Alien Shore Chapter Ten
GRID Traveler Trinity: Alien Shores
Author: J Carrell Jones
Table of Content
Chapter 10
Come, messmates, pass the bottle ‘round our time is short, remember, for our grog must stop, and our spirits drop, on the first day of September. For tonight we’ll merry, merry be, for tonight we’ll merry, merry be, for tonight we’ll merry, merry be, tomorrow we’ll be sober.
- (Farewell to Grog, sung August 31st, 1862 on the U.S.S. Portsmouth)
- (Farewell to Grog, sung August 31st, 1862 on the U.S.S. Portsmouth)
Chapter 10
Robin said, “Computer stop AV. Turn the lights on.”
The vid stopped and the lights brightened. Robin got up and stretched. She had sat there for eight hours straight. No doubt about it. Sean’s ship and crew were good. Robin watched in detail the Wing Group exchange. Commander Molino had signaled his team to execute a simple little maneuver. He said, ‘Make the Johnson proud’ and all the fighters save the two using tractor beams to assist the shuttle fired forward thrusters. It was a simple plan. Hit the thrusters, slow down and the enemy flies forward. Then engage them immediately. Robin wondered if the Wing Group practiced in Sims or real-time. Probably both. The Johnson was definitely a tough ship. Robin mused over the fact that two fighter crafts and a shuttle entered the landing bay at near light two. She ran the calculations in her head. Close to a hundred thousand kilometers per second! The Johnson’s stasis field had to have been beefed up. Maybe there was something to be said for the older ships. Triple redundancy, reinforced everything, pure overkill on many things. Today, she saw pure overkill systems in action, the capture maneuver and the trick with stripping Webster’s shield emitters. Only an insane and desperate Captain would do such a thing. But hadn’t Sean been desperate? The Webster is a far more advanced ship. That should mean something. Then she remembered Sean once telling her that advanced technology didn’t always win battles, the War maybe, but not always the battles. Knowing the enemy and understanding tactics won more battles than mere brute force. He said, ‘treat the enemy as if it were ten thousand individuals, and treat a ten-thousand individual army as if it were one person.’ Her wing group was treated as one individual. The Webster was treated as many individuals. Robin smiled as if she gleamed some hidden piece of truth. “Damned smart of you Sean.” She said to no one. ‘Know your enemy.’ She walked over to her desk and tapped her Command Screen. “Engineering. How are my engines doing?”
A tiny voice came back. “Fine, ma’am, testing main engine feed now. Hold please.”
Robin waited several seconds. “Well?”
“Engines at eight-zero percent, ma’am. To get them to one-zero-zero percent will require dry deck.”
Robin let that sink in. Eight-zero percent. Damn! “It’ll have to do. ETR on shields and weapons?”
“We can jury-rig the shields. We lost seven-six percent of top and mid weather deck, along with port and starboard bow to stern shields. We can get shields to seven-zero percent effective in ten hours. Bow guns three through six are ineffectual. They will require dry-deck repair. Guns one and two are up and operational. Torpedo tubes are ineffectual. Dry-deck repair as well.”
“Very well. Carry on. Captain out.” Robin straightened out her uniform and walked out her quarters. A most devastating attack the Johnson made. It won’t happen again, really. Webster will get its revenge. Robin didn’t quite believe that 100%.
Foster sat in Starboard’s Bow looking at his CSD. He had Cookie’s staff fix him a strong pot of coffee. Foster wasn’t sure what the ingredients were, after taking a sip he was sure he didn’t want to know, but the stuff was almost like STIM. The ‘eye snap open’ effect snuck up on you. He had just finished his second cup when Dr. Albright walked in. She was a looker. Nice long legs that stopped at her chin, breast that jiggled stiffly when she made quick movements. Pouting lips, small jaw, and lovely brown eyes. He wondered why she was in Starboard’s Bow, most guest usually wander over to Officer’s Watch for ‘okay’ food and heartburn, when she stepped up to his table.
“This seat taken?” She asked.
He was hit with an ‘eye snap open’ moment. He stared at nipples stiff under the tight sweater hiding them. He gulped and pried his eyes off her chest eyes and looked her in the face.
She smiled and said, “Well?”
He blurted out, “Sit, sit, the seat is yours.”
