Mootoa’S Moons

By Susan Quilleash

Centuries in the future, humanity has discovered the ability to travel faster than the speed of light. Approached by a friendly alien race known as the Mxtel, Earth soon finds itself a member of the Confederated Sentient Planets, or CSP, with an exploratory arm known as the Federated Fleet.

When the Fleet scout ship Lorili finds itself in distress near the planet Mootoa and its engines and engineers lostamong them the captains wifethe grieving Captain Jacob Grimm must approach the CSP member planet in hopes of gaining assistance and finding replacements for their lost crew members. Mootoa is very much like Earth. The people look humanalthough they definitely arentand they even speak English. Their social structure, however, is very different from what the crew members of the Lorili know. Mootoan women outnumber men three to one, and common thinking on the planet holds that men arent smart enough to do anything other than breed. Only time will tell how the mixed-gender crewand the male captainwill get along on the matriarchal planet.

In this science fiction novel, a scout ship crew from earth finds itself stranded on a matriarchal planet, and its male captain finds himself navigating a new world of gender politics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491778531

Susan Quilleash

Susan Quilleash, a retired army sergeant living in Colorado Springs, is spending her time engaged in politics. A boy until she grew up to be a woman, she has been a cowboy, cook, soldier, carpenter, teacher, politician, and writer and has lived on four different continents.

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MOOTOA’S MOONS

Copyright © 2015 Susan Quilleash.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-7854-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7853-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015918515

iUniverse rev. date: 11/11/2015

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Memorial

Chapter 2 Wake

Chapter 3 Who’s on first?

Chapter 4 Landing

Chapter 5 Liaison

Chapter 6 Dinner

Chapter 7 … and a show

Chapter 8 Life from life

Chapter 9 Interview

Chapter 10 The moons of Mootoa, Mohta and Brackto

Chapter 11 Female and Male

Chapter 12 Lunch with the crew

Chapter 13 Last Interview?

Chapter 14 Lazy Sunday?

Chapter 15 Similar Differences

Chapter 16 Test

Chapter 17 Orders

Chapter 18 Family

Chapter 19 Mission

Chapter 20 A plethora of names

Chapter 21 Mooth in Space

Chapter 22 The Sexiest Woman in the Universe

Chapter 23 Shifting shifts

Chapter 24 Satisfying hunger

Chapter 25 Round the clock

Chapter 26 Rejection

Chapter 27 Physical Philosophy

Chapter 28 Who looks at bodies?

Chapter 29 Seduction

Chapter 30 Surprise

Chapter 31 Solving T’Cha’s problem

Chapter 32 The Law of Love

Chapter 33 Going Home

Epilogue

Glossary

Angofarian Sex

Some four hundred years ago Earth discovered a way to travel faster than the speed of light. The Earthers were approached by the Mxtel and a trade and protective society that the Mxtel had founded. Due to some coincidences and an attempt at fairness one of the empty planets of the Earth’s solar system was ideal as a headquarters for this trade group, and as Earth’s languages were in the range that could be spoken and heard by all the members of the group English was adopted as the official language of what was now called the Confederated Sentient Planets or CSP. The CSP have a military/exploratory arm called the Federated Fleet. The Fleet commissions a variety of ships including those called scouts.

This is the story of one of those Scouts.

Around five hundred years ago The Mxtel and the Angofarian met. The Angofarian are natural linguist/translators. The fleet has a standing order that every scout must have an Angofarian aboard. Because of the physiology of the Angofarians they cannot survive in a gravity field less than point seven G and prior to their own exploration of space had invented a way of producing gravity in local areas with out any real mass. These gravity plates are standard on all fleet scouts. Including the Lorili. The rest of the crew of the Lorili can survive at lower gravity, but for the eleven humans aboard gravity is a convenience.

To expeditiously travel between the various worlds of the CSP and to explore outside their sphere of influence space ships need three engines. Just prior to the opening of our story the Lorili lost two of them, and both engineers as well.

The story is how they got some new engines and a new engineer, how she fits in with the crew of Earthers, and what the captain and crew think of her.

