Authors: Thomas DePrima
At noon, Jenetta called the Prometheus from her briefing room. "Commander Carver here. Put me through to the Captain."
A few seconds later, Gavin's image filled the screen. "How are you making out, Carver. Need help?"
"Negative, sir. We have eighty-nine dead, fourteen critically injured, and three still ‘missing and presumed lost,' but we're coping. The bridge is fully operational again and I've appointed temporary bridge crews to replace those killed in action. All major hull breaches, with the exception of the acute torpedo damage on A Deck, should be sealed within twenty-four hours. Due to the extensive hull damage on A Deck, we'll require as long as fourteen days of intensive repair effort to seal that part of the ship. We also have over two hundred minor hull punctures. The repair crews will begin to tackle them after they get some needed rest. The good news is that the Song will be able to continue on to Earth under its own power, and with its current crew. As temporary captain of the ship, I've forwarded the logs from the time of the battle and my initial assessment of the ship's condition to SHQ."
"That's excellent, Commander. You've really pulled things together over there."
"If you've selected someone to replace me as captain, I can turn over command of the ship and return to the Prometheus at any time, sir."
"I haven't given it much thought yet. I've been too busy with the clean up efforts. We're using tugs from the freighter to pull all the Raider ships together. The Marines and engineers from the Dublin and Calcutta are busy rescuing survivors from airtight compartments in the Delhi. When that's complete, we'll have to do the same in each of the thirty-four Raider ships. That's naturally our top priority now and will probably take several days. Stay where you are until all repairs have been completed. I expect that we'll all be here for at least two weeks, and likely a bit longer."
"Aye, Captain. I'll need some clothes if I'm going to remain here for a while."
"I'll have someone pack a bag for you and bring it over next time a shuttle goes out."
"Thank you, sir."
"Prometheus out."
"Song out."
Jenetta leaned tiredly against the back of the comfortable ‘oh-gee' chair. She was anxious to get back to the Prometheus and oversee the repairs to
her
ship, but she would have to remain here to oversee the effort until Gavin recalled her. It was probably just as well. She would have felt guilty about relinquishing command of the Song to someone else while things here were still in such a state of confusion. She shook off her disappointment and returned to her paperwork.
Rising from the chair behind her desk two hours later, Jenetta went to the beverage synthesizer where she ordered a sixteen ounce mug of Colombian coffee with two sugars. It tasted slightly different from the synthesized blend she was used to on the Prometheus; not bad, just a little different. It still had the wonderful taste of recently roasted and freshly ground Colombian coffee beans. Taking the coffee over to the couch against the sidewall, she lay down. It had been more than thirty strenuous hours since she had slept and she needed some rest.
* * *
Jenetta awoke to the sound of the computer announcing Lieutenant Ashraf's presence outside the door. "Come," she said.
Ashraf entered, and not seeing Jenetta behind the desk, scanned the room. When she realized that Jenetta was lying on the couch, she said, "Sorry to disturb you, Captain. I didn't know that you were resting."
Jenetta sat up and put her feet on the floor. "That's okay, Lieutenant. What do you need?"
"I wanted to inform you that all major breaches of the hull, except for the damage on A Deck, have been sealed and are holding pressure. I've told the hull repair crews to get eight hours rest before they commence work on the A Deck hull, complete the self-sealing membrane and inner plate work in the other damaged areas, and begin work on the smaller punctures. I have clean up crews working a rotating schedule to get the ship back into shape. Uh, the Prometheus sent over a spacechest and several other cases for you."
"Yes, Captain Gavin has ordered me to remain in command here until the task force completes its repairs."
"Wonderful, Captain. I had your things brought to the Captain's quarters in case that might be the situation. Housekeeping bots changed the bed linens and cleaned the suite after Captain Corriano's personal effects were removed. You should get some rest, ma'am."
