Fool's Gold (The Wandering Engineer) (82 page)

“Which
was probably the real purpose of the exercise I bet,” Mayweather shook her
head. “Pilots are an independent lot, you rely on your gut and the craft's
computer to do things. Fighters are hot shot throttle jockey weenies with an
itchy trigger finger and a suicidal immortality streak for an ego. You've also
got a competitive streak an AU wide.”

Sergio
looked to protest but the captain leveled a cool gaze his way. He shrugged.

“Normally
fighters fight in pairs or in groups. I've seen enough of your fur balls,
trying to make head or tail of it can give even super AI like Firefly a
headache.”

“Order
from chaos is the nature of battlefield analysis captain.”

“Shut
up,” Mayweather growled playfully her eyes twinkling and her lips curving once
more into a smile. “My point is, sometimes you need to get over yourself and
put your ego on hold. How many traps have you done?”

“Ah...”

“Simulated
I mean of course.”

“Ah..
None,” Sergio shrugged. “We usually jump into a space flight, run the combat
sim, then do a debrief,” he explained. Suddenly that sounded like a lame
excuse.

“Hmmm...
No, that's not good. It's not realistic,” Mayweather shook her head.

“Not
realistic?” Sergio asked looking at her.

“Remember
what you've done as a tug pilot? The boredom? The finicky work of docking and
undocking? Communicating and coordinating your efforts with others?”

“Ah...
yeah...”

“So?
You think every time you strap a fighter on it's going to be an instant free
for all?” Mayweather shook her head and chuckled at his sheepish look. “Grow up
kid, it's not all fun and games.”

“Hours
of boredom punctuated by brief instances of sheer terror,” Firefly said.
Mayweather looked at the speaker then shrugged. “You also don't know for sure
if they can hack the black,” the AI finished.

“Well,
most do shuttle or pod work,” Mayweather replied.

“That
is within a fixed envelope under controlled conditions while in the shadow of
the station or ship. By hacking the black I mean a prolonged recon flight with
nothing but the darkness of space around you.”

“Oh,”
Sergio said nodding. He looked at Mayweather who was nodding slowly.

“You
are doing fighter exercises once a week?”

“Yes
Ma'am.”

“So,
my recommendation to you, dial back the combat sims and start fresh with the
nuts and bolts on your next scheduled exercise. You know, the stuff you take
for granted that can kill you if you do. Launches and traps. Long periods of
boredom like our AI colleague mentioned. Lull them into complacency then toss
them into the mix without warning. Teach them it's not easy to be at the top of
your game all the time,” she frowned as she paused then shrugged. “Get one of
the AI to add a random matrix generator, designed to throw you repair problems
as well.”

“Huh?”
Sergio asked blinking.

“Oh,
like say, what would happen if you try to land a fighter that has been damaged?
Now what about in a combat situation?”

“Um...”
his brows knit.

“Or
a fluctuating drive?” she asked again leaning forward. “Or a sticky trigger?
What about a sticky throttle? Or a bad IFF? Jamming or broken radio? What about
a defensive exercise? Defending a convoy or fleet?”

“Okay.
I get your meaning,” he nodded. “Can I ah, borrow Firefly..”

“I'm
not doing anything pressing right now Lieutenant. I can help you with your
project,” the AI replied.

“Fine.
It'll keep you both busy and out of my hair,” Mayweather grinned. “Maybe I'll
toss something in. Or toss the idea to the Admiral.”

“Now
now, there's no need to get nasty,” Firefly replied. Mayweather chuckled. “But
your idea has spawned one of my own... a joint exercise.”

“Ah?”
Mayweather asked, eyebrow arched in query.

“Yes,
what about a group exercise? Entire ship companies? A mixed exercise with main
line ships and fighters?”

“Oh...”
Mayweather rubbed her chin in thought. “We'd have to be all together for that
or it wouldn't fly. I don't think we're up to a star siege or a planetary
landing but... I dunno. After seeing that footage I think it's a good idea.
We're not likely to run into Xenos, but if anyone runs across a fighter or two,
we could be in trouble. If it was an unexpected drill though...”

“Now
who's the one being nasty?” Firefly teased. Both humans laughed at that.

Sprite
flicked a line across a paragraph, blotting it out. "What's that?"
the Admiral asked curious.

"Another
naval reduction one. This one's even better," she smiled. "As of the
next quarter all military personnel will use only Benson's food
distribution," Sprite grinned.

The
Admiral groaned. "That makes what, twelve?" he asked. He couldn't
believe how fast the Pyrax congress had started in with this. It was like they
were taking up where the ghosts of their ancestors had left off, and determined
to live up to their nasty reputation of obstructionism to the fullest. Pyrax
had a congress, or what ever they called themselves for three months now and if
they were like this now, he shuddered to think about what the future would
bring. Nothing good probably. Hell, definitely.

"Fourteen
counting the one saying the navy has to use rugs from Balderdash inc and...
This one that says the navy has to clear all movements in triplicate." The
Admiral shook his head.

"They're
kidding," he sighed sitting back.

"Gotta
love the power of a line item veto," Sprite replied. He grunted. The
campaign election for governor was still ongoing. The election itself wasn't
for another week and a half.

"Admiral
we have a problem," Logan came into the room and stopped to view Irons
staring at the ceiling.

"Something
I should know about?" he asked craning his neck to see.

"Not
if you count blue thoughts about politicians," Irons sat up straight.
"Now what?" he asked.

"It
seems we've been bumped down as low man on the totem pole. The navy will get
materials when system expansion and repair projects are finished," Logan
said, obviously quoting.

"Who
gave you that song and dance?" the Admiral asked.

