Category: Fiction

Previous Chapter 9: In a Numb Haze: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/02/17/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-9-in-a-numb-haze/

Lund Uric sat across from Rance Yeoman in a diner booth and helped himself to two soft-boiled eggs, carefully spooning them out of the family-style serving bowl. “Your charge against that marine for using unnecessary force is going to cause us problems,” he said. “We must make sure the video of him hitting you is not leaked to the public. Charging him runs the risk of making the event public. The evidence will at least be described in the media. Worse will be if the video itself is leaked.” A napkin tucked into the collar of his starched white shirt protected it from toast crumbs. His features were accentuated by slicked back black hair that sharpened his receding hairline. 

“We can have some asset eliminate the video,” he continued. Uric moved his hash browns away from the eggs that had broken open with the runoff yolk threatening to encroach on the potatoes. He used a piece of toast to form a barrier to the yolk runoff, paying attention to his plate as if he were working with chemicals that needed to be kept apart.

“I don’t worry about it becoming public. I already have a strategy to deal with that,” Rance Yeoman said. 

Uric noticed flakes of dandruff on the table near his plate. He picked up the plate and moved it to the side out of the way of possible contaminants. 

“How is that possible?” Uric said, holding a forkful of hash browns in midair. “You did not help anyone. Trying to close the door might have killed a lot of people.”

“I anticipated things before anyone else. I reacted. I did not freeze in fear. Immediately acted to protect the Station. I was already safe. I would have protected many people on the Station not expecting a sudden decompression.”

“Don’t you think many might see your actions in a different light?” Uric started to eat again after moving over in the booth so that he was not across from Yeoman. 

“Those cynics are not the people I need. I need people who demand action. Change. Now.”

Uric looked doubtful. “Regardless of your strategy, I’m going to work to have that video destroyed. Anyway, you must be worried the disaster of the ‘Flyby’ could ruin your plans? If the Task Force does not join the Emissaries, Captain Maureau will not be put in the position you and Vastatis want him to be in.” 

Yeoman was on his third cup of coffee. He raised the coffee carafe and waved it at the server, then set it down hard on the table. “If we speak about disaster, it was you who lost control of your people on the Station. How is it that they thought that a collision would be a good thing?”

Uric flinched and looked around. He whispered, “Rance! quiet. What if we’re heard?”

Yeoman looked around at the nearby tables in the diner. “No one heard us.” The background noise in the room was nearly loud enough to make the conversation between him and Uric difficult across the table.

“We are becoming well-known. People may be interested in our conversation,” Uric said turning around and glancing at the adjoining booth.

“Back to the point I was making. How did you lose control of them? Why would they think a collision was a good idea?”

“As you just said, we want people who act,” Uric said, grinning. “They took things into their own hands. How were they to know we would not want something like that to happen?”

“Because you control your people. I need you to control your people.”

“That disastrous collision could have been perfect beyond your dreams,” Uric said. “Taking care of things perfectly. Maureau might have ended up getting killed.” 

“Except for his damned XO’s action. They both are so reckless. Her action took my life for granted! The lives of everyone on the Station.” 

“Did you dream about him again afterwards?”

A cloud moved to cover the sun, the light in the room dimming. “Of course I had another damn dream. Especially last night. He will continue to haunt me until he is removed from the Star Force. He is always there supporting his father.”

“Vastatis’s plan to get him assigned to the Girassian Mission will take care of his career,” Uric said.  “His mission will put him in an impossible position.” 

Yeoman clenched and unclenched his hand. “Lund, nothing is a sure thing. You must remember that. For example, the actions of Song apparently have not hurt Maureau at all. He has remained Captain of the London and Rankin, so far, has even allowed this Song to stay on the London. She should have immediately been relieved of duty and put under court martial.” Yeoman shoved his own plate to the side. “I cannot be confident that the mission will take care of him.”

“I do remember that nothing is for certain. That is why I will get the tape destroyed, despite your strategy to respond.” Uric looked down and soaked up liquid yolk onto his piece of toast. He took a bite making sure not to besmear his fingers. “You need to put that event behind you. She’ll never command a ship.”

“She is everything we abhor,” Yeoman spit out. “Acting “heroically” by taking an unacceptable risk to rescue one person! That is what they think she did. There will be those who admire her. It brings bile into my throat!”

Uric looked up at Yeoman. His head was trembling, dandruff accumulating on the shoulders of his drab gray jacket. “You need to do something about your hair, Rance. There are anti-shed lotions you can shower with that would help you.”

Yeoman ignored Uric. “People like Song should not be in Star Force. In fact, her Union of Europe should not even have ships in Star Force. They set us back by their collaboration with the Emissaries. I don’t know who is worse, the Emissaries or the traitorous Europeans.”

Uric continued eating. “Ah, when you are Prime Minister you can relegate them to be under the CSA. Better yet, have the Union removed from the Star Force!.”

Yeoman sighed. “That’s a long ways off. But one day we will have the power to change things.” 

Go to Chapter 11: No Turning Back

Picture Sunset Cape May Point Beach, NJ, July 2022 by quigonjinnojiisan

Previous Chapter 8: A History Changing Cruise: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/01/20/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-8-a-history-changing-cruise/

After ten hours of ragged sleep, interrupted hourly by Dr. Gladman’s neurologic checks, Captain Maureau awoke and sat on the edge of his bunk. He did not know why he was so  restless. He just knew he needed to get to the bridge and assume control of the ship from Commander Gray.

Dr. Gladman appeared as uncomfortable as Maureau. An absence of sleep, together with worry, stressed him to the point of exhaustion. Only twenty-four hours had passed since the concussion. Maureau would have to lean on the Doctor and use his desire to be part of command operations to get medical clearance against Gladman’s better judgement.

“I’m concerned your restlessness is part of a post-concussion syndrome. Do you have a any other symptoms? Headache? Blurred vision? Numbness, or a sense of unsteadiness? Any spinning of the room? ”

“No, Doctor. My vision is clear. I’m feeling all right.  Am I checking out all ok on your exams?”

“The exam I do is basic. It does not test your cognitive functioning much beyond simple orientation. Your exams have been normal except for some briskness in your reflexes.”

“I’m just jumpy,” Maureau said. “Being confined to my quarters, or having to sit in the Medical Bay, with all the things going on, will drive me nuts. Trust me, it will be very stressful. And we are not going to use sedatives. I have to be ready for command.”

“Sedatives would not be appropriate unless you become frankly agitated. But your resting heart rate and blood pressure are elevated from your usual baseline.”

“I think that is due to my anxiety to attend to the events happening to us,” Maureau said.

“Protocol says I need to test your neurocognitive domains by the computer battery of neuropsyche tests. You remember we all did them before our escort voyages. They need to be back to your pre-injury baseline before I can clear you for duty.”

Maureau knew that Doctor Gladman liked being on the bridge. Just as at the debriefing on the Poseidon, Gladman wanted to be viewed as more than a clinician working in the Medical Bay. He wanted to be seen as part of the command structure of the ship. 

“I’m not a fighter pilot needing to have superior perception and reflexes. Look, I will prove that going to the bridge will not tax me. Come to the bridge with me and check my cardiovascular metrics. If I don’t relax, I will leave the bridge. I can turn over all operational matters to Lieutenant Gray. She will be enthused to take control.”

Taking the concussion seriously, Gladman looked conflicted as Maureau continued to push him to approve his return to duty before he had a chance to document everything was back to normal. “Look, I need to plug into what is happening on the ship. I will undergo the testing before we get underway so that my decisions and actions are sound when part of the Task Force.

“All right. But shortly after we arrive on the bridge I’m going to personally check your cardiovascular metrics out. You won’t mind the crew seeing you examined like that?”

“They know me, Doc. They will be impressed with the care you are giving me.” That compliment seemed to work.

“I guess everything happening to us right now is quite unique,” Gladman sighed. “These times call for special responses.” 

Three hours later, Maureau plopped into his captain’s chair, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. He paid attention to his breathing and relaxed. So much so, he almost fell asleep again. With a start, he opened his eyes, relieved Gladman had not noticed his near descent into slumber.

“All right. Let’s get to work. He turned to the Communications Lieutenant who handed him a computer pad. Scanning the list of postings he saw two confidential ones for him with Admiral Rankin’s name attached, one an order, the other a voice message. First he read the order he had expected. It was a brief order officially promoting Lieutenant Gray to Lieutenant Commander and XO of the London.

Doctor Gladman came over to him and checked his pulse, his blood pressure, and vascular resistance measurements. He smiled. “You were right about being relaxed on the bridge. I should have expected this from you. All your measures are  improved from earlier. ”

“Doctor. You allow me to read one order and then feel you should  check me out? I trust I won’t need continuous monitoring as I work.” Maureau smiled.

“I hope I won’t need to recheck you often. I’ll give you a little bit more time between now and the next check.”

“Commander Gray. It is official,” Maureau said loud enough for all the bridge to hear. “You are promoted to Lieutenant Commander and are to serve as my XO for the London. Congratulations. He stood up and strode up to her to shake her hand. He was prepared to match her vise-like grip and pumped her hand vigorously in return. 

“Nicely deserved, Commander” he said and started to applaud. The rest of the bridge stood and applauded with him.

“You deserve a formal ceremony, and we will set one up to celebrate. But right now, I need you to function as my XO.” He looked over at Gladman and nodded. “I know you are ready.”

“Thank you, Sir. It is an honor to serve as XO for the London.”

When Maureau stopped applauding, the bridge stopped immediately with him. There were no cheers. 

After ten hours of ragged sleep, interrupted hourly by Dr. Gladman’s neurologic checks, he felt disembodied, in a numb haze. He immediately sat back down. It was a good thing that Gladman had checked him before he listened to the message from from Rankin. Expecting it to be an order regarding Commander Song, he listened to it in disbelief. The Admiral wanted him to call the Poseidon immediately. It was timed six hours earlier.

__________

 Commander Song sat in the Action Information Center reviewing videos and accompanying data of her action to save Anthony Maureau. Song knew she may very well be relieved of duty and thrown into the brig on Alpha One Station while waiting for a general court-martial. It had not happened yet. She would know as soon as Maureau returned to the bridge and complied with Admiral Rankin’s orders. With a great deal of luck, her rank would be no lower than “Lieutenant” and she could remain on the London. One could only hope.  

Commander Gray, as acting-XO, could execute any order from Rankin before Maureau returned. Gray took satisfaction in exercising her authority, but sending her to the brig, even just demoting her, might be a step too far for her relation with the rest of the crew.  

As she studied the video of the London stopping just shortof Alpha One Station, she realized the ship  had technically collided with the Station as the retrorocket blast slammed into the plastiglass viewing port. That is how it looked on some of the video.  And that is how High Command would view the incident in their assessment of her decision to risk the safety of the Station for her Captain.  

A security officer, Master Chief Petty Officer Hall, prevented a catastrophe by rapidly responding to the damage of the plastiglass, anticipating its collapse and moving to save many dignitaries who would not have been able to evacuate the observation deck without his help. She watched his reactions over and over, relieved to her very core that not a single dignitary lost their life. At least she had not caused any fatalities. That would have unequivocally resulted in her dismissal from Star Force and a likely prison term.

In one video, it was clear that one of the attendees of the Task Force Review Party panicked and tried to close the hatch of one of the bulkhead doors.  Hall’s rapid action dramatically prevented him from sealing the hatch with Hall dropping the delegate  with an uppercut punch. Song recognized the dignitary as Rance Yeoman, whom Rankin had introduced to her and Maureau at the reception. Song detested his divisive politics and his contemptuous manner.  Watching his actions confirmed her dislike.  Had he been able to close the door, many people would have joined Hall after the plastiglass broke and he was pulled into space . These untrained civilians most likely would have held their breath as they were pulled into space, the pressure inside their lungs rapidly expanding and fatally rupturing lung tissue. With the door closed, it looked like at least thirty would have joined Hall in space.

“Commander Song, please forgive my attention to what you’re doing,” said one of the officers in the AIC.  “But that is at least the third time you’ve watched that video. I can’t help but notice. Is their any analysis I can help you with?” She was turned away from her monitor towards Song.

Song appreciated the concern in the officer’s voice. Her round face was earnest and intense. 

“No, Ensign Artmore, I don’t require any help. Your weapons control duty must be pretty slow. Come over and watch this with me. Again. For the third time.” Song smiled.

“Ooh,” the ensign said when Hall hit Yeoman. “He doesn’t fool around.” 

“He had no time for negotiation,” Song said. They watched Hall save dozens of delegates. It was sickening to see him get pulled out of the observation deck with the rush of air after the plastiglass broke. But the London loomed just outside the port.

“We picked him up immediately. Unconscious for less than a minute, with negligible hypothermia.”

“God, he saved us, didn’t he?” Artmore said.

Song looked at the ensign’s name tag. “That, Gillian, is an understatement. I hope he is still in the Medical Bay. I need to thank him in person.” 

As Song got up to leave the AIC, Ardmore said, “I can call ahead for you, Commander, and ask that he not be discharged until you’ve had a chance to see him.

Song flinched and hesitated. “Excellent, Ensign. Tell them I will be there in less than five minutes.”  As she started out of the AIC she received a secure call on her earpiece.

“Commander,” she flinched and hesitated. “Song here.” 

“Song. This is Alpha One’s Security. We have some urgent information for you.”

__________

Listening to Rankin’s message, Maureau jolted alert.  Admiral Rankin’s urgent request for Maureau to contact him had sat unattended for six hours.  He became aware of the pounding of his heart. Gladman would be unhappy if he were to check his cardiovascular signs now. Maureau called the Action Information Center. “Communications. I have a directed message from the Admiral that came in six hours ago. Can someone explain why this sat without any response? It is classified as critical.” 

“This is Ensign Mugler. Captain, I took this call, a priority one call from the Admiral himself. I got to speak to him directly. He directed it through the AIC because he did not want you to get the message unless you were on the bridge. He made that very clear, Sir.”

“Thank you Ensign. You just allowed me to breathe again.” Maureau read the message from Rankin. It demanded a private, secure channel. As soon as he was available. Rankin stressed “available.” 

“XO, you have the bridge. I have a call to make with Admiral Rankin. He went into the ready room and secured the door. A calmness washed over him. He was resigned to whatever came next.

Rankin was not available immediately. Maureau would have to wait at least an hour. How do I kill an hour when I’m awaiting a dismissal from my career? Well, I have plenty of things listed on my pad. Nothing is more important than going over the video of Song on the bridge when she made the decision to try and save my life. 

In reviewing the video, Maureau appreciated that there was mayhem on the bridge with an explosion of communications accompanying the blast inside the Poseidon scattering debris and bodies. Song acted instantly, working with Yoshi. Rankin’s shouted order to stop the pursuit came in before Yoshi stopped accelerating the ship. The London had just passed him and Gray and started to decelerate to match their velocity. Yoshi rotated the ship to catch them in the airlock bay. Song had security ready to secure them as they entered the bay. 

Yoshi warned the bridge he would decelerate hard and Song immediately gave the general alert for emergency deceleration. Not every crew member was strong enough to maintain their grip on whatever handhold they had time to grasp. Some of the crew were thrown against bulkheads. She was able to concentrate through the havoc of every station sounding reports at once. Song stayed focused on the ship’s maneuvers and on  commanding Yoshi. The chaos swallowed Rankin’s order.

