One pure fractal mirrored in Apophysis 2.09
The Khittipods, above, are partially credited for saving the careers of 433 fleet officers.
One of the most amazing things about the Christmas miracle the rescue of the Farragut was considered to be was that all hands aboard the ship survived – there were a few serious injuries, but nothing life-threatening among the crew of 434.
Of course, beaming them aboard the Amanirenas meant that I had effectively doubled my crew size, save for the relative few who were still in sickbay. Space aboard ship was not an issue – starships can hold 5,000 people or more easily – but making them at home after what they had been through was a challenge. The least of their problems was that they, like us, were going to miss both Christmas and New Year with their families.
I made it a point, as did Commodore Wilhelm Allemande and Admiral Banneker-Jackson, and as Commander Helmut Allemande and Lieutenant Commander James Doohan under my command, to meet with all of them, because they were literally a crew betrayed by their own captain in the worst way, although he had not meant to do that. Nonetheless, he had ignored his officers who had warned him about the danger from the Petraon Fishers, and the cost could have easily been the Farragut and all aboard with just one change of circumstances.
One thing you discover in working with people in situations like this are who the real leaders are among the group, and I quickly realized that the Farragut's crew had coalesced around Ensign Joan Forester and Commander Robert Smalls, the first officer of the ship. The ensign had done the readings to warn the captain, and Cmdr. Smalls had figured out how to save the ship and crew. The Farragut's crew trusted them, so it was important that they felt they could trust me.
I offered counseling to everyone on the Farragut's crew, and designated Cmdr. Helmut Allemande, my first officer, to harmonize assignments between the Amanirenas's crew and the Farragut's crew members who wanted to work. He immediately asked for permission to ask Cmdr. Smalls to assist him, and I gave it. Together the two commanders worked out a plan much welcomed by both crews because both were tired: four days of work a week with four six-hour shifts instead of three eight-hour shifts, because we had 700 crew members to spread that work across. That left more time rest and to use the counseling and creative resources that I made available to the combined crew.
Ensn. Forester opted not to work on the journey home, spending her time between counseling, resting in her quarters, and making various forms of sand art, making beautiful things for hours and hours and then folding them back into the sand as if they had never existed. I knew, having already read the initial investigative interview the Judge Advocate General officer for the fleet had done with her, that the ensign was making art about her entire career … she had served bravely and well, but was folding the idea of her being a fleet officer into the sands of past time. Now, the fleet needed young officers like her to stay, desperately, but it was no one's place at so early a time to make that case.
Cmdr. Smalls had reported for work when requested by his counterpart and was glad to do it; the two men were very much alike in work ethic, and the first officer of the Farragut was glad for the opportunity to find out about me from my first officer. He was under no obligation to speak with me unless I ordered it, having already given his interview to the chief investigating officer, but requested to speak with me, and my first officer coordinated that.
“First of all, Capt. Biles-Dixon, on behalf of the Farragut's crew, I want to thank you personally for what you and your crew did then and also now, letting those of us that need to stay busy be assigned to good work, and those of us who need to rest go ahead and rest. It is an honor to work alongside your crew, and an honor to rest under your caring command. Thank you.”
“You're welcome, Commander.”
“I'm sure you've read my statement to the chief investigating officer,” he said.
“I have,” I said. “You walked a fine line successfully, for you are actually the person who made the decisions to save the Farragut.”
The relief in Cmdr. Smalls's body to hear that from a captain – it was immediately noticeable.
“I did not have time to even get the information to contradict Capt. Davidson's order – I knew Ensn. Forester was right and those things would power up in more like five hours than five days, but I couldn't prove it because no one had gathered comparison data from 20 years ago to know how fast the Petraon Fishers would power up. Capt. Davidson had a tremendous command presence, and he had never had any reason not to trust me nor I him, until that moment that he said: “There's no comparison data because the last group got across before there was any trouble, and so will we.”
“But you checked,” I said.
“And I reported that there was no data because there was no data,” he said, “and he smiled and said we would take care of that in going. And we did.”
“It is amazing how there was no loss of life,” I said.
“I did two things on my own authority, Captain. You see, Cmdr. Allemande has all the latitude you have given him in everything except command decisions, not just by rank, but because you have actively given him that. I only had that by rank, but Captain Davidson's shift was a split shift, so I took my full 12 hours to study all that we knew about those webs and how we might hit them, reconfigured where the crew would be on its work shifts, and coded a navigation program for Ensn. Forester to input so that when Capt. Davidson did realize his mistake and order full reverse – too late – the navigation computer would get us in position to get survivably cut to scrap.”
He was right. The present Farragut would have to be scrapped, for although we had double-sealed its new seams as best we could, no structural integrity field available to our science could ever guarantee it would hold together at higher than Warp 4, which is why the Amanirenas was towing it at Warp 2.
“If the captain was right, no harm done, and if he was wrong, that was our only chance,” he said, “so I took it.”
“I don't see where you could have done anything in a better way, Commander,” I said. “My first officer could probably outwit me if he needed to.”
“And that's why I am resigning my commission as soon as we get safely docked and debriefed,” Cmdr. Smalls said. “I will never be able to serve under command again without worrying if I will need to outwit my commander to survive, and I can't live this way. Cmdr. Allemande loves you, Captain, in the most holy and professional way, for not ever having him in a position in which he needs to think about having to outwit you. I hate Captain Davidson in the most unholy and unprofessional way for the situation he forced me into, and would be a danger to myself and others if I got triggered on another assignment as first officer.”
