Josiah West 1: Kaleidoscope (6 page)

Once again everyone was on their feet and the usual backslapping and hand shaking began. Before Admiral Jacks joined the crowd around Josiah he leaned over and signed the line of data pads before him. He had a smile on his face.

When everyone had calmed down a bit, Molly Shepard stepped in, picked up the case, and removed the new shoulder boards. She took Josiah’s arm, guided him up next to Admiral Jacks, and turned him to face the group, “Arthur, if you will.” She handed one of the shoulder boards to the Admiral and they each replaced an old one with a new one. A round of applause from the group, a firm, almost painful, handshake from Admiral Jacks and another kiss from Molly was interrupted by the arrival of the PO that Josiah had seen sitting at the other desk in the reception area. He came up to Molly, and handed her another one of “those” cases. Molly turned to Josiah as she handed the case to Admiral Jacks, “Lieutenant West, this is Petty Officer First-Class Gregory Phon; he is my number one gopher and all-around stooge.”

Phon got a huge grin on his face, came to attention, and saluted. After Josiah returned the salute, Phon then shook his hand and said, “Welcome to the club, sir. Say, weren’t you an ensign when you walked in?” That brought a laugh from everyone. Phon moved in closer and in a low conspiratorial whisper that could be heard by everyone, “If you need anything, you know, sort of off the books, you come see me. I can get you a good deal on a set of captain’s shoulder boards.” More laughter!

Molly clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Get out of here you Cambodian thief.” Phon straightened and saluted once more before leaving. Molly turned back to Josiah, “I think they used to call people like him ‘scroungers’. Be very careful what you wish for in his presence.”

Amid
confirmation from the others about Molly’s last statement, Josiah turned back to the Admiral who then opened the new case and removed a set of Command Instructor’s wings. The spread wings were eight centimeters wide and made of ceramo-plast that was densely filled with gold flakes. The ruby shield between the wings had a quill pen made of synthetic diamond being dipped in an ink pot made from black onyx. To say it caught the eye was an understatement.

Admira
l Jacks removed the lowly first-class wings and set the new ones in place above Josiah’s left breast pocket, “Remember, you were awarded this rating as an ensign. That is pretty unlikely to ever happen again, congratulations.” The Admiral was the first to shake his hand this time. When the others had finished, the Admiral put a hand on his shoulder and pointed him at Molly, “Molly will give you the rest of your instructions for the remainder of the day and,” he turned his head to the group behind him, “I believe Phelps wants you at the shuttle tomorrow.”

Commander Phelps replied, “Yes, sir, 0900 at hanger four. Wear greens; it’ll, probably, be messy.”

Admiral Jacks and the rest of the staff moved toward the conference table congratulating and welcoming Josiah as they passed him. Molly picked up the empty cases and data pads and put the stack in Josiah’s hands, “Here, make yourself useful.” She then retrieved the cases and Josiah’s cap from the Admiral’s desk and headed for the door, indicating that he should follow her.

At her desk, she opened a drawer, pulled out a small black bag, and put the cases in it. She then faced him, “The first thing you will do is go to the outfitting department at the base general store. There, you will deliver yourself to Master Chief Elizabeth Warner and do exactly as she says. Is that clear?”

“Ahh...yes ma’am.”

“She will be expecting you. You will be issued a new wardrobe that meets the needs of a staff officer. She knows what we require. You will then catch a ride to the
Caldwell and wrap up your affairs there. You will then return to base and check in to the Bachelor Officers Quarters. They will, also, be expecting you. Whatever remains of the day is yours. Tomorrow, you have that appointment with Commander Phelps. Are there any questions?”

“Ahh...no ma’am.”

She turned and consulted a long list that was displayed on her main screen. It seemed to satisfy her, and she picked up the portable scanner head from its slot next to the keyboard, “Left arm,” she ordered and placed the device over the chip in his arm, “Ok, your file is updated.”

She then looked past him and crooked a finger at a tall, thin, redheaded
PO that had been standing by Phon’s desk. “This is PO First-Class Baxter Barnhill; he will drive you to the base store and the BOQ whenever you return from the Caldwell. Just call the transportation office and ask for ‘Bax’.” She leaned in very close and in a whisper said, “You can call me Master Chief or Molly but don’t ever call me ‘Mom’.”

Hi
s eyebrows shot up, “You know about that?”