A wave of pride washed over him. How did Yoshi execute the maneuver? He needed to review the injury report again to see how the injured were doing.  Her incident report had not been filed. That was not like her. Anger mixed with his pride. Rankin should not take final action before considering her report. It was easy to understand how his roaring was filtered out by her as she focused on the rescue that Yoshi said he could execute.

Admiral Rankin’s call came through. Once again, he looked calm. Hair flared out, he did not look fierce, just tired. “Captain Maureau. We have some issues to resolve. First, I want to get this out of the way. What are we going to do with Lieutenant Commander  Song?”

“Admiral? Sir, it is impossible for me to support any severe disciplinary action against one of my officers who saved my life. That’s not going to happen.” Maureau spoke in a low voice.

“Speak up, Maureau. That is not a wise position for an officer in your position. I asked ‘what  are we going to do?’ How are we going to handle this? Conventional wisdom tells me I should send her to general court-martial for disobeying a direct order and endangering a space station, plus her own ship.” Rankin tented his hands in front of his face, as if praying. 

Maureau expected the worse would happen. “I will resign if she goes to court-martial and participate in her defense in any trial she is under.”

“God damn it! I expected this from you. I will not let you do that. I will not accept a resignation from you. What is there between you two? I trust it’s professional. Now, for the third time, ‘How are we going to handle this?’ I am not going to have others outside of the Star Force tell me how to treat an officer under my command!” Maureau could see Rankin grit his teeth. Rankin referred to someone other than Maureau. 

He thought before he spoke, carefully considering which of Rankin’s remarks to respond to before he started speaking. “The situation with the collision and explosion on the Poseidon was complex.  One can fault her decision. But there was great disorder. Her response was exceptional, her command commendable. Having watched the bridge videos, I can argue, I will argue, that she performed admirably. In the confusion it is probable that any officer would miss your order.” 

“I think a demotion with loss of her position as XO is a significant disciplinary action,” Maureau said. “I would like to have her remain on the London for our mission. You could give summary judgement with her agreeing not to contest her demotion.”

Rankin frowned. “Sounds like a plea bargain.”

“You asked what I would recommend. For us. We’re all fortunate no life was lost. Given this, I believe my solution answers your need for discipline. It’s plenty punitive and fair, all things considered.”

“How low a position?” Rankin said.

“I need her to be a lieutenant to use her leadership skills.”

Rankin smiled. Maureau had never seen him smile. “Ok. Now to what we really need to go over. Orders will come immediately after we talk. They are simple. I am giving your London a special assignment. Senator Connor Mitchell should arrive at the London. You are to transport him to the Mars Portal in as little time as possible. Set a speed record. Get that BDP cranked up.”

“We go alone?”

“You will leave the Task Force and go alone. You seem to fly the shit out of your ship, so use it to help the League.”

Maureau wanted to exclaim in relief but stayed stolid, mirroring his Admiral’s stony look.”

“Sir, am I to know why we need to transport the Senator as fast as possible to the Portal?”

“We can not figure what the Emissaries are about. They were made aware of our accident and the delay of our departure. They want us to  have a carrier with our Task Force, so we have to wait for the Athena to get here and outfit. They know that, but will not respond to our request for a delay in the departure of the Joint Force with the Martians and themselves. It’s not acceptable if we get left out of the Joint Force exercises.”

“So, the Senator is being sent as an ambassador,” Maureau said, noting that Rankin did not appreciate the interruption.

“Good for you. That is right. We need to get him there with as much time left before their Joint Task Force is scheduled to leave. He has worked with them before. He needs to make sure Renewal leaves with them.”

Maureau waited to be sure Rankin was done speaking. “I trust I am authorized to maximize our velocity.”

“You have carte blanche,” Rankin said. “Kick that BDP into overdrive.”

They looked at one another silently, studying one’s another eyes. So much was left unsaid. Maureau felt Rankin’s support was behind him on this mission.

“I trust your XO will make the Senator more comfortable aboard the London than your previous one did Plotkin.”

“I trust so, Admiral. You selected her.”

“Shit, Maureau! You have me on that.” He almost looked amused. “One more thing. Take care of Song for me. I don’t want to deal with her anymore.There isn’t the time to deal with the court-martial administrivia. I already intervened enough changing your XO. You take it from here.”

“Thank you, Sir. The issue will stop with me. I appreciate your decision to let her remain with the London.”

Rankin let out a tired sigh. “We all need good officers under us.”

__________

Kristina Song had friends in Alpha One’s Operation Center. Lieutenant Walter Shaw was aware of what had happened to her after the incident of London’s rocketsblasting the Station. He had been on duty and commanded the Master Chief Petty Officer Hall’s company.  

“Kristina, can I talk to you about a personnel issue,” her asked on a secure channel.

“I am not XO. Still a lieutenant commander, until I hear otherwise.”

“Then I can speak to you about this. Nicholas Hall, the officer you rescued from space. This,” Shaw stifled saying something next. “This delegate he restrained has filed a civil complaint against him. Says he was acting reflexively to save the Station and that Hall struck him unnecessarily.”

“I watched the video and recognized Rance Yeoman. Hall did make sure he wasn’t going to try closing off the observation deck again.” Song heard the overhead announcement by Captain Maureau that Madelaine Gray was promoted to lieutenant commander and serving as XO. He did not mention Song.

“I can drag my heels. For a couple of days. Administrative work translating this into a military judgement is hardly a priority right now. The Station is in an uproar. But given the political environment around here, Yeoman’s charge will come to a general court-martial unless handled well. Summary judgment can’t occur because of the status of the complainant.”

“What a waste,” Song said. “What are you asking?”

“Yeah, I cannot stomach this bullshit. Do you need someone on your team? I know you lost some security people in the blast.”

“We sure do need replacements. What do we do?”

“I know Hall would love to be on the Task Force. Talk to him ASAP. Get his consent and I’ll start the transfer process saying that helping Renewal is a priority for the Star Force. You should be on your way by the time this comes through to the London.  Give me time and I can take care of things.Legal actions against him can calm down while you’re gone.”

“I was just going to see him,” she said.

“Good. Gray commands them right?”

“Not any more, except as XO. They don’t have anyone right now. Put my name on the transfer and you can claim it was a mistake.”

“Great, Kristina. You want to make me into someone inept!  No. I’m kidding. I have not seen anything about new command at the London. By the time it sorts itself out, you should be on your way.”

“Gentleman’s agreement?”

“Kristina. I can tell you, you are anything but a gentleman.”

__________

A corvette is not large enough to accommodate an all-officer briefing room. London’s ready room off the bridge contained a desk facing the door and two chairs. Two more people could stand. Maureau used it to think and have private conversations off the bridge. 

After studying the orders from Admiral Rankin, Maureau invited Doctor Gladman in to check him out. Exhaustion spun Maureau, but Gladman reported his vital signs held steady at an unstressed level. Maureau felt elated for many reasons.

He brought in Commander Gray and Chief Freihoff to go over the mission parameters. “I want us to maximize our speed. Is there anything special Yoshi can do to enhance our shields?”

“I will go over that with him,” Freihoff said. “Hopefully he has some solution to allow us to tolerate faster velocity than standard.”

“Shouldn’t we keep the stress of the shield at standard specs?” Gray said.

Maureau looked over to Freihoff who answered. “Commander, we need to keep the ship at standard exposure, but maybe Yoshi can enhance the shields so we can keep accelerating while protecting the ship from debris.”

“The mission calls for us to try whatever we can,” Maureau said.

“What about the Senator? He may be a limiting factor in our initial acceleration?”

“As XO, I’ll let you take care of that. He’ll need a g-suit and Yoshi’s telemetric monitoring. Hopefully, we won’t have another Plotkin-incident with the Senator getting sick.”

After dismissing Freihoff, Maureau dropped the bomb on Gray. “Commander Song has been demoted to lieutenant and will remain with the London. She will take over your command of Security.”

Gray was speechless. Finally she recovered. “The Admiral has not removed her from duty? I am surprised.”

“You think she should be?”

“It’s just that her actions seemed serious enough for her to lose her officer’s commission.”

“Apparently, the Admiral considered many things, including that you and I are alive to have this conversation.”

“Sir, I think she will undermine my authority. She is not qualified to command the marines.”

“First, you should be confident in your own authority and she will not work against you. With regard to qualifications, you are speaking without knowing her background. She is qualified.”

Gray was wary of saying anything more. “Is that all, Sir?”

“Commander, you have to be my right hand. We have to work together for the London to be a good ship. “I know we can do it. So, yes, that is all. Get the London ready for this run to Mars. I will take care of the Security team and Lieutenant Song.” She said no more and left with a salute.

“That is not necessary,” Maureau said as she went out through the door. 

That should not have been so hard. Now, for the challenging meeting. 

Maureau called Song to the bridge. Suddenly, he realized what he was about to do, demote his Lieutenant Commander to a lieutenant. And he had to present this as a win.

He was brief and direct. “You know your decision lost you the XO position. Rankin felt he was in a position where a general court-martial was called for. He also recognized the skill with which you commanded the London to rescue me and Commander Gray. He also recognizes how valuable you are to this ship. And to me.” He paused, hoping that she recognized what he had just said about her value. 

“So, we found a solution that puts the entire matter to rest. You will be demoted to lieutenant. I want you to command our marine security platoon. You stay on the London and we move on.

Whereas Gray looked stunned and angry, Song looked to be confused, her emotions fleeting across her face from shock, to relief, then to anger, back to relief.

“Thank you, Sir. I expect you helped make this happen. I could not have expected, no, hoped for, a better resolution. It will be difficult to serve on the London as Lieutenant Song.”

“I know that and after the Task Force Renewal Mission, we can consider together a move. I just expect you will be needed as the Security Division’s commander during this mission.” 

He stood and she followed. “I will give you some time to process this. In two hours I will bring the Security Division together and let them know they have you as their new commander. You can decide when to meet with them.”

They stood looking at one another, Song’s eyes welling up for a moment. She blinked hard and cleared them. Maureau achingly wanted to embrace her, hug her. 

“Is that all, Sir?”

“Yes it is. For now.”

Song saluted. He saluted back.

Go to Chapter 10 Everything We Abhor https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/02/18/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-10-everything-we-abhor/

Picture Sunset on Cape May Point Beach, New Jersey, July 2022 by quigonjinnojiisan

Previous Chapter 7: A Great Team: https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/12/28/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-7-a-great-team/

The collision of the Poseidon and Diomedes resulted in a change in plans that was convenient for Senator Vastatis’s secret work with Star Force. The disaster delayed Admiral Rankin’s departure with the Task Force. This delay gave Vastatis an unexpected opportunity.

Araden Vastatis made his fortune in Artificial Intelligence robotics developed at his company, Matadi Advanced Aerospace Enterprises. While security had always been high at his Matadi Research Institute -the MRI- it had gone extremely dark in the past five years. No one knew what they were working on. Rumors spread about the development of a new type of weapon or of a force field shield for protection of both large structures and of personnel. Another rumor circulated that he was working on an interstellar drive that would make the Portal obsolete. In the past year, the Senator had appeared particularly distracted when seen in public. 

A brilliant intellect shone from his eyes. He was cast by the media as a genius, sort of a mad scientist. But he did not play the role of a wild lunatic from a lab. Quite the contrary, a striking countenance, exaggerated by an attitude of easy-going arrogance, often allowed him to catch the eye of an attractive woman he chose to pay attention to. 

For more than a year he spent a fortune, and much of his political capital, to gain influence in the highest ranks of the Confederation of Southern America’s Star Force. He found a small cadre of officers aspiring to advance Confederation technology to equivalence with Emissary technology. They plotted to covertly integrate an unknown device into the Chicago’s impulse rocket drive core.  This was done by MRI personnel while the Chicago’s crew was on a prolonged earth leave. Only its engineering section knew about the installation as it was done under cover of a visit by the Senator. 

Vastatis named the technology a “cloaking mirror.” It generated a spherical field making an  object undetectable to electromagnetic scans.  But the device produced more than a stealth envelope that made the object invisible to all means of detection. The cloaking mirror projected an image of the object, an “alias” of the object. As the object moved away from a point in space, the alias could be projected to move away in the opposite direction.  The cloaking mirror hid the object while a false image appeared to be moving away from it. 

The cloaking mirror had been secretly tested many times on ever larger satellites,  in increasingly larger elliptical orbits around earth. Sometimes a second satellite would travel inside the stealth envelope. Because of all of this prior research, Vastatis was confident it would work when installed on the Chicago.  

His experiment with the Chicago called for great confidence in the cloaking mirror’s capability to project the image of an object as large as the Chicago, together with a second ship traveling inside the envelope. A successful experiment called for both ship aliases to move away from the Alpha One Base Station in a course opposite the course of the Chicago. The aliases would trace the course expected by the Operations Center, while the actual cloaked ships would have to move through traffic and avoid a second disastrous collision off Alpha One. 

Vastatis’s yacht, the Independence, would accompany the Chicago on a training mission set up for his private pilots to learn how to optimize their deceleration time from cruising speed. Vastatis maintained this special cruise was a reasonable perk for all of the support he gave Star Force as a Senator. The Independence, about half as large as the Chicago, would be an ideal sized ship to test whether two ships could be projected out of the stealth envelope. 

Because Vastatis insisted the technology remain secret for as long as possible, the original plan had been to test the cloaking mirror with a ship during the Task Force transit to Mars. Assuming it worked, only a select group of Star Force personnel would have become aware of the technology. Now, with an opportunity to test it before departure, his experiment would restrict knowledge of the device to an even smaller group, the Chicago’s bridge and its engineers, his own pilots and some Star Force officers in high commands. 

If the cloaking mirror did not work as hoped, he nevertheless hoped to  prove the effectiveness of the stealth envelope.  The news of his ability to cloak a ship would become general knowledge. While not preferable, he would take satisfaction in giving the Emissaries something to worry about.

__________

Vastatis arrived aboard the Chicago on his Independence which, as when transferring the cloaking mirror, directly docked with the corvair. In an ebullient mood, he bounced through the hatch into its docking bay. Not only was he going to test his stealth technology before the Task Force Renewal departed for Mars, he was going to witness the experiment in person.  

He looked around the bay.  “I thought Captain Plotckin would be here to greet me.”

“The Captain is running through check-out procedures for this cruise, Senator,” said the security officer of the watch. “With the collision of the Posiedon taking so much attention, she needs to help out the check-out if we are going to do this cruise with your yacht.”

On arriving on the bridge, he tried to impart his enthusiasm to Captain Plotkin.  He could not get past her polite, but somber, focus on operational data coming in from the different sections of the ship. “This is great! So much better than sneaking away from the Task Force while you are in transit.”

“This operation comes at a busy time for all of the ships in Renewal,” she said without turning away from a monitor she looked at over an officer’s shoulder. Everyone on the bridge was intent on the data they had coming in. The holographic display showed the Independence separating from the Chicago and moving several hundred meters away. 

Two cadets who arrived on the bridge. Given his desire for secrecy, he insisted on discovering why they were necessary on the bridge. He asked all about their careers at the Star Force Academy, paying close attention to the tall, raven-haired female cadet.  Plotkin came to their rescue, attesting they were top-of-class, senior cadets who were going to work on the bridge during the Task Force Mission and were only one cruise away from being commissioned. They both looked uncomfortable with his attention. While Vastatis lingered with the female cadet, with a look from Plotkin, she finally excused herself to join the bridge officer who was to coach her on communications operations.     

