For three
months, Flynn and Eltie did short runs from Pallas Station to Genoa, a new
agricultural colony near Vela. The colony constantly needed parts, equipment,
and medicine, while Flynn brought back textiles. Unfortunately, Flynn noticed
an increasing tendency for Calypso to
need repairs.
Such is the life of a ship captain. He
was used to the need for repairs. Even Atlas
needed regular repairs, but, unlike on the Fleet ship, Flynn didn’t have dozens
of mechanics overseen by a chief engineer to keep things in check. Flynn made
what repairs he could since his engineering courses in the academy, but most of
the systems were beyond him, and he ended up having to pay Pallas engineers for
the repairs.
He oversaw
one such group of engineers repair the primary reactor, which had copped out on
them before they had even reached Genoa on their last run, forcing them to use
the auxiliary reactor for most of the trip, burning up a lot of fuel for the
power returns. One of the engineers in particular struck Flynn as familiar, but
he didn’t entirely know why.
Finally,
when the job was all done, the familiar engineer said, “Nice to see you again,
Captain.”
“Yes, sir.
Well, sort of. I did my final six months on Atlas
under your command.”
Flynn
pictured the man in uniform, and it started to come back to him. “Chief Petty
Officer . . .”
“Sherman,
sir. Chief Petty Officer Henry Sherman.”
“Right.
Captian’s Mast.”
Sherman
winced, embarrassed. “Yes, sir.”
It started
coming back to him, now. “As I recall, you had a habit of making repairs,
effective repairs, that were outside of Navy guidelines, and in your off time
you tinkered around.”
“Yes, sir.
That’s probably what cost me the Chief job. I was retired and ended up out here
making repairs. Sir, I just wanted to say, I don’t believe what they say about
you. You were a good captain, tough, but fair. You could have busted me back
down to a first class, but you didn’t. The rest in my division thought so, too.”
“I
appreciate that, Chief.”
He waved a
hand. “No need for that, now, sir, I’m inactive. Call me Hank.”
“Well, I’m
a civilian, Hank, so there’s no need to call me Captain.”
“Sorry,
sir, I couldn’t do that. You’re still the captain in my book, and you’ve got
yourself another ship—a fine one at that—so you’re still a captain.”
“Thanks,
Hank.” Flynn smiled, then caught what Hank had said about the ship. “Listen, do
you miss going out?”
“Sure.
Nothing like seeing the galaxy and making repairs on the go. Most of this stuff
is swapping parts out. No real challenge.”
“You like
to tinker.”
“Right,
sir. The Fleet had regulations on how to do things, and those are proper, but
sometimes you can’t do what’s proper, you know? So we had to make repairs as
best we could some times because we needed the ship ready to go.”
“Right. As
I recall the Senior Chief had it out for you for some reason.”
Hank
shrugged. “I was a better engineer than she was is all.”
“Well,
Hank, it just so happens I need a good engineer, someone to keep me flying on
the go. Would you be interested in signing on with me? Can’t promise you much,
but you’ll have a bunk to yourself.”
Hank
grinned. “That sounds just fine, Captain.”
Looks like I’ve got an engineer, now.