Jenetta glanced up at the wall chronometer. It was 1608 hours. "Yes, I could use a couple of more hours if there's nothing pressing. You look exhausted. You'd better get some sleep also."
"I'm leaving now, ma'am. I was just relieved by Lt. Elizi, who's come back on duty after having six hours off."
"Okay, Lieutenant, thank you. I'll see you on the next watch."
"Aye, Captain."
Jenetta stood up and stretched after Ashraf left. The four hours that she had slept only left her wanting more. She rubbed her eyes, straightened her tunic, and walked out of the briefing room. A crew of semi-familiar faces that she'd only seen as she prepared the bridge crew list from the computer files, were manning their stations on the bridge. The twenty-nine-year-old lieutenant with short black hair and dark-chocolate brown eyes who had just taken the command watch, Lieutenant Elizi, smiled benignly in greeting from the command chair as Jenetta walked towards the door leading to the corridor. As she returned the smile, Jenetta speculated that the five-foot eight-inch woman must, like Lt. Ashraf, be of Eastern Mediterranean lineage.
Since the standard designation for the captain's quarters on all GSC ships is A-01. Jenetta located it easily and the computer opened the door for her as she approached.
Standing just inside the entrance, she glanced around the enormous sitting room. Although slightly smaller than the captain's sitting room on the Prometheus, it was still impressive. Two sofas and half a dozen chairs were available for visitors since the captain was expected to entertain staff and visiting dignitaries on occasion. An open door on the rear wall revealed a half-bath, provided so that visitors wouldn't have to use the private bath in the captain's bedroom. The door on the wall to Jenetta's left was open and offered a view of the captain's office. It contained a large desk with an abutted conference table capable of seating eleven. Of the two other doors in the room, she imagined that the closed door on the rear wall led to her bedroom, so she moved to the closed door on her left. As she neared it, the door opened. She stopped instantly and then took a quick step backward, assuming a defensive stance as a looming figure appeared in the darkened room in front of her.
"Good afternoon, Captain," the figure said softly. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"
"Uh, good afternoon. What are doing in here, Chief?"
"I'm the captain's steward, ma'am; your steward now. I'm Chief Steward Woodrow Casell. I'm sorry if I startled you."
Jenetta relaxed and lowered her arms. She had forgotten that the captains of all frigates and larger ships have a full time steward. It was a luxury and a status symbol that the captains of lesser ships aspired to attain for themselves. Even though they didn't have private galleys attached to their quarters, and weren't officially assigned a full time steward, destroyer captains usually designated one mess steward to see to the preparation of all their meals and deliver them either to their quarters or their briefing room at meal time. Captain Gavin's steward would be joining the Prometheus when it reached Earth. For now his meals were brought to him from the officer's mess.
Chief Casell had a kindly face, and an unremarkable body. His hair was sort of an auburn color, and as full as it had ever been. He appeared to be about forty years of age, so Jenetta assumed that the five-foot ten-inch tall NCO might have been acting as Captain's Corriano's steward for some time. It wasn't uncommon for a captain to bring his steward from a previous command with him as he moved to a new ship, if he was satisfied with the steward's service and food preparation.
"Not a problem, Chief. I was just exploring. Why are you standing in the dark?"
"I just stepped into the room from the galley, ma'am, when I heard the door annunciator. I'm so familiar with the captain's suite that I don't always put the lights on when I'm passing through a room." Stepping back out of the way, Chief Casell said, "Lights on," then, "This is your dining room, Captain. The door on your immediate right leads to the galley, and the door on the far right leads to my quarters. If you don't mind, I prefer to be called by my given name of Woodrow."
Jenetta smiled. That was something else she had forgotten. The life of a chief steward revolves around his or her captain, 24/7, and they have minimal contact with the rest of the crew. They tend to prefer being addressed by their given names, rather than their rank. Jenetta supposed it was some sort of status symbol to be addressed in that personal way by the ship's commander, or perhaps it just made them feel closer to the one person they were devoting most of their waking hours to serving. "Of course, Woodrow. I need a few hours sleep right now and I prefer not sleeping on a full stomach. I'll eat when I awake at 1900. Bring sufficient food for three from the officer's mess."
