Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane (63 page)

When things finally slowed down Admiral Irons was piped on board
Firefly. He saluted the flag and deck officer and asked to come aboard.
"Permission granted," the deck officer replied with a grin.

Once protocol was satisfied, he shook hands and exchanged smiles
with the captain and crew. His smile and appearance brought spontaneous cheers
from the crew who had come to see him.

"Good to have you aboard once more Admiral," Firefly
said.

"It's good to be back," He replied with a nod and look
around.

"It feels good, huh?" Sprite asked.

"Yeah," he said softly under his breath. "Yes it
does."

As they walked through the ship he exchanged salutes with various
crew members who lined the ship's companionways. Mayweather was ready to chase
them off but the Admiral waved her off. "Let them," he said, ignoring
his planned schedule.

<----*----*----*---->

An hour later he arrived in the wardroom. "Bet you didn't
expect that greeting Admiral," Firefly said.

"No, not really," the Admiral said. "I'm glad they
aren't holding my departure against me," he said.

"Most understand what happened. Some may hold some lingering
resentment, but that will fade I think," Sprite said.

"True."

"So, plan for the future?"

"We get sorted out. Or at least the ships. Unfortunately
there aren't any natural resources readily available here. One of the reasons I
went for B100 omega over this system."

"Agreed."

"No gas giants means a lack of fuel. Some moons and a few
meter size rocks, but all too far apart to make mining useful. I suppose we
could blow apart a moon, but it would be a pain to do."

"And we still lack fuel."

"I left a gas giant refinery in B100 omega. That we can work
on. But we need fuel too. Or will. I think we are going to go over the ships with
a fine tooth comb. Anything not worth salvaging will have her systems vacuumed
for intelligence value, then she's going to the breakers."

"I was afraid you'd say that Admiral," Captain
Mayweather sighed. She looked up as the steward entered holding a carafe of
coffee. She held up a hand and then looked at the Admiral. "Coffee?"

"Sure. I think we'll be here a little while," he said
with a smile.

"Your new crew..."

"Are a bit rough around the edges I know. They lack protocol
training and many of the fundamentals. We focused on the critical points,"
the Admiral replied as the steward poured the coffee and then silently
withdrew.

"We had to work with what material we had on hand,"
Sprite said defensively.

The captain held up a hand. "Not complaining commander, just
observing. I too remember my early days," she said with a smile.

"You can't dump civilians into a military structure,
especially these civilians and expect instant results. That takes time. Time
and training."

"Leadership by example. Which I understand you are providing
now."

"The beauty of not having any politicians around to muck
things up," Sprite said dryly. The officers chuckled.

"We're shorthanded on experienced personnel in some areas,
command especially. I'd like to change that," Irons said. He held up a
hand before Gustov or one of the other officers with him could bristle in self
defense. "That's not a criticism, just reality. We're shorthanded across
the board period. More experienced warm bodies is something we need."

"Something I have," Captain Mayweather said, smiling
slightly to Commander Logan. "Somehow I knew where this was going."

"We can't be everywhere at once," Gustov said, trying
not to sound defensive. He shrugged to Major Pendeckle. "And I know we
have a lot to learn sir."

"Good attitude," Pendeckle replied with a return nod. He
had been impressed with Lieutenant Gustov. The guy was good, he had a good head
on his shoulders and he wasn't afraid to learn, get his hands dirty, or listen
to his subordinates. All were great qualities in an officer.

"True, we do our best, and keep an open mind. This is
partially a way to build bridges and mend our people into one navy. With your
support of course Captain, Commander," Irons said, nodding to the two.

"What do you need?" Commander Logan asked after looking
at her captain. She turned to look at the Admiral expectantly.

"Well... I think a trade is in order. Some of our greenhorns
for some experienced people who need a new challenge. Volunteers first if
possible. And promotions will be flowing for those you think can handle the
added rank and responsibilities..."

<----*----*----*---->

The Admiral took charge of the battlecruiser. She was a proper
mess, torn up. Half her engines were scrap, her hyperdrive was done, and her
port side was in ruins. He smiled. He now had to fix what he had wrought. A bit
ironic.

“You always loved a challenge,” Sprite teased. “And a work in
progress. Engineers,” she exhaled noisily in exasperation. “Boys and toys,” she
said.

The Admiral had to smile over that exasperated observation.
“Reading my mind again Commander?” he teased. She chuckled.

Work crews surveyed the ship looking for wounded or hiding
Horathians as well as mapping the damage. In the process one of the techs found
the ship's original builders plate. He used his sleeve to buff out the soot and
debris so they could read the plaque.

“Sir, this ship, she came from the Terran yards! Sol herself!”

“Yes?”

“She's the Maine!”

“Then we'll return her to her original name then,” the Admiral
replied with a nod. He placed his hand on the plate.  “This is Fleet Admiral
John Henry Irons of the Federation Navy. I hereby take possession of this ship
once more in the name of the Federation and return her to her original name,
Maine. Long may she serve freedom and democracy,” he enunciated. Data flowed
from him and Sprite into the ship's computers.

The crew looked at him in surprise and then some smiled. A few
cheered. The cheer spread.

“I never liked Queen Adrienne anyway,” Sprite said, amused again.

“Officer of the deck, make a note in the log. Now let's get back
to work,” the Admiral ordered.

<----*----*----*---->

Sprite, Defender, and the other AIs were up to their virtual necks
in captured databases. Some of it was corrupted, some encrypted or damaged.
Some had been partially erased. Apparently only a few of the ships had security
practices in place.

