Nanci’s eyebrows went up as she started tapping, “You’re taking the Weasel?”
“If I can.”
“Yes, sir; there is one experienced person on Archer, although I’m sure her rating has legally lapsed due to no logged time in type in about fifteen years.”
“Is this who you’re talking about?” Wills turned his pad to face CeCe.
“Oh, hi CeCe. I understand you’re taking the Weasel to Forest.”
Trapped!
Wills thanked Nanci and returned his pad to its pouch.
“Admiral, you do realize that I am no longer rated in that type of ship or anything near it. It’s been fifteen years since Lieutenant James was first officer on the Weasel for a one-way trip and only then because I had served as second officer on that type during Academy summers. At the least, I’m going to need a month’s worth of training on the system modifications.”
He still had a sense of hanging on by his fingernails, “Effective immediately, you are now the Captain of the Weasel. You have about twelve hours to familiarize yourself with those systems. I will be your co-pilot and Captain Helt will be your Chief Engineer. Get your gear and get over to the Weasel.”
Helt was grinning broadly, “And now, something has delivered a qualified pilot for a ship that hasn’t flown in fifteen years, of a type that hasn’t been built in sixty years, and a chief engineer that built the current systems. If I were you, I would start believing in something.” He held out an arm, “Come on, Captain Copeland, I think you’ll find the Weasel is a lot less complicated to handle than it used to be.”
Wills just stood there and watched the two of them leave. He had this overwhelming feeling that there had to be more to do; he had always thought that when this day arrived it would be wall-to-wall chaos. Instead, here he stood in a silent room with most assignments handed out and nothing to do but wait.
“Admiral?”
Wills turned back to Falmann, “Yes, what is it?”
“Sir, the Wexton-Hanna people have been notified and are getting their people in place. The Captain of the Streak says the ship will be ready to lift by nightfall. The Winslow and Pugnacious have acknowledged your orders and will be prepared to depart in six to eight hours.”
Falmann hesitated and looked nervous about something.
“Is there something else?”
He looked up at Wills, “Admiral, the Gregory Falls acknowledged receipt of your message but has not communicated beyond that. Sir, I know Stewart Weathers, the Captain; he can be . . . resistant . . . to things.”
Wills looked down at Falmann while he absorbed the meaning of the word “resistant,” “Get him on your com and let me have your chair.”
Falmann tapped a couple of displays and vacated his chair. Wills sat down just as the display went from the call activity indicator to the baby face of an Ensign wearing the cream and burgundy uniform of a Paradise Found Star Lines officer.
“Gregory Falls com station; how can I--“
Right about then, he noticed the two stars on the black ring collar of Wills white over-blouse.
“I . . . ahh . . . Governor, Admiral, what can I do for you, sir?”
Wills almost smiled at his discomfort, “Ensign, I have a need to talk to Captain Weathers; could you arrange that for me?”
Relief crossed the young man’s face, and he dropped back into his well-trained comfort zone of overly-polite glad-handing, “Why, yes, sir; I can do that for you. If you would please stand-by while I locate him. Please excuse the delay, sir.”
The boy’s face was replaced with the artistic rendering of Gregory Falls that served as the ship’s hold symbol.
I wonder what he would do if a real problem came his way? ran through his head while he waited--and waited.
After a couple of minutes, he looked up at Falmann, “Is it possible for a cruise-ship Captain to get lost on his own ship?”
Falmann had a resigned look that was a product of long experience at his job, “That kid is probably in a decontamination shower right now trying to wash off what Weathers fired at him.”
Another minute passed before the Ensign reappeared. It was obvious that the last few minutes had not been a happy experience for him; he even had some hairs out of place.
“Admiral . . . it is . . . that is . . . sir, if you could call back later, I’m sure that Captain Weathers would be available then.”
So, that’s how it’s going to be. Wills interlaced his fingers under his chin and projected his maximum mild demeanor, “About when were you planning on breaking orbit and heading for your next port?”
The hapless Ensign twitched and looked at something to the side of his screen, “We are scheduled to depart in five hours, sir.”
Wills continued in his mild, friendly mode, “Hmmm . . . five hours is more than enough time for the message I sent to the Kellogg to arrive and for them to return here. Tell me Ensign, have you ever seen a neutron beam cut a ship in half?”
The widening of the youngster’s eyes was pleasing to behold, as was his near whisper, “I’ve only seen neutron beams on vids.”
“Oh, don’t go and get all flustered, Ensign, I wouldn’t have the Kellogg cut the Gregory Falls in two, but I would have them carve up your AG ring.”
Wills started ticking off the planned process on his fingers, “Then I would have the ship boarded by armed Marines, the entire crew would be arrested, brought down to the surface, and thrown in prison; then I would see to it that Paradise Found Star Lines lost its docking privileges here at Archer and several of the nearer star systems, and I would make sure that all of your passengers knew that your Captain and the policies of the Paradise Found Star Lines were to blame for the extremity of their inconvenience.”
Wills had a standard set of fingers, so he was
