Running With Argentine Page 2

  No, she fascinated Argentine because she was so smart that she lived a rich life inside her own head. This created quirks in her personality that he found down right endearing - in an almost fatherly sort of way.

  She was also seemingly oblivious to the arrogance, put-downs, and insults of the Captain and the Political Officer.

  They hated her because she could out-think them six ways to Sunday - and didn’t possess the social tact to hide it. But she was far too valuable to discard, so instead, they constantly treated her like dirt and did it in a very public way.

  When Argentine had realized that she was a good kid caught up in a bad situation, he had taken her under his wing. There wasn’t a lot he could do publicly, but privately he’d protected her – and the rest of the crew had noticed.

  With newfound confidence Sami had bloomed and her professional competence was soaring to even higher levels.

  At Argentine’s suggestion she had stopped showing off her talents to the ship’s command, but her constant practicing and enthusiasm now had her simulation scores off the chart for astrogational competence.

  Now it was just a matter of keeping it a secret.

  Unfortunately, the Pelican was a small ship.

  She carried a complement of 23, with seven of those being the Weapons and Security Officer (WSO) and his six troops.

  As a matter of fact, the WSO was the only other member of the crew totally loyal to the regime. Lieutenant José Stark was a man of quiet intensity. The kind of intensity where you just knew that he’d as soon rip your arm off as shake your hand.

  Lieutenant Stark reported directly to Political Officer Bloomington. So while the Captain was nominally in charge of the ship, Bloomington wielded the real power. Which is a screwed up way to run a ship… but then that was the People’s Republic.

  The rest of the crew was pretty much ambivalent.

  They went along with whatever protective schemes First Officer Argentine came up with but he was under no illusions. It was more out of self-interest on their part than any loyalty to him. Most had long ago had their sense of duty burned out of them and were far too cynical and resigned to offer any of their own resistance.

  Not that Argentine thought of what he was doing as resistance; but at least he wasn’t so beaten down that he was ready to roll over and play dead… yet.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Trust

  An Obscure Uninhabited

  Star System

  Chief Engineer Carlton West had never been bashful about saying what he thought.

  He preferred to think of himself as strategic.

  He wasn’t stupid enough to say something that would directly get him reprimanded, or worse… but he constantly pushed the boundaries. It was just in his gregarious nature.

  As far as the crew was concerned, you either loved the chief or you hated him.

  There wasn’t a politically correct bone in his body. Everyone that had ever met him would end up being shocked by his behavior after the first five minutes, but a surprising number of them saw that shock turn into grudging admiration or humorous acceptance.

  In his own way he was probably the most honest man in the room and, like in all politically correct cultures, this made him dangerous to friend and foe alike.

  “Something’s got to give, I tell ya,” he said. “We can’t fight a war with the Vilanese and be having these internal problems at the same time.”

  Like many regimes, the People’s Republic of Chezden was constantly picking fights with their neighbors. The official word was that they were simply defending themselves against aggression. The elite classes that pretended to be in the know quietly confided that yes, it was territorial expansion, but the People’s Republic was justified in this because of its moral superiority.

  The more cynical citizens of the Republic figured that the regime just needed continual outside threats to maintain its rule by fear.

  Regardless of the reason, the People’s Republic had gone to war with the planet Vilan some 14 months ago. A minor war with a single planet should’ve ended quickly, but somehow more and more worlds had been pulled into its defense.

  What had started out as a routine distraction for the regime had turned into an embarrassing and expensive proposition.

  “Argentine you need to know, there’s a lot of grumbling about us still not getting paid.”

  Chief West was the only member of the crew to ever call him by his name; everyone else called him, ‘First.’

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know this. He wasn’t getting paid either. True, in space there weren’t many opportunities to spend it, but they’d had two ports of call in the last several months and that’s when tempers had really flared.

  “Has there been any word from the Fleet Paymaster’s Office?”

  “It’s the same thing they’ve been saying for the last couple of months,” Argentine responded. “It should be any day now.”

  “Yeah right,” the chief said. “I’m telling you, this is going to end ugly.”

  “What do you think is going to happen? Is the crew going to slit our throats in our sleep?”

  Argentine’s tone made it clear that he didn’t think that was really a concern, but on the other hand things were starting to get frantic.

  “No. WSO Stark has got his security boys and girls to keep that from happening. At least it won’t get that far out of hand, I don’t think.”