“If the separation of the aliases from us does not occur, the Alpha One Station’s Operations Center will see us disappear. Are you sure you are ready to reveal your cloaking technology?” Plotkin said, finally turning to Vastatis.

“I’m not worried about the projection of the ships’ aliases. I do wonder about the  communication lag between us and the alias and then back to the OC,” Vastatis said.

One of the things that Vastatis had to solve with his mirrored aliases was the complication that people would be trying to communicate with the false image. He solved this problem by developing the capacity of the projected aliases to serve as  both a receiver and transmitter. Communications directed towards the alias were instantaneously routed through the ship’s alias back to the cloaked ship which could then route a response back through the alias. To recipients of  a response, the signal would seem to originate from the projected alias.  

 “I perfected the alias to redirect communications. But we are limited by the speed of light. When we get as far away as the moon, there will be a delay as everything is routed back and forth through the alias.”

“How much of a delay?,” the communications officer asked.“ 

Vastatis looked at Plotkin. “That ought to be something you can figure out. But, depending on where we are in our cruise towards the moon, the lag could be from less than a second, up to two seconds from what they expect given the position of the alias. We cannot get around that.”

“Let’s count on the OC not needing to communicate with us during our run,” Plotkin said. “At least not until we are getting close to them on our return.”

 The Chicago received clearance to break away from its orbit of earth. Vastatis’s  Independence  joined it. As planned, the Independence intentionally moved too close to the Chicago.  Alpha One’s OC called the Independence and notified them to increase their distance from Chicago. While close to the Chicago, the cloaking mirror started and generated a stealth envelope engulfing  both the Chicago and the Independence. With ignition of the cloaking mirror, a stealth envelope hid the two ships while projected images of the two ships detached from the ships. The projected aliases of the ships moved along the course planned for the training run for the Independence’s pilots.

The pilot of the Independence acknowledged the order from the OC to back away from the Chicago. Everyone on Chicago’s bridge held their breath waiting for some communication from the Station indicating confusion over anomalies on their scanners. If two images of the Chicago or Independence became visible to surveillance systems, the experiment would be called off.  The cloaking having failed, the anomaly of two images would be explained as a Vastatis test to confuse radar systems.

“This is Alpha One OC. Chicago, we detected a fluctuation in your signal. We can check our systems but did anything happen to you?”

“We’ve had a power surge here,” Plotkin’s XO reported through the alias which was steadily moving away from the Chicago.  Again, they waited anxiously for some OC communication that might reveal confusion regarding where their response came from.

“This is the OC. You better check your drive core. Have a good test flight together in your higher orbit .”

“Thank you, Alpha One. Engineering is checking our power systems out. This is Chicago. Over and out.”

Vastatis let out a triumphant shout. “Yes. Yes!” He looked extremely satisfied with himself. As far as the OC of Alpha One could detect, they had spoken with the Chicago and Independence heading away into a higher earth orbit, while their actual, cloaked ships headed off in stealth mode in an opposite direction toward the moon. “I’m going to have to fix whatever caused the flicker. Captain Plotkin, your engineers need to do a full analysis of whatever happened in the drive core. I need to interrogate the core’s function against my cloaking mirror during its ignition.”

Plotkin looked at him blankly. “Yes, Senator. Engineering will do that. Thank you for your advice.”

The trip to the moon took much longer for the Chicago than London’s record trip run. The impulse rockets of the Chicago could not generate the same acceleration as the London’s impulse rockets because a large amount of power was bled from the drive core into the cloaking mirror. But the velocity achieved by the  Chicago challenged the Independence’s pilots to stay close and to then decelerate before reaching the moon. They did not receive any communications from Alpha One Station.

Surveillance systems on earth had not detected the two ships as they orbited the moon. Instead, earth systems continued to detect mirrored aliases of the ships in  their planned courses in high earth orbit. Navigators on the Chicago carefully modeled accelerations and decelerations for the aliases. It was evident to the Operations Center that Senator Vastatis was getting special training for his yacht’s pilots to optimize their decelerations. 

They had just come about and started back to the Station when Plotkin noticed Vastatis kept glancing towards the female cadet he had spoken with earlier. She was sitting at the communications console with the regular officer behind her. Plotkin sighed. 

“Senator?” she said. “Senator? May I have your attention?”

He turned to face the Captain. His look was too direct. She looked away clenching her jaw. “Senator, it is time to review our progress again. We are headed back to Alpha One. Our aliases have apparently remained on the Station’s imaging systems. We should prepare to call the Station through the aliases to confirm they continue to appear the source of the exchange. Does that meet your plan?”

As they got closer to Alpha One Station, they drew in the two aliases on their return course from high earth orbit.  When it was time to reunite the aliases with their ship, Plotkin had one of the cadets call the OC of Alpha One Station. “Alpha One Operations Center, this is ULE Chicago. Request permission to manually join Task Force Renewal in orbit.”

As the aliases and the actual ships were only ten thousand kilometers from the Station, the delay in relay of the communication back to the Chicago was small, but measurable.

“Chicago, this is OC. It is a bit early for you to be calling us. And why are you asking permission to join your Task Force? It is fifteen kilometers from Alpha One. No tug is needed to join your own group at this distance! ”

The Chicago’s Chief Navigation Officer stepped up to the navigation station. “Alpha One, this is the Chief Navigation Officer for Chicago. Our apology for the confusion. We are in training. We will sync with our Task Force independently when we arrive back to the Task Force.”

The XO smiled and winked at the cadet.  “Are all coms to Alpha One Station off.” 

“Yes, Sir,” she replied.

“Excellent job. You sounded very tentative, as you should have.”

“Bridge, this is AIC. We are dark to the OC.” Lieutenant Akhtar-Gatewood, the Chief Navigation Officer, lost his professional restraint and shouted. “It’s still working perfectly! Captain. Senator. They still think we’re in high orbit.” The rest of the bridge cheered.

Plotkin turned to Vastatis, giving in to a slight grin. “Almost there. Let’s see how good the mirroring holds as we close in and merge.”

“We know the cloaking is near perfect. There have been no communications from the OC regarding our trip to the moon.” Vastatis looked around the bridge triumphantly, settling his gaze on Plotkin. “Captain. You have just executed a history changing cruise.” 

“Thank you, Senator.” Still, Plotkin did not allow herself to exalt. “Now, we have to see if the cloaking works against Emissary cruisers and the Girassians.”

“It’s all right.” Vastatis said. “The way the cloak worked met my hopes. My surveillance station at the Matadi Research Institute has detected no communication from the Emissaries. They would have contacted us if there was communication indicating the Emissaries picked up the two of us heading to the moon. The Emissaries do not have technology that sees through our Cloaking Mirror.”

He put his hand on Plotkin’s shoulder in a familiar manner. She was gracious and did not jerk away.  “Angelique, you must come over to my yacht for a small celebration!”

She looked taken by surprise. “Senator, I am on duty.”

“You don’t have to be once you are back in earth orbit.” The members of the bridge turned away from the two of them and paid especially close attention to their consoles. 

“Come, this is a great, great moment!” Vastatis said. “Admiral Rankin and some of his staff will be there. We wouldn’t want you to miss the celebration. Your ship has changed the relationship we will have with the Emissaries.”

“Senator. In honor of your triumph, I will accept the honor of visiting your ship.”

“The honor will be mine,” he said.

The two cadets could not help themselves from turning around to look at the couple. Plotkin looked relaxed. She looked happy. That was strange.

__________

The reception on Vastatis’s yacht was a subdued affair. The two pilots of the Independence were in attendance. Rankin came over with his Chief of Staff and the XO of the Athena. They were the only Star Force officers who knew about the cloaking mirror. Captain Plotkin was a good partner in the subterfuge. She put the fear of God in her bridge crew and engineering who knew about the cloaking mirror. As far as the rest of her crew was concerned, they had just gone on a routine run to the moon and back.

Rankin and Vatatis spoke to one another at length, separate from Plotkin and the rest of the group. Rankin had a glass of wine which he barely touched. He looked worried. 

“Admiral, you looked concerned,” Vastatis said.

“I have mixed feelings about this, Senator. I am in awe of this device. I really can’t comprehend how your mirror is possible. And if we put it on our ships, I think the Emissaries will have to sit down with us as equals. But I do not like the fact that its first use will put one of my officers at risk. For your political purposes.”

“Admiral. The Star Force will become the force to reckon with in our known galaxy. One career is a small price to pay for this.”

“It may seem a small price to you. But betraying a fellow officer is a grave thing for us.” Rankin looked over at Plotkin who had just received a second glass of wine.

“Well, there is one thing we can be confident of,” Vastatis said. “Maureau seems to be able to take care of himself. His dealings with the pirates and flights with the London show him to be resourceful. I think he will come out of this just fine and keep his.”

“Putting his crew at risk for your political gain is difficult for me.”

“Admiral! Now that we are so close, I hope you’re not backing out. The mission will also test the mirror against the Emissaries and the Girassians.”

Rankin did not answer. He set his wine glass down. “Congratulations on, what seems to me, an unbelievable accomplishment. I think it will change history. Hopefully for the best.” He looked to his Chief of Staff and XO and nodded. The Star Force officers left.

“You’re not having doubts about this mission, are you?” Vastatis asked Plotkin.

“It’s going to be a hard mission to cleanly execute,” she said.  “But I know how I can get it done.” Plotkin 

“I’m confident you can, Angelique.”  

Plotkin stayed aboard the Independence long enough to finish a third glass of wine. When the pilots left, so did she, but not before taking a medication to clear her system of the alcohol. 

__________

Monica Presch sat in Vastatis’s office on earth. She sat in the chair opposite Araden’s his desk, her legs crossed beneath a dark maroon calf-length skirt. She wore a billowy white blouse. “I don’t know why you listen to that creep.”

Vastatis rubbed his face with both hands. “There are several reasons I listen to Yeoman. You know that. I think he has good ideas. His idea for promoting my Kings with a classical theme is a good one.”

“Well, you know I don’t appreciate the Vastatis Kings posing like they’re models for Ancient Greek statues. It’s just weird. It’s so old. That’s the only word I can come up with. Old. Your blitzball team is modern, taking on the Emissaries team. You and the Kings represent the unimagined future.”

“Monica, I respect your opinions. You know that. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on this.”

She moved to the edge of her chair and placed Vastatis’s schedule for the next day on his desk. Her short hair was parted on the side and she looked at him with her shoulders thrown back.  

“But you have also let him influence you politically! All of the political capital you spent on the Star Force General Staff is absurd.” She caught herself. “That is too strong a word. I apologize.”

“You know I’m not sensitive to your criticism. Say what you believe, Monica. I agree I really did work hard to influence them.”

“This mission will be another problem for the CSA, not just Maureau. It’s all contingent on being able to convince the Emissaries it’s an accident.”

They both looked out the window at the Pacific Ocean. The sun was low on the horizon, a soft purple light bathing the office. Vastatis’s office occupied the pinnacle of a pyramid, thirty stories above the ocean. Vastatis rubbed his short cropped beard and squinted into the sunlight at Presch.  

“You have a darker lipstick than usual.”

“For God’s sake, Senator, that’s inappropriate. We are discussing the business of Yeoman.”

“Right. His aversion to the Emissaries is deeper than mine. But we share one more thing, more important than anything. You know that. It’s the reason I need to stay in touch with him.” 

“Just because Benjamin Maureau is your political opponent, doesn’t give you common cause to go after his son.”

“It’s more than that. More than just a plan to hurt Benjamin Maureau politically. Yeoman approached me and shared dreams he’s having about Anthony, how son. They’re identical to dreams I’m having. They are disturbing in their vividness. 

“I don’t have anything tonight, do I?” She shook her head. Vastatis stood up and went to an adjoining room where she could hear him pouring something. He came back with two tea cups and handed one of them to her. Presch cradled it in her lap without drinking any. He took a deep sip. 

“This is unique from an herbal plant only existing in my lab. It’s from DNA acquired in South American ruins thousands of years old. No stimulant. I find it allows me to have peaceful sleep.”

“Except for your dreams,” Presch said.

“We’re both having the same dreams, sometimes on the same day. It has happened numerous times. ”

“Next, you’re going to tell me you’re together with him in these dreams.” 

“I hate to admit it, but sometimes I am with Yeoman and we are dealing with Maureau together. And having the same dream on the same day.”

“You’re dreaming the same dream? And you’re together in it? I’d run away from him if that were happening to me. It’s so strange he approached to tell you about his dreams in the first place.” 

“Anthony Maureau is a key figure in these dreams, a leader opposing both of our plans. In the dreams, Maureau is very influential in the Star Force.”

“Very bizarre. Why did he suspect you were having the same dreams?”

Vastatis shook his head. “ I admit it’s strange.”

“Strange! I don’t think you should associate with him in any way, socially, politically, or commercially. You believe you  have the same goals?” 

“I do.”

“Araden, you are usually so pragmatic. So careful in your analysis. How can you associate with someone approaching you in the dream world?”

“I want to convince the Emissaries they need us as equals. I want to get us independent of them. Yeoman also wants to free us from them. I think our goals are aligned.”

She shook her head and finally took a sip of her tea. “I think you’re mistaken. I believe Yeoman will be someone who does not work with you, Araden. He will become your nightmare himself.” 

Go to Chapter 9: In a Numb Haze https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/02/17/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-9-in-a-numb-haze/

Previous Chapter 6: Time for Most https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/11/27/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-6-time-for-most/

Lieutenant Ikram Ahktar-Gatewood had the watch on the bridge of the London with orders to maintain synchronous orbit fifteen kilometers behind the Alpha One Station. As Chief Engineer, he had his team generate the orders for the helm without using Yoshi, their biodroid pilot.  After the near catastrophe with Yoshi at the helm, he felt it prudent to take direct control of the ship’s course. 

Akhtar-Gatewood had been on the bridge with Commander Song in the aftermath of the near collision with Alpha One. It had been ugly as Rankin reprimanded Song for disobeying his order, throwing the book at her for several actions. He dismissed Commander Song from duty and promoted Lieutenant Gray to acting-XO. She was still in the Security Section attending to the retrieval of the six marines who had been killed in the explosion at the Poseidon. He awaited her arrival.

Anxious to leave the bridge, he left as soon as Gray arrived and dismissed him.  He went directly to Engineering where Chief Freihoff awaited him with Yoshi.“We’ve lost our XO,” Ahktar-Gatewood said shaking his head. 

“She is not lost,” Yoshi said. “When I check the ship I find she is in the Security Division.” 

Freihoff and Ahktar-Gatewood looked at Yoshi. “I’m kind of worried about you, Yoshi,” Freihoff  said. “You’re always accurate and Commander Song is not our XO anymore.  That is why Ikram said we ‘lost’ her. You can only have one XO and now it’s Lieutenant Gray per order of Admiral Rankin.”

“Chief Freihoff, you are now the one being inaccurate. Madelaine Gray is acting-XO. She is a lieutenant and fulfilling a provisional assignment.”

“Don’t change the subject on me. How do you explain not being accurate about Song?” 

The BDP squatted on his chair, frowned and closed his eyes. “Yoshi needs to run a full analysis of its decision algorithms. Somehow Yoshi’s decision matrix placed Song as an XO that could not be replaced by a lieutenant.” They could see he quietly worked to solve the question.

“The last thing we need to do right now is misunderstand each other,” Ikram said. “Use of the word ‘lost’ is an idiom of sorts, Gerhard. Yoshi obviously was responding to ‘lost’ as needing to locate Song. Unfortunately, for us all of us, she’s been removed from command. We have ‘lost’ her as XO.” 