She smiled and whispered, “I sleep with the
Admiral; I know everything.” She reached up and tapped the dark red part of his left shoulder board, “Tread lightly, Lieutenant,” and handed him his cap and bag of cases.

NORA

When Josiah and PO Barnhill stepped out the front door of the headquarters building, and the warm air hit him, he came to a stop and just looked around.

“Lieutenant, do you need to sit down?”

The change in environment had triggered a sense of unreality, and Josiah found himself looking at his left shoulder, his left breast pocket, and then his right breast pocket.
Yep, they’re still there.
“No, I’m alright; it’s just been a really weird day.”

Bax dropped him off at the main door of the base General Commodities Facility or “The Store,” reminded him to take his bag, and call for him anytime. The walk to the entrance required several salutes; one from a rather startled looking full Commander. Inside, he removed his cap and turned to the left toward the uniform section. At the very back was a desk. The Master Chief sitting at it rose as he approached. She came around, stuck out her hand, and smiled, “Lieutenant West, I’m Elizabeth Warner. Molly told me you were coming, and I was to give you the full treatment.” She had to be thirty centimeters shorter than he was, and reminded him strongly of his father’s mother. She had short brown hair and deep laugh lines at the corners of her brown eyes. “So, let’s get you started.”

She led him through a doorway into a change-room area and pointed to the cubicle nearest the scanner, “Take everything off down to your briefs and place them in the basket with your outer shirt on top of your cap and we’ll get the hardware off before it goes in for recycling.”

That reminded him, “Master Chief, I need to keep this shirt...”

She held up a finger to stop him, “Just call me Liz, now, what about the shirt?”

“Oh, Ok, Liz; well, ahh...Molly kind of cried all over it and I promised her I would always keep it as a memento of this day. You...do know about the shuttle crash and all, right?”

She smiled and put a hand on his arm, “Yes, dear, I know all about it,” her expression saddened, “I spent many bad nights with her after the report came in. I was terrified that my best friend was going to lose her husband.” She brightened again, “But you saved the day and it’s my turn to take care of you. Now get ready for a scan, and I will save the shirt for you.”

While he was getting undressed he couldn’t help thinking,
yep, she really does remind me of my grandmother.

The body scan only took a couple of minutes. He stood on the rotating platform and went through the usual positions: Standing at attention, feet together with arms out, and feet apart with arms out while
a full wave scan was taken.

Back in the cubicle, Liz brought him new standard flex-fit briefs, under
shirt, and knee highs. She then came and tapped on the wall next to the curtain, “Lieutenant, I need to ask you about the ribbon arrangement.”

Josiah stuck his head out and looked at the data pad she held that had a display of his award arrangement. The program was confused by the presence of the Marine Combat Award and was holding it to the side. “Ah, I see, well, the MCA certainly is held in high regard and it...” he looked at the rest of his award ribbons on the display, “definitely outclasses everything else I have except the Bronze Cluster, so make it secondary to the Bronze Cluster. Oh, and I want actual hardware Command Instructors wings on the dress uniforms and just the wings stitched on the greens. Can you get me a couple of more sets of wings?”

She smiled, “Of course, dear. If I couldn’t, I’d just put Phon on it” and walked away.

Wow, t
hat guy really has a reputation!

While they waited for the fabricator to produce a set of service whites
, he put on the robe Liz provided, tried on caps and shoes, and removed his personal gear and hardware from his old uniform. As they finished wrapping the shirt and putting it in his bag with the cases, there was a soft chime. Liz went to the slide belt behind her desk, and picked the folded pants and shirt out of the tray as it rolled out. She then, expertly, mounted the shoulder boards, wings and Admirals Star. “You know, dear, that’s the first time I have ever seen an Admirals Star.” She handed him the clothes, “Go get dressed, and let’s see what you look like.”

When he came out of the dressing area
, she stood him in front of a big mirror, put her hands together, and smiled, “You look wonderful.” He had to admit that the new, crisp white pants and long-sleeved shirt with the rows of brightly colored auto-stitched ribbons topped with the MCA, Bronze Cluster, and CI wings were a real eye-catcher. Add in the Admirals Star above the other pocket, the red Lieutenant’s shoulder boards, and he found himself getting that sense of unreality again.
Wow, that’s me?

