Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series (14 page)

“Well George how's she look?” Jonathan asked pulling the last surviving bottle of Schnapps from his bag and pouring them both a glass.

“Well,
Fury’s
a good ship. She’s structurally sound and fast for a lady of her size. I’ve been on board about a week now, and I’ve been doing a little informal surveying. Without the usual wear and tear of deployment, her systems are in good shape and all up to date. Although, we’ve had to do a few minor upgrades here and there.”

“And the crew?” Jonathan asked.

“Well, the lads we’ve got onboard thus far are a good bunch. We are still only at about half strength. I’d say about 25% are reservists or auxiliaries. The rest are solid Able Spacers with a good mix of green horns. It’ll take a few weeks, but we should be able to whip them into shape.”

“Good to know. Have you reviewed our orders?”

“No, sorry. There has been a few snafus with operations. I know we are being deployed to Kratos, and we’ll be convoying up there with two destroyers.” George answered sipping his Schnapps.

“Well you got the jist of it. We are taking ammo, weapons, and other vital supplies as part of a League Military aid package as well as an Infantry Brigade, which is going to reinforce Kratos defenses. After the run is complete, the destroyers are going to turn around and run the transports back to Sagus where they’ll join up with the 5th Fleet. We will stay on as the Kratos Squadron’s new flag ship while the old one heads in for some much needed yard time.”

“Sounds pretty clear cut. So why the heck is the hero of New Helsinki captaining a ship that is going to spend the war on anti-piracy patrols and revenue enforcement?”

“Shot my mouth off to the old bastard who was keeping me grounded. Dared him to do his worst.”

George grinned, “Well at least you didn't break his nose this time.”

Jonathan also grinned and blushed slightly. One of only three demerits he’d picked up at Overwatch had been for breaking a pompous Landeds nose after the man insulted his family honor. George had born witness to the whole event, and still gave Jonathan grief over it. Arching an eyebrow Jonathan asked, “I’m not going to have to check under your bunk for a contraband girlfriend am I?”

Now it was George’s turn to blush. “I wasn't aware there was a rule against such things on navy ships these days Captain. Just so long as you don't mention it to Melinda I am happy.”

“How is your wife George?”

“Oh fine. Pissed as hell that I got called up. She married a power plant foreman not a naval officer. Of course it might just be the hormones.”

Jonathan choked on his schnaps, “She's??? Your???”

“Yup, we found out just before I shipped out. She's five weeks along.”

“Well congratulations George, you're a father.” Jonathan saw the pained look crossing his friend’s face.

“I am sorry about the timing though.”

George shrugged his eyes twinkling full of pride. “Nothing to be done, I’ll probably miss my child's first birthday, but I plan on being there for him or her once this war is done and I am back home. That's why I was happy when I found out it was an easy posting. Well, relatively easy  at least. What is the state of Kratos these days? You always were a bookworm. I’m sure you spent the flight out digging through the reports.”

“Since they mislaid my personnel files, yes I did when I wasn't skimming the schematics on this beauty. The Kratos squadron consists of between six and nine vessels on rotation. Mostly destroyers and light cruisers, occasionally something heavier. Kratos is a weigh station and a trip wire from the League into the border systems with the Core Worlds. The squadron’s main purpose it to stiffen the local League Customs Enforcement and League 3rd Task Force. The Army base groundside is also vital in propping up that entire sector with logistical assistance and occasionally serving as an auxiliary peace maker.”

“Well, looks like we’ll be out of the thick of it, but there is a good chance they might tap us for commerce raiding. The are giving us a full Marine compliment even though half of them are reservists,” George said.

“A boat load of weekend warriors. I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Jonathan said sarcastically.

“No, the Major we're getting is supposed to be a real pro, Alicia Kern. Her file says she won the Silver Star at Iros Junction,” George said.

“Well that’s something,” Jonathan said.