Yoshi opened his eyes and brightened. “The explanations have been found. Lieutenant Ahktar-Gatewood is correct. The statement regarding Song being ‘lost’ triggered the search for her location on the ship. No crew member has been lost. All are accounted for. At the time of the Lieutenant’s request, no review of other possible definitions of ‘lost’ was considered.”

Secondly, Commander Song is a promoted, real XO. Lieutenant Gray is not an XO in function. She is only acting as one. Commander Song will always be my XO. My algorithm did not consider the  weight of acting vs confirmed.”

“Yoshi, you’re not being asked to assess the relative attributes of Gray and Song against the skills needed for XO. You must stay precise to the command structure.” Freihoff shook his head.  “Put this in your database if it is not there. As acting -XO, Lieutenant Gray is the voice of Captain Maureau. Unless you are given a change in her status as acting-XO., she is to be obeyed without hesitation or questioning. Do you have that?”

“Yes. Yoshi will obey without questioning.  Chief Freihoff? Is it proper to offer alternatives that might be better than her proposed actions?”

“Run them through me, Yoshi. Or Ikram, if it has to do with navigation. I will filter the ones I believe the commanders will want to be aware of. You are not to act contrary to orders!”

“Calm down, Gerhard, I think we’re all stressed out.” 

“Yoshi is not stressed out,” Yoshi said closing his eyes again.

Freihoff sighed. “No kidding. Let’s work together and find out if we made any mistakes. We may be able to support both Maureau and Song with analysis of what happened and how we fit into it.”

They worked together for more than an hour and half. Yoshi brought up his projections and Akhtar-Gatewood generated data from the actual events of the  collision. The projection of Poseidon’s drift by Yoshi matched exactly what happened. They worked the data over several times, repeatedly confirming Yoshi’s recommendation for Diomedes to break and yaw to starboard would have prevented collision with the Poseidon.  Their biodroid pilot had accurately predicted the accident and the means of avoiding it.

Admiral Rankin’s rebuke of Song for not using the standard navigation channel did not make sense. The Diomedes was his former command and his reprimand of Song seemed an emotional response taking away some blame from Diomedes’ bridge for the collision. . The watch of the Diomedes was trying to deflect attention away from their mistaken decision to accelerate forward by turning Song’s communication back against her.  The warning was not a standard recommendation. It was an “O-day alert,”calling for immediate action by another ship and had been authorized by Captain Maureau.  She did not have time to run her alert through the standard navigation channel and was acting on his orders. Yoshi’s projections clearly showed that every second counted. 

The O-day alert, the officers on the bridge of the Diomedes argued, caused a delay in firing of the impulse rockets as Song’s warning was considered and then rejected. Unfortunately for them, Yoshi’s work demonstrated this to be a specious argument. Modeled data showed that had the Diomedes accelerated earlier, at the moment they received the O-day call, the Diomedes would actually have hit the Poseidon deeper, tearing into it worse than it did. While Diomedes might argue they did not have enough time to consider the alert, they could not fault the bridge of the London, much less her XO, for trying to alert them.

But the analytic work Freihoff, Akhtar-Gatewood, and Yoshi did regarding Song’s decision to race to rescue Maureau worried them. Not only had she ignored a direct order of Admiral Rankin, but she acted on what turned out to be only a fifty-five percent chance that the London would not collide with Alpha One Station. This left a forty-five percent probability the London would have collided with the Station, subjecting it to destructive forces far greater than the rocket blast that ended up buckling the Station’s plastiglass hull.  A near fifty percent chance of a fatal disaster was way to high for a commander of a ship to accept in order to save two star-sailors. Her decision clearly put many people at risk for death. Maureau was expendable compared to the risk. 

Song had not asked what the chances were for failure while Yoshi did not offered the data that could have been considered. Freihoff and Ahktar-Gatewood appreciated Yoshi’s data that revealed all of his analysis and how he needed to reassess things after she gave her order. In the end Yoshi needed to use harder retro-acceleration to break than he had initially calculated. They wondered what this portended for future recommendations from Yoshi.

_________

Only twelve hours after regaining consciousness, Captain Maureau arrived on the Poseidon for a debriefing with the entire command of the Task Force.  If the London felt like a funeral home with the mourning of its lost marines, the Poseidon felt like a morgue. At least on the London there were caring people openly supporting one another. The Poseidon was cold and silent. 

He arrived early with Doctor Gladman and Lieutenant Gray and they sat in the first row of the empty tiered Briefing Hall. The doctor had advised against his attendance, again asserting that  it was too early for him to endure the physical and mental stress which was sure to ensue. Gladman acquiesced to Maureau’s demand that he attend in person by insisting that he be able to accompany Maureau. 

  Maureau knew Gladman believed he could step in and have Maureau dismissed for medical indications if the Doctor judged Maureau required it. Ah my good Doctor, things don’t work that way. I don’t thing you will be able to get a word in if things get to a high level of confrontation. But I appreciate your concern.

Doctor Gladman sat to Maureau’s right, Gray to his left. They waited silently as the room began to fill. Chief Freihoff and Ahktar-Gatewood told him that Yoshi’s analytic capability was more powerful than any of the BDP’s in the Task Force. They had gone over their own analysis of the events of the collision and Maureau was confident the officers of the Diomedes were only trying to save face, offload some of the blame for their collision with the Poseidon. He hoped everyone would see that. But he could not read the response of his fellow officers as they entered the hall. Some ignored him, not meeting his gaze. Others simply nodded. 

Maureau had watched the video of the London’s stop just short of the Station. He marveled at how Yoshi had predicted what would happen. Close, but not perfect. “The view port’s plastiglass will hold for two minutes and fifteen point three seconds,” Yoshi reported. The collapse of the plastiglass occurred in two minutes and thirteen seconds. Yoshi delivered projections with precise numbers that could be relied on. We think him to be near-perfect. And he is. But there are always probability estimates. He does not always report them and they need to be taken into account in decision making. We have to continue refine how he works with us. And continue to work on our command decision analysis when working with him.

Maureau would not argue against Admiral Rankin’s indictment of Song for disobeying his direct order and endangering the Station with its delegation. He could not dismiss the analysis of his own navigation team. The near fifty percent chance that the London would hit the view port of the Station argued against a captain taking the risk she did. But Yoshi assures me that his calculations show me hitting the Station head first, at four hundred fifty kilometers per hour.  While Yoshi is not perfect, I don’t need two decimal points of certainty to trust him I would have been killed. Song saved me! I owe her my life and need to protect her any way I can.  

Doctor Gladman and Gray both turned around and watched people as they arrived. They both seem more concerned over making contact with the Task Force’s senior leadership than in being here for me, their captain. That’s like Gladman. But Gray? I guess she’s excited over being the acting-XO. Approved by Rankin. That’s a big accomplishment for her, something she always wanted. 

Captain Angelique Plotkin sat down next to Gray. She smiled sadly. “Pretty messed up, isn’t it?”

“Many things have gone wrong to get here,” Maureau said.

Gray introduced herself to Plotkin as the acting-XO. “Our ships will need to work closely together.  I will work closely with your bridge,” Gray assured Plotkin, who simply smiled without saying anything.

There was quiet conversation, like at a wake, as they waited for Rankin.  One everyone had arrived the hall became ever more quiet the longer they waited. People could hear others around them breathing. Finally, Rankin stepped into the room with his XO from the Poseidon. Everyone stood and saluted like they were cadets. He looked tired, but retained the angry energy to glare at them, avoiding directly looking at Maureau.

“Be seated.  I will cut to the chase. The Poseidon drifted towards the Diomedes on a collision course. The Diomedes in its response to avoid being hit was unable to power up soon enough and move out of the way. When it did accelerate it was unable to clear the Poseidon and we collided.”

Rankin paused and surveyed the room. Still, he avoided Maureau’s look. “We have had casualties. Deaths. There are several things we are looking into to unravel this catastrophe. This deadly fiasco. The tugs failed to execute. That may be all there is to it. Several pilots are being questioned now regarding their response to their instrument data.

“Secondly, there was a problem with the Diomedes’ BDP integrating with the Action Information Center. The margin for error should never have been an issue during this operation.

“Last. Communication from the London was not through the Navigation channel so it could not be acted upon by Diomedes’ Navigation Section. This confused the response. With a delayed response it was too late to avoid the collision.”

Maureau could not believe his ship was being called out in front of the Task Force captains and their XO’s. He was happy Song was not there to experience this. He waited to be acknowledged by Rankin.  Not everyone here can be so biased they will not consider the facts!  He wants to call out my ship in front of everyone. Well, here goes nothing.

Maureau stood up and before Rankin had time to wave him to silence. “With respect, Sir. The record shows our O-day warning came into Diomedes forty-five seconds before their aft rockets were fired launching it into the Poseidon. We identified our call as an emergency communication, and it should have been considered as such.We repeated it and Diomedes had time to consider it and chose to dismiss it.”

Plotkin looked alarmed looking from Rankin to Maureau. Gray pulled herself up in her seat and looked straight ahead. Dr. Gladman had his worried face on, showing concern over Maureau’s sanity, or at least his emotional judgement.

“Forty-five seconds! Is that all the time you give a cruiser to change its planned course?” Rankin had finally turned his gaze to Maureau and it was dark with rage.

“Our BDP had just completed the analysis. I take responsibility for  our XO broadcasting the information as an O-day warning. I do not take responsibility for the collision. The decision to accelerate was the wrong one.”

There was audible shifting in the room. “Diomedes, you do not have to respond to that! This is not the place where the facts will be reviewed,” Rankin growled. 

“Thank you, Sir. I agree that the facts should not be reviewed here.” Maureau sat down.

Rankin paused, looking out over the room. He seemed to work to let the pressure inside him lower. Then he said, “The London was involved in the explosion that damaged the Poseidon beyond repair for this Task Force mission. Again confusion between its marines and the repair team. And keep seated, Maureau.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Maureau said, choosing to speak from his seat. “Again the voice recordings clearly document a warning that was dismissed. I was there and saw it first hand. Confusion does not dismiss acting before things are straightened out. The London lost six marines while saving seventeen crewmen of the Poseidon.”

“Poseidon also lost more of its crew in that explosion. We did not need your marines repairing our ship.” His fists clenched. “And you did not need to go space side. A captain belongs on the bridge during a crisis,” Rankin retorted.

“My XO was more than qualified to keep the London fixed in its position.”

“Your XO? Your XO directly disobeyed my order to halt in chasing you, putting the Station and the review delegation in mortal danger. It’s only luck that saved the delegation.” Rankin ran his hand through his hair and then pounded the podium.

Maureau did not know what to say to this. He was shocked that Rankin had brought this up at the Task Force debriefing.

“Captain Maureau,” Rankin continued, “Every officer takes a risk of dying, especially when they choose to go space side. I regret to say, saving you was a rash decision.” 

“Had she obeyed you, your anointed XO, Lieutenant Gray, and I would not be here to trouble you with the facts.” Maureau’s voice cracked with emotion.

Rankin glared at Maureau. He ran his hand through his hair a second time, bringing out the apparition of a lion he was known for displaying.  He pounded out on the podium, “No more interruptions. Do not chose to disobey an order from me as your XO did.”

Plotkin looked over at Maureau. She looked alarmed over how out of control both officers had become.. 

It seemed to Maureau that Rankin was being defensive now in front of his command. What am I? Some schoolboy being dismissed from class? You brought this  on yourself. Asked for it. You’re not used to anyone standing up for themself?

Maureau became lightheaded, pale and clammy. Gladman was right. He did need to take it easy. Doctor Gladman grabbed his arm. “Are you all right, Captain?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he said under his breath, fighting not to gag as nausea overwhelmed him.

Gladman helped him up and looked at Rankin, nodding at Rankin to indicate he was stepping in as a Medical Officer. Maureau had had enough and let Gladman help him out of the hall. 

Passing Gray he said, loud enough for those around her to hear, “Cover our ship, and me, Lieutenant.” Once in the passageway Gladman said, “Let’s go back to the ship.”  

“No. We wait for Gray. Their officer’s mess will be open to us. Let’s go there.”  They sat for more than half an hour, Maureau completely expecting he would be relieved of his command. Gladman went through the line and brought him some tea. Maureau appreciated the doctor’s care.  

“You know, you should not have gone to this meeting,” Gladman said. “It was too soon. Post-concussion irritability may have affected your responses. Made you prone to reacting emotionally.”

“So what is Rankin’s excuse then? And it wasn’t too soon for Gray?”

“Gray was less affected by the blast than you were,” Gladman said in a soothing tone. “Her injury was not as severe. Her sensorium had cleared before we brought her in from space. Almost immediately.”

“Maybe Rankin will give her a field promotion to captain of the London while I sit here,”  Maureau said.

“Anthony, you know, anything is possible. With a promotion to lieutenant commander, she would be eligible to captain a corvette.  Under supervision, I would expect, it’s not impossible she could captain the London.” 

It stung to have his fears confirmed by Gladman. The doctor could be like that, one moment  being supportive, but then reminding you of your vulnerability. “Doc, I’m still captain. Address me as Captain.” He finished his tea, silently waiting for Gray. Gladman did not say anything more.  

___________

Gray caught up with Maureau in the mess after an hour. In meditation, he had fallen asleep and her call over his ear piece jarred him. She showed up with Captain Plotkin. Plotkin’s appearance with Gray confirmed his fear that he had been relieved of command. Rankin does not even have the decency to deliver the message himself.

“Captain.” Gray stood straight, formal, as if on inspection. Plotkin stood behind her. “I will ask Doctor Gladman to excuse himself so that we may discuss orders in confidence.”

“Let’s sit down,” Plotkin said, sitting opposite Maureau. Gray sat down to his right.

“Admiral Rankin will await the arrival of the ULE Athena to use as his flagship. It will arrive in one day and he is going to give it five days to re-provision.” Gray spoke forcefully, like she was giving orders. “I am to continue as your XO, Captain.”

“Excellent. Have you been given a field promotion, to Lieutenant Commander?”

“Yes, Sir. I have.” Gray looked at Plotkin.

“Congratulations, on being promoted to Lieutenant Commander.”

Plotkin leaned forward. “Captain Maureau, I do not believe you bear responsibility for Poseidon’s collision or for the explosion. I am sure there are others that see it this way and are behind you.”

“Thank you.” He wondered if this was actually true, but it still was nice she said it. The last time they had met, things were unpleasant between her and his crew.  “Captain Plotkin, you must be here for more than consoling me.”

“I am,” Plotkin started and paused.  “I am here in person to inform you that  Rankin has assigned me command of a secondary side-mission the Chicago and London will be given when we are in Girassian space.”

He showed no emotion. “I trust, as a peer in experience, you will be open to recommendations from me. When will we get our orders on this side-mission you are leading?”

““We’ll review the mission together after we get through the Portal into Girassian Space. Of course, Anthony, we both want our mission to go well.” Maureau flinched. He did not like being addressed by his first name while in duty. You did that on purpose, patronizing me. 

“Commander Gray and I have spoken just now, before coming here to meet with you. I know we will have no problems working together.”

That’s great. Am I being paranoid? The two of them met without me, confirming they will have a good working relationship behind my back. Before I even knew of the promotions and the new command structure. Was this initiative by Gray? Or Plotkin worrying about my reliability? Probably both.

“That’s good,” Maureau said. “I’ll want you to be able to work with my XO as I delegate to her.”