Once they had the data they began sifting through it, forming an
index for later. That was in between their other duties of course. They would
have plenty of time to analyze the data in transit.

Recovering the dead and bringing all the ships together took two
days. The AIs and exhausted medics scanned the Horathian bodies for identities
and intelligence value, then passed them on for their final rights.

Once a head count was taken the Admiral ordered a day of rest. In
the evening all hands assembled and they held a funeral in Firefly's cleared
number one boat bay.

The Horathian dead were sent off in a quick quiet ceremony, and
then it was Fleet's turn. The occasion was formal, in dress uniform with all
the crews mixed. Some like Firefly's crew seemed to hold themselves apart.

Irons was stern as he looked on the assembly. The officers were
arrayed in the back rows as tradition dictated. In front of them were the
enlisted sailors. Firefly's officers were clustered together. He realized it
wasn't any sort of stigmatization, it was the simple fact that the others had
been burned, while Firefly had yet to feel the flames fully. He hoped for their
sake they never did.

A temporary lock had been formed, with a launcher. The air
sparkled with the force field. It was quite beautiful, the stark beauty of the
starry void just on the other side of that thin wall of energy. It had taken a
day to set up the lock and launcher.

Marines held their weapons at reverse arms, standing at attention.
One had a bugle at port arms, ready to use it when called for.

A chaplain came forward and passed a blessing. He did so twice,
one of the crew from Romeo had been Jewish and required a different method.

When he was finished the Admiral stepped up. Behind him were the
rows of flag draped caskets containing the dead. Five from Romeo, one from
Phoenix, twenty from Lassie, and nineteen from Bounty. Too many, he thought
with a pang. “We've sacrificed a lot to get where we are today. We've been
burned. We've seen what war can do, we know its cost.”

“To those of us here, and those listening on the other ships,
never has so much been accomplished with the cost of so many friends and
shipmates. The price for victory here was heavy.” He remembered death of some
of the crew, faces that would never be seen again except in his nightmares.
Mary Apple's drifted in his vision briefly. He inhaled and then let it out
slowly. “Many of our friends lost their lives giving their all to accomplish
this victory. We who treasure freedom and democracy thank them for their
sacrifice. They are heroes, as are each of you.” There was an uncomfortable
shuffle but not a word was spoken.

“It sounds trite really,” he said frowning in the silence. “To
some, just words. We've heard that before. Until now, some hadn't really felt
their importance, realized their reality. They pale in comparison to what we
experienced. It feels wrong somehow to survive. It's a false guilt, but one all
of use share in this time.”

He waited a bit, letting them absorb that. “But as you know, the
war is far from over. We have seen the face of the enemy, we know what they are
capable of now. We have a lot to do. Tonight we mourn our friends and comrades.
We must keep them in our hearts until space gives back her dead.”

The pallbearers took charge; all but two were from Firefly's
company. They smartly came to attention, folding the flags as a row of Marines
snapped off three blank shots into the air. More than one person flinched at
the bark of thunder in the compartment, but no one complained.

Each of the flags of the Federation were folded carefully and
neatly into a triangle, and then those that could were presented to surviving
friends or family members of the deceased. The few that remained were taken by
the commanding officers of the ships that had deceased crewmember.

When the last was presented Sprite signaled the bugler through his
implants. He stepped forward smartly and brought the shiny brass bugle to his
lips. The Admiral saluted and held the salute. The assembly did as well.

Saluting with the company, they watched, some tearfully as the
bugler played Taps. Then the pallbearers took up positions along side each
casket and marched them in lock step unison to the waiting launcher. One by one
they passed through the temporary lock and were fed out in a steady stream into
the void. Air and water degassed from around each, in a glittering temporary
shroud that sparkled when sunlight hit it. After a few moments the caskets were
gone, claimed by the darkness.

<----*----*----*---->

Jethro attended the funeral as a marine honor guard. “This is
happening entirely too often,” a marine said. Jethro didn't recognize the
human. He had been wounded, his skin was shiny on the right side of his face
and he was missing an ear. Most of the hair on that side was gone. His right
shoulder was bandaged under his uniform.

“Such is war,” Jethro said in an aside. “People die in war. I
agree though, I'll never get used to it,” he said softly.

The new Marine shot him a sidelong look. Jethro flicked his ears.
“Think of it this way. Yes we lost some good people, but the enemy lost a lot
more. I'm still not okay with it, but at least they killed a lot of the
bastards before they died.”

The other marine nodded and then settled down at his post.

<----*----*----*---->

“Admiral, a word?” Jethro asked coming up to the Admiral.

Irons turned and then smiled slightly at the panther. “Well, look
at you, a sergeant. Sergeant McLintock. I'm proud of you,” he said.

Jethro felt a thrill at that. He came to attention.

“I still haven't caught up on what's been going on in Pyrax. I
did catch the part about setting up the base on Agnosta though.”

“Yes sir. I was a Drill Instructor there briefly.”

“I see. And Gunny Schultz is there now?” Jethro nodded. “Good.”

“Sir... I've had some issues. Medical and well, classified
issues. Commander Firefly stated I needed to speak to you about them.”

“Me,” the Admiral mused thoughtfully. “About?”

“Sir, I... I recovered my ancestor Tobias's suit. I... know what
it is. I know some things about it, and I've guessed its link to me. However
there are some health issues.” He frowned and rubbed the small of his back.
“Sometimes painful ones.”

Sprite linked to the sergeant's implants and interrogated the
system to recover his health files. However much to her ire Defender intervened
and blocked her. He redacted everything except the sergeant's basic vital
signs.