  Argentine changed the subject, “So how are things in engineering? Are we finding what we need?”

  The Pelican was currently drifting alongside a large asteroid field in an obscure star system. The chief had suggested to the Captain, that since they weren’t being resupplied, it might be a good time to harvest a few raw materials.

  “Well, considering we haven’t been resupplied in six months the engines are doing surprisingly well. We can remanufacture some of the electronic components but we need to locate some metals. Once we find some rocks that have adequate amounts of gold, platinum, and palladium we’ll start the extraction process.

  “The truth is, having the downtime to put my crew to work on ship’s maintenance is the priority - the ore extraction just makes a good excuse.”

  Argentine knew that the chief needed every bit of maintenance time he could scrounge… The Pelican wasn’t a new ship and the captain would much rather be racing off somewhere acting important than give him the downtime that he, and the ship, needed.

  When he’d first come aboard the Pelican it’d taken him a while to figure Chief West out. It was immediately obvious that the ship’s engine room was better cared for than most in his experience, but the chief himself was an enigma.

  For example, while there were several approved uniform options, he always chose to wear his white coveralls. It was certainly acceptable for the heads of departments to wear white, but it was a practice more commonly adhered to on larger ships - and seldom for engineering. Working with equipment is, well… a messy business. Since most engineers tended to be of the hands-on variety they typically wore dark gray.

  Not only did Chief West wear white, his uniform was always impeccable. Argentine belatedly realized that it was one of the reasons the chief got away with his brashness; Political Officer Bloomington mistook it as a loyalist’s esprit de corps. Argentine suspected that it had far more to do with his desire to primp than anything else.

  He’d almost, once again, misjudged the chief when he discovered that one of the engineering crewmen was somewhat of a savant. Rory had an awkward country bumpkin way about him, but he was a natural on anything mechanical.

  Once Argentine realized that Rory was as bad at the theory side of things as he was good at the mechanical side, it all made sense. The chief and Rory made for a very good team.

  ΔΔΔ

  They were both sitting in Chief West’s cabin when he pulled a small crystal decanter from his locker.

  He splashed a bit of the amber liquid into two different snifters.

  “Thi
s is almost the last of it, Argentine,” he said.

  First Officer Argentine picked up the glass and inhaled the mild fumes of the cognac. He didn’t know whether to curse the Chief or thank him for introducing this rare pleasure in life.

  “Can’t you get anymore?” he asked.

  “I can’t get any more of anything,” he responded. “My requisition requests aren’t just ignored, they’re not even acknowledged anymore.”

  “How did you ever get around to being able to requisition cognac anyway?”

  “Oh, you know. Do a favor here, help someone else there… It all works out.”

  As old friends often do they remained silent for a while.

  “Argentine, I need to ask you a question.”

  The raised eyebrow invited him to continue.

  “No, I’m serious. I need you to think about your answer and for once in your life not be flippant.”

  “My goodness,” said Argentine. “This sounds stellar in its importance.”

  “Well, it is. I’m very concerned that something is going to happen.”

  “So what’s your question?” he asked.

  “How many people on this ship do you really trust?”

  That was a sobering question. After giving it due consideration Argentine responded, “Oh, I suppose there’s three people I feel completely good about, maybe four. Why?”

  “Who are they?”

  The chief obviously wasn’t afraid to push.

  When Argentine hesitated he continued, “Can I assume that I’m one of them?”

  “Very well, if you must. I’ll give you that. I trust you. There, I’ve said it. Is that really what you wanted to know?”

  “No. Keep going. Who else do you really trust?”

  “Well, there’s Sami and Janet…”

  “Oh for the love of… Sami is a good kid but Janet, really?”

  “What’s wrong with Janet?” he asked

  The Chief highly suspected that Argentine was just yanking his chain with this one but it was too important a subject to just let it slide.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her… If you like career climbing, backstabbing, ambitious crewmen that are willing to rise through the ranks on their back, and then heartlessly stab you in yours, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that woman. If you want to trust her with your life, though, just make sure I don’t get stuck with the cost of your funeral.”

  Argentine couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a story behind that…

  “Come on,” he said. “She’s not that bad… and she’s never come on to me.”

  “She comes on to you all the time…”

  “Well, she does flirt a little.”

  The chief raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment.

  “You’re the one that asked who I would want to be stuck on a desert island with,” Argentine insisted.

  “I never asked any such thing,” the chief responded exasperatedly.

