Star Glory (Empire Series Book 1) Page 14

  “Nehru!” yelled Gladys from behind me. “That floater works just fine. Let him turn on the gravlift. There is no need—”

  “You are an O-3 lieutenant,” Nehru said harshly, looking past me. “I am an O-4 lieutenant commander and third in the chain of command for this vessel! This man is under my command. Return to your dirt grubbing.”

  Calling Gladys a dirt-grubber was way over the top. Rather than let her get in trouble defending me I headed for the gravlift shaft. “Sir?”

  I heard him shift position and turn toward me. “Open the shaft door. Then get in there!”

  I could have reached out my right hand to tap the red Open patch. The carton was balanced enough for me to hold it one-handed. Instead, feeling cross, I leaned back, lifted my right shoe and tapped the patch with the shoe toe. The patch went green. The shaft door slid open. I walked inside, then turned around, making sure to not hit Nehru as the scowler followed me inside. He looked me over, then turned, faced the door, tapped the control patch to close it, and then spoke.

  “Heidi, take us down to Mess Hall.”

  Without a word the AI complied. The gravplate we stood on began descending. The red bar of our level slowly went down through Recycling Deck. That deck was 20 meters high, thanks to the tubing, vats, biofilters and other junk that kept our air, water, sewage and trash properly sorted, cleaned and recycled. Next came Armories and Weapons, which was a fifty meter high deck. The ship’s four GTO shuttles were stored here in the midbody hangar. This was also the work station for Bill and Warren. One part of it held the combat exoskeleton suits worn by the Marines whenever they entered a hostile environment, plus laser pulse rifles, mortars, MP-3 automatic rifles, heavy machine guns, a few flamethrower units, and tons of sensor devices that were either worn by the combat suits, carried into combat by them or affixed to their transport shuttle. Which now had a terawatt laser added to its nimbleness and ability to land on any planet, asteroid or ship. There were also air-to-air, space-to-space and ground-to-air missiles galore in storage. They were refills for the three missiles carried in each suit’s backpack. Warren had once showed me his own combat suit with its helmet HUD, ability to pick up a half ton of anything and its armor-padded outer skin. The thing weighed 400 pounds but internal exoskeleton motors moved it in response to whatever his legs, arms, feet and hands did inside the armor skin. It had amazed me. Much the way Warren had been amazed at the operation of the ship’s particle accelerator, its production of antimatter and the invisible-to-him containment magfields that kept negative antimatter from touching solid anything. The red bar now entered the Supplies deck run by the Quartermaster. We were back to a twenty meter high deck, given all the supplies needed for full operation of an aircraft carrier-sized starship. The slow passage of the gravplate gave time for my mouth to speak before engaging my brain.

  “Lieutenant Commander Nehru, why do you dislike me so much?”

  The stocky man, who was six inches shorter than me but tall for a Hindu from Uttar Pradesh, looked left to where I stood. His lips pursed in a sour look.

  “You act without proper orders. Your action on the Melanchon ship was not ordered by Morales, your superior. And you dictated the antimatter release to Chief Warrant Officer O’Connor, rather than respond to a question from him.” The man scowled darkly. “If I had not reviewed your file I would not believe you had ever gone through Naval Station Great Lakes! Your lack of proper respect for the chain of command and for obeying orders offends me. You deserve to be treated like the impulsive animal you are.” The middle-aged man who had served twenty years in the Star Navy looked away, fixing on the slide door. Beside the door the red bar finished passing through Residential Deck and now entered Medical, Mess Hall and Recreation Deck. The bar stopped moving. “Follow me out!”

  Well, talk about a no-win situation! I followed Nehru out, then to the right when he headed for the oversize hatch that gave access to the Mess Hall. The deck here was divided into thirds. One-third was the Mess Hall, a second third was Medical and a final third was Recreation which held a basketball court, an Olympic-size swimming pool, a weight room, a rubberized track that followed the outer walls of the chamber, and storage racks for soccer balls, sports outfits and dozens of other things I did not know since I had avoided standing out in any sports field during high school. Nehru stopped in front of the Mess Hall hatch. He looked back at me. A sly grin filled his face.

  “It’s time for the lower ranks of this ship to see what you are best suited for!”

