Wings of Steele- The Series, page 170
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
“Thank you, Dale. But it's not as bad as it looks; everything is going to work out, you'll see...”
“Of course, sir.” Dale went from handshake back to salute, turning on his heel and returning to the line of Marines standing at parade rest.
“He seems more than just a little upset,” commented Lisa quietly.
“Yeah, I noticed that...” Steele rubbed his chin, “We've had a chance to get to know one another. I like Dale, he's a good man and a good Marine. He's taking this too personally...”
“Want me to have a word with him?”
Jack eyed his sister, “What would you say?”
“I don't know yet...”
“Because you can't tell him much. This is all very secret.”
Lisa chewed the inside of her cheek, “I know. But he's always had your back, even when you didn't know he was doing it. I'm just worried he might... I don't know, do something impulsive?”
Jack took a deep breath and held it for a moment, contemplating. “Alright,” he sighed, “but only if it becomes apparent that you have to. And keep it to a minimum.”
“Got it.”
Jack checked the device on his wrist that replaced his UFW military TESS. The device was the most advanced available on the civilian market and had been upgraded to meet UFW standards while looking no different than any other MOBIUS unit in circulation. MOBIUS - Mobile Optical Bio Information User System. MOBI for short. The character driven software was in some respects similar to TESS, but Jack quickly recognized he was going to miss his TESS. There was something about her unique character and style.
“Not as nice as your TESS...” commented Lisa, watching her brother flip to an updated schedule screen. He just grunted a confirmation. “Don't worry,” she continued, “your TESS is in hibernation, you'll get her back.”
“Even after the improvements, I don't like the software as much,” he grumbled. “Guess I'll have to live with it for now.”
A grizzled old deckhand strolled over, his ham-sized hand extended, “Admiral,”
“Chief,” acknowledged Jack, shaking the man's hand, “what's the good word?”
The man's weathered face crinkled around his eyes and mouth as he smiled, “Retirement. We probably won't be seeing each other again; I've only got about a month left.”
Jack smiled warmly, “Good for you! Going to spend some time with the wife and kids, Chief?”
“And grandbabies,” he grinned widely. He thumbed over his shoulder at the shuttle, “All loaded and everyone aboard; they're just waiting on you, sir.”
“Thank you Chief...”
The Chief leaned closer, “Not that it's any of my business, mind you; but something tells me there's a lot more to all of this than meets the eye,” the old man whispered. He looked around like he was checking for eavesdroppers, “I don't know where you're going or what you're doing, but keep your head on a swivel, Mister, try not to get it shot off...” He winked, tossed a loose salute, turned on his heel and headed toward a passing equipment trolley that slowed to pick him up.
“Well that was...”
“Interesting?” offered Jack.
“I was going to say colorful,” replied Lisa.
“ATTEN-shun! Fleet Officer on deck!” The unified metallic clomp as the line of over fifty Marines snapped to attention, their boots stomping on the flight deck, echoed in the bay, all other motion coming to a stop. For a moment there was silence except for the thrum of the ship's engines. “SA-lute!”
Halfway to the shuttle, Steele stopped, turned to the center of the bay, the heels of his civilian dress boots snapping together as he came to attention. It was then that he realized how big his audience was, including the officers in the flight tower looking down on the deck. He snapped a salute, holding it for a moment, bringing his hand down slowly, deliberately, “CARRY on!” he bellowed.
■ ■ ■
When the shuttle's hatch popped open with a hiss, a rush of warm air entered the cabin and for a moment Jack detected a new-car smell. It struck him funny and he cracked a crooked smile as the hatch cleared the opening, folding up over the hull. He was relieved to see a mostly unpopulated bay - save for a few deckhands and a tall man about his size with closely cut salt and pepper hair and gray eyes. The man stepped forward, and extended his hand, “Captain Vastyque. Welcome aboard the UFW655, Admiral Steele.” The meaning was friendly, the tone was not.
“Jax Mercury,” Jack corrected him. “Let's never make that mistake again.”
“Of course, sir.” He looked over the group exiting the shuttle, including the two German Shepherds. “Mr. Mercury, might I inquire, what are those?” he indicated the two animals.