When I wrote the first few chapters I wrote a dedication to one of my writing mentors, after losing my computer that had the only copy of that really great dedication I tried to rewrite it and found that I should really dedicate this book to the person, who has encouraged me, taught me and had more faith in me than anyone else. This book is in memory of

Marguerite Quilleash Nelson

1929-2009

My mother.

Whose proofreading skills are sorely missed, along with every other part of her.

CHAPTER 1

The Lorili was a boat. Anyone who hadn’t served in the Confederated Fleet still called it a spaceship, no such word as space-boat, so the person in charge was still called captain, but Commander Jacob Grimm knew better, even though he was addressed as Captain. Old water navy had called any vessel that could be operated by one person a boat, of course the one person who could operate the Lorili by herself was dead. The closest thing Captain Grimm had to an engineer, Cadet Thomas with the assistance of the navigator, Lieutenant Chin, were trying to find out why.

They were six months out of Earth, a fairly routine mission of mapping supra-space paths. When traveling faster than light, avoiding stars is important and difficult, there is no such thing as a straight line in supra-space. The only engine still working was the supra-space, and some small maneuvering rockets, but all the other main engines had exploded. "Rachel, what did you do?" Jake thought in anguish.

Looking like a Twentieth Century Marine recruiting ad, Lieutenant Commander David Wilson came on the bridge. You’re off duty. Jake looked at his executive officer. Why aren’t you with your husband?

Butch can take care of himself. He’s sleeping, David smiled at the thought of his husband. Then looking at the captain remembered why he had come to the bridge, and lost his smile. But, can you? How are you?

Jake glanced at the communications chief, an Angofarian, T’Cha was on duty as station keeper. T’Cha, you have the comm.

Aye, Captain. The tree-like crew-member answered.

Let’s go to my ready room," the Captain answered his oldest friend on board.

The captain’s ready room was actually his private office. The captain of a ship, or even a space-boat, did most of his work on the bridge, but the powers-that-be felt he had to have a private office even with living/working space at a premium. Jake’s office had the usual computer access, and a nice two century-old metal desk bolted to the floor along with three comfortable swivel mounted chairs, of the style called captain’s chairs, arranged around the desk. Jake had had them installed when he took command, the captain still got to decorate his own ready room. Besides the view screen that usually defaulted to a screensaver cityscape of Manchester, home, Jake had also installed artwork, including an oil of Cook’s landing at the Sandwich Islands. For all that his hero was the Eighteenth Century British explorer Jacob with his hooked nose and dark hair looked more like his banker father, not surprising for an English Jew, than a British sailor.

David, Jacob’s best friend now that Rachel was dead, followed him into the office and sat in one of the chairs facing the desk. Jake was, of course, behind the desk. What would you have me do? We are in the middle of nowhere, with two crewmembers dead, other than their spouses, I have no way to notify next of kin.

You and Bryan need more than an investigation. Zach and Nickie are doing what we can on that. Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve had crewmembers die. There are other things that should not be postponed.

Jake frowned, thinking of all the losses through the years. He’d spent his entire career on scouts, and scouts went to the unknown, the most likely place to die. This is the first time I have lost my own crew. His voice quivered, the first time I don’t have someone or something else to blame.

It wasn’t your fault, David spoke. No one’s fault, we don’t know what happened yet. It’s not your fault.

I am the captain, Jake said. It is always the captain’s fault.

This is my first tour on a scout. The patrol ships are not usually manned by couples as the scouts are. What’s the captain do on a scout when someone dies? David knew the answer to his question, the fleet ships were not that different, patrol, packet or even trade, from a scout, but he wanted his old friend to find the answer himself without his telling him.

The bodies were radioactive. If we’d had a funeral, we would have exposed the rest of the ship. Sadie was Catholic; I’m not real familiar with those rites and the oldest Catholic aboard was her spouse.

Funerals are not the only thing. Rachel wasn’t Catholic. Oldest isn’t necessary to Christian rites.

They are to Jewish.

David realized that the only other Jew aboard didn’t really practice that faith, but knew what would be necessary and would have done it as needed. As good a captain as he is, his thoughts would be for his wife, not his crew. I was thinking about a memorial service, sort of non-denominational, one we could all attend.

Jake’s eyes went wide. Of course! That was what was missing. David was exercising the duties of a good XO, he’d reminded a befuddled captain of a memorial himself once. I don’t know if I can conduct it. Can you?