  The man reached out to touch the Open patch. Before he could, the hatch slid to one side. Out came Captain Skorzeny holding a tablet in one hand, which he looked up from. The hatch closed behind the captain, shutting off the scores of conversations, cutlery sounds, cooking hisses and clanking of plates on tables. It also shut off my view of that room. But my eyes had automatically inventoried its contents. Mess Hall held 78 people. Which included seven cooks at the serving line. The gender count was thirty-seven females and forty-one males. XO Nadya Kumisov was the top rank at the line and staff officers table. Major Owanju was holding court at the Marines table. Chief O’Connor argued with a fellow chief at the NCO table. None of my friends were visible or audible. Which brought to mind how quiet it now was in the ring hallway that surrounded the gravshaft. No one else was here, other than me, Nehru and the captain.

  Skorzeny’s brown eyes fixed on Nehru. Who slowly saluted his superior officer. The captain nodded acceptance of the salute.

  “Sir!”

  The captain looked past Nehru to where I stood. “Lieutenant Commander Nehru, why is Petty Officer Second Class Stewart shouldering that floater carton?”

  The Second Shift commander sucked in his breath. “Sir, the gravlift function is broken. The carton contains fruit and vegetables for the Mess Hall cooks. I encountered Stewart as he was leaving the Farm Deck. I ordered him to carry the carton and follow me as I was heading here to eat dinner.”

  Captain Skorzeny’s clean-shaven face was non-expressive. His gaze shifted from Nehru to me and back to Nehru.

  “Why were you on Farm Deck? Mess Hall is lower down.”

  The Hindu’s face grew darker, as if he was blushing. Or upset. “Sir, I was looking for Lieutenant JG Matterling. My personal aide.”

  Skorzeny’s brown eyebrows lowered slightly. “Matterling is inside the Mess Hall. Eating. As you would have discovered if you had gone there first, rather than to Farm Deck.” The captain looked up to the overhead. “Heidi, at what time did Lieutenant Commander Nehru arrive on Farm Deck?”

  “He arrived there at twenty-hundred and six minutes,” the AI said in her musical, feminine tone. It was a voice I liked. Its change to near masculine during the Empire ship encounter had been disturbing to me. Clearly she was back to her normal “Be perky with the crew” persona.

  The captain looked down, again fixing Nehru with that expressionless look. “Heidi, when did Lieutenant JG Matterling leave the Bridge?”

  “She left at twenty-hundred and eight minutes, after a brief conversation with Second Watch commander Martha Bjorn.”

  This was getting interesting. While I have super eyesight, hearing and strength, I am not telepathic. Nor have I ever thought to ask Heidi to serve as my own personal spy by way of the videyes that adorn every ship hallway, room and deck. Clearly the captain had thought to do that. And more.

  A thoughtful frown now showed on the captain’s face. “Lieutenant Commander Nehru, you left behind your personal aide when you left for Farm Deck. So clearly you were not looking for her. Who were you looking for?”

  The man who hated my guts now began to sweat. Or least his exposed skin showed an increase in infrared glow as he became hotter. His heart sped up, based on what I could see from the pulsations of his khaki-covered chest.

  “Sir, I . . . I expected to find Matterling there. She had previously told me she planned to spend some of her break time there working with Lieutenant Morales.”

  Fascinating. The man had be
en caught in an outright lie. Now he was trying to cover it up. Which made me wonder at the penalty for lying to a superior officer in war time.

  The captain sighed. “Heidi, project a holo record of Lieutenant Commander Nehru’s recent arrival at Farm Deck, his time there and his time in the gravshaft up to his arrival on this deck.”

  “Projecting,” the AI said, sounding amused.

  What could amuse an AI like Heidi? That she was a practical joker to anyone no matter the rank was well-known. Did she enjoy seeing higher ranks get their comeuppance? That would be too, too human. A holo took form in the ring hallway, filling the space between me and Nehru. The captain stayed where he stood, in front of the Mess Hall exit hatch. That position kept anyone inside from exiting. A fact the captain clearly knew. Had he given Heidi orders to lock shut the hatch entries to Medical and Recreation? Now I heard the start of what had just happened on Farm Deck.

  “Cow killer! Get over here!” yelled the image of Nehru.

  The holo showed me standing twenty feet beyond him in the inner part of Farm Deck, at the end of the tomato vines row, with Gladys Morales standing a few meters beyond me.

