within the United League of Earth’s Star Force. While it could not trade through the Portal, the CSA still sent some of their small starships in the League’s Star Force through the Portal as escorts of Earth commerce. No one missed the irony of prohibiting commericial trade from the CSA while allowing some CSA military ships passage through the Portal.

More than a century after the CSA’s attack on the Portal, in 1713 A.D., the Emissaries completely confused everyone by announcing that it would allow military task forces from both the United League of Earth and the Federation of Mars to move through the Portal and conduct joint exercises with a Girassian Task Force. No one could understand this announcement which seemed so contrary to the demilitarization of Girassian Space. The Emissaries said it would be ideal if humanity’s planets could cooperate with one another in defensive maneuvers. Emissary ships would simulate an attack on Girassia while humanity’s starforce ships were to respond. 

Six of the League’s nine Task Force ships were  from the Confederation of Southern America, including the Poseidon.  The dominance of the CSA in the Task Force generated great pride within the Confederation and the task force was named Renewal. A wave of patriotism gripped the  Confederation of Southern America. It exalted in being back. 

__________

Lieutenant Commander Song stood at the bridge’s portal looking up at the ULE Poseidon which had just been secured in its bay. The London had already been in port for three and a half hours. The Poseidon dwarfed the London, like a large great white shark with a dangling remora on its side. Six tugs, two more than the usual four for a carrier, took three hours to get the Poseidon secured by the twelve gantries of its bay. The London came in on its own power, without need for an attached tug to guide it, taking twenty minutes to move from the tug rendezvous point to its docking bay. It was secured by a single gantry for movement of all its supplies and personnel.

Song went to her command station behind the captain’s chair. It was time to start the check-out of the status of the ship’s systems. If they were fortunate, it would take less than six hours to run through everything. She was counting on there being few problems that would need further interrogation. The sooner they finished, the sooner leave could start for some of the crew.

She did not want to forget something important to herself. She called up Lieutenant Wu, officer for Logistics. 

“I know you’re just starting check-out, but I have a special request to make. We should be getting priority status for provisioning. Can you leverage that for an extra allotment of that premium tea we had on our last run?”

“Commander. Consider it done,” Wu said.

“We ran out of it about halfway through the voyage,” Song said.

“I should be able to do this. I can put aside some for the officers.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Hopefully I will not need to come back to you for more important requests like this one.” 

Wu laughed. “Yes, sir.”

Maureau stepped onto the bridge from the Ready Room and started for the captain’s chair.

As he passed Song, she said “Godspeed,” and gave him a thumbs up.

He nodded. “Thanks. I could use a little help,” he said.

__________

Maureau set the captain’s monitor to restricted viewing. Only a narrow field of vision would see the Admiral. The XO’s station was included in the field of vision. This was to be a secure communication for only the Captain and only he would hear Admiral Rankin over his headset. He had chosen to take his call with the Admiral on the bridge to have the consolation of his surrounding crew and be reminded of why he had pulled the maneuvers he was now going to answer for.

When he came on view, Supreme Fleet Admiral Ed Rankin, “the Lion,” surprised Maureau, looking too calm over the monitor. He looked younger than his age of fifty-one years, thirty-three of which were in service of the Star Force. His fierce dedication drove him to the highest rank in Star Force.  Rankin’s head looked too big for his wiry body. The Admiral indulged himself by allowing his hair to grow long and maintaining a bushy beard, both of which were well outside of Star Force regulation. They produced the illusion that his head was an elongate balloon fringed with a halo of brushed back hair and a golden blond beard. A broad nose dominated his tan face. 

Maureau thought he looked more like a potato-head than a lion. Where’s the fierceness I keep hearing about? he thought. He fought back a smile that would have come out as a smirk.

“Commander Maureau. You did not make any friends today.” Rankin’s  voice was  surprisingly high-pitched. His gaze looked past Maureau who glanced behind him and realized Rankin was focused on  Song working on the check-out. She did not look up from her work. 

“My orders called for the effort, Sir.” Maureau spoke with upbeat certainty. “We needed to gain as much time as possible to prepare for the mission we have been assigned to. It is  leaving in four earth cycles.”

“All of my Task Force has needs, Commander.”

“Sir, the ships that make up Task Force Renewal all have been in port for at least seven cycles. They have even had the opportunity for joint training runs. London remained in queue until we received the urgent order. I responded promptly and flew within regulation.”

Rankin scowled. Here it comes.

“You presume your needs are greater than the other ships of Star Force?” His voice dropped an octave while increasing in volume.

“I made a decision that the London’s immediate needs for provisioning, check-out, and hopefully, some training, were greater than the other ships in line.”

 “You spend time studying the Operations Center logs of companion ships?” Inexplicably, he sounded calm again.

Careful, Anthony. How far do I push it? He is hard to gauge.

“I did, Sir. I wanted to know as much as possible about my companions in the mission.”

“You not only act impulsively, but you are brazenly presumptive, Maureau. You think you are part of Task Force Renewal?”

“I do not presume that, sir. I reviewed the activity of all the ships ahead of us, not just the those in the Task Force. Excepting your Poseidon, of course.”

“You studied the ships after the fact. You skipped line, immediately upon receiving your orders.” Rankin spoke quietly.