I’m honored. Should we do one or two ceremonies?

Two. I’ll officiate for Sadie. Rachel. He grabbed David’s arm in an embrace. "Rachel is too close. Thank you.

Cadet Thomas, he keyed the intercom, how soon can we enter the engine room without protective suits?

The intercom crackled with the youngster’s voice. Maybe an hour more, the reg’s say twenty-four hours for clearing an engine. It’s only been twenty, but I’m not getting any readings now.

Jake looked at the ship’s clock showing 1620 hours. Sadie’s memorial will be at 1900 hours in the engine room where she worked, he took a breath, and where she died. Looking at the man who with the death of his wife was now his best friend, Can you honor Rachel at twenty hundred?

CHAPTER 2

I guess that makes up your mind for you?

How do you mean, sir? Cadet Zach Thomas asked as the captain looked over his report on the engine disaster.

You’re our chief engineer now. Captain Jacob Grimm couldn’t afford to show all the pain he felt. Losing two crew members was bad enough, the fact that one of them was his wife and that the reason for the loss appeared to be her fault could be devastating, Rachel was a good engineer, he was sure of it but the report in his hand said differently.

I … I … Zach stuttered, I can’t be!

Why not? Jake knew that the cadet had been trying to decide between a career in engineering or security, had the accident turned him away from engineering?

I don’t have enough training.

You’re right, and we don’t have enough engine anyway. The captain handed the report back to him," at least according to this we don’t.

T’Cha! What’s the closest federated port, or known port if we can’t make it to a federated one? The navigator on duty wasn’t human, his (its?) eyestalks swiveled to look at the captain as the Angofarian said in a voice that sounded more human than anyone else’s on board, Mootoa is a member of the CSP, they have a full shipyard and are the closest system at only 24 light-years

Looking at Cadet Thomas, Can we get there? the captain asked his new temporary chief engineer. The Confederated Sentient Planets were a protective trade group that spanned the galaxy, the commission of the Lorili was CSP so a federated planet was the best, and cheapest, place for repair.

I don’t know, it’s the maneuvering engines that blew, so we can jump, but getting into position for a light jump is going to be tricky. Zach didn’t what his training cruse to be cut short, nor did he what it to be longer than the two years that it should be, but if they put in at a federated port he would either ship home for his final year of school before commission, or be placed on the Lorili for the full mission length. Scouts run long missions from the edge. If it hadn’t had been for the accident they would have looped for two years to chart the supraspace paths, but dropping abruptly from supraspace changed the loop and so would change their mission.

Nicole and I could probably help with aim sir T’Cha who was actually the communications officer offered the assistance of the sleeping navigator. We should be able to fill the roster on Mootoa as well as get the engines repaired.

The captain keyed the intercom, Lt. Chin report to the engine room, Lt. Myers to the bridge, Sorry to interrupt guys, you can thank T’Cha for volunteering Nickie.

T’Cha’s at the helm, Mike Myers’ voice crackled from the intercom, How can he volunteer Nickie for the engines?

I’ll tell you when you get here. The captain chuckled as he cut the intercom, You two go on down to the engine room and get it set I’ll keep the helm till Myers gets here.

Aye, sir. T’Cha left silently as Zach saluted.

* * * * *

It wasn’t as shattering as their last drop from supraspace, but still not as smooth as it should have been. With the astronomer at the helm it would take a bit longer to verify their position. Well? How’d we do? Jake asked as Mike moved to his usual astronautical post.

T’Cha answered him, "We have a broadband welcome in FedStandard with a comm. frequency. Do you have a message?’

The captain had anticipated the welcome and waved a disk at his comm. officer, "Give me a mic. and prep this log to send.

Federated world Mootoa, this is the Federated Scout Lorili out of Earth. We are in need of engine repairs and crew replacements. We have no real or subspace maneuverability and will need a tow into your yard. What is your HQ packet turnaround and can you take my log for transship to HQ? He handed the mic. back to T’Cha.

We’re 10 light minutes out, Captain. Good shooting, Nickie. The astronomer reported.

I think Zach and T’Cha, had a little to do with it as well Mike chuckled the captain as he acknowledged Lt. Myers pride in his wife. The tall African’s first name wasn’t really Mike, but that was the name he used with the English speaking crew.