  “Stewart!” came Nehru’s second yell.

  The holo showed me turning toward Nehru and saluting him.

  “Sir!”

  The holo Nehru looked to Gladys, then fixed on me. “You ignored my order! That is disobedience to an officer. I will report you—”

  “Sir,” my image said. “I responded when I heard my name called. Anyone calling me by name or rank or both will gain my quick attention. Sir.” My holo self walked toward Nehru, lowering my salute. “You called, sir?”

  The rest followed. Nehru’s shutting off the floater carton gravlift control, his assertion it was broken, his order to me to lift it, his pulling rank on Morales, then his entry into the gravshaft as he followed me inside. The holo showed us both silent until I asked my question. And got his reply. The holo showed the man stepping out of the gravshaft onto Mess Hall deck, turning and heading for the Mess Hall hatch. It stopped upon the appearance of the captain.

  “Captain,” called Heidi. “Do you wish a replay of the sound and imagery?”

  “I do not. Return the imagery to your memory banks.”

  The holo vanished.

  Skorzeny looked to Nehru. His expression was severe. “Lieutenant Commander Nehru, you lied to me. It is clear you went to Farm Deck to harass PO Stewart, with the intention of causing him to parade through the Mess Hall like a beast of burden, or ‘animal’ as you put it.” The captain took a deep breath. His infrared glow was almost the same as when he had come out of the Mess Hall, although the skin on his neck went a bit darker. “Insubordination in a time of war, as you put it in your threat to PO Stewart, is a most serious offense. Lying to your superior officer is insubordination of the worst kind. While I have always valued your ability to manage other people to obtain good performance from them, it is clear some of that performance comes from your abuse of your rank.” The captain frowned now. “You are hereby reassigned to manage Third Shift. Your personal aide will be reassigned to assist Lieutenant Senior Grade Bjorn. You will now return to the Bridge and advise, politely, Bjorn that she will now command Second Watch, per my orders now. Do you understand?”

  Nehru’s infrared glow got darker. His neck and face were nearly red-black. Clearly he was furious. “But sir! Running Second Watch requires a rank of Lieutenant Commander or higher. Bjorn does not have that rank! And Stewart has been—”

  The man shut up when the captain raised his right hand palm up. Though Nehru’s arms were held straight down at his sides, I could see even in normal light that his muscles were tensed.

  “I am well aware of the rank that Second Shift requires. What makes you think Bjorn will remain at lieutenant senior grade status, now that I have moved her to Second Shift command?”

  A smile almost showed on my face. I held it back. Gloating over Nehru’s demotion to the graveyard watch would not do. It was beyond clear the captain had this situation well in hand. So well in hand that I wondered about what he had been observing in his tablet as he exited the Mess Hall. Had Gladys given him a call?

  The captain looked to me. “PO Stewart, switch on the gravlift control.”

  I reached up with my right hand to tap on the control. Nothing happened other than a low hum I felt more than heard. The weight left my shoulder. I moved out from under the carton, which lowered to hover at four feet above the floor. That was its default floater setting. I grabbed the pull-along strap and looked to the captain.

  Skorzeny looked from me back to Nehru. “You also lied about the floater carton being broken. It is not. That is two lies to your superior officer. After you inform Lieutenant Senior Grade Bjorn of her new assignment, go to your quarters. Stay there until the start of Third Shift tomorrow. I will have an orderly bring you meals. And consider yourself lucky that while a captain can promote anyone under his command, demotion to a lower rank of an officer requires the concurrence of the Officers Review Board of EarthGov.”

  Nehru saluted the captain, his expression rigid. “Sir! I will inform Lieutenant Senior Grade Bjorn of her new shift assignment. Then I will go directly to my quarters.”

  The man lowered his salute, turned, entered the gravshaft and disappeared from sight. In front of me the captain sighed deeply, then peered thoughtfully at me.

  “PO Stewart, I am sorry that a senior officer behaved so pettily to you. Follow me into the Mess Hall.”

  The captain turned around, touched the Open patch to the side of the hatch, then entered Mess Hall. A crowd of six Spacers and NCOs had been waiting to exit. They parted as the captain walked through them. I followed after him, pulling the veggie floater carton.