“Ah,” nodded Jack, pointing , “that is Fritz and that is Allie. They are dogs. Animal companions...”
“I see...”
“Problem?”
Captain Vastyque shook his head, “Just a little... unusual,” he replied, choosing his words carefully.
“This is the rest of my team;” continued Jack, ignoring the Captain's discomfort. “Derrik Brighton - my intelligence officer. Ragnaar - navigator and pirate expert. Mercedes Huang - tactical advisor. Chase Holt - securities specialist, and Torn Dado - combat pilot.”
“We do have two fine fighter pilots...”
“Yes, I'm aware of that,” replied Jack. “I reviewed their files. But it never hurts to have extra people.”
“Of course...” agreed the Captain. As the group walked the bay - headed for the elevators, Steele took in as much as he could; the layout, the sterile cleanliness of everything, the pressed and crisp crew members. It was all so... new. Too perfect. “I assume,” began the Captain, “you'll want to get straight to the ready room?”
“That's right,” replied Steele.
“Fine. I will have the crew tend to your things and get your people assigned quarters.”
“Good, good. I want everyone in the ready room for a briefing in thirty minutes,” Jack announced over his shoulder as they walked. “Except you, Tornado. I want you to meet with the other pilots and get to know them a bit. Have them show you around, take a look at the fighters and get familiar with them. I will expect you to report back to me on your findings.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the pilot.
“I want you checked out and familiar with the birds before we leave the system. I need to put in some stick time as well...”
“That's highly irregular, Admiral,” interrupted the Captain.
Steele stopped dead in his tracks and glared at the Captain, everyone behind having to come to an emergency stop of sorts to avoid collision. “Mr. Vastyque,” he said slowly, “are you new here?”
“Sir?”
“Did you just acquire your rank yesterday?”
“No sir.”
Steele raised one eyebrow, “What is my name?”
The Captain stiffened, “Jax Mercury. Sir.”
“Say it again.”
“Jax Mercury.”
“You do understand our mission, don't you?”
“I do...”
“Then I don't need to explain to you the dangers of failing to maintain character at all times.” The Captain looked like he was about to speak and Jack cut him off, “I will make this abundantly clear, do not ever make the mistake of calling me by anything other than Jax Mercury again. Or you will be relieved of command. Permanently.” Steele started walking again, passing the Captain, “Have you ever commanded a ship with pilots before?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I or Ensign Dado will handle flight operations.”
“One of my pilots outranks your Ensign...”
“Captain, I feel we may be getting off on the wrong foot here...”
Captain Vastyque's brow furrowed in confusion, “I'm not sure I understand.”
“You are pissing me off,” explained Steele, “and that's not where you want to be. I will explain myself one last time; you have two pilots. Both unproven. I had nearly one-hundred-fifty. And Mr. Dado was a shining star in that group, of many shining stars. The training and experience he's been exposed to, far outweighs anything your pilots have encountered. So, you will excuse me if I defer to his talent and experience over your people. Don’t fight me on this.”
■ ■ ■
The UFW655's bridge was sharp and spotless, the crew trim and their uniforms perfectly pressed. Steele paused there, flanked by Fritz and Allie, Chase Holt on her other side.
The Captain stepped past to his command chair, “Set course for Alpha Centauri, prepare for GOD jump...”
“Belay that order,” interrupted Steele, stepping forward. “Cruising only, best speed.”
“But...”
Steele shot the Captain a shut the hell up, look. “GOD jumps will make us stand out,” he announced to the bridge, “we need to blend in. Jumps will be for emergency or extenuating circumstances.”
The crew did not respond, waiting for orders from their Captain. “There are two types of best speed, Mr. Mercury; a common transport's best speed, and the 655's best speed.”
“I am aware of that Captain. When I say best speed, that's what I mean.”
The Captain motioned toward the helmsman and navigator, “You heard the man, best speed.”
“Best speed, aye.”