Message away, Captain, if we’re ten minutes out we won’t get an answer for 20.

Affirmative, go ahead and prep that log to send. We are actually closer than I thought we’d be Jake flipped on the intercom. All hands to the bridge. Lt. Myers gave him a look. We’ve got twenty minutes and I have something to say

Jake’s XO surprised him by being the first to the bridge; Lt. Commander David Wilson was off shift and supposedly asleep. What’s up Skipper? Butch’ll be here in a minute.

I’ll wait for everyone David, but we’re in system.

Cdr. Wilson pulled out a jump seat knowing that everyone on the bridge would try to sit at their station chairs so his usual perches of science or helm would be taken by Hasin and Chin, who both followed the Cadet in. Cadet Thomas sat nerviously in the chief engineer’s seat, Cdr. Wilson was in the seat that belonged to the assistant engineer.

"Do you want dinner on time or is this a battle?’ Isabella asked as she took her seat next to the Doctor. Lt. Cdr. Mohammed Hasin, typically Iraqi in looks, was chief biologist as well as the medic, but Lt.(Jg) Santiago, again typical for her heritage, a Castilian beauty, was their botanist as well as cook and excelent at both.

Well I’m always ready for dinner, even if it is a battle. The small wiry Ensign Miguel Garcia answered his wife as he came in from his office. Steward, clerk, housekeeper and morale officer, Miguel would have been the youngest of the crew if they hadn’t had a cadet onboard.

Ensign Bryan O’Brian, the ships programmer and AI expert, his quiet demeanor at odds with his fiery red hair and clear light complexion and eyes, dragged himself in. Jake knew how he felt, they’d both lost wives in that engine accident. He wished he could afford the time to grieve, but the captain didn’t have the luxuries of an ensign. The only living crew member still missing was Lt.(Jg) Atchison Tailford. Jake looked over at his exec. I thought you said Butch was right behind you?

Well we both woke at your call, Lt. Tailford rushed in still tucking his shirttail into his trousers, I guess it took longer for him to get dressed. David nodded at the geologist, as Butch smiled shyly at his husband, then self-concisely at the rest of the crew as he realized he was the last to answer the captain’s order.

We’re ten light-minutes away from Mootoa, excellent job Cadet Thomas, Lt. Chin, Lt. T’Cha, nodding at each in turn. Pinpoint accuracy. Jake started right in. Praise should always be delivered publicly, just as reprimand should always be private. "Due to our engine problems, I don’t know how soon we’ll make planet-fall. Also due the engine our mission will change, I’ll let you know to what, when I find out.

We have a new problem though. Jake had discussed the ramifications of Mootoa’s unique social structure on the crew with Dr. Hasin, as the closest thing to a psychiatrist he had aboard, Garcia was taking correspondence courses in training for morale but wasn’t a qualified psychologist yet, and was so awfully young. We don’t have a lot of info on Mootoa, but only women go off planet and only those that are considered unsuitable, their word, for family life. A scout ship is a family; prior to the accident we had five married couples and a grandfather. Hasin nodded acknowledgment of his status as the oldest crewmember, although he wasn’t technically a grandfather having never married.

What about me?

And a kid. David ribbed the cadet.

And a kid, who isn’t anymore. Jake resumed. Now we’ve got three couples and four single men and have …

I am not single T’Cha interrupted when he realized that the fourth man was himself. Nor, technically, a man

Zach stared at the Angofarian. How can you be married on a ten year separation?

Marriage is a human estate. My species is not bisexual nor is it separated.

Huh?

We’ll explain it to you later, Cadet. the Doctor and the Botanist said together from the two science stations.

I just wanted to get a full count in, T’Cha. So we have three single men and will soon be joined by a woman considered by her own people unsuitable for family life.

Butch spoke up, It shouldn’t be a problem, should it. I mean the Mootoains aren’t human so what does it matter.

Actually they are. Dr. Hasin went into lecture mode; he had been a professor of medicine at the University of Baghdad before joining the federated fleet. Not from Earth of course, but the information we have describes the Mootoains as looking like Earth humans and there is even evidence of cross species breeding.