The Iros Junction incident six years ago had been the result of an attempt by the New Corinth government, the most populous world in the Ulandi system, to assert control over an independent free port of Iros, which had favorable ties to Solaria. A Battalion of Solarian Marines held off nearly three times their number of New Corinth Enforcers until the Navy showed up and ended the conflict.

“What's your assessment of the rest of the officers, the ones that have been aboard for a few days now?”

“Well, I worked with Alan Sing before when he was a Gunnery Chief in charge of the
Paladin
forward rail guns,” George said.

“This was your ensign cruise?”

George smiled a bit, “Aye, it was well before my fatal posting to
Cao Cao.
Anyway, Sing’s a hard worker and a tough as nails old school spacer. He’s also a real maverick. Still drinks with the NCOs off duty, but doesn't let it affect his demeanor on duty. He’s also a big fan of yours. His little brother was on
Valiant
and made it off. I think you’ll get on with him fine. Of course we still haven't found out who his superior is going to be.”

“Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Jonathan said.

“Now as for engineering, Harold Okai is a bit of an odd duck the way most Spikes are. He has a fondness for collecting rocks and geology, but he's a good engineer and experienced too. His junior, Hilper, she may be easy on the eyes, but she's more than a pretty face. Her folks resettled on Shamo after the Commonwealth overran the Xi Confederacy, and worked the silica mines. She's been working on reactors since she was fifteen, which is what got her admission to Overwatch. She tanked every section of the entrance exam except engineering, specifically reactor theory and practice.”

“So she aced the one section they expect everyone to fail, and failed the sections everyone else is suppose to pass,” Jonathan said more than a little impressed.

“Yup, only problem is she’s young and hasn’t been tempered by age. She sometimes is a little too honest and Okai being a polite New Ballarat country gentleman is having a hard time handling her.”

Jonathan nodded in understanding. The folks out of New Ballarat, which lay in the Jocavie drylands to the northwest of Sinking and about four hundred miles from Tianamen’s western coast, had a reputation of being polite to a fault. The Landed families in that area especially. They also clung harder to the traditional gender roles, which were prevalent in Solarian culture.

“Do you think you can...” Jonathan started.

“I can defuse any real tension. That's the XO’s job after all,” George said smiling.

Jonathan nodded in reply and George continued, “Now, at coms we’ve got a fellow who is way too serious. Lt. Commander Tai Heath had his sense of humor removed at birth. He’s also a real pulpit pounder too. I’ve had to talk him down twice from writing up crewmen who were breaching minor conduct regs. He’s a New Albionian from New Homestead.” Jonathan nodded in understanding. New Albion one of Solaria’s minor southern continents, which sat across the sea from its main landmass of Tiananmen,  had been populated by colonists with a bit of a religious bent. New Homesteaders were loud and proud True Christians, which despite being a bit of a judgemental sect, were normally peaceable, polite folks. Still, it was best to avoid the topics of religion and politics with them, and New Homestead was a less than pleasant place to visit as a tourist. Truers weren't fans of drinking, fornicating, drug use, or even coffee. Such things weren't illegal in areas where they were thick on the ground, just unavailable with no customer base.

“How's his service record?” Jonathan asked.

“Other than having a fondness for morality lectures, and starting private bible studies, not bad. Actually, like most of his lot, he sees defending the Republic as a mission from the big man upstairs.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to talk to him before I offer the Stellanauta Prayer when we transition. Wouldn't want him to think I was playing favorites, and we'll see if we can get the Chaplain to help him organize a prayer group for him and his like minded folks.”

George nodded in agreement.

Jonathan knew his friend George was a New Anglican one of Solaria’s largest Christian sects, just as Jonathan and a good number of the crew were Stellanauta. Faith in Solaria had a long, interesting and occasionally violent history, but ultimately the Republic and the Navy, by extension, viewed a man's religious predilection as his owns business. The constitution stressed the separation of church and state and the courts upheld it, but not to a degree where it was hostile. Which was why most navy ships of a certain size carried a Chaplain, who was normally of a particular faith, but had training in helping to serve all faiths and sects.