She sat and looked Mr. Foster in the eyes. She noted the crooked nose on a long face with small eyebrows over almond shaped eyes. Medium lips that occasionally spread wide and thin in a smile. She liked his face and decided he would be the one. Her choice of healthy sex partners had been narrowed down to one; her assistant, Tony, and she couldn’t have that. “I was wandering if you could give me a tour of the ship. I got lost twice trying to find this place. And when I saw a familiar face I knew this would be my lucky day.” She smiled sweetly and brushed some hair behind her ear with her hand.
Foster smiled, a lucky day indeed. Then, he remembered he had to finish his calculation for the Captain. He had another five hours to go. “I’d love too, but I gotta finish this up for the Captain.”
Maria pouted.
Foster’s heart sank to his testicles. “Um, maybe I can work as I give you a tour, Dr. Albright?”
Maria bounced in her seat and her breast jiggled. “Call me Maria, Mr. Foster.”
“Call me, Xavier . . . Maria.” He smiled.
“I am a bit hungry. I got an idea. We can take something to eat to your quarters and while I eat you can finish the calculations. We can take a break, relax a bit, and you can continue with the calculations . . . if you haven’t finished after our break.”
Foster already came up with three different sets of calculations. He smiled, called one of the ensigns over and said, “Sounds like a plan to me.”
Sean and the others were seated around the conference table. Mr. Foster passed out a hardcopy of his plan. He had several. Mr. Foster had been thorough enough to include diagrams, equations and possible scenarios. Sean had encouraged his staff to produce such material when time permitted. Collins loved too. Quock and Pulse produced the least. Surprisingly Foster and Molino were the most prolific in hardcopy reports. Molino loved to explain how and what of Johnson’s Fighter Wing Group and Foster loved to show the how and what of Johnson period.
I’ve outlined three solutions.” Foster said. “Each is risky.”
Sean leafed through the hardcopy. Dawn had a better understanding of the overall mechanics of the Johnson. Like Sean, she was a line officer. That is, she learned all aspects of a ship - bow to stern, weather deck to below, engineering to medical, boatswain to midshipman, nothing was overlooked. “Dawn?”
She jotted down some notes on the hardcopy. She noted that Foster’s most ambition plan was to run the Johnson near redline for three-five hours. She knew Pulse, might object to that one. “Are we in a hurry?”
Sean thought about that. Were they indeed in a hurry? Robin didn’t know where they were going. So, maybe being in a hurry was not a good thing. GC had no ETA on getting Kathy back to Earth. His gut feeling told him that taking the slowest route would not be the best decision. “Not really, but we can’t take our time either.”
“Then my recommendation would be one-one-zero percent for six-zero hours.” Dawn declared.
“Two and one-half days. That means we’ll have to Trank up two times. Damn, I hate midflight Tranking. Pulse? Is the Johnson up to it?”
Pulse put down the report. “Yes, sir. The Johnson is running in tiptop shape. It can do it. Johnson could easily make the run in thirty-five hours – I think. I’d hate to run the engines that close to redline for that long.”
Sean, for a brief moment, thought about asking the Johnson. Who else would know if pushing the engines that hard were possible but the engines themselves? GC gave no mercy for breaking orders, so Sean decided to wait until just before the jump. “Can anyone think of a reason to not jump in the next three-zero minutes?”
Loggar said, “Umm, this jump is nothing like the last time?”
Sean was amused with himself. He forgot. The last time Loggar was aboard ship the Johnson took several days to get to Necron. She’s never experienced War Jumps. “Make it four-five minutes. Everyone dismissed except Dr. Collins, Kathy, Herb, Milkens, Kurp and Maria.”
The rest of the group got up and left.
“Collins, I’ll leave them to you.”
She nodded.
Sean turned to Loggar, “After Dr. Collins finishes I’d like you on Top Deck with me.”
Loggar nearly blushed and said, “Of course.”
Sean got up and walked out.
Collins watched Sean walk out of the conference room – she wondered if he ever would become Most High God. She saw the look in Loggar’s eyes when he walked away and knew that Loggar herself may have asked him. She cleared her throat and asked, “Anyone get motion sickness?”
Two hands went up. “Herb’s and Milkens’.”
They both looked at one another and laughed.
Collins nodded to herself. “Looks like you two will be staying with me in Medical.”
Two more hands went up.