“I assure you, Captain Maureau, we will be a great team,” Plotkin said. 

He stood up, bracing himself momentarily on the table. “Captain, thank you for letting me know about all these things in person. I trust we are  done here.”

Maureau, Gladman, and Gray flew back in silence to the London. Maureau’s countenance invited no conversation. Once onboard the London, Maureau headed towards his quarters. “Dr. Gladman, I’m taking you up on getting rest. And not in the Medical Bay.”

As he left them he turned to say to Gray. “Make sure the formal orders for your promotion come in for me to review.”  He stopped and thought for a moment. “Oh, and if they are not already in, get the orders regarding Plotkin’s command over the London too. If you have to go to Rankin, do so.”

“Captain, I need to clear you for duty,” Gladman said.

The look Maureau gave Gladman shrank Gladman. “Sure, Doctor. You go ahead and fill out the administrative work.”

Go to Chapter 8: A History Making Cruise https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2023/01/20/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-8-a-history-changing-cruise/

Previous Chapter 5: A Magnificent Flyby https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/10/26/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-5-a-magnificent-flyby/

Lieutenant Commander Song stood on the bridge of the London. Her bridge. She attentively listened to the interchange between her security team and Poseidon’s repair team which had just arrived at the breach caused by the collision with the Diomedes. The chief of Poseidon’s repair team was rebuking the sergeant of the marines over the patch the marines had put over an opening into a passageway of the ship. The seal was not complete and atmosphere continued to leak out around the patch. The repair team planned to remove the patch and dismissed the warning by the sergeant that the robot repair units should not use torches due to a nearby fuel leak. The marines’ warnings were being dismissed.

The Captain and Gray floated just outside the entry into the gaping hole in the hull. Song adjusted the cameras to a close up of them, the six marines in the background around their work on a patch. The other six marines of squad were off camera, securing loose equipment in the periphery of the breach.  The marines started to withdraw from the immediate vicinity they had patched.    

“What the…  Why are you not listening to us?” Song said into her com calling the Poseidon. “This is Commander Song of the London. Our marine squad has detected a fuel leak into the breach.”

When the flash occurred, it delivered a gut punch to Song. Blinding light, followed by a conflagration that spit out more debris including human figures visible for an instant. Captain Maureau hurtled past the London within a cloud of debris from the explosionand tumbled head over heels towards Alpha One. Pieces of rocket nozzles  spun around him. Song had to catch her breath to speak.  

“Yoshi?”

“Yoshi has a bearing on all of the London’s star-sailors,” Yoshi answered.

“A fix on the Captain?” she squeezed out in a barely audible voice. 

“Captain Maureau and Gray have been blasted past the London. Six marines have been enveloped by the explosion. Six marines are still off the breach regaining control of their flight.”

“The Captain’s bearing?” 

“Four hundred fifteen kilometers per hour directly towards Alpha One. Impact in forty seconds,” Yoshi said in a synthetic, computer voice, with no hint of emotion.

“Security. Whoever is there. Take stations in the air lock. We will have more incoming casualties.”

“Can we pick him up before he reaches Alpha One?”

“Yes, if London accelerates directly towards the Station. This action will not be compliant with safety regulations,” he said emphatically.

“Do it, on my mark.” She hit the red alert alarm. “All crew! Emergency! Brace for immediate acceleration with deceleration. Immediate action.”  

She waited and then gave the order, “Yoshi, execute rescue in mark three seconds. Two. One. Now!”

The London accelerated away from the Poseidon, precisely on the “now”of her command. The 2-G force of Yoshi’s acceleration threw many of the crew into a bulkhead, into their counsel, off their gurney in the Medical Bay. The London rocketed away from the Poseidon towards Alpha One.

 Thrown to the deck, Song was face to face with Yoshi who was secure in his jump seat. “Can we do it without damaging the Station?”

“London will stress the view port of the Station on stopping. The review delegation is in the view port’s amphitheater . The plastiglass of the view port will hold for two minutes and fifteen seconds before breaking. Time for most to evacuate.”

“Time for most?” Song said.

“Yoshi cannot analyze the effectiveness of the group’s evacuation.”

“Will we be able to pick up Gray?”

“There is a seventy percent probability that Yoshi can catch both Lieutenant Gray together with Captain Maureau.”

Song broke out into a sweat with sudden nausea. She switched coms to the Operations Center of Alpha One. “London coming in. Prepare for possible collision. Evacuate the viewing amphitheater!” She repeated this, ignoring the command coming in from the Poseidon to halt the rescue attempt. Admiral Rankin’s roar filled the bridge.

__________

The dignitaries gathered in the large viewing amphitheater of Alpha One looked out the large viewing port at the expanding cloud of debris. They could not discern the bodies of crew caught in the explosion. The corvette that had held its position near the damaged section of the Poseidon started to move towards them, accelerating away from the Poseidon seemingly in chase of the cloud of debris. No one could see Captain Maureau and Lieutenant Gray 

Senator Vastatis stared through the plastiglass viewing port in disbelief. He knew it was the London  headed directly towards the Station . He and Yeoman sat in the middle of the second row of the amphitheater. No one moved to get out of the hall, everyone frozen in indecision. Yeoman shouted as he realized the corvette appeared to be headed directly at the amphitheater.  The ship did not slow down, closing on them like a missile on target. Everyone joined him in screaming.

Rance Yeoman acted before the others in the amphitheater. He jumped up onto his seat and ran along the row of seats, grabbing heads and sometimes hair to maintain his balance. 

In the last instant before collision, the lateral trim impulse rockets erupted, their exhaust blanketing the plexiglass viewing port in flame. The force of the eruption against the plastiglass shook the amphitheater.  The London itself stopped meters away from the plastiglass hull of the Station, the force of the blast booming against the plastiglass spreading a web of fracture lines in the viewing port.

People panicked as they anticipated the cracked plastiglass would shatter with the atmosphere of the hall blowing them all out into space. They finally moved. Scrambling people wedged themselves into the rows of seats, shoving and elbowing one another to get to the passageway beyond the amphitheater. Vastatis futilely shouting into the uproar to restore order.

Yeoman had skipped along the row reaching the last seat in the row occupied by a woman who had been knocked back into her seat. He vaulted off her lap and fell onto the deck. Rolling upright, he limped into the passageway and stepped in the passageway out of the amphitheater. He tried to swing the hatch closed. 

__________

Marine Master Chief Petty Officer Nicholas Hall saved Lieutenant Commander Song’s career. In one way of thinking, he may have saved human civilization, but that is another story.  From his position of attention at the doorway to the amphitheater, he watched the London’s rockets fire and thunder against the view port of the amphitheater. He saw the fracture lines and knew immediately everyone needed to be evacuated.  The only way it would happen was if they left in an orderly fashion.  A wild looking man had stepped over and onto people in the second row and rolled up to him.

Hall reached down to help him up, but the man scrambled past him and bolted for the door. There was something about him that alerted Hall. The clench of the man’s jaw. The wild look in his eyes. The shaking of his head. Hall just knew this man would do something rash. He saw him start to swing the door’s hatch closed.

The heavy hatch snapped into the frame. Before a fatal click, Hall launched himself at the hatch, driving all of his weight with his shoulder. The heavy hatch opened before it locked, pushing back the perpetrator. There was no time for negotiation. Hall hit the man with an upper cut, dropping him to the deck. He plunged back into the amphitheater looking over his shoulder to make sure the panicked man remained on the deck.

“Stay calm! Stay calm!” Hall shouted above all of the screaming. “Follow me and you will be ok.” Hall lifted people and started to extricate them from one another. He recognized Senator Vastatis calming individuals and actually getting them to back off from pushing forward. The pileup eased after Hall literally pulled some people out and threw them into the aisle of the amphitheater. There were going to be some  bruised egos after this. He hoped there would not be another jam-up at the door. 

Another officer arrived and helped people through the opening, one at a time. On the other side of the hall, two more crew of the Station helped bring some order to the evacuation.

Glancing up Hall noted the plastiglass bulging. It would rupture soon and the only questions were how wide the hole in the fractured plastiglass would be, the vacuum force pulling the remaining members of the delegation out into space. He was not going to be able to get everyone on his side of the amphitheater through the door before the plexiglass ruptured. Hall heard voices of other Station crew shepherding people down the passageway. 

“A life line! A life line!” he shouted..

__________

“The Captain and Gray are secured! Both unconscious but we saved both.” The report from Security in the airlock bay came just as the retro-rocket blast hit Alpha One. Song had no time to be relieved as she saw the viewing portal plastiglass sprout a web of fracture lines. 

There never had been a question in Song’s mind whether she should order the London to accelerate towards Alpha One to prevent Captain Maureau from colliding with it. Her BDP, which had proven its capability several times, reported that the damage would not be substantial. She trusted Yoshi without asking him the chances of the ship hitting the Station.

But as she stood on the bridge watching the crowd trickle out of the amphitheater she recalled Yoshi had said that there would be “time for most”of the attendees to make it out of the amphitheater. 

“London, you better be able to rescue any jettisoned members of the delegation,” Admiral Rankin said over the com.  

“We can catch any people who are spaced,” Yoshi said. 

“Of course, of course. Catch all the people!” she shouted, angry with herself that it had taken the Rankin and the BDP to suggest the action.  The ship had to first back away from the Station in order to rotate and orientate its airlock bay to catch incoming people sucked out towards the London. Yoshi was executing the maneuver when she saw the plastiglass view port explode outwards. 

__________

Hall bought time for the handful of delegates and dignitaries remaining in the room. He grabbed the lifeline thrown out from the door. There were seven left on his side of the hall. 

“Grab this line. Grab it and hold on for dear life!” He took the line and stretched it out so that the remaining people could grab it. Hall anchored himself at the end.

The plastiglass seemed to bend outward, shiver, and then the center blew out. Instantly a force grabbed them and they lifted off the deck, a row of people desperately holding onto the rope. Crew in the passageway started to pull the lifeline in, but the grip of a few loosened and as they slid down the rope into one another, they bunched up against Hall at the end of the rope.

He had to hold. Untrained passengers would hold their breath if they left the ship and the vacuum of space would fatally burst their lungs . A fourth person slid into the bunched group at the end of the lifeline, pounding into him as they were unable to maintain a secure grip on the line. Hall remained a shield preventing them from being sucked into space. He held onto the rope until the last person used his legs to push off Hall and reach out for the passageway. Hall could not hold against the kick and lost his grip. He was sucked out of the amphitheater hall into space.

__________

When Maureau’s consciousness cleared, the first person he recognized was his XO, Song.  “Kristina, what are you doing here? You should be on the bridge. We have an accident to take care of.”  

She looked relieved, a great burden just taken off her shoulders. “Ahktar-Gatewood has the bridge. We are standing off the Task Force at five kilometers from the last ship in line. Rankin wants the London out of the way of the Task Force.”

“What? Why? Are we still at Alpha One?” 

“Yes, Sir. We are orbiting with the Station. Our line stretches fourteen kilometers. Poseidon and Diomedes are in dock. ”

He closed his eyes, overwhelming exhaustion took hold. His head swam and he lost consciousness. He awoke again after an hour and insisted on getting out of bed and sitting up. Dr. Gladman cautioned him to avoid over-exertion. Maureau would have tried to go to the bridge, but Gladman was adamant he needed to rest. 

If he had been honest with him, Maureau would have admitted he felt horrible sitting up in a chair in the Medical Bay. It took a lot of effort, but he forced himself to put on an affect of alertness and told Gladman he felt fine. The doctor looked unconvinced. 

Maureau called the bridge. Ahktar-Gatewood answered. “Lieutenant Ahktar-Gatewood, what is going on? Where is Song?” Maureau used the speaker system in the Medical Bay, unable to imagine putting on a headset and having someone speaking directly into his ear.

“I have temporarily been given the bridge by Lieutenant Gray. She is with her marines.”

“What are you talking about? Who gave her command of the bridge.”

“Admiral Rankin, sir. I defer to Commander Song to explain everything. I will send her back down.” After the effort to look bright and alert, Maureau was too tired to protest. He drifted back into sleep again.

When he stirred again, he saw that Song sat next to him, hands on knees, looking straight ahead, focussing on a distant point that would be past the bulkhead of the Medical Bay. He drifted off. Another hour passed before he woke up. Song had stayed with him the entire time. 

Dr. Gladman did a quick neurological exam, checking his pupillary reactions, assessing grip and ankle strength and reflexes.

“All of your scans are all right. No intracerebral bleed. No rupture in the liver, kidney, or spleen.”

“Thanks, thanks. Spare the details. All I need to know is if I am all right.  When can I go back to duty?”

“At least forty-eight hours at the very earliest,” Gladman said. “You must rest and not stress yourself, physical or mentally.”

“That is not possible. Won’t happen, doctor.” Maureau looked to Song who was still staring off into the distance. “What’s going on, Song. Don’t tell me I’m not able to make decisions.”

“Captain, it is my duty to clear you medically to take back command. I will let  you two alone,” Gladman dismissed himself.”

“Well?” 

“Ah, a lot has happened, Captain. As you may recall, the Poseidon and Diomedes ran into each other.”

“Kristina, I’m not confused. I recall what happened. Casualties?”

“We picked up all of their spaced crew, twenty-seven in all. Fourteen survived. Six of our marines died in the explosion afterwards along with four of their maintenance team. We picked you and Gray up before you hit the Station.” Song spoke rapidly, not letting Maureau interject any question. “A total of twenty-three died in this disaster.

“The Poseidon is so damaged it will not be able to leave with the Task Force. Rankin needs a new flagship. He’s called in the Athena.”

“Come on,” Maureau said. “I want to know what this is that Ahktar-Gatewood tells me about Lieutenant Gray now being the acting-XO?”

“I have been relieved of duty for my actions and Rankin field promoted her to acting-XO.”

“What!” The force of his exclamation hammered his head so that he saw stars.

“Sir, we’ve been blamed, in part, for the collision of Diomedes with the drifting Poseidon. For not using proper channels to communicate. The London’s marine teamis also being blamed for the explosion due to defective work patching the breach.” She sighed long and paused. 

Song slowed down, speaking very precisely. “I have been relieved of duty for disobeying a direct order from Admiral Rankin to stand down from my chase after you. You were heading straight towards Alpha One. I made a decision that put the Station and the dignitaries in danger. I did not collide directly with it but did damage it. Fortunately, no one died. We caught you before you hit the Station.”

“And saved me,” Maureau said softly. A wave of nausea accompanied the pain in his head. He fought back the urge to vomit.

Go on to Chapter 7: A Great Team https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/12/28/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-7-a-great-team/

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

“How did he get invited?” Song nodded towards a man who stood out in crowd of the reception.  He wore a drab gray jacket with his pants nearly covering his shoes. Unkempt, ragged hair hung to his shoulders. His appearance contrasted with the colorful, prim style of the dignitaries and politicians and with the clean-cut, tailored appearance of the military.

“Who are you looking at?” Maureau looked over at two men who stood conversing in the middle of the hall. He sniffed his drink. “This is hard to do?”

“I’m referring to that short guy talking to the Senator over there. He really looks out of place. What’s hard to do?”

“Standing here pretending to sip this drink,” Maureau said.

“No kidding. Are you punishing yourself by ordering whisky? It smells pretty potent.” Song took a sip of her drink. “You could have ordered a seltzer, like me.  I’m surprised there’s a cocktail reception so close to our departure. A lot of officers are taking advantage of the open bar.” Song sniffed her own drink. “Discipline, Captain. Always act with discipline.”