So why are they unsuitable to family life?

Most Mootoains aren’t unsuited, just certain women, those who are in a condition call Meesch, which has no explanation or translation other than that they are unsuitable for family life. It seems that these Meesch women are the only people allowed off planet. Their own naval vessels and any federated officers they supply are all only Meesch woman.

David, you’ve been on some patrol ships, I’ve never met any, and the doctor hasn’t, have you? Jake asked his second

Not that I’m aware of. Still might not be a problem, maybe it’s just the idea that they’d volunteer to go off planet that makes them unsuitable for families.

Possible, but it does say in our reports that men are not allowed off planet, even if they want to go.

That can’t be healthy, having a crew of all woman on a long voyage. Leave it to the young morale officer to bring that up.

T’Cha interrupted, Incoming message Captain.

Jake picked up his earphones and nodded to his comm. officer. He didn’t want a broadcast if there was bad news.

Lorili, this is Mootoa. We can take your log on digital 50:1 speed. The packet is due to take off in a half hour, sorry that’s a half hour on our clock about 69 minutes Earth time. A pleasant contralto voice speaking perfect FedStandard sounded in Jake and T’Cha’s ears. The packet has a six day turnaround, so we’ll have your orders for you then. We are dispatching a tug that should rendezvous with you in 8.67 hours, sorry again that’s 19 hours 56 minutes and 27 seconds in Earth time. Do you need air or other supplies to carry you through the next two days, we can outfit our tug in the three-tenth hour it’s taking to hit the launch window?

Reply, Captain? T’Cha toggled the received and end of transmission switches.

Send the log at 50 to 1 like they asked and tell them our life support is fine and thanks. Jake turned back to his human crew as the Angofarian leutenant busied himself (itself) with the communications board and the task of sending electronic data streams to a small target a long way away on a beam of invisible light. Not for the first time did T’Cha wish there was a practical way to send messages through sub- or supra- space.

The Mootoains seem to be quite punctual, a tug is supposed to rendezvous with us in 19 hours 56 minutes and 27 seconds.

How can they be that accurate? Lt. (Jg) Myers felt that that kind of accuracy was an insult to his only a tenth of a minute accuracy in plotting stars.

The computer will do a countdown for us, O’Brian turned from his console, we’ll see how accurate they are.

Why bring it up, Captain? Lt. Chin, who unable to navigate without an engine had nothing to do, asked.

Bring what up?

The unsuitable Mootoains, What can’t be cured must be endured.

Mostly for preparation. The crew is now eight men and two women. I know, Butch, you don’t care about women but having a ratio of 8 to 3 is going to cause some sexual tension. Best to be prepared.

Dr. Hasin’s compassion prompted another point. I hope the Mootoain is prepared, too. The ratio of men to woman on Mootoa is 1 to 3, she’s going to have almost opposite here.

What do you mean one to three?

According to the file, there are three women for every man on the planet.

Woo-hoo, Mike yelled, shore leave there should be lots of fun.

Nickie glared at her husband, Remember, you’re a one woman man.

I gather the Mootoains aren’t, Hasin continued, The commonest marriage pattern is three women with one man. The reports say there can be as many as five women in a marriage, and that men often have two or three marriages in a lifetime.

As many as nine wives! Bryan looked shocked.

Actually if some men have five wives in a single marriage and have three marriages in their life they could conceivably have 15 wives in a lifetime.

How could you keep them straight, Miguel exclaimed, I have enough problems with one. Isabelle smacked the back of his head.

OK! Children Captain Grimm was pleased, the crew was pretty much back to normal, even O’Brian was engaging in the banter. We want to give as good a first impression as we can and we only have, he looked at Bryan’s countdown 19 hours and 38 minutes left to get shipshape."

And 21 seconds the Astronomer corrected.

So, stations, let’s get ready for tow and planet-fall.

As the crew started to disperse to their various stations. Incoming message Captain. Grimm started to pick up the earphones, then realized there couldn’t be bad news unless the Mootoains were totally capricious.

Let’s have the speakers, T’Cha.