"Bernard.
Representative of New Kentucky international. Whatever." Logan sat.
"I'm starting to regret saving the them. I think we should have been rooting
for the pirates."

Irons
chuckled. "There is a fix for that." He keyed his communications
implant.

"Communications,
how can we help you Admiral?" a voice asked.

"I
want a bulletin to each ship captain. I want them to pick up any unmarked or
unregistered asteroids that are worth it when coming into the station. They are
to use their onboard facilities to purify what they can and make what they
can."

"Ah,
yes sir," Logan nodded.

"Make
sure Captain Mayweather knows this. Amend a copy of Representative Bernard's
latest announcement so they know why. Irons out." He cut the signal.

"Well,
they won’t like it, but it will cut out the middle man," Logan smiled.
"Boy are the people on station going to be pissed!" The Admiral
chuckled.

"Their
problem. Not mine. I have enough on my plate as it is," he grumped. Logan
got up.

"What
about fuel?" he asked.

"We
deal directly with the Valdez family. That isn't a problem. I own a partial
interest in the gas giant refineries we put up anyway," Irons smiled.

"Right.
Okay then. I'll go check and see what else has gone wrong," Logan gave him
a nod then left.

"Yeah,
my sentiments exactly," the Admiral muttered.

Shelby
smiled as a group of kids tossed a ball around. She was at her favorite spot,
at the cantina on deck nineteen overlooking the park. Firefly was in for the
moment and she was on liberty for another three hours before she had to report
back.

"My
dad says it’s a religious thing some crackpot dreamed up," one kid said
snidely. Looks like another argument she thought.

"Nuh
uh! My mommy says it's cause someone ran into something we don't
understand," another kid said. She hid a smile.

One
of the kids looked up and spotted her. "There's commander Logan, let's ask
her."

The
kids raced off in a mob up the stairs past nearby diners and then suddenly
braked in a twisted boat load of brats at her feet. "And what can I answer
that you can't?" she asked smiling.

"Well
ah, we ah..." a little girl with pigtails stumbled.

"We
ah.. Quit it!" another boy, this one covered in freckles with shocking
orange red hair turned and yanked her pigtail.

"Out
with it! She's a busy lady!" He turned back to her. "Sorry
Commander." She hid a smile.

"No
problem. Sometimes people are shy though Billy, give them time to get over
it." She nodded to the girl. "Go ahead Francesca."

She
blushed. "Well..." she toed the ground. "We were wondering why
people say spirits of space or goddess of space." Shelby's eyebrow's rose
in surprise.

"My
my, you do pick the tough ones." She sat back gathering her thoughts.
"Well, I guess it's a bit complicated, as many sayings are. Both sayings
and several others are linked to spacers. You see, back on our home worlds
before spaceflight there were sailors that sailed oceans of water."

She
smiled. "These people personified the oceans as female because of their
fickle nature." One of the kids looked confused. He held up his hand.
"Yes Nigel?"

"What's
persona personi..." She chuckled.

"It
means that we think of something, an inanimate object as a person. It's a
physiological thing," she shrugged. "You see, the seas on many worlds
changed, sometimes very fast. Rain, storms, high winds, no winds. Winds from
one direction, then another, it was a bewildering time for some."

Nigel
looked confused again. "It was a confusing time," she amended. His
face cleared and he smiled a gap toothed grin.

"Got
it." Shelby chuckled.

"Well,
When people came to space they thought of it the same way. It is hot in the
sun, but terribly cold in the shade. Metal breaks down or sticks to itself.
there are storms of radiation and all sorts of things floating around,"
she waved. The kids nodded.

"Like
asteroids and stuff?" Francesca said. Shelby touched her nose.

"Right."
She looked up to the others. "Also, every time we come to space, things
flake off, or we toss trash out," she shrugged. "In our time we
recycle it all. But in the past space was dangerous." They nodded.

"So
why did you say it's like a woman?" Billy asked clearly confused. Shelby
grinned.

"Can
you figure out a girl?" He shook his head. "How about you?" she
looked over to Nigel.

"Who
would want to?" he asked looking innocent. One of the girls stomped on his
foot. He turned on her and started to horse play.

"Is
that all that girls are? Hard to understand?" Billy asked, pausing.

"You'll
understand when your older," Shelby laughed. "Now get, go play while
you can." He saluted and ran off. "Scamp," she said smiling
again.

The
Major frowned at the marine recruits then went back to parade rest.
"General McGrath's brilliant campaign against the Verg ended with the
battle of their capital." He looked around. Irons nodded. "I want
each of you to do an analysis of his campaign and then give me a look at what
you would have done in the same scenarios. We will sim each in your next class.
Dismissed," he nodded and watched stonily as the class came to attention
then gathered their gear and filed out.

"Bloodbath
McGrath," Irons shook his head. He was making his rounds in the college
now in between classes. Things in the college and military were settling down
nicely. Not quite routine with all the new things coming out of the
replicators, but they had learned to adapt and take the changes in stride over
the past several months.

"What
was that Admiral?" the major asked looking over to him.

"McGrath.
Bloodbath McGrath." The Major's frown came out in full force. "You
have to admit, he had a high body count," he sighed as he read the signs
of a hero worshiper.

"I
wasn't there Admiral. Neither were you since that battle happened nearly a
century before your birth. Respectfully, we can second guess the man on the
scene all we want in hindsight, but..."

Irons
nodded. "But he was the man and called the shots as he saw them at the
time. I know, I remember that argument," he frowned. "I actually knew
him by the way."

The
Major's stoic expression broke briefly. "What was he like?" he asked.

"He
put up a good front. Bull in a china shop. He was built like a tank, and was a
frontal assault type," Irons grimaced.