“Yes, sir. That’s  accurate. I did look into the ships we passed after the fact. My review confirmed my assumption that all these ships were in routine actions, the Task Force ships being here at Alpha One for cycles.”

Rankin bit his lip. Was that a smile trying to escape? Or a grimace?

“Being right does not excuse being rash and presumptuous. You are correct in your presumption that you have been assigned to the Renewal Task Force. You will receive further orders momentarily.”

Rankin paused to let Maureau await further instruction. “You are joining the best ships of Earth.  We are to join a Task Force from Mars and go through the Portal into Girassian space where we will join a Girassian Task Force under Emissary supervision and conduct some joint exercises. This is a first. It’s been over a hundred years since CSA has sent anything larger than an escort through the Portal. ”

“Thank you, Sir. This honor will help make our short twenty-four hour shore leave more acceptable to my crew.”

Rankin’s voice dropped into a throaty growl, his face flushed, and he ran a hand through his hair which had the effect of fluffing it up. “You pass eight ships, including my Poseidon, and go into a late retro-burn. All to gain a few hours for shore leave?” 

Rankin’s hair radiated out like the mane of a lion. For an instant, he looked like one about to pounce as he rocked forward, leaning towards his camera.

Does he know he does that with his hair? Has anyone told him? Pretty dramatic gesture! Ah, here’s the Lion!

“We have not been given the requisite time to prepare for redeployment,” Maureau said. “Not even close. So, the mental health, and morale of my crew, is all the more critical to meet our obligations. I anticipate that a lot will be expected of us.”

Keep turning this request back on him, while pledging dedication to the mission.

“As will all in my command. God damn it!” Rankin punctuated his expletive with a subtle fist pump. “This is a damn surprise for me too. I did not seek out your command for Renewal. And we cannot reschedule our departure for Mars to accomodate your late addition. 

“Apparently some in Central Command are impressed with your actions against pirates. I won’t bring your father into this, but maybe this is all political? You think?” 

Rankin pointed at Maureau. “I don’t need to deal with shit like this. A few in my command are upset with your maneuvers, including docking without a tug. That’s just showing off, even if the Operations Center know you and approves it.”

A few in your command? But what do you think of our flying?

Rankin continued his rant. “I hope your officers are in a good place. They won’t be getting your twenty-four hour leave, because they will need to integrate one of the new biodroids into your systems. We need your system compliant with the rest of the Task Force.”

“That takes cycles to do!” Maureau said.  “Sometimes more. And a lot of time out of port!” He had never been in a position where he had to suppress rage before a commanding officer. He knew his jaw was clenched and his face  flushed as he struggled to stay on an even keel.  

Rankin’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he was squinting. “This droid is the newest model. It’s extremely advanced and will take a fraction of the time to integrate into your systems.” He laughed. “Your officers will be fascinated to work with it. You will even have time to take a test run before we leave. That is, if your crew is not too hung over after their leave.”

Maureau had heard very little about the new model of biodroid. Its substrate was cloned from human neuro tissue with sensational DNA-computing power. But he had doubts that it could integrate with his systems and his officers during one short training run. Integration with a biodroid took experience in many random, live situations, not just scripted simulations.

He knew he was going to need his XO to get everything done. Her special skill in motivating people was going to be necessary to placate the officers who would not be able to get off the ship due to the integration. He turned around to see Kristina returning the stare of Admiral Rankin. Rankin looked away from her, back to Maureau. Yes, it will be stressful for all of us.

“I request we have full priority on all requisitions and provisioning, Sir” Maureau said.

“Of course you have that. I need you to be battle ready,” Rankin said.

“The London is always battle ready,” Maureau said, immediately regretting it. Rankin said nothing but fixed his stare on him. He looked like a parent appraising a petulant child who was not going to get their way.

After an uncomfortable pause, Rankin said, “We are counting on that. Given all this turmoil, I’ll take note of your check-out. You have been given quite a challenge to meet.”

Wonder why an Admiral of a Task Force would concern himself with the specs of a corvette’s check-out. Don’t challenge him. I’ve already convinced him I’m a rogue. Just fall in line. 

“Thank you, Sir. We will be ready.” 

“That’s all.  Take up any questions you have with my Staff Operations and Logistics officers.” The Admiral nodded a dismissal and his image blinked off. 

Maureau turned around to see Lieutenant Commander Song looking at him with a bemused smile. “You survived, Captain. Congratulations for taking on the Lion.”

“Yeah, I guess. As I expected, we have been a late addition to Task Force Renewal. And we have to integrate a new biodroid!”

“What the hell! That’s unbelievable. It’s like someone wants us to fail,” she said.

“Maybe. Rankin definitely is not happy about the London being added to his Task Force. Despite our challenges, we will get special scrutiny.”

“He already has given special scrutiny to us,” Song said.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He has a reputation, but never mind. Let’s get going. I prepared some notes I’ll send to you. Anticipated our assignment to Renewal and included ideas for how to address the crew.”

“Excellent. First, let’s review these new orders that have come in while we were  speaking,” Maureau said. “I think there are surprises. Rankin made the point we are to be battle ready. This mission is more than just a diplomatic gesture.”

( On to Chapter 3 “And So It Is”: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/08/26/fiction-the-girassian-debacle/ )