Free Battlecruiser Alamo: Not One Step Back by Richard Tongue Page A

today.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
     His eyes snatching up at the clock, Marshall attempted not to let his frustration show. In less than five minutes, they would be emerging from hendecaspace at Luhman 16, and their mission – the prelude to their real assignment – could begin. In the meantime, he was referring an argument between Zebrova and Orlova over the fate of Harper; that situation had been occupying far too much of his time for the last few days. Finally, he broke in.
     “Lieutenant, Harper accepted non-judicial punishment, and has been confined to the brig for seven days as a result – the maximum sentence I can impose under Fleet Regulations. Sub-Lieutenant,” he said, turning to Orlova, “I will not switch that decision to confinement to quarters when not on duty.”
     “She should be court-martialed,” Zebrova said. “I’ve been saying that for days. Simple administrative punishment…”
     “This is just because she was able to hack into your system – twice,” Orlova shouted. “Part of my department’s job is to sniff out weaknesses in critical systems, and correct flaws. You’d rather it was an enemy vessel that hacked into the ship?”
     “Are you telling me that you condone this hooliganism?”
     “Of course not!” she said, throwing her hands into the air, “but her crime was not to hack into the system, it was to make changes – and all she did was wake you up.”
     “She made significant software alterations, Sub-Lieutenant, and if this is how your department normally operates…”
     “Enough!” Marshall yelled. “Both of you. I’ve made my decision and it stands. End of discussion.”
     “Captain…”, Zebrova said.
     “End. Of. Discussion,” Marshall said, with finality. “Dismissed, both of you.”
     “There was something else, Captain,” Zebrova said, while Orlova turned to leave the room.
     Frowning, he replied, “This had better be a very different topic, Lieutenant.”
     “It is, sir.”
     “Very well. Sub-Lieutenant, you may leave.”
     Saluting, Orlova replied, “Aye, sir,” and walked out onto the bridge. Zebrova remained, and Marshall glanced up at the clock for a second before turning to her.
     “Make this one quick, Zebrova.”
     “I will, sir. I’ve been evaluating the general condition of the ship, as well as our current supply load-out, and I have some concerns.”
     That caught his attention; Spitfire was the last place they could top up on anything they were mission before they made the big leap.
     “Such as?”
     She pulled out a datapad, “We have sufficient food for a year, sir, as well as spares designed for extended use, rather than a standard combat load-out. It’s almost as if this ship has been readied for a long-range mission; we don’t need most of this equipment for our current assignment, even with the potential extension to Proxima.”
     “What’s your point?”
     “Your name is on most of these requisitions, some of which were made just a few days ago. We have no fighters, even though they would be extremely useful for this mission…”
     “Fleet’s having trouble filling up Wright and Curtiss as it is, Lieutenant…”
     “...but additional shuttles, specifically surface-to-ground.” She dropped the datapad onto the desk. “Sir, we’re equipped for an extended flight, and the evidence suggests that you are the one responsible.”
     “You think there is a problem with being prepared?”
     “In the past you have indicated that I should feel free to speak freely when in private.”
     Gritting his teeth, Marshall replied, “Yes.”
     “I think you are planning to go looking for your father again. Refueling here – which is on our schedule in any case – would provide enough fuel for you to return to Jefferson.”
     “That, Lieutenant, would be a substantial violation of my orders.”
     “To be blunt, sir, it