Unfortunately, the chief had the full measure of Napoleon complex that went with his size.
“Look, Tchar’s around for a reason, Chief,” the XO said. “He’s an invaluable source of technical expertise. He won’t be with us on this cruise, but he’s going to be with us on others. If you can’t handle working with an Adar I’ll find a chief who can. Are we clear?”
“Clear, sir,” the chief said.
“Pull it and replace it,” Weaver repeated. “Then give it to Tchar to look at. Make sure we’ve got at least one replacement for each system. And ask Tchar, if he figures out how to fix it back to spec, how he did it and for him to write the repair manual. There’s a bunch of this Hexosehr stuff we don’t have repair manuals on, yet. Looks like we’re going to have to write them.”
“Got it, sir,” the chief said as Weaver pulled himself out. The chief followed then stopped to brush some dust off his coveralls. “There’s another… issue, sir.”
“Yes?” Weaver said.
“This chick with blue hair came breezing into the shop yesterday and asked what we needed done,” Gestner said. “I told her to get the hell out of my shop. When I did, I started getting grief from PO Morris and PO Gants. I’ve got that under control, but I just thought you should know. I don’t think much of having women on a boat, sir, but if it’s got to be it’s got to be. But I won’t have them in my shop.”
Weaver looked at the chief blank-faced and wondered exactly how to handle this.
“Okay, Chief Gestner, here’s the deal,” Weaver said. “You just monumentally grapped up.”
“Excuse me, sir?” the chief said hotly.
“Are you going to actually listen to why you grapped up?” Weaver asked. “From someone with far less time in the Navy and about five hundred times more time in space than you?”
“Of course, Captain,” the chief said, his teeth grinding again. “I am always seeking the wisdom of my betters.”
“Chief, that wasn’t even on the edge of insolence,” Weaver warned. “I’m serious. Are you actually going to listen? Or are we going to turn this into a dick beating contest? One that, I guarantee it, you are going to lose.”
“I apologize, sir,” the chief said, taking a deep breath. “I am listening.”
“Miriam Moon is the ship’s linguist, yes,” Weaver said. “But on the last cruise… Look, she’s ADHD. You know what that is, right?”
“So are both my kids, sir,” the chief said, his brow furrowing.
“Incredibly smart little monsters that go ballistic if they get bored?” Weaver asked.
Gestner chuckled. “More or less describes them, sir.”
“When Miriam gets bored, she starts wandering around the ship, being… annoying as hell,” Captain Weaver said. “Since she’s a civilian, there’s only so much the CO can do about that. What we found out, more or less by accident, on the last cruise is that if you give her something to do, she does a spectacular job. Especially something mechanical. She completely rebuilt one system and painted every steam-pipe in the ship along with doing all sorts of minor jobs. Not to mention fixing the neutrino injector in the middle of a battle. The reason she breezed into your shop, Chief, is that it’s more Miriam’s shop than yours. She was a major part of the design team when the Hexosehr built this ship. And you got about twenty percent more relative space because of it. So you should be thanking her, not insulting her. And the reason Red and Sub Dude gave you grief was because they were trying to tell you the same thing. Knowing both of them, they were probably doing it badly, but that was what was going on. Now, you’re going to apologize to Miss Moon, give her full access to your shop and utilize her. In fact, first thing to do is put her in charge of this thing and see if she can figure it out. But apologize first, sincerely. How you handle that with your people is up to you. If you’re the type that can’t lose face, you’re going to have a hard time doing so. But you are going to apologize and you are going to utilize her or you’re not a chief that can handle the Blade. Are we clear?”
“Clear, sir,” the chief said. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, God damnit!” Weaver snapped, finally losing his temper. “I’m deadly serious! Hell, if she didn’t already have a job and if I could figure out a way to do it I’d give her the machinist section! Among other things, she had the guys who worked in that section eating out of her hand last cruise! I’m that serious! Are we clear?!”
“Clear, sir,” Gestner said, obviously nonplussed.
“I’m serious, Chief,” Weaver said, calmer. “This is not a sub. It’s a spaceship. It’s a spaceship that gets into really weird maulk. I can’t afford to have the guy who has to get stuff fixed in a funk because things aren’t going according to routine or somebody’s gotten up his nose. I need somebody who if he can’t figure out a piece of strange alien equipment will figure out who can. If you can’t get over whatever keeps you from listening to people’s input, you’re not for the Blade. Because nobody in this ship understands every part or can figure out every problem that crops up. And I need to know that in time to get a replacement. You’re a good mechanic and your reports say you run a good shop. But the shop on this ship is unlike any other in the service. And if you can’t get with the program, tell me now.”
“I can do the job, sir,” the chief said, frowning. “I really can.”
“Be square with me, Chief,” Bill said. “It’s seriously different. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, sir,” Gestner replied.
“Grapp me on this and I’m not going threaten you with Diego Garcia or Iceland,” Weaver said. “But I do suggest you ask Red or Sub Dude the story of Petty Officer Olson.”
“Olson, sir?” Gestner asked.
“Ask them,” Weaver said, dusting off his own coveralls. “Are we space ready with the exception of the separators?”
“Yes, sir,” Gestner said. “I’ll have a full report on down or questionable systems on the Eng’s desk this afternoon. But the rest of it’s minor stuff.”
“Good to hear,” the XO said. “Tell Commander Oldfield I’ll need it on my desk by noon tomorrow. But do not dawdle on looking up Miss Moon, Chief.”
“Yes, sir,” Gestner said, frowning in thought.
“This XO shit is for the birds, sir,” Bill said as the CO entered his compartment. “What ever happened to the paperless office concept?”
“What’s really funny about it is that most of the actual paper gets filed and forgotten,” the CO said, sitting down across from him. “It’s the stuff that we file electronically that gets looked at. Hell, mostly it gets automatically compared to norms and some computer sends up a red flag if it doesn’t fit the model. Which is why — ”
“We keep getting these stupid queries!” Weaver finished, holding up a form. “I wish somebody would tell the software we’re no longer an SSBN with a crew of 157 and twenty-four missiles! We haven’t filed our weekly paperwork on missile stability so this damned program keeps sending damned queries!”
“And we will until somebody comes up with a second model just like us,” Captain Prael said. “When will the equipment status report be done?”
“By 1700,” Bill said, holding up same. “I think we can squeeze in most of the minor repairs before we leave; I’m working on the budget and worktable now. But the only major issue is the separator and we’re going to pull and replace that.”
“What’s this I hear about you having a run-in with Chief Gestner over Miss Moon?” the CO asked, holding out his hand for the preliminary report.
“I told the chief that Miss Moon was the most valuable resource the machinist’s shop had on this ship,” Weaver said. “And that if he couldn’t figure that out, I’d find a chief who could.”