Steele indicated the entire bridge with a sweep of his hand, “And have the entire crew change into the civilian clothes they were issued, including their civvy rank markers. All UFW uniforms and insignias are to be incinerated and ejected before we reach the gate. No UFW keepsakes or mementos, everything gets spaced.” Steele didn't wait for an answer, turning and heading for the ready room. “Oh and Captain,” he paused looking back, “I'll need to see the Chief Engineer and his senior team in my office.”
“Now sir?”
“Now, Mr. Vastyque.”
■ ■ ■
Steele shrugged off his leather flight jacket and dropped it across the arm of the sofa, heading for the mini-fridge. Chase Holt did the same, the two German Shepherds roaming around the suite inspecting everything within reach. “Little warm in here,” commented Chase.
“Computer, three degrees cooler,” announced Jack. He pulled two water bottles from the fridge at the bar and tossed one to Chase.
“Weren't you a little hard on him?”
Jack shrugged, “You've been in the military, you tell me. Was I unfair?”
Chase paused to open his bottle, “I guess not. He did seem rather... resistant.”
“He's defensive,” countered Jack. “This is his ship and he doesn't want to be told what to do on it. He resents us being here.”
“Kinda like you and the Fleet Admiral?”
Steele nodded, “Yeah, kinda like that. Except I'm not going to take away the Captain's ship.”
“Unless you have to,” added Chase.
“I certainly hope he doesn't press me that far...”
The door chimed and slid smoothly open, the ship's Chief Engineer and three other officers filed in, followed by the Captain. Steele wasn't surprised, though he hadn't asked for the Captain's attendance, he had inserted himself into the meeting without apology. Steele ignored it. He also ignored the fact that they were still all in UFW uniforms.
“Gentlemen,” said Steele, stepping over to the holo-chart, “I have something I'd like you to take a look at.” He slid a data wafer from his pocket and laid it on the surface of the holo-chart table. The table awoke with the contact, showing a three-dimensional hologram of the Terran System, flickering as it read the data wafer before switching to a view of the UFW655's propulsion systems, controls, schematics and operational statistics. Jack reached forward as the engineers huddled around the information and flipped through a series of pages. “Do you understand all of what you're seeing here?”
The Chief Engineer was engrossed in the data, “Yes, this is quite interesting...”
“Can you make the updates?” asked Steele.
“Yes, I...”
“Wait a minute,” objected the Captain, attempting to intervene, “what possible updates could you possibly be suggesting? This is a brand new ship. One of a kind. No one knows more about her engineering than this man right there,” he indicated the Chief Engineer.
Steele imposed himself between the engineering team and the Captain.
“If these calculations are correct,” muttered the Chief, “well, this is just fascinating...” The three engineering officers were chatting quietly pointing out different bits of information to one another, ignoring the conversation behind them.
His back to the men huddled around the table, Steele was in a stare-down with the Captain, “Chief, does it make sense to you? Can you make the adjustments?”
The Captain's lips were mashed thin, his jaw tight, “How could you possibly make improvements to a system you've never seen before...”
“Chief?” reminded Steele.
“Well it looks like he's rewritten a good deal of the manual, we'll have to study all the notes...”
“Chief,” spat the Captain, “you will do no such thing! I...”
“If this all bears out,” continued the Chief, paging furiously through the materials, “we can get at least another five percent out of the engines, shields and GOD systems. Maybe as high as eight percent!”
“Chief!” barked the Captain, on the verge of totally losing his composure.
“The engineers turned, facing Steele's back, “Mr. Mercury, who did you say rewrote these materials?”
“I didn't. But it was my Chief Engineer of Development, Hecken Noer.”
The Chief's eyes widened, “The one who redesigned the cruiser frame for the refit to Freedom Class Carriers?”
Steele was still nearly nose to nose with the Captain. “That's the one, Chief...”
“I've seen his work, he's damn brilliant!”
“How long do you think it will take your team to work out the adjustments?”
The Chief glanced at his team, “A minimum of two full days. It shouldn't take longer than five. I'll want to stress-test each step to be sure there are no mistakes. It can be delicate work.”
“Of course,” agreed Steele. “Get it done, then.”