Liz brought him out of it, “Molly told me you were going up to your old ship to clear off. By the time you get back
, the rest of your uniforms should be waiting for you at the BOQ.” She steered him over to her desk where he attached his pouch and pad to his belt, “Please examine them all and try on at least one each of the other uniforms.” She pointed at the bag with the cases and old shirt, “I will put that in with the uniforms along with two more sets of wings and six more sets of shoulder boards. Now, when you get to your old ship, have the supply officer bag up all of your old uniforms, except hardware, from the skin out for recycling. If there are no questions, I need to confirm order completion.” She held up the data pad and waited while he swept his left forearm near its edge so it could read the chip in his arm. It beeped and he took the pad and signed the form.

“Thank you Liz, I actually enjoyed being here.”

She put a hand on his arm again, “Thank you, dear, please come back anytime.”

He picked up his new cap and
, on impulse, went back to the mirror, and put it on. He looked at himself and then back at Liz, “I do look sharp! I’ll drop by the next time I’m in the store.” Liz smiled and waved as he walked away. He tucked his cap under his left arm and headed for the other end of the store and the exit closest to the terminal building.

The warnings abo
ut the effect of the shoulder boards crept into his mind as he walked through the various departments and noticed the looks he got.
Of course, the other accoutrements probably help.
He was enjoying the sense of wonder, surprise, and respect that was happening around him. In fact, it was fun...until he got to the exit door. As he approached the nearest of four glass doors, and was putting his cap on, a captain that was coming in that same door stopped, literally gawked, held the door open and saluted. Josiah’s inertia carried him past the startled captain, and he managed to return the salute out of pure knee-jerk reaction while saying, “Good morning, sir; thank you.”

“Good morning!” the captain replied.

Josiah was ten meters along the walkway to the terminal building before his mind settled on a description of what just happened.
Wow, that was...scary! ‘Tread lightly, Lieutenant’ flashed like a warning light in his head.

The terminal was the hub for the entire local passenger and some cargo shuttle traffic to and from the ships and facilities in orbit, and it was busy. Josiah could see at least a dozen passenger shuttles and three large cargo shuttles on the apron. There had to be two hundred people in the passenger call area and two deep at the counter. He was looking for someone to talk to when a tall, thin Chief Petty Officer approached him from behind the counter, “I’m Chief Rosenberg; can I help you, Lieutenant?”

“I’m West, Chief, I was looking for a hop to the Maxim Caldwell but it looks like there will be a wait.”

Rosenberg gave a dismissive wave, “Not a problem, sir, we’ll bump someone and get you on the next one out.”

Josiah’s reaction was almost spasmodic as he reached out to stop the already turning Chief, “No, no bumping! When is the next available open seat? My visit is strictly personal and these people look like they are annoyed enough without me making things worse.”

The Chief looked surprised but turned the other way, went to a corner desk, and started checking the data display, “You know, Lieutenant, we have a shortage of rated pilots; that’s the main reason we’re backed up. Hmm...it doesn’t look good for a couple of hours, but let...hmm....” The Chief looked over the screen at Josiah, “Lieutenant, I see you have Command Instructor wings; this may be a silly question but can you handle a Gardener 6B?”

It was Josiah’s turn to be surprised, “Yes, I’m instructor rated in that class. Why?”

The Chief sat back in his chair and waved a finger at the screen, “We have a cargo drop for the Caldwell that we were putting off until late tonight when we could spare pilots from the passenger runs.” He looked back at Josiah, “I could get the loading finished in less than a half hour if you would care to take it.”

“Brilliant idea, Chief, make it happen. Hmm, a Gardener has a passenger section; are there any sizeable single drop groups waiting here?”

“That, sir, is also a brilliant idea.” He started tapping on the display again, “I have...seventeen people going to the Starline Research Facility and two that are going to the Caldwell.” He looked back at Josiah, “A fairly direct route and no returns. It would save everybody some time if you could do it, sir.”

“That sounds perfect, Chief, but can you scrape up a co-pilot; the Gardener is a two pilot rated boat.”

He smiled at Josiah, “I have an ensign that is working on her rating and would kill to get off her desk and fly with you.”

Josiah smiled back
, “Ok, Chief, it sounds like a plan. How soon can you get it organized?”

He stood up from the desk, “Let’s say
thirty minutes, tops.” He pointed toward the apron, “It’s that first one, number 246D1. Excuse me, sir; I have to go put the lash to a few people.”

“Do your thing, Chief, and send my co-pilot out ASAP, I’ll be at the boat.”