I just listened. It was not my place to convince him to stay on. It was my job, under orders, to merely set the stage.
In the detailed orders of Adm. Martti Talvela, the full fleet admiral to whose command the Amanirenas had now been assigned, there was a command to take two full days at all stop to see the birthing of the Khittipods of Canopus 10. This was one of the most amazing annual Near-Earth spectacles, and my crew was glad to have time to see it as well – it was a silver lining to our being late to get home for Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, New Year, Epiphany – everything but Martin Luther King Day in January, in the end.
The Khittipods, from human perspectives, looked like they shook hands, made their babies, and then birthed them through their bodies and out of their backs. Reality, anatomically, was more complicated, because Khittipods were not at all humanoids, but those of us on the Amanirenas who knew the complexities opted to allow ourselves the wonder we knew and others the wonder they knew until they looked some things up for themselves.
After making sure the Farragut was structurally stable, I gave everyone aboard the options of either beaming down to Canopus 10 to view the sight in person and/or enjoying it on the big screens on the observation deck, the latter of which allowed for rich media experiences.
The Farragut crew, needing something hopeful to see, most often opted for both. Ensn. Forester was on the planet all day and watching the replays at night, and Cmdr. Smalls, since working, opted to spend his evenings on the observation deck. That proved to be the come-together moment for that crew in relaxation to discuss their futures in the light of what drew a lot of them into space in the first place: the wonder of discovery.
Adm. Talvela had made a explanation in his orders to me on the subject: “The crew of the Farragut needs time to remember more than the pain of the moment they are coming out of before we ask anything of them in the future. It is the high command's goal to retain as many of these officers as possible, but as it is their impression that their own captain made a decision certainly not in their best interest, we as superior officers can say little to convince them that our desire to retain them is not primarily self-interested. However, the galaxy itself, given an opportunity, can do much of the work of retaining them for us.”
Sure enough: the shrewd full fleet admiral was right. To an officer, the crew of the Farragut either decided to stay active in the fleet or adopt a wait-and-see attitude while on rest and recovery. That gave Adm. Talvela time to get the brand-spanking-new Edgemont ready for its maiden voyage. He had Cmdr. Smalls promoted to captain, and instantly had 432 volunteers for crew berths – and so, the Edgemont became the vehicle by which 433 fine officers were retained in the fleet.
"A heck of an upgrade, all the way around," newly-minted Capt. Smalls said to me from his bridge, surrounded by his happy bridge crew.
"Well, when the high command knows they have a captain and crew they can trust with a new ship, good things happen for them," I said, and watched them glow with confidence.
"You see, Captain," Cdre. Allemande said to me as he dabbed at his eyes, "these are the days truly old fleet men like me live and bust down other folks for. I was fasting and praying in addition to chewing off Adm. Talvela's ear about them getting the Edgemont" --
I knew the commodore's cousin, my first officer Cmdr. Allemande, was blushing ... he was so soft-spoken and of few words while his cousin was so spicy if not actually salty in his speech!
"I know Adm. Talvela is calling Adm. Bodega right now about 'whose bright idea was it to put Allemande back on duty?' -- so that's why I had to fast and pray because I needed to make sure Someone more powerful than them was going have the right thing done! Of course I need to go eat now, because at 95 years old, the high command will have me put on R&R and drum me right out again if I fast more than a week or so, and this is starting to be fun, so, no!"
He merrily left the bridge, and I heard someone else release the breath he was holding.
"Commander," I said, "if you don't breathe regularly, we're going to have to put you on R&R, and I can't spare you!"
"Yes, ma'am," Cmdr. Allemande said. "I was just considering how he has already gotten through a week and is still expending energy at the same rate ... ."
"Permission granted to go see about your cousin," I said.
"Yes, ma'am and thank you!" he said as he left the bridge, double-time.
"How much would you be willing to wager, Captain," Lieutenant Morimoto said, "if we did all that, that Cdre. Allemande yet will outlive some of us if we are not careful?"
"That would be an excellent wager," I said. "Fleet work is not for the careless -- we all need to be more careful."
In the ten years that the Edgemont was under Captain Smalls' command, there was never a year in which his bridge crew did not win awards for its cohesive command performance, and overall crew morale and excellence was likewise commended every year. The Edgemont's safety record was also excellent, on-ship and in space. In maintaining such a record, Capt. Smalls fostered many additional captains who repeated his methods, so, even in retirement, he is still kidded by his first crew.
“More good budding off of your captaincy than off those pairs of Khittipods!”
He still always says, “Off of us, you mean! This old Khittipod couldn't have done that without y'all!”
Capt. Smalls at last retired to Canopus 10, so that every year he could bring the Farragut survivors and extended circle together to see the sights by which their inspiration to be fleet officers was reborn. He was able to do this because Adm. Talvela, before his retirement, had put in a word to bump the captain's pension fund up for "excellent continuing service in morale and retention areas." Both men were leaders who, even officially going out the door, watched out for their people in their areas of responsibility while going ... but real leaders do what real leaders do, everywhere, official title not even important.