“You’re a paragon of discipline, Song. I recognize the Senator. I don’t know who the other man is, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. That’s Rance Yeoman. I think his Progressive Nationalist Party only has one, maybe two, seats in the legislature. I wouldn’t expect him to be here given how little influence he has.”

“Ooh. That smells delicious.” Maureau took two hors d’oeuvres from a server, aromatic cheese with olives on toast. “Thank you, so much,” he said with a little bow.

“They sure make an odd couple,” Song said.  

“Given the theme of our Task Force is ‘Renewal,’ it is ironic that the manufacturer of androids is hanging out with the leader of the cult of celebrating classical culture. You should try these cheese crackers.” 

Admiral Rankin joined the Senator and Yeoman. “No way. They smell like wet socks. And now Rankin joins them. What an unlikely trio!”

“All we need is your friend, Plotkin, to join them and we will be forced to go over and say hello,”Maureau said. “You can’t appreciate the aroma of the toasted bread?  Oh shit, they’re coming over here.”

Rankin led the two directly to Maureau and Song. He looked more impressive in person than on a bridge monitor. Taller than most of the guests, he had a practiced way of looking down on people he was talking with. Golden medals and rows of ribbons adorned his scarlet uniform. In contrast to the crisp tightness of his uniform, his hair and beard flared out like the mane of a lion. He lived up to his moniker of being the “Lion.”

Senator Araden Vastatis appeared distracted, searching the reception while being introduced to Maureau and Song. The cut of his dark blue suit accentuated his lean body. A manicured, short beard complemented the razor cut of his chocolate colored hair. Scant gray flecked both. His gray eyes focused on the mid-distance, always searching. He snapped back to them with surprising intensity upon being introduced. 

Rankin introduced Maureau and Song. “It’s a pleasure to meet the son of Senator Maureau,” Vastatis said. “And the XO of the London.” He let his gaze linger on Song while he gave her a slight bow.

“As his son, I hope I do him proud. It is my honor to meet you, Senator.”

“And this is Rance Yeoman, Head of the Progressive Nationalist Party,” Admiral Rankin said, introducing the diminutive man. Despite being small in stature, Yeoman demanded attention with his gaze. He was the opposite of Vastatis, who made you want to look over your shoulder and find out what held his attention. Yeoman made you feel like excusing yourself to escape his stare. Up close, his skin was a pasty white with sunken eyes pulling you into a black pit. Song turned away from Yeoman. Maureau decided to engage Yeoman in a staring contest. 

Vastatis was a corporate giant relying on order. Yeoman’s influence relied on promoting disruptive politics. Maureau wondered what they had in common. What an unholy pair we have here. The android manufacturer and the demagogue for Anti-Emissary paranoia. And I’m getting the creepy feeling that one of them is behind my addition to the Task Force, the way are interested in meeting me.   

“I expect your father is very proud you are included in this Task Force,” Vastatis said. Vastatis’s comment gave Maureau a reprieve to break from locking his gaze with Yeoman and attend to Vastatis’s comment. He realized that Yeoman would have won the staring contest. 

“I don’t know that, Senator. I have not communicated with him in the last couple of days. Projection of League military power through the Portal is something that he does not support.”

“But the exercise is being done with the Emissaries. On their invitation. I hope he can support this,” Vastatis said. “He’s always been comfortable with them.” 

“For the occasion of celebrating this Task Force, I don’t think it is relevant what my father’s position is regarding our Mission.”

“Senator, Captain Maureau has shown exemplary preparation for inclusion in the Task Force.” Rankin said. “Despite the late assignment,” he added with a knowing look at Vastatis.

Song laughed. “I’m sure Senator Vastatis is relieved to hear we were able to turn our ship around as fast as we did.”

“I am honored and grateful to be a part of Admiral Rankin’s Task Force,” Maureau quickly said.

“You have been selected to be part of an elite group of Confederation ships ,” Vastatis said.

“Do you mean the United League, Sir?” Maureau said. “After all, my ship is from the Union of Europe.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Vastatis said. “It’s so easy for me to misspeak when I am with the our Admiral, we both being from the Confederation ”

“It will be magnificent to see all of the ships leaving together,” Yeoman said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it really won’t be so exciting, Mr. Yeoman,” Song said. “The ships leave one at a time and in a line kilometers apart so that the first one is quite distant by the time the last one leaves.”

“No. That is not what we are doing for this occasion, Commander,” Rankin said, “We are forming up for inspection, as tight as regulations allow, within half a kilometer of each other. We will form up five kilometers from Alpha One so that the delegation can observe the Task Force from a view port in the Station’s amphitheater.”

“What!” Song did not hide her incredulity.

“And I have placed your ship as the last one to leave Alpha One.” Rankin showed no emotion. Yeoman sniggered.

“Thank you, Sir. A place of honor as the rearguard,” Maureau said. “I’m glad the London will be at the rear, to appreciate the grandeur of the Task Force.”

“Who’s inspecting us?” Song fought to keep her voice level.

“I’m with a group of fifteen from the League Parliament,” Vastatis said. “The CSA has sent seven representatives.”

“The CSA has the largest contingent,” Yeoman said.

“And, Mr. Yeoman,  you represent what interest in this Task Force?” Maureau said.

“All of the major parties of the Confederation have sent someone,” Yeoman said. There was a pause as they considered how Yeoman, as a representative of a party with only one person in the legislature, clearly over-represented the importance of the Progressive Nationalist Party in the Confederation of Southern America. “Senator Vastatis agrees, the Progressive Nationalist Party is the future.”

Maureau’s curiosity over Yeoman transformed into distaste. Wow. This guy is full of himself. So why is Vastatis associating with him? 

“Definitely a party of the future,” Song said with an exaggerated smile. Maureau flinched. Song’s sarcasm was subtle but it did not escape Rankin. Maureau feared it would get her into trouble. 

“I look forward to reviewing the flight plan. I’m sure we will put on a magnificent flyby,” Maureau said. “It will make great video for everyone to use.” He looked for a tray to put down his drink.

“Are you leaving?” Rankin said. “You have to stay to hear the three of us make some remarks.”

“We absolutely will stay. Song and I will  give you time to gather your thoughts. Thank you for coming to say hello. We feel honored.”

Maureau and Song left and silently moved through the buffet line. They found a high-top table and joined some officers from the cruiser ULE Diomedes, including their Executive Officer. Alcohol had loosened them up a bit and Maureau and Song found out that the bridge of the Diomedes resented their “outrageous”maneuver to skip line.   

Yeoman was the first of the three to speak and the most interesting. He could not help but criticize the Emissaries for their requirement to escort the ships from Earth. He was so negative regarding their participation that Maureau could not tell if he was supportive of the mission or thought the League should not be working with the Emissaries. 

Vastatis looked like he was tolerating Yeoman. After Yeoman, they had to endure Vastatis rhapsodize about how the Task Force was a symbol for the recognition of human civilization by the Hidden, the aliens represented by the Emissaries. 

Maureau and Song had planned to leave immediately after Rankin spoke. Unfortunately, he was the last to speak. Rankin had looked put off by Yeoman’s rant against the Emissaries. He worked into his speech his appreciation of the Emissary welcome of  Confederation of Southern America ships into the League’s Task Force. It pushed The United League of Earth forward towards greater independence.

Maureau and Song were silent until reaching the isolation of the gantry tunnel from the Station to the London. Maureau stopped. “What incredible bullshit,” he said quietly. “The political pressure on Rankin must be tremendous for him to have to put on this show at this late moment.  All he wants to do is work closely with the Task Force so that alignment with Mars and the Emissaries is pulled off without hitch. ”

“I don’t know. Maybe he likes all of this attention. I’m surprised the bridge crew of the Diomedes was drinking at the reception,” Song said. 

“Yeah, I agree they’re cutting it awful close.”

“And that they’re doing with enthusiasm,” she said. “Anthony, we’re leaving in six hours!  ”

“Well, they may think the same of us.As you put it, my aromatic whiskey was noticeable. Diomedes was Rankin’s command until he took over the Poseidon as his flagship. Nothing surprises me with this Task Force, Krista. ”  

“Guess they’re used to special treatment. I’d have expected the Admiral to instill discipline in the Diomedes’ crew. We now know the Admiral is capable of horse crap.”

“Careful, Krista. You have to work on not showing your disdain so clearly. You’re not making friends doing that.”

**********

A specially-conformed  cushion was placed in a jump seat on the bridge. Song instructed Yoshi this was his seat. Directly to the left of the captain’s seat, the station had  every control and monitor that Captain Maureau had. He sat in his seat in apparent repose, his bicorn hat over his face.

“Is it against regulations for a BDP to sleep on the bridge?” Song said.

“Just consider him in a deactivated mode for now,” Maureau said. 

Most of the star-sailors relaxed as they waited for the initiation of departure from the Station. “Captain, may I ask how the reception was?” said Lieutenant Akhtar-Gatewood.

“Not really, Lieutenant. However, I will say the food was excellent. You would have enjoyed that.”

Captain Maureau and Lieutenant Commander Song stood by the holographic display of the Station with the nine ships of the Task Force in their docking bays selected for projection.  A tug moved the first ship out of its bay.

“This is the XO. All crew to their stations.” Song announced. 

The Poseidon also started to move. Infinitesimally. One had to stare at the gap between it and Alpha One to convince yourself the distance was increasing.  Song watched the movement.“Navigation, what is the acceleration of the Poseidon?”

“Zero point one meters per second-squared, Sir.”

“The Poseidon is slow again,” she said. “I guess we want everyone moving slowly. That’s ok. I think this flyby exercise is ill-advised. Let’s wake up, activate, our BDP.”

“I am awake and alert,” Yoshi said, from beneath his hat. He moved his jump seat upright and put his hat on the top of his head to look at the display. “You are correct in questioning their movement. The tugs are below standard power rating for moving a ship as large as the Poseidon. They can’t afford to let her get faster than forty kilometers per hour. That’s approximately eleven meters per second. They will have a problem breaking the Poseidon if the have to.”

“Rankin wants to have us all in place within an hour,” Song said. “Surrounding himself with those cruisers is going to be hard if Poseidon has trouble slowing down.” 

“Let’s get moving ourselves,” Maureau said. “I don’t want to sit here and watch them maneuver around one another. Let’s get in our position and hold it.”

A tug brought London out of its docking bay. The ships of the Task Force had fallen behind the Alpha One and looked like a pod of whales floating close to one another, except the these whales were crossing behind and in front of one another for position.

Once the London had cleared the gantries, Song requested Central Operations give them clearance for independent navigation. Given their past demonstration of precise flying, Song had no problem getting the clearance. Yoshi plugged into the system and worked to integrate with the ship.

“Godspeed, Captain Maureau,” their tug pilot radioed as she released them. 

“The London thanks the Hedgehog,” Maureau responded as they were released by the tug. 

Tug ships moved all of the Task Force’s ships into place except the London which moved to the rear of the formation under its own power. If the Poseidon moved slowly shortly after detaching from Alpha One, it soon was moving faster than forty kilometers per hour under the continual propulsion of its tugs. 

“Yoshi, engage in plotting the projected course of all of the ships,” Song said.  “Plot a course to get us to fall back into place at the rear of the column. Captain, they all are too close. This is so unnecessary.”

“I agree. Yoshi, do you detect any problems?”

“Poseidon is drifting into the Diomedes. The tugs of the Poseidon will not be able to slow it down  or redirect it enough to prevent it from running into the Diomedes. Both ships are dependent on their tugs. Diomedes is nearly powered up. Poseidon has not engaged their impulse reactors yet.”

“What will prevent a collision?” Maureau said. 

“Immediate action  by Diomedes. Maximum starboard yaw with maximum brake,” Yoshi’s said in a slow, calm voice.

“Song, give the Diomedes an O-day alert,” Maureau said calmly.

Song looked at the holographic display.“O-day! O-day! O-day mark to Diomedes!This is London. Collision imminent with Poseidon. Advise maximum starboard yaw. Advise starboard yaw.” 

The Diomedes did not acknowledge the alert, nor heed the recommendation to rotate clockwise away from the Poseidon that was drifting into it. No response came to her warning. Instead, Diomedes’ aft thrust rockets lit up. “God almighty!” Song said. “They’re going to try to power underneath the Poseidon instead of rotating away from it!”

“Yoshi!Will they clear Poseidon?” Maureau said.

“The Poseidon will drift into Diomedes in one hundred and ten seconds given current bearings and its ineffective deceleration.” Yoshi affected Song’s drawl. “A maximum break and maximum starboard yaw within thirty-five seconds by the Diomedes will prevent collision. The Poseidon then will drift by in front of the Diomedes.”

“O-day, O-day, Diomedes. This is London. Maximum break with maximum starboard yaw needed to avoid collision with Poseidon. Repeat. Maximum break with maximum starboard yaw needed to avoid collision with Poseidon.” Song said, clearly hammering the warning out. “Do not try to accelerate under it.”

“London. Diomedes has its own Navigation. O-day message acknowledged. We have our own solution.” Maureau recognized a voice from the pre-launch reception.

**********

Lieutenant Madelaine Gray anticipated before anyone the slow-motion shipwreck as it unfolded before her eyes. She did not need holographic projections to see what was going to happen. Two behemoths inexorably floating into one another, tug ship rockets flaring futilely in attempts to break the Poseidon. She could see exactly how the superstructure of the Diomedes would collide into the aft of Poseidon as it tried to get under it,hitting the underside of the ship. 

Like her own command of marines, the Poseidon’s security force would be gathered in the airlock bay near the engineering section, watching the Task Force gather. Unlike them, she had her command ready in space suits in case anything happened during the maneuvers. She did not want to watch the wreck. Instead, she sprung into action. Every moment might make a difference.

“All squads, stat prep for space-side. Stat!” She repeated her order. The sixteen marines scrambled for their extra-vehicular activity (EVA) gear. In the zero-gravity environment they floated across the bay in a practiced pattern, avoiding colliding with one another. 

“Prepare for rescue mission,” Gray said over their com sets.

**********

Maureau and Song reacted before the ships collided, before “Maydays” came from the Poseidon and Diomedes.

“Security. Prepare for rescue action,”Song said at the same time Maureau said, “Yoshi, take over the helm. Get us as close to a Poseidon breach as soon as possible.”

In a squeaky voice, Yoshi said over the com system, “Prepare for hard stop in ten seconds.” He looked at Maureau with raised eyebrows.

“Maureau here. Our BDP, Yoshi, has the helm. His alert on hard stop is an order from me,” Maureau said. “Our BDP has the helm. He will alert you on acceleration.” The crew braced for a sudden stop.

There was no time to strap into jump seats. Everyone had to prepare for the breaking deceleration that flipped the ceiling into the floor before the internal compartment modules of the ship could reorient the environment. They cruised at a speed that allowed high maneuverability, allowing the London to rapidly stop and reverse propulsion. In zero gravity it was critical to get to a bulkhead and find a hand-hold before deceleration or acceleration initiated.

“Yoshi, make sure everyone is secure,” Song said. “Use the ship’s video.” 

This took fifteen seconds, not the ten seconds Yoshi initially announced, as he scanned the ship and found a few of the crew delayed in securing themselves. He waited for them to get a handhold on something before stopping the ship.“Breaking ship,” he announced.  

The deceleration was not challenging; they had been traveling only at a steady one hundred twenty kilometers per hour. From a standstill they changed direction and started accelerating back within seconds towards the two ships.