Lorili, this is Mootoa. We have received your log and a copy is on the packet. Request permission for our yard engineer to review it to see what you need for repair, and our counsel to see what crew requirements we can help you with? Will you want planet quarters for your crew while repairs are effected and if so how many in your crew? Do you have any non-Earther crew that require special accommodations? The physiology of Earthers and Mootoains is so similar that you can eat, drink or anything else that we do, so we can even re-supply your larder when you get here. Are you sure you don’t need anything on the tug? We’ll have a hundredth hour to outfit after receiving your reply before the launch.

How much can you do in a hundredth of an hour?

One one-hundredth of our hours is about half a minute.

Their hours are longer, the Captain stated distractedly," we’ll figure out a conversion later.

T’Cha, give them permission to review the log, and thank them for the courtesy. We can billet in the ship but shore leave would be appreciated. The crew grinned at that. It sounds like they’re used to alien visitors so if you what something special, T‘Cha, let them know.

T’Cha started composing the return message. What about the tug supply?

Jake shook his head. We can survive two days with what we’ve got.

Miguel nodded, Longer than that, we are a scout after all; we can live for five years on what we have.

Just can’t go anywhere.

Actually, we have the materials to repair the engines, mused Ensign O’Brian, just not the expertise.

Jake felt the bond with his young computer tech, they’d both been married to engineers. Sounds like they do. I guess if you have to throw an engine you can’t have done it in a better place.

Well we could have done it nearer to Earth.

Best not to have done it at all. Butch blushed when he realized what he said and stole glances at Bryan and the Captain, who both studiously ignored him.

That does bring up a point, Captain Grimm did not what to do this, but knew its necessity, "Why did the subspace engine explode?

From what investigation Cadet Thomas could do, and he’s the most qualified engineer we’ve got right now, Commander Bourbon was playing with the mix, and it became unstable. A more qualified engineer might find more information or even a reason other than human error, but we’ll have to be content with what we have until we get to the yard. It looks like Rachel screwed up, I’m sorry guys.

Zach belatedly realized that his report had essentially accused the captain’s wife of blowing up the ship. I … I’m sorry, sir I’m sure there is something I missed.

You did your job, chief engineer, why are you apologizing?

She was your wife.

Yes, and had been an engineer on seven different ships, this one for the last 6 years, but we all make mistakes.

Maybe I made one in my investigation.

Thank you for that, Cadet. Jake shook out of his mood, Stations, we’ve only got 19 and a half hours now.

Everyone except for T’Cha, Wilson and the Captain scuttled out to other areas of the ship. David moved to the helm and swiveled the chair around to face Jake. How right was he really?

Near as I can see, and Nickie rechecked, his investigation was accurate. Looking as grim as his name, Rachel was probably experimenting with pulling more speed.

Captain. T’Cha had never sounded so deferential.

Yes?

Ensign Pawlak was helping me on a pet project of mine. Commander Bourbon was aware of what we were attempting and probably changed the mix to accommodate us.

The XO turned to the Comm. What were you and Sadie trying to do? And why didn’t you say something to Zach in his investigation?

I was unaware of his results and conclusions. I am saying something at the earliest convenient time. T’Cha’s dignity was back in his voice as all three of his eyes stared at the Commander.

So, what were you and Ensign Pawlak trying to do? The Captain understood T’Cha’s not speaking up till now, he’d been running the comm. constantly except for the supraspace aiming since the accident.

Establish a sub or supraspace message carrier.

David was excited, Subspace radio?

T’Cha was haughty, Radio is a light phenomenon and will not work in subspace without a physical field to carry it.

I know it’s not actually radio, but what else should we call it.

Wireless Grimm, who’d been raised in the British traditions, said dryly.

David ignored the comment. Can we try again? What did you and Pawlak accomplish?

Not on my ship you don’t try again, I don’t need to lose another engine, or another engineer.

Come on Skipper, this could be important.

Yes, it is and T’Cha you should write up everything you and Sadie found out, but this ship is not equipped for that kind of experimentation. Jake knew how much a faster communication with HQ could benefit all the fleet and especially scouts. He’d been serving on scouts his entire career, but loosing crew to an experiment that would have been better left to a research vessel with heavier engine shields was not an acceptable risk …

Commander Bourbon approved our experimentation. T’Cha offered.

I’m sure she did, Jake nodded realizing that his wife would have been even more excited about the possibilities than David was, otherwise you and Ensign Pawlak wouldn’t have continued.