“Aye, sir.” The engineering team hustled past the faceoff, headed for the door to the bridge.
“One more thing, Chief... Civvies.”
“Aye, sir.”
In retrospect, Jack was a little concerned that maybe he was enjoying antagonizing the Captain, and wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt; but his rancorous attitude was making it very difficult. Recalling the step off the shuttle to the deck, there it was - a wall of attitude. Jack had picked it up immediately but had chosen to ignore it. Maybe to his detriment, it had only gotten worse. And it needed to stop, he was becoming concerned that maybe the Captain couldn't be trusted. Had it gone that far? His little voice was telling him those concerns were valid.
“Chase, give us a minute?”
“Sure, no sweat.” Chase Holt turned for the door, patting his leg, Allie trotting along at his side. Fritz climbed up on the sofa and plopped down at the armrest, eyeing the conversation.
Steele waited till the door slid closed before turning away and moving over to the desk to break the faceoff, picking up his water. “What's your deal, mister?”
“Permission to speak freely...”
It wasn't a question so much as a demand, but it's what Jack wanted right now - answers. “Sure.”
“I don't like you...”
“Pfffttt,” snorted Steele, “try telling me something I don't know. Like why.” The Captain looked like he wanted to say something but was fighting to put it into words. “Let me help you,” started Jack, sitting on the corner of the desk. “The Fleet Admiral builds you a cool new ship. Then he orders you to shuttle him around on it. After which he reveals a secret mission without telling you the secrets. Then this guy just strolls onto your ship, brings his own people, whom you haven't met, for a mission you don't know enough about, and starts making plans and giving orders to your crew without even consulting you. He reprimands you on protocol, takes over your office and starts making changes without considering your input.” Steele crossed his arms, “Does that about sum it up? Did I leave anything out?”
“No, that pretty much covers it.”
“Well suck it up. Believe me when I say I don't care. I'm not here to be nice, or diplomatic, or even considerate. I have a job to do and so do you. This very thing happened to me a couple days ago, but instead of having to share my ship, I lost my ship. And my task force. For this tub. No offense, it's a nice ship and all, but it's not an Oijin squadron-class carrier.” He waved his hand for emphasis, “And yes, I'm well aware that the Conquest is a century old. I will reiterate, I don't care. It's a squadron-class carrier. So, let's get this straight; I'm not taking your ship, I do not want your ship. But for this assignment, I need your ship.” He rubbed his forehead, “Look Captain, you don't want me here and I don't want to be here, but we're going to have to deal with it. We don't have to be friends, you don't have to like me, you don't have to agree with my decisions, but this friction ends here and now. Or you're gone. I can and will relieve you of duty if I can't rely on you.”
The Captain folded his arms in defiance, “And just who do you think you'd replace me with? I walked her hull for weeks while she was being built, nobody knows her better than I do. Except the Chief.”
“Well honestly, if you want to put it in those terms, it sounds like as long as I keep the Chief on, I'm good to go. I could replace you with anyone who knows the crew; for instance, your second in command. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a bump in position.”
The Captain smirked, “You mean Lieutenant Commander Reegan? One of my hand-picked crew? A long-time friend?”
Steele thought back to his encounters with the insane Admiral Pottsdorn and wondered how much different this circumstance was to that one. Were there similarities? Maybe a few, he conceded. But he had been protecting his ship and crew from a madman and that's where it differed wildly. “Let's take a different tack, Skipper; what's your end-game here; I share all the mission secrets with you? Or maybe my people and I just leave? Go back to where we came from? Or maybe you just want to be in control of the whole show...” Jack pointed at him, “None of those things will happen. This will end one of two ways; with you, or without you. You work with me, or I ship you back to Higdenberger with a note pinned to your shirt that says; does not play well with others. And anybody else on this ship that has a problem.” Jack watched a change of expression momentarily wash across his face. “Oh, you didn't think I would relieve you and let you stay on this ship, did you? So you could undermine me, cause problems? Nah. Off you'd go, buh-bye.” Steele folded his arms, “So what's it going to be, Mr. Vastyque? Are you in, or are you out...?”
