Proving True

I don’t know if it’s because I’m not wearing armor, I’m not wearing coveralls, or I’m not breathing recycled air. It may be as simple as seasonal affective disorder or perhaps I’m slightly photosynthetic. But damn it’s good to feel sunshine on my skin! I have no agenda aside from relaxing.

The outpost crew has created a safe area off the beach. And they were able to do so with minimal impact on the environment. For half an hour I sat at the edge of the beach, letting the waves wash over me and imagining as they retreated that they were taking all of the stress from me. It was after I moved up onto the beach to enjoy the sunshine that I saw not only a breath plume, but also Leka emerge from the sea in an APE suit modified for submerged activity. “How’s she doing?”

“Marsha? She’s doing okay. The barrier system keeps out anything larger than a half meter, so she spends most of the day hunting. But she doesn’t have to worry about anything hunting her.”

“Marsha? Why Marsha?”

“She said that was her name.’”

How can one argue with logic like that? “Does she want to stay here?”

“No, she doesn’t feel safe. She and I have discussed 457. She’s in favor of going there, but she’s willing to look at worlds between here and there.”

“Does she object to sharing this water with bipeds?”

“Not at all, in fact, she was asking when you might come in and cavort for a bit.”

“There’s no time like the present!” I wade into the water and do all that fun stuff that people like to do when swimming with whales. I let her pull me while I try to hang onto her dorsal fin. She swims on her back while I hold on to her pectoral fins. I’m treading water, catching my breath when she comes from below and pushes me up by my backside. We play for almost an hour before I’m too tuckered for any more and beg off. I lie on the beach and let the sun dry me off. When I’ve dozed off twice I head for the outpost. Now I understand how Chief Jenkins got sunburn.

Athena sends me progress reports daily. By the end of my sixth and last day at the outpost, the armor plating from Gallagher has been transferred to Silver Saber. Coincidentally, Dr. Turnbull approaches with the science team report. “Captain, I think we’ve collected everything we’re going to get from this location. Of course I can’t prove it, but I believe the law of diminishing returns has kicked in. With your permission, I’ll arrange for a shuttle to take us to another region.”

“That’s fine with me, Doctor. But keep in mind; you will take a minimum of two troopers with you, and at least one of them will have a fusion weapon.”

“I see,” he strokes his chin pensively. I think he has the academic’s inborn mistrust of the military. How can that be given everything that has happened since we saw this rock? “I don’t think they’ll be necessary. While we did see some large predatory species, they appeared to be contained to a particular area.”

“I hope the troopers are bored out of their skulls the whole time they’re with you. But be with you, they shall. I’m not open to discussion on that point.”

“Then I shan’t argue it with you. I trust you’ll make the recommendations?”

“Indeed,” I tell him. “I’ll have Sergeant Goodfellow pick the troops to go and Lieutenant Landers will fly you…”

“Please, Captain!” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Anyone but her!”

“I don’t understand,” Yes, I do but I’m having fun. “She’s one of the best there is at what she does.”

“That’s as may be, ma’am. But if the specimen gathering team is off line due to motion sickness, the time spent will increase exponentially.”

“As you wish. I’ll have Mr. Baumgartner take you. But understand, he’s new and nervous. Your ride is not likely to be as smooth.”

“I’ll take my chances, thank you. Good day, Captain.”

“Good day, Dr. Turnbull.”

Shawna pilots the shuttle that returns me to Silver Saber. We both laugh when I relay the tale to her.

“Serves’em right,” she says with a touch of rancor. “Will is a decent pilot, but he’s still working on his confidence. He’s liable to bounce them around a bit.” She continues a few moments later, “Does Turnbull seem like he’s wound too tight to you? Will and I have been trading off flying from the ship to the surface ferrying the crew down for R&R, what about the eggheads? Have they been taking any time off?”

“That’s a good question, girl friendly. And I’ll ask it when you fly me back down tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I have to do a command walk through and verify Athena’s reports.”

“Surely you don’t think she’s been anything other than painfully accurate?”

“Not in the least. And if it were just her, I wouldn’t bother. But people need to see that their supervisors appreciate their efforts.”

“MBWA?”

“You know it.” Management By Walking Around. Every once in a while, the Boss just has to be seen.

As far as starships go, Silver Saber is not large. But walking every meter of every deck is an all day job. At the end of the day, I’ve shaken many a hand, patted many a back and don’t feel like I could take another step. The following morning I’m a little stiff and sore, but functional. I tell the department heads and the science crews to have everyone near a holoCom in an hour for an All Hands message.

At the appointed time, I open the channel from my office. “Our mission remains to make scientific note of this planet. We have been doing that and will continue to do so. As you know, we no longer have the luxury of the labs aboard Gallagher. But we have improvised, adapted and overcome. I congratulate you all and commend your initiative and flexibility. It has come to my attention that some of you have been working non-stop. That is not acceptable. Work weeks are to be no longer than six days, a day’s work is no longer than twelve hours; sixteen if and only if something extraordinary rears its head, and then pending permission from me or the Executive Officer. Let me put it this way, how the work is divided is of no interest to me, but all work and no play makes Chris or Pat brain dead. So I want everybody to get some down time. As of today, if you haven’t had a day off in the past six, you are off the clock for twenty-four hours. Let’s make this even easier. All planetside personnel, you are off for the next twenty-four hours. No exceptions. Relax, have fun. Consider that an order.”

“We still have heard nothing from Star Chaser. But they left here with the intent of returning in five months. We will be here at least for the duration of that time. If we’ve received no message from them or anyone else by that time, we will make our own plans. Please do not get Short Timer’s Disease. An STD is a terrible thing, and if not kept under wraps will spread through our crew like a virus. That’s all I have, so you supervisors work schedules out amongst your subordinates and then yourselves. Thank you again. MacTaggert out.”