Josiah left the terminal, walked toward the Gardener,
and started his pre-flight inspection as he approached. As was typical of assault and cargo boats, the personnel and cargo areas were placed at the bottom for fast loading and unloading with the systems section on top. The stub wings were rooted at the top of the cargo section and angled down slightly with the drive coil pods attached along the outer edge. Smaller, personnel-only, and light cargo shuttles usually had the machine area below for easy maintenance. The Gardeners were a mainstay in the cargo and light transport role. This one looked to be in good shape; Josiah liked what he was seeing.

He walked around the nose and along the side;
he ran his hand along the gleaming gray side of the fuselage while eyeing the landing struts, pads, and the underside of the stub and coil. The rear cargo hatch was open and down in its ramp position. He walked around it and was starting up the other side when a loaded cargo platform started toward him from the building behind the terminal. At the same time a door at the back end of the terminal building opened and a rather tall raven-haired young woman in greens started in his direction. She waved at the driver of the cargo platform.

When she arrived, she saluted, “Lieutenant West, I’m Nora Parente. Chief Rosenberg says you need a right-seater.”

Josiah returned her salute as he looked her over. She was--to put it simply--drop dead gorgeous. She had to be 185 centimeters, short, almost boyishly cut curly hair, eyes so dark they had to be black, cheekbones that would give Molly Shepard a run for her money, and light caramel-cream colored skin that could only be described as perfect. She had third-class wings over her left breast pocket.
Nice breast too!
“You’re on a desk wearing greens?”

“Sir, around this place I do everything. I do so much cargo handling that I have a
first-class loader rating. I haven’t had a single day in the last four months that I haven’t had to wallow around in some mess.”

That seemed reasonable, “I see only a third
-class pilot rating. That’s a long way from driving one of these things. Have you had any time in a Gardener?”

She looked slightly annoyed at his observation, “Again, sir, I do everything around here. I have more than enough logged time for my
second-class, but we have trouble getting the final check ride set up. I have twenty hours Gardener simulator time, most of it involving improbable disasters. I have fifty-four hours right seat on actual missions, and five hours left seat training time. It’s pushing my rating to the edge of a cliff, I know, but I have always brought back all of the paint I left with.”

I wish I could say that. Hmmm
…kind of cocky.
“Let me see your logbook.” She looked surprised and, maybe, a bit offended by that request, but pulled out her pad, opened it, and selected the proper file. He took it and started checking the entries and instructor sign-offs. After a minute he looked up from the screen, “Are these entries accurate?”

This time there was no doubt, she was a bit offended, “To the minute...sir.”

A might testy, too.
He continued checking the entries for another minute before he handed the pad back. “Ensign Parente, you are now on your check ride for your second-class rating. You will fly this mission as PIC. I will act as a minimal right-seater, and I will expect you to handle everything that can possibly be handled from the left seat. Do anything that you believe is necessary for a safe flight. If I have to intervene, you will fail the check ride, and this will just be more logged time. I might ask questions; consider that as just part of the exam. Have you been briefed on our mission, and do you feel ready for this?”

The irritation was gone;
it was replaced by wide eyes and an open mouth, “I...yes, sir.”

He thought it was interesting the way he could almost see the wheels turning. She looked around with a calculating air then took off at a run to the driver of the second cargo platform, “Marty,” she yelled, “what’s the load-up?” She was back in a minute, “Ok, a full bay with even distribution, I can start the pre-flight.”

Josiah walked behind her--it was nice walking behind her--as she did the external check. He was glad to see her sliding her fingers along the fuselage. He thought of it as something that “real” pilots did.

They entered the boat through the personnel hatch in the passenger compartment just beh
ind the command deck. A tech was checking a system display on the command deck bulkhead and comparing it to a data pad he was holding. He turned to Josiah, “Sir, all systems an--” Josiah just held up a finger and then pointed at Parente. He got the idea and gave her the ground crew report briefing; she signed off on the pad he handed her, “Chief, would you please post someone at the hatch to keep our passengers off until I’m ready?”

“Yes ma’am, no problem.”

They stepped through the hatch to the command deck, and she took the left seat. Josiah stood behind the right seat and watched as she initiated the reactor start sequence and code-locked the drive system. Active drive coils were deadly to living organisms--like humans--within a ten meter range depending on power settings. She was now the only one that could activate the drive system without getting a logic tech to clear the lock. Satisfied that the start sequence was running correctly, and that all interlocks were engaged, she got out of the seat and turned to Josiah, “Time to see how loading is going.”