  “Stick around,” the captain said to them. He walked further into the middle of Mess Hall, which was raucous with plates clanking, people jabbering and seats creaking from lack of oil as people swiveled their seats at the entry of the captain. His silent stance in the middle of the room caused a gradual quieting of people jabber. I stood just beyond the crowd of Spacers and NCOs, the floater carton hovering just beside me.

  “Attention!” the captain called firmly. “As you can see, Petty Officer Second Class Stewart has just arrived with a floater full of fresh fruits and vegetables. Courtesy of Lieutenant Morales and her Farm Deck efforts.”

  Most people smiled. Chief O’Connor watched me from the NCO table. A few others nodded to me. They were people I had played badminton with or run time trials with on the indoor track. While I knew their rank based on their sleeve chevrons or bars, the names I did not recall. I could if I forced myself to remember. My memory was like that. Kind of like how I could tell my eyes and ears to be ‘less special’ in what they saw and heard. Anyway, right now I did not need to know the names of the 78 people in the room.

  The captain looked to me, a half smile on his face. “PO Stewart helped save this ship with his antimatter beam idea. He further saved the life of a young Melanchon girl during his trip to the ship of our allies. You’ve seen that video. Yes, he is very strong. But better, he is very very good at anticipating when someone needs help. Or when the ship herself needs help.” The man’s expression now turned formal. “I hereby announce to one and all that PO Stewart is promoted to Petty Officer First Class! Let’s hear it!”

  The captain began to clap. Others clapped, including Kumisov at the officers table. The petite Russian had a big smile on her face. As did lots of other people.

  “Yay for Nathan!” yelled Major Owanju.

  “Double yay!” called Chief O’Connor.

  “Drinks!” yelled another Marine at the table. “A toast!”

  Oh, crap.

  It was tradition on all Star Navy vessels that when someone called for a toast on the announcement of a person’s promotion, the promoted person paid for the drinks. Whether they were five glasses of bourbon or twenty pitchers of beer. And on the Star Glory, all booze had a price, except on the rare Beer Day d
uring long deployments. At seventy-eight people drinking to my promotion, I did not have to use my mental calculator to know that the increased pay from my new rank was going to be sorely depleted.

  I nodded to the captain, then saluted him. “Thank you, Captain Skorzeny.” I looked out to the happy crowd. “A toast to our captain!”

  The roar that came was louder than the cheers for me. Which was as it should be. Likely no one in the Mess Hall had been watching the captain’s encounter with Nehru. But everyone knew what the captain and his Bridge team had done in fighting the sneak attack by the Empire ships. They all knew they were led by a good man and a highly talented officer. I knew that for sure. When someone handed me a mug of beer, I raised it in salute to the captain. Who was smiling easily, shaking his head at the offer of a mug, then a glass of golden bourbon. The man might be off-duty from First Shift, given that it was now Third Shift time. But he knew better than to get drunk in front of his crew. A ship’s captain could always be friendly. Informal now and then. But no captain in command of a fighting ship ever allowed himself to be drunk off duty, on duty or at any time other than when in home port. And Captain Neil Skorzeny well understood we were all homeless in the galaxy. At least until we knew enough about this Empire to make it worthwhile to sneak back to Sol and let EarthGov know about the threat posed by the rulers of the Milky Way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Seven days later we were about to arrive at Kepler 452, a G2V yellow star with planets that lay 1,402 light years downarm from Sol. Although from Kepler 22 it was a journey of just 788 light years, or eight days transit thanks to the upgrade of our Alcubierre stardrive. It was the system where the pirate base operated, according to the Melanchon. It was also a very dangerous system, since the Melanchon had warned us there were always ten to twenty pirate starships near the system’s outer limits, ready to protect the base from any Empire ship or fleet. While the Empire ships were top of the line combat vessels, they were not invulnerable. Especially when they were expected. As was the case for any ship arriving at Kepler 452. While I now sat in my seat, strapped in and watching the shimmer glow of the antimatter feed tubes that surrounded me, there was no law against me also watching the vidscreen on the nearby bulkhead. In fact I was doing what everyone else on the Star Glory was doing. Which was watch the live feed from the Bridge, per the captain’s orders. But I could do more than watch. The chief had told me I was free to tap my own armrest comlink patch to speak directly to the captain if I had an idea about ship safety. Maybe so. But Chief O’Connor was a very fair and understanding boss. Short of an emergency, I would always route my comments through him.