“Right,” Jonathan said. “Now, about our Navigator.”

“Oh Tang, he's a bastard who is entirely too good at cards,” George said grinning.

“Old Spacer. He started off on auxiliary freighters then joined the reserves for the pay bump. He eventually cross qualified as a navigator on freighters and warships. He’ll give you a run for your money on space time, but this is only his second activation. The last time it was to help con an old destroyer to the breakers.”

“Do you think he’ll have any trouble handling this old girl?” Jonathan asked.

“Probably not. He is used to steering 100,000 ton cargo haulers. Only issue he might have is getting used to the legs on this girl. She is fast for her size,” George replied.

“I noted that in the specs, a regular clipper,” Jonathan said.

“With quite a bit more kick. We probably couldn’t stand up to three enemy ships at once the way you did in New Helsinki, but we can outrun just about anything and nip at their flanks,” George said a twinkle in his eye.

Jonathan returned the grin, “Just like that old tac instructor always said, nibble anyone enough and they’ll bleed to death.”

“Exactly,” George said. “Now, as to our two NCOs,” George continued getting back on topic. “Hu is an ROTC man out of Warren University. Bright kid. He is getting a Logistical Services major, so he knows his job. Knowles, well, he’s a bit of a mystery. His service jacket is good, but he keeps to himself. I’m sure you picked up that he is a coreworlder.”

“I did, Terran I think by the accent,” Jonathan replied.

George nodded for a moment, “Well, you know how core types can be. Either lording it over us lesser beings for being born out here in the barbarous frontier, or..”

“Or..” Jonathan said. “They keep to themselves because they are out here getting away from something, and why the hell not. Getting away from something is what brought most of our ancestors out here.”

“True,” George said, his expression shifted. “The only thing is, I am not sure, but I am pretty sure I spotted a TFN tattoo on his arm. Knowing your family history, I thought I’d mention it.”

Jonathan shrugged, “That war is long over George. My dad, god rest him, never got into it with every Terran Federal Navy man he came across, the way some refugees did. Oh he hated Earth to his dying day, but as he was so fond of saying - ‘war makes monsters of us all’. So long as Knowles does his job, I doubt we’ll have any issues.”

Jonathan and his XO continued their discussion for a while yet. After they had concluded all the pressing issues that come with running a ship, they talked for a while as old friends. Finally with the Schnapps bottle half empty, George retired to his cabin and left Jonathan to review the previously mislaid personnel files. As he perused his confidence grew. They looked to be a good group all together. A Captain would lean heavily on his senior officers and on his crew. After all, a ship couldn’t function unless all parts of it were working together. Looking at the half emptied bottle next to him, Jonathan took it and placed it in his drawer. Someday he would decide to break it out again when there was something to drink to, but for now he needed his wits. The hum of the life support, the ever present clatter of crewman, and the beeping of electronic systems, lulled Jonathan better than rain on the window ever had. For the first time in a long time,  Jonathan fell into a deep and restful sleep without the help of booze or sleep aides. He was back where he belonged. Beyond the battle steel hull, beyond the looming giant of Zhong, beyond even the light of the Yellow Sun men called Solaria, the stars shone like timeless giants that lit the universe. If they could speak, they would tell such wonderful tales, one of which was of a race of primates who had struggled for thousands of generations on a single blue marble. They had fought, they had loved, they had prayed, and they had died upon that solitary world until at last they grew wings made of metal and learned to fly. Slowly but surely like the tide rising, they had touched other worlds around distant suns, traveling along the gaps left in the fabric of the universe. Yet, out among the endless wonder the Galaxy had offered, they carried with them their hatreds and prejudices. Even now, one group prepared to make war upon the other for reasons too abstract for something as enduring as the stars could ever understand. If the stars that surrounded the tiny speck men called
Sound of Fury
could speak, they would weep.