The Diomedes slipped under the Poseidon as it continued to drift towards the smaller cruiser. It almost  cleared the Poseidon except for its superstructure. The Diomedes collided near a cluster of Poseidon’s impulse rocket engines as it drifted into it, tearing off nozzles and rupturing open a chamber where off-watch engineers and security personnel had gathered to watch the Task Force leave Alpha One.

An explosion of debris from the Poseidon included a flow of crew members within the debris. As the London closed in on the Poseidon for rescue, Maureau could see they numbered over twenty. 

“Yoshi. Can we save them?” he said.

“Yoshi can align to catch every one in time for their survival except two.” He spoke as if reciting an equation.  “Two security marines each can be launched towards the two star-sailors whose vectors are off from the others.”

“Do whatever needs to be done to catch them and launch our security team.” Maureau said.

“Gray, is your team ready for space-side action?”

“Almost ready,” Gray said. “Give us ten more seconds.”

“Yoshi will rock the ship so that extra push can be used to propel two marines towards the star-sailors to be brought in. There are two star-sailors from Poseidon who needrescue by London’s security.  Yoshi will launch two marines times two towards the them.

“The rest of London’s security should hold on.” Yoshi’s voice was intense, lower than his usual squeak. “On my mark. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” The ship suddenly rolled, throwing two marines, who stood on the launch platform of the airlock bay, sideways in the direction of one of Poseidon’s stranded crew. They were launched out of the bay towards a drifting star-sailor. Everyone else on the ship jerked out of their seats.

“Yoshi! You have to explain what effects your maneuvers will have on the crew,” Song said. “You are doing things we are not prepared for!”

Yoshi repeated the maneuver, this time with a warning for all of the crew. Then he gave the crew of the London a roller coaster ride as he picked up the spaced crew from the Poseidon. It called for exquisite maneuvering from hard acceleration to hard deceleration. 

The London moved in close to the Poseidon and scooped up the expelled crew within a minute of the collision. For Yoshi, maneuvering  the ship was like moving a hand to catch the floating crew.

Lack of oxygen quickly lead to their unconsciousness, but they did not freeze in the short time they were in the vacuum. Gray’s marines caught the star-sailors and moved them to the medical bay. Once it was filled, patients needed to be treated in the passageways. Dr. Robert Gladman assigned non-medical personnel to assist in providing oxygen and warming blankets.

There is no way a human pilot could have accomplished what Yoshi did flying the ship. And Gray’s squads of marines carried through the rescue with synchronized precision. It was a commendable execution. 

  After gathering in the crewmen from the Poseidon, Maureau ordered Gray’s squadrons to go to the Poseidon and assist in any salvage they could. Gray’s sixteen marines were so efficient, they reached the large breach in the Poseidon before its own repair crew and bots arrived. 

Maureau was an expert in EVA navigation, but he could not remember the last time he used extra-vehicular activity gear. He wanted to get out of the ship and join Gray’s team in inspection of the damage. “I’m going space-side,” he said to Song.

She looked concerned. “Sir, is that necessary? There’s a lot of debris out there and Gray’s team will handle all problems.”

He paused to look at her as he was about to leave the bridge. “I know. I just feel I need to go out. It’s been a long time since I used EVA navigation gear. And I have’nt left the ship for months. Except for that damn reception.”

“I have not either, Sir. You are leaving the bridge to me?”

He was surprised over her discomfort and resistance of him going space-side. “Commander Song. You are perfectly capable of making decisions without me on the bridge. Just keep us in place off of the Poseidon. Between you, Yoshi and Ahktar-Gatewood, the task is routine.”

The EVA Maneuvering Unit, with its life support pack and propellant system, took longer to put on than a g-suit. Maureau was in a hurry and opened the airlock door before he had secured his helmet and for an instant he heard the air inside the helmet get sucked out. It took a while for the oxygen pressure to equilibrate to normal pressure. In the meantime, he steadied himself at the portal door, waiting for the light headedness passed. That was stupid. Maybe Krista is right. This might be a bad idea. 

When ready, he used the launch platform to propel himself towards the Poseidon. making only a few fine adjustments in direction with the EVA Maneuvering Unit . He still had his touch in efficient control. He traversed the four hundred meters to the Poseidon and slowed to a stop next to Lieutenant Gray.

“Song. This is Maureau. Have you obtained confirmation that Poseidon knows we are here? They need to hold their speed? Confirm.”

“Song, here. Yes I have confirmed they know we have a team inside the breach, Captain. They will maintain present course and speed. But they want us to withdraw as soon as their repair team comes in.”

“I understand they will want to take over,” Maureau said.  “But what’s their hurry?”

“I don’t know, Captain. We are also trying to get them to listen to our report of a leak of fuel inside the breach.”

Maureau could see Gray’s marine team securing loose equipment inside the breach of the Poseidon. Some of her team were inspecting a section near the impulse rockets. They were wildly gesturing towards an area with the repair team that had just arrived from the Poseidon with their repair robots.

“Lieutenant Gray. What is the status?”

“We found a fuel leak that Poseidon cannot confirm on their own system. We are trying to get them to hold on trying to seal the breach of atmosphere and attend to the fuel leak. They fucking won’t listen.”

The robots moved into the area. The marines were trying to wave them off, without effect. Instead, the repair crew of the Poseidon dismissed the marines who finally rocketed away out of the breach as the robots set to work. 

A flash blinded Maureau and a shock wave transmitted through the leaked atmosphere was enough to concuss him. All went black. 

Continue on to Chapter 6: Time for Most

https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/11/27/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-6-time-for-most/

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Previous Chapter 3: And So It Is https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/08/26/fiction-the-girassian-debacle/

All of the London’s crew had seen, one might say met, the odd, little biodroid pilot that Central Command had provided for their voyage. The bridge crew awaited the arrival of Captain Angelique Plotkin of the ULE Chicago, who, most inconveniently, was going to be an observer of the London’s first trial run with Yoshi, their biodroid pilot, plugged into the ship.  

“What do you think, Song? Should we make the trial run with our BDP on the bridge, or let Freihoff have him present in Engineering?”

“Bring him onto the bridge, Captain. There’s more to check out with him than just how he’s managing Engineering. Like, how he looks when he responds to commands and functions.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Maureau said. “With Captain Plotkin joining us from the Chicago, we can show him off.”

“He definitely will get her attention,” Song said.

“I want her to know exactly what we were given by Central Command,” Maureau said. 

No one on a ship needs a distraction during check-out procedures for a voyage. Maureau and Song would have preferred to find out what problems they had to fix without being observed by their companion ship’s captain. But Admiral Rankin insisted that Plotkin accompany them to familiarize herself with Maureau and the London. But it felt like Plotkin was to serve as his eyes and ears aboard their first trial run with a biodroid pilot new to the ship .

Maureau and Song decided to approach the visit as an opportunity to develop a good working relationship. While they did not have their orders for Girassian space yet, they assumed Plotkin’s Chicago would be under Maureau’s direction in any mission that involved the two corvettes alone.  

Plotkin was late. Anxious to begin the trial flight, people spoke in subdued voices as if at a memorial gathering. A bright arc of sunlight swept across the earth, the reflected light brightening the bridge and the spirit of the crew. 

Lieutenant Akhtar-Gatewood laughed. “Who are we waiting for with more suspense, Captain Plotkin or our BDP?” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“That’s easy,” said the XO, Song. “Plotkin is just along for the ride. Yoshi is the ride.”

Finally Plotkin arrived at the gantry gateway. Maureau awaited there to greet her. She stepped into the airlock bay surveying the chamber carefully, sizing up the bay’s crew and the security contingent before she looked at Maureau with a quizzical smile painted upon her face. 

“Quite a greeting team, Captain Maureau.” Plotkin wore a remarkably non-regulation g-suit, bright scarlet with customized styling.  Noticing his attention to it, she said, “I came prepared. I expect your new biodroid will need to do some hard flying and challenge us with some gravitational forces.”

“We plan to set a new speed record to five-hundred thousand kilometers per hour. Glad to see you’re prepared.”

“Is that a good idea, trying  to set a record when on a first trial run with a new BDP?”

“I’m confident all will go well,” Maureau said. “These new biodroids are more advanced than anything we have had before.” 

“Well, I’ll have to count on your Chief of Engineering knowing exactly what it’s capable of doing safely.”

“We are all counting on Chief Freihoff,”Maureau said locking eyes with one of the security team while subtly shaking his head. 

On the bridge, Plotkin stood off from Song appraising the work of all the officers. She ignored Song who stood waiting to introduce herself. 

“Captain Plotkin, you will want to make the acquaintance of Lieutenant Commander Song, my XO” Maureau said. 

Plotkin finally acknowledged Song. “Lieutenant Commander,” she said with a nod. “I’ve heard about you from Admiral Rankin.”

Song frowned. Maureau wondered why the Admiral would be briefing Plotkin on his XO. What’s this about? 

“It’s good to hear the Admiral has expressed an interest in the career of Commander Song. I will have Song give you a tour of our ship on our return leg to Alpha One so you can get to know her.”

Plotkin’s short blond hair fanned out behind her ears and, catching the sunlight, produced the effect of a halo behind her head.  Almond-shaped eyes, dark as pitch, contrasted the fairness of the rest of her face with its high cheekbones. 

Maureau was reminded of classical drawings of aliens supposedly encountered on earth. Her appearance made him think. Maybe she’s one of the Hidden. She sure makes me feel like she’s from another world.

When Yoshi arrived with Chief Freihoff there was a palpable stir amongst the crew as they paused to turn and smile at him. He wore a bicorn captain’s hat with the edges cocked at an angle.

Plotkin’s mouth was agape. “I heard your BDP was misshapen, but it is bizarre,” Plotkin said.

“Chief. This is Captain Plotkin of the Chicago,” Song said.

“This is hardly a regulation appearance,” Plotkin said to Maureau, ignoring Song and Freihoff.

Maureau looked at Yoshi as if seeing him for the first time and smiled. “You are so correct,” he said with conviction. “Chief, our Yoshi needs to wear that hat correctly. Have him straighten it out.”

Freihoff spoke to Yoshi in a low voice, indiscernible to the crew. Yoshi straightened the bicorn corner straight forward and announced, “Yoshi is here to pilot the ULE London.” He walked up to Plotkin, took off his hat with a sweeping gesture while bowing, and then stood straightened up. Yoshi held his hat waiting for some acknowledgement by Plotkin.

“Humor. Humor goes a long way on these voyages,” Song said. 

Plotkin ignored Yoshi and maintained a disapproving expression. “I did not know a BDP had a sense of humor.”

“Apparently, ours does,” Song said.

“Sir, we need to allow Yoshi to fly the London in a unique, novel manner.”

“Why are we hearing about this now?” Maureau said.

“Yoshi just told me about a special program he can run to maximize our crew’s acceleration tolerance,” Freihoff said. “It should work, and it’s safe.  We should try it out before we leave on the Task Force mission.”

“Propulsion of the ship is your area,” Song said. “Will we need g-suits on right away?” she said looking at Plotkin’s garish g-suit.

“Right away,” Freihoff said. “The point of the novel mode is to push the crew to the edge of their acceleration tolerance. Maybe even beyond it.”

“Beyond the crew’s acceleration tolerance! So, how many unconscious in the crew is acceptable?” Plotkin said.

The bridge was still. Breathless. Maureau felt he did not have to answer that question. Plotkin apparently felt in a position to step in and challenge a decision that was in the making.

Yoshi was walking around the bridge looking at everyone’s console. He stopped and turned to Plotkin. “Of course we don’t want anyone passing out, Captain Plotkin. Yoshi’s goal is to set the speed record without a single star-sailor of the crew passing out.” He said this while slowly, deliberately setting his hat back on his head. 

“Chief, I’ll accept your recommendation to let Yoshi fly the ship with his new program,” Maureau said. “You’ve spent a lot of time with Yoshi and your confidence in him is enough for me. 

“Yoshi. We will allow you to run the program as soon as there is confirmation of your equilibration with the ship,” Maureau said. 

Yoshi stopped at each officer’s console and studied the output. Occasionally he would make an observation, the officer nodding and discussing something with him.

“I am impressed how all of your officers interact with the BDP,” Plotkin said. “They appear very informal, almost unprofessional.”

I know my crew. Keep criticizing them like that in front of them and they’ll be high-fiving Yoshi next to put it in your face.

“Everyone has spent time with Yoshi and gained an appreciation of how he can help them.”

“You refer to the BDP as “him.” What makes it a male?”

Maureau saw Song’s explosion coming. She had been holding back her temper but had had enough. “Captain Plotkin, you are a guest on our bridge. Leave our biodroid alone. I’m sure you will agree, we have other priorities to attend to.” 

That is why you need a  good XO! To handle the shit you would prefer not to.

“After all, Captain. We don’t want you to hurt Yoshi’s feelings just before he unites with the ship.” Song continued, laughing humorlessly. “We need him to focus all of his attention on the ship.”

Yoshi looked over his shoulder at Plotkin, eyes squinted. A knowing look.

Somehow, I know this is going to be trouble.

**********

Yoshi strapped into the  jump seat directly in front of the holographic navigation display and pulled out two cables from the back of his head to plug into the ship. He sat in Maureau’s seat. He said nothing. This time, I’ll let it go. Especially with Plotkin questioning everything about him.

“He’s a captain, too?” 

“For this training run, I want him in a central spot. This is the best. You disagree?”

“Very irregular,” Plotkin said waving him off.

You didn’t just wave me off? Is that possible?

The ship detached from their gantry and a tug attached to it, immediately accelerating the London away from Alpha One Station. Everyone stretched their arms above their head in the increased gravitational force, some shaking their hands out.

Yoshi chirped up. “The London is all systems go. Nice job, crew.” 

“Thank you, Yoshi,” Song said, leaning towards Plotkin, daring her to say something.

Chief Freihoff gave Yoshi a power bar, then abruptly excused himself to go to Engineering. Yoshi tucked the bar into a pocket of his jumpsuit and closed his eyes. He appeared asleep, his consciousness now united with the ship. His breathing was slowed. Biodroids spoke over the intercom or directed communication specifically into individual headsets. 

Maureau sensed a tension on the bridge. It was too quiet. Song was quiet. Waiting an uncomfortable amount of time, Maureau finally spoke, saying loudly to the mainframe computer, “Yoshi. How is your union with the London?” 

“Very strong, Captain,” Yoshi verbalized from his reposed body. 

“Shit!” Plotkin said with a startle.

“The ship fits like a favorite pair of slippers.”

“I forgot to warn you,” Song said. “When plugged in, he’s still able to communicate verbally, not just through the speakers. I know its weird. Yoshi. Use the speakers for Captain Plotkin.”

“He is also poetic,” Maureau said. “I trust the slippers aren’t too old or loose?”

“No, Captain Maureau. The systems are up to date and the variances are tight,” Yoshi said.

“Let’s go London, what’s our status?” Maureau wanted to show off the crew.

Song spoke up first. “T-3 minutes before we ignite impulse. Engineering, status?” With this announcement to the ship, Song triggered a cascade of reports on the bridge and from the ship’s sections. Each report was especially crisp and precise. All systems were a go, as Yoshi had reported. They had been ready for hours. 

Nice job. Setting a standard for the Chicago. Maureau was pleased. He nodded at Plotkin.

The tug released them. The London’s rockets ignited and the ship gradually accelerated towards the moon.