The passenger compartment behind the command deck had twenty-four utility seats, two web-net luggage areas, and smallish ceramo-plast ports along both sides of the hull. It wasn’t luxurious
, but it wasn’t intended for long trips. At the center of the rear bulkhead was a hatch that led to the cargo area. As they stepped through, they were looking at the side of a container that the first cargo platform had brought out and rolled onto the boat. They went around to the side and down the narrow space between the line of massive containers and the hull. She checked the load screen and top and bottom clamp indicators on each container as they went. They stopped short of the last loaded container and watched as the handlers rolled in the rest of them.

Parente turned her head toward Josiah, “I’ve been working with these people for almost a year; they’re very good. There’s so much pressure to get the job done in less time than it should take that nobody makes mistakes. I’m sure that a person like you,” she nodded at his wings, “has noticed how clean and correct this boat is. I have no qualms about jumping into anything on this flight line and blasting off without a pre-flight check if I had too.”

The last container locked into place, and she waved at the driver as the platform turned away. When it was clear, she palmed the hatch activator and held it there as it pivoted up and locked. After an examination of the individual lock indicator lights around the door perimeter, they continued their walk around the containers and back to the passenger compartment. After sealing that hatch, she stuck her head outside, “You can come onboard now.”

“Lieutenant, would you please see to our passengers?” She smiled as she said that. She well knew that that annoying job went to the, normally, lower life form that occupied the right seat. “I won’t do anything critical without you. I’ll set up the flight plan with traffic control and make sure the
Caldwell knows that a staff officer is arriving.”

Josiah held his hand up at that, “Whoa, I would just as soon that was not announced.”

She got a questioning look on her face, “But, Lieutenant, regulations require that I have an ‘Admiral’ call sign with a staff officer aboard so they will probably know anyway, and my CO would have my hide for that breach of courtesy.”

“Well, a
lright, but be very clear to the Caldwell that my visit is of a personal nature and not official.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll be very clear on that.”

She entered the command deck; Josiah turned to the passengers that were busily stowing their luggage and finding a seat.
This staff officer thing could be annoying.

Josiah had been facing forward while he talked to Parente. He now faced the group of junior officers and enlisted personnel. A Lieutenant Commander that had finished shoving a couple of bags behind the web-net finally looked at Josiah, “GROUP...ATTEN-N-SHUN.” The Commander’s loud command resulted in the usual confusion as everyone tried to figure out who was kidding and why. Eventually, the whole group was braced at attention
, and the Lieutenant Commander was saluting, “Sir, Lieutenant Commander Mannheim, ranking member of this group.”

Josiah took a moment to get over the surprise.
Very annoying!
He returned the salute, “I thank you for the courtesy, Commander, but my presence here is strictly unofficial; I have been pressed into service as I, too, am headed for the Caldwell. At ease everyone, and finish stowing your gear and belting up.” As they settled into their seats he made one last head count, “Ok, we are headed for the Starline Facility and then to the Caldwell. If you are not going to either one of those then you are on the wrong bus.”

That got a laugh. Commander Mannheim spoke up again, “Lieutenant, I have to say that I have a sense of relief knowing that a staff officer with a CI rating is flying this boat. I admit it worri
ed me to think that that Ensign…that...girl...was our pilot.”

Josiah thought about it for a second.
Awww...why not!
He smiled at the Commander, “Actually, she is your pilot. I’m giving her the check ride for her second-class rating.” At that point he palmed the plate that closed and sealed the outer hatch, “Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.” As he turned to enter the command deck, he heard Mannheim mumble something about “second-class rating.”

Parente had her work cap off and the com headset on. She turned her head toward him as he belted into the right seat and put his own com set on. She
was smiling and spoke in a low voice, “I heard that, sir; you have a nasty streak.”

“One of my most endearing traits.”

He finished fastening his harness and went through the right-seater check list while Parente started activating flight control systems. His last item was a check of the access interlock panel to his right. The line of green icons showed that all through-hull hatches were sealed. He then tapped a command into the screen in front of him that vented a high-pressure air tank and raised the pressure in the boat by five millibars. Noting that the pressure remained constant he declared, “Sealed up; pressure in the boat.”