into a bad zone. I fight it for two hours longer than I should, then give in on that too.
"Mr. Garcia," shift change happened a while ago. "Engines to standby."
"Engines to standby." Thrust drops away, we coast. Still traveling more than three million miles an hour, but 170 some million miles left to go, three days if we can't use the engines.
"Commander Perez, with me. Mr. Ayala has the con."
"Affirmative, I have the con."
I look at him as he prepares to take my couch. "Send a message to Congress , update on our status, my orders, no closer than 1 million clicks from Beta unless Yorktown present."
"Aye, sir."
We float quickly, but silently down to engineering. Emily Powell meets us at the hatch.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"No," I shake my head at her, "My fault. If I were smarter I'd know a combat ready ship in 72 hours is better than a derelict at 48." I pause. "What do you need from me to get Yorktown ready for battle?"
She looks me in the eye. "Except for two of our engines, this ship is more ready for combat than any ship in the fleet." How about that, the captain getting a pep talk from the engineer. "Those two babies are out, sir, there's a slim chance we can revive them, but only slim. We can give you two gees, 24/7, for the next 10 years. Faster than that, and all bets are off."
"Thank you lieutenant." I reach for the transmit button on my collar. "Mr. Ayala, sound free fall stations. We won't be using the engines for a while." I don't listen for his reply. The horns are enough.
"Emily, all your efforts into fixing 2 and 4, not at the expense of sleep or food. Something out there got Bainbridge and Richard , something we know nothing about. Maybe a smart captain would spend some time thinking, instead of rushing blindly in after them."
I push off the ground toward the hatch, Shel behind me. I get back to the bridge and float at my station. Then I open the ship-wide speaker.
"This is the captain. We have 72 hours before reaching Beta station, and as we sit here we know nothing about what happened to Bainbridge and Richard . That is unacceptable. This ship collects huge amounts of data, intentionally through RISTA systems and unintentionally through our nav and communications systems. We have the best RISTA team in existence, and they have been able to get through less than one percent of those data, working around the clock. I am making every bit of data available to all crew from this moment. Find me something folks. Two days leave for each lead. Pass everything to Ensign McAdams. Krieger out."
Shelby is wondering if its time to open the reg book for the section on crazy captains. I leave her space to do it. "Commander, you have the con."
Hit the treadmill for an hour and 15, then shower and float in my rack, a fitful on and off sleep is all I can manage. We spend the morning doing every weapons drill I can think of, blast two of our four practice drones to bits. Doesn't make me feel any better. I do like the 24's though. Ayacucho , like all destroyers, had 18 inch lasers, the 24's have nearly 80 percent more power. They don't have the fire rate, and they aren't quite as flexible in their mountings, but I like what happens when they hit a drone square on.
That afternoon, Lt. Palmer appears looking rather sheepish, which is difficult for a man with arms bigger than my legs and no neck to speak of. Standing next to him is another Marine, both very large black men dressed in green space casual suits, the new arrival trying to hide behind his boss and look like a Marine at the same time. Not possible.
Palmer identifies him as possibly soon to be demoted Private First Class Louis Armstrong, who, during our casual introductive questioning, claims to be not at all musical. Five minutes later, he wins the first two day pass.
"Private Armstrong here," Palmer explains, "has an interesting hobby. He's support crew on the assault ship, with too much spare time on his hands. Apparently, he has a side business that
"Mr. Garcia," shift change happened a while ago. "Engines to standby."
"Engines to standby." Thrust drops away, we coast. Still traveling more than three million miles an hour, but 170 some million miles left to go, three days if we can't use the engines.
"Commander Perez, with me. Mr. Ayala has the con."
"Affirmative, I have the con."
I look at him as he prepares to take my couch. "Send a message to Congress , update on our status, my orders, no closer than 1 million clicks from Beta unless Yorktown present."
"Aye, sir."
We float quickly, but silently down to engineering. Emily Powell meets us at the hatch.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"No," I shake my head at her, "My fault. If I were smarter I'd know a combat ready ship in 72 hours is better than a derelict at 48." I pause. "What do you need from me to get Yorktown ready for battle?"
She looks me in the eye. "Except for two of our engines, this ship is more ready for combat than any ship in the fleet." How about that, the captain getting a pep talk from the engineer. "Those two babies are out, sir, there's a slim chance we can revive them, but only slim. We can give you two gees, 24/7, for the next 10 years. Faster than that, and all bets are off."
"Thank you lieutenant." I reach for the transmit button on my collar. "Mr. Ayala, sound free fall stations. We won't be using the engines for a while." I don't listen for his reply. The horns are enough.
"Emily, all your efforts into fixing 2 and 4, not at the expense of sleep or food. Something out there got Bainbridge and Richard , something we know nothing about. Maybe a smart captain would spend some time thinking, instead of rushing blindly in after them."
I push off the ground toward the hatch, Shel behind me. I get back to the bridge and float at my station. Then I open the ship-wide speaker.
"This is the captain. We have 72 hours before reaching Beta station, and as we sit here we know nothing about what happened to Bainbridge and Richard . That is unacceptable. This ship collects huge amounts of data, intentionally through RISTA systems and unintentionally through our nav and communications systems. We have the best RISTA team in existence, and they have been able to get through less than one percent of those data, working around the clock. I am making every bit of data available to all crew from this moment. Find me something folks. Two days leave for each lead. Pass everything to Ensign McAdams. Krieger out."
Shelby is wondering if its time to open the reg book for the section on crazy captains. I leave her space to do it. "Commander, you have the con."
Hit the treadmill for an hour and 15, then shower and float in my rack, a fitful on and off sleep is all I can manage. We spend the morning doing every weapons drill I can think of, blast two of our four practice drones to bits. Doesn't make me feel any better. I do like the 24's though. Ayacucho , like all destroyers, had 18 inch lasers, the 24's have nearly 80 percent more power. They don't have the fire rate, and they aren't quite as flexible in their mountings, but I like what happens when they hit a drone square on.
That afternoon, Lt. Palmer appears looking rather sheepish, which is difficult for a man with arms bigger than my legs and no neck to speak of. Standing next to him is another Marine, both very large black men dressed in green space casual suits, the new arrival trying to hide behind his boss and look like a Marine at the same time. Not possible.
Palmer identifies him as possibly soon to be demoted Private First Class Louis Armstrong, who, during our casual introductive questioning, claims to be not at all musical. Five minutes later, he wins the first two day pass.
"Private Armstrong here," Palmer explains, "has an interesting hobby. He's support crew on the assault ship, with too much spare time on his hands. Apparently, he has a side business that
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