“Captain Plotkin. What level of cadets do you have aboard?” Maureau said.

“We have fifteen Midshipman, First Class. Just promoted from Second Class.”

“Top of their class, I expect, to be on this elite mission,” Maureau said. 

“We’ll have to take it easy on them,” Song said.

“I will push them hard,” Plotkin said. “They are expected to function at the highest level for a ship in Admiral Rankin’s historic Task Force.”

“I’m sure of that,” Song said.

“When do we go on the clock for a speed test?” Maureau said.

“Engineering. Let us know when we are ready for a speed test,” Song said.

“Let Yoshi take the helm for awhile and then he can let us know when the ship is ready,” Freihoff responded from Engineering. 

“The London is ready for transferring control,” Song said.

“Execute transfer, now,” Maureau said.

“Yoshi,” Song said loudly and clearly. “Take control of the London’s navigation.”

**********

Yoshi did not take long to report equilibration and readiness to take complete control of London’s navigation. “Captain Maureau!”Yoshi burst out  in a jarring, metallic voice over the speakers, making Plotkin jump again. “Lieutenant Commander Song,” he said softer. 

“This is Yoshi through the your comms as requested. I now am one with the ship. Equilibrium has been established.”

“Good to hear that,” Maureau said. “Does the London check-out to safely push for a speed record.”

“All systems are solid, steady and within tolerances to safely push Yoshi’s acceleration program. Your ship is wonderful! It is not as powerful as some I have tested, but it is very responsive. That is more important for the crew than just having power.”

“What are you rated for acceleration, Captain?” Plotkin said.

“One hundred and eighteen on the Standard gravitation tolerance scale.”

“I would have expected higher for an experienced crew. The Chicago is rated one hundred and thirty.” Plotkin said.

“Not with those cadets aboard,” Song said.

Chief Freihoff in Engineering spoke up. “Yoshi says with alternating the rocket acceleration with the vector angle, the overall Rating for a ship can be increased.”

“That has been tried many times before,” Plotkin said. Again an uncommon stillness fell on the bridge.

“Chief. You’ve checked the tolerances on propulsion variance with Yoshi?” Song said. 

“Yes. More than once.  And Yoshi just checked them again.”

“We are ready to go,” Yoshi said over the speakers. “The London should get ready for high-G acceleration.”

“No need to make this a high alert drill,” Maureau said. “Have the crew report in when they are ready.”

Song gave the order for the crew to get into their g-suits and strap into their jump seats for high-G acceleration. The bridge crew rapidly put on the standard deep blue g-suit of the United League of Earth’s Star Force. The rest of the crew reported in “all ready” simultaneously with the bridge’s completion of their suit-up. It would not have been completed faster had they been under attack. Maureau held Plotkin’s gaze and did not look away before she had to break her stare.

**********

Though to an observer Yoshi’s physical activity usually was quite animated, he was normally in a near sleep-mode dealing with people. Interacting with people did not take much neuroprocessing. Once plugged-into the London he activated an inconceivable high level of  awareness through all of the ship’s sensors.  He also processed every bit of data generated by the entire ship all at once. He sensed the vacuum of space. The inside pressure of the ship set against it. The warmth of the ship’s internal climate in contrast to the crystallizing cold of space.  The heat of the reactors. The push of the rockets.

Yoshi would also sense the beating of his heart, sometimes the throbbing pulse in his temples. When plugged into the ship, everything flowed. The flow of oxygen and the air intake to scrub out the carbon dioxide.  He sensed the movement of electricity flowing throughout the ship. Nodes of warmth where it met the the resistance of devices. The buzz of the many computer boards formed a cloud of charges guiding the multitude of systems. He monitored and controlled them all.

He wanted to close his eyes and let the buzz take him over. Oh, but his eyes were already closed on the bridge! Now, this was cognitive dissonance that would need to be assessed and resolved. He sensed his body separate from the ship. It was not an easy fix. His physical body’s consciousness would not shut down and it was definitely affecting the efficacy of his mainframe awareness. Yoshi considered if the inefficient, cognitive dissonance was the reason why Central Command thought Yoshi was an unstable, flawed biodroid.

An anomaly appeared in the ship’s internal environment. Captain Plotkin’s thermo-image stood out from everyone else’s on the ship. Her sympathetic output was cool compared to the others. When possible, Yoshi reconciled anomalies, so he needed to do a deep dive on her. He accessed her medical files, a second time, and found an interesting physiologic finding.

It was time to go to Yoshi’s trusted source of information with his findings. He reported his findings on Captain Plotkin to Chief Freihoff. The Chief was not impressed with the discrepancy. He told Yoshi that he would expect something like this. “She does not care if we set a speed record,”Freihoff said to him directly in a closed channel. “In fact, she has the opposite of anticipation. She is hoping for our failure. She is already in her g-suit and has no adrenaline of anticipation. That’s my theory.”

“Why does she not want success, Chief?”

“She believes her Chicago is superior to the London in the domain of speed,” Freihoff said.

“That is not accurate if one takes account of what I can do with this crew.”

“Well, Yoshi, your order is to demonstrate that the London can not only exceed any records that the Chicago has established, it is to exceed the speed record for all of Star Force. You told me you can do this within acceptable safety parameters. Do it only if you can without any of the London’s crew losing consciousness.”

“Order received and acknowledged. It will be executed per your parameters.”

Yoshi monitored the crews’s biometrics. Their g-suits transmitted heart rate and blood pressure. He had the capability to assess their skin’s blood flow using the video sensors of the  ship. He used information from the medical records of each crewman. As Yoshi started to accelerate, he analyzed the  flow of biometrics against the exercise stress test data every crewman had performed before embarkation. This ongoing, realtime analysis allowed him to manage the physical stress he generated against the physiologic response of the entire crew. He used the stress test data to adjust the ship’s accretion level to protect the weakest, most susceptible crewmen to vascular collapse. 

It would take some luck to set a Star Force speed record. He checked the data on ULE Chicago’s speed tests. It would not be hard to exceed the best acceleration of the Chicago. Yoshi was the biodroid for the job and this Plotkin does not belong here Yoshi thought. Yoshi would make sure she was impressed with Yoshi’s flight plan. Freihoff would want that.

Yoshi started humming  a tune.

**********

Maureau looked over at Yoshi when he started to hum. He looked asleep but Maureau thought he saw him smile.

“Engineering. Should a biodroid be able to smile?”

“Not really, Captain,” Freihoff said from Engineering. “This is a question that I would like to know the answer to. Why? Did Yoshi smile?”

“I think he did,” Maureau said. “Not really sure. Mark the time at 09:25. After our training run, you can interrogate the system to see what was going on at this point.

“Yoshi, you have navigation. Start the clock at the point we are at 1-G.” 

Song confirmed the crew was in their jump seats for an acceleration run.

The ship accelerated gradually, from one half a gravitational force to two times the standard gravitational force experienced on the surface of earth. The crews’ g-suits kicked in at this point. A number of the crew had g-suits transmitting less than an optimal response to the acceleration. Yoshi was able to adjust the compression of their suits to counter the pooling of blood in the legs and abdomen. 

“Navigation. “How far out are we going from earth?” Maureau said.

“If we accelerate, as planned, on reaching five hundred thousand kilometers per hour, we will be four-hundred thousand kilometers out from earth. This will be at the one hour one minute mark.” Ahktar-Gatewood said. 

“Will that be the record we are seeking?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“What is the record?” Maureau said.

“Five-hundred thousand kilometers per hour at one hour five minutes, Sir.  From Navigation’s standpoint, there is nothing complex or complicated. Our protective shields against cosmic dust and gas will only need to be at thirty percent of their maximal capacity.” 

“Where will we be in relation to the moon when we hit our target speed?” Maureau said.

“We will pass by the moon at an elevation from the surface of fifty thousand kilometers, the same height Alpha One Station is in relation to the earth. We hit the record one hundred thousand kilometers past the moon,” Akhtar-Gatewood said.

“Everyone report status” said Song. The bridge crew all reported-in feeling well. All departments reported-in stable. “Captain Plotkin?  You feel well?”

She guffawed under her breath over the question. “You have not even reached three point zero G. I am used to four point zero accelerations.”

“Yoshi, what are we going to push to?” Maureau said.

“I will hold at four and one half G’s for as long as I can with the crew,” Yoshi said.

“That will push everyone, Captain Plotkin,” Maureau said. “Even you may feel something.”

**********

Yoshi road the overall physiologic condition of the London’s crew like a surfer on a wave. He slid one way in direction, then dropped down the crest of acceleration, backing off slightly. It was done rapidly and the crew did not seem aware of what he was doing. They were tolerating the acceleration levels well.

The shields of the ship were holding  at near thirty percent of their maximal tolerance. Plenty of room for pushing to one million kilometers per hour some time in the future. 

**********

“Shields holding at twenty-nine percent,” Freihoff reported.

Navigation reported, “Closing on five hundred thousand kilometers per hour, sir. Record time of one hour one minute anticipated.”

Yoshi backed off on  acceleration. The g-suits decompressed some. The record should be accomplished with just one more burst.

“Yoshi, should we anticipate your last burst and activate our g-suits in advance?” Song said.

“Yoshi’s run up will be gradual and not require it, but it is a good precaution,” he said. 

The countdown to the last acceleration commenced. Song gave the order to activate the g-suits just before the acceleration initiated. She noticed that Plotkin did not activate her own suit. 

“Captain Plotkin?” Song said. The burst commenced. It was intense.

“Captain Plotkin? Captain Plotkin?”

Plotkin’s eyes had rolled back. Her pulse had dropped to twenty-nine. Her breathing was a sputtered choking.

“Yoshi. We lost Captain Plotkin. Go to steady speed.” Song said with an affected drawl.

Maureau unbuckled himself as the ship stopped accelerating and zero gravity took hold. He moved over to Captain Plotkin and swung her jump seat up. The brief wave of nausea he fought passed. He hoped Plotkin did not vomit in zero gravity. This was always a mess. Song gave him an emesis bag while he shook her, watching her closely. As she regained consciousness he could see Plotkin was trying to fight off nausea. 

“Whoa, that was unexpected!” Maureau said.

“I guess our biodroid’s precaution was more necessary than optional,” Song said. “I did not realize I should have triggered everyone’s suit myself.”

Plotkin had to use the emesis bag. Anger flared in her as she saw the bridge crew looking from her to one another. They were seasoned in their tolerance of rapid shifts in acceleration from their multiple battle engagements.

“Well, y’all be happy to know we exceeded the record for acceleration time to five hundred thousand kilometers an hour,” Song said. “One hour and thirty-seven seconds.”

Plotkin was not happy. 

**********

Song asked Yoshi to take it “easy on the crew” on the return trip to Alpha One Station, holding the deceleration well under the standard of one point five G’s. At this level, most of crew felt like they weighed no more than one hundred fifty kilograms. They were seventy-kilogram lean for the most part. Song asked Plotkin if she was comfortable. After a second enquiry, Plotkin ordered her not to ask again. It would take several hours to return to Alpha One. 

She showed Plotkin around the ship as they eased back to Alpha One. News of Plotkin’s  conduct on the bridge had circulated throughout the ship. Everyone was particularly animated in their headset communications while the two of them were in their area.

As the London returned to base, there was a lot of communication with the Operations Center, both regarding their acceleration accomplishment and how to certify it. While Plotkin smiled, she appeared to still have dyspepsia, a sour disposition manifested. Maureau got his friends in the Operations Center to allow the London a flyby of the Station. Yoshi added the flare of slowly rotating the ship end-over-end.

When Yoshi unplugged from the ship a tug took over. He got up out his jump seat and crouched on it, blinking his eyes as if they were blurred. “You are dismissed, Yoshi,” Song said.

He bowed to Captain Maureau, and then to Plotkin, before leaving the bridge.

**********

The ship’s officers gathered on the bridge for the debrief. For the most part, things had gone well. Some torpedoes had loosened up in their carriages but, thankfully, not gotten free. Some of the g-suit transmitters were faulty. Sausages had escaped the refrigerator in the galley. No one mentioned Captain Plotkin.

“Commander Song, you did not make a friend of Captain Plotkin,” Maureau said.

“And she did not make any friends here on the bridge,” she said. “Chief, that was a cute idea with the captain’s hat”

“No, that was Yoshi’s idea. He had the hat in his sack.”

“Freihoff, we set parameters for Yoshi which he did not meet.”

“Captain,” Freihoff began, then hesitated. “Yoshi pointed out to me that Captain Plotkin is not, technically, a member of the London’s crew.”

“Oh now, our biodroid is defining our parameters?”

“May I observe that Captain Plotkin invited her mishap by not activating her g-suit as ordered,” Song said. “It was not a suggestion. I’m afraid she felt it was beneath her. Her attitude was one of being in command of the London.”

“I sure hope that’s not the case,” Ahktar-Gatewood said. 

Maureau displayed no emotion. “We will get the job done, no matter who is in command,” he said. “All in all, this was an excellent trial run. We have time for one more short trial run in eight hours. I want to run through our tactical maneuvers with Yoshi. You all should get some rest. But before you are dismissed, to help you relax, at least for a while, Song?”

Song opened a box she had brought to the bridge. In it were ten shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. She poured a shot for each of the bridge officers. “To the ULE London’s success on its mission with Task Force Renewal.” They all toasted with an “Aye.” Freihoff sipped thoughtfully.

After they were dismissed, Freihoff remained and approached Maureau, half of his shot glass still full.

“Captain. A moment with you privately.”

“Sure, Chief.” They stepped into the Ready Room. Freihoff finished his whisky before speaking. “I spoke to Yoshi about Captain Plotkin’s, ah, accident. He did have her monitored,  and reported that he did an analysis of her medical record. He found she had a susceptibility to a change of acceleration with a certain change in direction.”

“Which is what he executed?” Maureau said.

“I believe so, sir.”

“So he purposely hurt a Star Force crewperson? Why? There is no justification for that.”

“I do believe it was intentional, sir. He said she was an anomaly on the ship and that after the incident she scanned normally like the rest of the crew.”

“This is dangerous. Frightening. Artificial Intelligence taking action on its own.”

“I said that to him. He said it was not dangerous. She had no function on the ship, other than, and I quote, ‘Making inaccurate comments about the ship and its crew.’”

“Were you able to check the system activity at 09:25 on the clock?”

“Yes, sir. Yoshi had just repeated a comprehensive modeling of Plotkin’s medical data with her biometric responses up to that time on our training run.”

“Yoshi intentionally found a way to have her pass out. How can a biodroid act in this manner? This is scary. Chief, you have to find out if Yoshi will follow orders.”

“Yes, Sir. I will. Did Central Command know this about this biodroid pilot?” Freihoff said.

“I don’t know. This could be very dangerous for us. On the other hand, her conduct, getting sick and all. This is not impressive for leading a mission. I think Yoshi may give our ship an edge in whatever we end up needing to do. We don’t have time to get another droid and I suspect Central Command would not give us one anyways.”

“Will you report this, sir?”

“What? That one of our Task Force Captains did not tolerate a maneuver? No way.”

Next Chapter 5: A Magnificent Flyby https://onthebeachatnightalone.com/2022/10/26/fiction-the-girassian-debacle-chapter-5-a-magnificent-flyby/?fbclid=IwAR1GnZw9aRupaVbheyo_IrrgmkvDSx-FU_u6eM-fMVcjd7brz7H6dWwoGf0

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/ )