Smythe smiled like a pirate eyeing a fat prize. “There we have some intriguing possibilities, Admiral. It would depend upon how we charged the work. I have training accounts. This would certainly fall under that. Battle damage must be repaired per fleet regulations and charged back to various headquarters accounts, but evaluating the extent of battle damage that must be repaired is an uncertain art. Sometimes, such damage can’t even be identified until quite a while after a battle, and then it’s a judgment call as to whether the failure was battle-related or not. I’m certainly not going to second-guess assessments that any failures are related to earlier combat engagements. And, of course, if we encounter failures of equipment during operations, then that would fall under operational accounts.”
For the first time during the conversation, Geary felt like smiling back at the engineer. “How much could you soak fleet and government accounts before someone caught on and tried to rein us in?”
“I’d never do anything improper, Admiral,” Smythe said piously, “but my responsibility is to keep this fleet’s ships running well. That will take work. The funding runs through many channels, many departments and organizations, depending on exactly what is done and why. Deciding how and what to charge and where to charge it and how to justify it, well, in the normal run of events that keeps a lot of people busy who should probably be doing other things. Under these particular circumstances, those decisions will require very judicious decision-making. Some of it may be a trifle difficult to sort out on headquarters’ end and inside government departments, especially since rumors are that financial tracking positions are being cut with the war over, but I’m certain that if anyone sees any irregularities in the process or finds a way to total up the sums involved across the board, they will get back to us regarding those matters eventually.”
“Absolutely,” Geary agreed. “You’re already working up a plan?”
“It’s close to completion, but some details still need work, and, as I said, funding considerations will need to be flexible.” Smythe grinned at Desjani. “Have no fear, Captain. Dauntless will have her youthful vigor restored so that you operational types can charge around trying to break her again. Titan has the most experienced crew, so I’ll assign her to get to work on Dauntless right away if that is acceptable, Admiral.”
“Perfectly acceptable.” Geary gestured widely. “What about the fleet’s plans? How does this impact our intended operations?”
“Ideally, we’d stay here and replace everything,” Smythe said, “but somehow I doubt the government would want us doing nothing but boring holes in space around Varandal for the next couple of years. If you’re asking whether this means we can’t head for strange and unknown areas beyond human frontiers, well, I don’t think it will prevent that. Better we go sooner than later, really, while fewer ships are actually suffering failures.”
“Thank you, Captain Smythe.” After the engineer’s image had vanished, Geary looked to Desjani. “It’s bad, but it could be a lot worse.”
“Thank the living stars we’ve got eight auxiliaries now,” she replied. “Did you see the look on Smythe’s face when he talked about gaming the system? This isn’t the first time he’s done that sort of thing.”
“He’s doing it for a really good purpose,” Geary pointed out.
“He’s doing this part of it for a really good purpose,” she countered. “What else is he up to? What’s he already done without being caught? Smythe might have casinos operating on all eight auxiliaries.”
“Who do we know who could watch for that sort of thing?”
Desjani paused to think. “I don’t know. Roberto Duellos likes to posture as a rogue, but he’s actually as upright as they come. What we need is someone who knows how things in Smythe’s world work so well that he or she could spot a quark out of place or hide a battleship in plain sight if they wanted to. At least a senior enlisted, maybe an officer who’s a former enlisted. I’ll talk to some people and see if they know any candidates.”
After she left, Geary called up data on his eight auxiliaries so he could comfort himself by reviewing their capabilities. Titan, Tanuki, Witch, Jinn, Alchemist, Cyclops, Kupua, and Domovoi. He was extremely lucky to have Kupua and Domovoi, both of them part of the larger Titan class and both of which had been completed just before news of the end of the war triggered an immediate halt to most new construction. Having eight auxiliaries along during the long retreat from the Syndic home star system would have made that voyage a lot easier. Instead, he had been forced to make do with half that number, and lost Goblin along the way. This time out, having eight auxiliaries and fewer warships depending on them for resupply and repair should grant a decent logistics safety margin for getting well into alien territory and out again without anything running short.
Naturally, there was a price to be paid for that logistics safety margin. The massive auxiliaries Titan, Tanuki, Kupua, and Domovoi could charitably be described as sluggish when their raw materials bunkers were fully loaded. Witch, Jinn, Alchemist, and Cyclops were smaller and a bit more maneuverable, but still far from justifying the official designation of Fast Fleet Auxiliaries. When in star systems, the fleet would have to limit its speed to accommodate the slow-moving auxiliaries, and if the fleet did end up fighting again, then protecting the lightly armed auxiliaries would be a major concern.
Barely an hour later, Desjani called him. “We have a shuttle from Tanuki on approach. There’s a visitor for you aboard it.”
Given the ease of virtual visits among ships, an actual physical journey between ships for consultations was a rare thing. However, even the most secure software didn’t ensure no one was eavesdropping on virtual visits, and apparently Captain Smythe thought there were some more things to say that shouldn’t run any risk of being overheard.
But the officer who arrived at Geary’s stateroom twenty minutes later wasn’t Smythe but a lieutenant. A lieutenant with green hair. Not just shades of green within another color but brilliantly green. “Lieutenant Elysia Jamenson, sir. Captain Smythe believed I should meet with you in person to discuss my role in assisting fleet readiness and repair, Admiral.”
He invited the lieutenant to take a seat opposite his own, taking a moment to try to size her up before asking the obvious question. “Just why does Captain Smythe think I need to meet with you in person, Lieutenant Jamenson?”
Sitting with her back straight instead of relaxing, Jamenson replied in a matter-of-fact voice. “Captain Smythe has ordered me to work in direct support of you regarding the fleet’s maintenance requirements, Admiral Geary. I will be responsible for formatting reports, requisitions, and all other supply and logistics issues related to keeping the fleet’s warships at the best possible state of readiness, as well as providing you with status reports on those matters.”