The CO found nothing at fault and the company was brought to the “rest” position, like parade rest but you could look around.
“And now, we wait,” Hattelstad said. “You seriously have never heard of Heather Alexander?”
“Nobody in the company had heard of Heather Alexander before you showed up, Hatt,” Crowley said. The “company” was arranged in three ranks of ten men each, the platoon sergeants at the head of each rank, with the platoon leaders and the company XO to the rear. When the CO took over from the first sergeant, Top took a position at the bottom of the officer’s ranks.
Thus Crowley was right next to Sergeant Jaenisch with Hatt at the very end of the row.
“Everybody should listen to Heather Alexander,” Crowley said. “Heather is the Goddess.”
“I’ll give you points for ‘March of Cambreadth,’ ” Jaenisch said. “But I’ll top that with ‘Winterborn.’ ”
“DragonForce, man, DragonForce,” Hattelstad argued. “That’s the maulk.”
“I’m a big Toby Keith fan, personally,” Berg said. It was an apparent non sequitur since they all just looked at him. “Well, I am. I like Johnny Cash for that matter.”
“Two-Gun, we might just have to rename you,” Crowley said. “Two-Gun is much too hot a handle for somebody who listens to country. You’d better keep that maulk down in the bay. Grapp. Just when we got rid of Harson and his damned mood music…”
“I kinda liked some of that stuff,” Hattelstad said. “Wyndham Hill and all that. It was soothing. You know, masturbation music.”
“Rest does not mean laughing your ass off,” Gunny Hocieniec snapped from the end of the rank.
“Sorry, Gunny,” Jaenisch said, still snickering. “Harson was a good guy. Hell on wheels in a Wyvern. But, yeah, his taste in music sucked.”
“Like that metal crap is worth maulk?” the sergeant in front of Jaenisch said, looking around. “You keep that maulk down, damnit.”
“And don’t go pounding the whole bay with that rap maulk, Onger,” Jaenisch snapped. “In space, nobody can hear you scream.”
Berg wasn’t sure who “Onger” was, but based on the way they were lined up he was Gung-Din’s boss.
“Space,” Berg said. “I can’t wait.”
“Yeah, but we got to get there first,” Hattelstad said balefully.
“How bad is that?” Berg asked.
“See the ship’s CO?” Jaenisch replied, gesturing with his chin. “Former fighter pilot.”
“Running a sub?” Berg said.
“Politics,” Jaenisch said, shrugging. “Anyway, he drives the ship like a fighter.”
Berg looked from one end of the massive sub to the other and shook his head.
“That’s one big damned fighter.”
“Sort of my point.”
“Company!” the CO bellowed. “Atten-hut!”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, distinguished beings, thank you for being here today on this momentous occasion…”
Normally the main ceremony for a boat was at completion and launching. A crowd of well-wishers and officials gathered to send the boat off to sea. A bottle, traditionally one with waters of all the seven seas, was broken on the bow.
The problem with the 4144, besides the fact that the powers that be were still arguing over a name, was that it wasn’t being launched. It was simply a converted SSBN, the former Nebraska, and had already had such a ceremony.
But the first deep space mission of the first warp ship, even if a totally covert and still unnamed one, was a matter of some ceremony. Even if it was a very late night, very covert, ceremony. So a crowd had gathered. Admittedly, it was smaller than normal, there were no family of the crew, no press, and everyone on the dock had the highest of high security clearances, but by the same token it was extremely select. Admiral Townsend was presiding but even the President had managed to attend. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs was present as was the deputy defense secretary for interstellar warfare. Two senior members of the Senate, two equally senior members of the House, the secretary of state and a group of senior Adar. The ambassador for Britain was present as the representative of the only Earth government that had been informed the U.S. had a warp drive.
Although very few Earth governments were aware of the boat, support from the Adar government was a necessity on several levels. The boat had needed Adar technology and the Adar had, after all, been the suppliers of the drive. Just because Bill had figured out how to use it when they could not did not preclude their participation.
Besides the “distinguished visitors,” the entire crew, military and scientific, was lined up on the deck of the sub. The Navy crew, who were going to be going back to work right after the ceremony, were in dungarees for the enlisted and khakis for the officers. The security contingent, Marines and Special Forces, were in Mar-Cam and digi-cam. The senior boat officers and NCOs were gathered to the front of the crew, with one SEAL warrant officer looking decidedly out of place. The majority of the scientific team, biologists, planetologists and astronomers, were in blue coveralls. The three exceptions were right on the end. Tchar, the Adar physicist who had been one of the first Adar ever to visit Earth and with whom Weaver had developed a close working relationship, was wearing fluorescent green pants, a Hawaiian shirt and mosh boots. Mimi and the linguist Miriam Moon were in jeans and T-shirts. He knew that Mimi had been issued coveralls so he had to assume someone had persuaded her to wear something else. One guess as to who. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced to explain the presence of either one to the President or the Adar.
Weaver had recently heard a rumor that it was the Adar who had held up the naming of the boat. U.S. Naval naming nomenclature was straightforward. This boat should be named after either a state or a distinguished person. The first name proposed was the Harley Simpson, after a senior member of the House Armed Services committee who was recently deceased. That name quickly faded due to some background discussions that even Weaver had not been privy to.
The presence of K’Tar’Daoon, the Adar secretary of High Technology Defense and up until recently something on the order of prime minister of Adar, argued that the naming argument might have been settled.
“The President and the Honorable K’Tar’Daoon would like to say a few words…” Admiral Townsend said, winding down.
“I won’t take much time,” the President said. “I know that time and tide wait for no one. I’d just like to wish everyone luck and say that, after long discussions, the name of this fine ship has been finalized. I will let K’Tar’Daoon explain.”
“While this ship is not Adar in truth, we have as high hopes for it as any human here,” K’Tar’Daoon said. The Adar spoke excellent English but with a strong sibilant accent. “When the naming conventions of your ships were explained, we found them most excellent, for human beliefs and understanding. However, Adar, as is often noted, think differently from humans. And while this is not our ship, in truth, we wished to present our thoughts on how this ship should be named. In time, we were persuasive in our arguments.
“When we first encountered humans, we were confused by the name the humans had given to the boson portals. Such simple things and yet such a strange name: Looking Glasses. You did not call them mirror portals. Such a name would be logical. But humans looked upon them and gave them a name of wonder and, indeed, they are wonders. They take us all to strange lands, bring wonders to both of our worlds.