  Now he realized, Argentine was just yanking his chain…

  “Seriously, you don’t consider her that trustworthy. Do you?”

  “No, I suppose not. But sometimes it’s nice to dream,” he said whimsically.

  “So, is there anyone else? Is there anyone else on the ship that you really trust?” the chief persisted.

  “Well, there might…”

  “No, there’s not. I’ll answer that for you. You know as well as I do that just because we get along with them doesn’t mean we can totally trust them. Not when the stakes are this high.”

  “What do you mean by this high?”

  “Never mind about that right now. I just need to make sure we’re on the same page. Can we agree on who’s trustworthy?”

  “Sure, I suppose. But what difference does it make?” Argentine asked.

  Just then the General Quarters alarm sounded.

  The two men looked at each other and Argentine said, “The Captain didn’t say anything about running another drill.”

  “I think he gets more nervous and paranoid every day, but I suppose we’d ought to get to our stations.”

  Neither one of them really believed this was anything except for the Captain flexing his power again, but Argentine couldn’t help but think about the timing. This would usually be when he takes his dinner, and the Captain never let anything interrupt his dinner.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Physics is Fun

  An Obscure Uninhabited

  Star System

  Astrogator Samantha Parker was trying to figure out why her boob was blue.

  She was standing in front of her cabin’s mirror when she noticed it.

  She’d been preoccupied thinking through the new ballistic trajectory challenge when she’d realized she was almost late for her watch. As quickly as she needed to get going she still stopped changing clothes long enough to figure out the puzzle.

  She checked her discarded clothing. Sure enough, one cup of her bra and the pocket of her coverall were covered in blue ink. She had a bad habit of chewing on things when trying to work through a problem. Apparently, this time her pen had been the focus of her unconscious habit.

  She pulled a new coverall out of a drawer and realized she wouldn’t have time to scrub. Well, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see her boob, and blue wasn’t a bad color anyway.

  ΔΔΔ

  Astrogators are a weird, rare and strange lot. It takes a very unique and rare talent to be good at it. It’s not just the math, although that’s enough to disqualify most people. There’s an element of intuition to it that is almost impossible to quantify – or predict.

  To understand what an astrogator does, imagine that there is a flat hard surface as large as a football field. Now pretend that there are a thousand dimples in this surface, such that if a marble is rolled across its face it might be caught by one of the dimples and circle around to the bottom of it.

  Now imagine that the marble represents a spaceship… and it needs to get from one side of the flat surface to a small pinpoint location on the other side. If the surface is tilted just a little so the marble will keep moving, this will simulate the thrust of the ship.

  Bear in mind that many of the dimples are as large around as manhole covers and start out very shallow before curving dramatically into a deep hole.

  Now, if the marble intersects the edge of one of these dimples at the exact right speed – and maintains it - it will circle the hole without ever falling in.

  The hole and the dimple represent, of course, a star and its gravity well. When a ship is in stellar orbit, circling the dimple, it can increase its speed to go careening off into space or it can decrease its speed to drop lower into the gravity well. The calculations of knowing exactly how deep the well is and exactly what speed is needed to maintain orbit is only a small part of an astrogator’s duties - and is usually handled by the far more common class of astrogator wannabes, called pilots.

  What takes even more calculation is to use the edge of the dimple to alter the ship’s trajectory. The goal is not to be captured in orbit but rather to be slung around to a new course without reducing speed or expending energy.

  To really understand what an astrogator does, a person would need to calculate and launch the marble from the edge of the surface so that it maneuvers its way around all the dimples. Its launch would have to be such that it would avoid some of those dimples and get close enough to others to have its course curved and changed, and have the trajectory so perfect that it arrives at that small pinpoint at the other edge.

  There is no such thing as a straight line in space.

  This is the task of an astrogator.

  It’s an impossible task unless that same person is allowed to stop and make mid-course corrections.

  Even so, there’s still not one person out of one-thousand that has the mental capacity to make the marble arrive within even a few yards of the pinpoint destination - especially if they have to plot past more than a few gravity wells per jump.

  W
hat made Sami Parker so special, however, is that somehow she could consistently make that marble arrive within a few inches of that destination – and do it with fewer course corrections than almost anyone else.

  Of course, this is talking about a flat surface and space is three-dimensional. In addition, the stars and their gravity wells are also constantly moving and changing their position in relation to each other. All of this adds a thousand levels of complexity to the equation.