"Uh— I normally prepare most of the Captain's food right here in the galley, ma'am."
"Very well. Prepare chicken fillets, mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables. For desert, I'd like apple pie. For a beverage, coffee; Columbian, black, one sugar per eight ounces."
"Aye, Captain."
Jenetta turned towards what she believed to be her bedroom door, then stopped after a few paces and turned. Woodrow was immediately behind her. Looking up at him she asked, "Was there something else, Woodrow?"
"No, ma'am. I'm just following you to help you get settled in."
"I think I can take it from here."
"As you wish, Captain."
Jenetta entered her bedroom and smiled. It was going to take some getting used to, having a personal steward. It might be nice to have a personal chef, but she drew the line at having a male steward help her dress and undress.
Before preparing for bed, she wanted to unpack her things so they wouldn't get too wrinkled, but her cases were nowhere in sight. Opening the closet door, she found all her uniforms already hanging from the clothes bar, clean and pressed. Her cases were on the closet floor, empty, and her footwear was neatly arranged. Crossing to the dresser, she found her other clothes neatly folded and organized in the drawers. The animated picture of her family was placed prominently on the dresser, and the picture of her and Zane, taken recently at Gregory's, was on the nightstand next to her bed. Apparently, whoever had packed her things on the Prometheus, sent everything she owned. She wasn't sure if she was more upset by that, or that Woodrow had apparently unpacked everything for her without permission. That was his job though, so she couldn't fault him for executing his duties with due diligence. Yes, having a personal steward was going to take some getting used to.
The need for sleep was still uppermost in her mind, so Jenetta undressed, established the wake up time with the computer, and climbed onto the large bed after telling the computer to set the bed's grav control to one-sixth normal. The thin, gravity-shielding material that lined the bottom of the gelatin-filled mattress would block most of the ship's one g gravity, allowing her to practically float on its surface. Even at her now much reduced weight, the mattress of the gel-comfort bed was a little too firm for her tastes, so she told the computer to reduce the gel-pressure by ten percent and increase the gel-temperature by five degrees. In seconds the mattress had changed to conform to her requirements and she felt like she was resting on a cloud. The room's computer interface would now immediately apply the new specifications whenever she prepared for bed. Infinitely more comfortable than the couch in the briefing room, it felt so soft, warm, and wonderful that she was asleep in minutes.
* * *
Jenetta awoke as the first words of her wakeup call echoed in her head. One advantage of the CT was that no one else was disturbed by such a call, while a major disadvantage was that she couldn't simply block the voice by pulling the pillow over her head.
"Okay, computer, I'm awake. Cancel message. Carver out."
A glance up at the wall chronometer confirmed that it was 1900 hours, although she needn't have bothered. She had never yet been awakened at the wrong time and it was doubtful she ever would if she lived to be 5,000, which just might happen if Arneu was right about the age prolongation process that had been performed on her while she was a Raider captive. She shook off the memory and returned to the present. She still felt tired, and would love to roll over and go back to sleep. As captain of the ship, she was the one person aboard who could sleep in, if she wanted to, but as the captain of the ship, duty called, and there was still so much to do. It would probably take several days to get back into a reasonable sleep schedule where she felt rested when she awoke, and there would be plenty of time for extra sleep once they were on their way to Earth.
She showered, dressed, and was about to head for the officer's mess when wonderful cooking aromas assailed her nostrils. They reminded her that she had a steward now, and that Woodrow probably had her food prepared. The door opened as she approached her dining room, and she saw that three places had been set at the table. She wasn't sure how to alert Woodrow that she was ready to be served, and was considering knocking on the closed galley door when it opened and Woodrow appeared.