Actually, Captain, the experiment might not have been the cause of the engine exploding anyway.

True enough, David, true enough. Jake looked at the Angofarian, any future experimentation must be approved by me as well as the chief engineer and Dr. Hasin.

Aye, Captain.

Why Hasin? David asked, it seemed to be too many cooks.

He’s our chief scientist, experiments are part of his province.

Fair enough. Switching subjects The Exec asked the real question, Are you all right?

Jake glanced at the comm. chief, Let’s go into my ready room.

Walking into the office like room, Jacob started to go automatically behind the desk and thought better of it and sat in one of the two chairs facing the desk and unhooked the swivel. Coming in behind the captain David looked at the odd seating arrangement. You want me behind the desk?

Sit down, Willie Jake used the old academy nickname as he directed his oldest friend into the other chair in front of the desk. The only person on this boat who knew Rachel longer than me was you. David had introduced them to each other, having dated Rachel Bourbon first and then finding out women were not for him.

Rather than sit immediately in the indicated chair, David went behind the desk and opened a drawer bringing out a bottle and a couple of glasses. The memorial wasn’t enough, you need a wake. He poured the liquor into the two glasses.

I’ve got a ship to run.

Handing the captain a glass as he sat in the other chair and swiveling it to face his old friend. We’ve got about 18 hours before we really have to do anything clinking his glass against Jake’s, Skoal

Skoal Jake drained the glass and poured both of them a new one. But, if we both get drunk T’Cha will be in charge

You didn’t know? He already is.

Damn, David, what did she do?

Jake, she was an engineer, and a good one. Whatever she did it took her by surprise, as well.

Yes, he lifted his full glass. To the best engineer in the fleet. He tossed the second drink.

David lifted his glass to that and sipped. He filled Jake’s glass again and offered another toast. To the best woman I ever dated.

And the best wife I ever had Jake downed the third. You’re right David I need a wake.

The new widower reached for the bottle.

* * * * *

Miguel walked into the Galley, Got some time, esposa?

Isabelle turned from the stove, What do you have in mind? She shook her hips and batted her eyes.

Well, that looks interesting, but I was thinking about Brian and Sadie.

Sadie is dead.

Yes, and a quick memorial without even a body to say good-bye to is not enough for a widower.

Her body was radioactive; it could not lie in state.

I do not say it should, but Bryan needs more than a few words about service and sacrifice.

So what do you propose?

Bryan is Irish, I propose a wake.

What about the Captain?

Off duty time is our own; it will not get out of hand.

This I know! The Captain lost a wife too.

The Captain is the Captain, I cannot do this for him, but for Bryan I can.

So, what do you what from me?

Miguel started loading a cart with glasses and bottles, Just come with me.

Isabelle, watching him load the tray, How about some food with that?

What do you have?

She pulled a bowl out of a cabinet and started putting ingredients in it, and mixing, A dip and crackers, Oh and veggies. going over to the hydroponics tanks and picking carrots.

We don’t have a lot of time, the tug is supposed to be here in 10 hours.

Twenty minutes, and we’ll be ready. peeling the carrots and continuing to mix the dip, Is it just the three of us?

I figured Mike and Butch too.

Why not Lt. Chin, and Cmd. Wilson, too

You just answered yourself?

Stopping her chopping, Explain.

Lieutenant Chin and Commander Wilson.

Yes.

We’re junior, they’re senior.

But Mike’s married to Nickie and Butch and Cdr. Wilson are together too.

You can’t even call Commander Wilson by his first name when talking about his husband.

Resuming her cooking, Si, but why not the Lieutenants.

You got anything for T’Cha?

What’s he got to do with it?

If we invite Nickie, without inviting Cdr. Wilson, we have to invite him. Counting glasses and plates on the cart, Protocol.

Que?

We could invite Nickie as Mike’s spouse but then we would have to invite the commander as Butch’s, or we could invite the junior officers, the Ensigns and Lieutenants, which would mean inviting T’Cha. Easier to just invite the Jg’s and the Ensigns.

What about Zach?

Oops, I forgot him. As he grabbed another glass and plate and placed them on the cart. Can you bring the cart and whatever you are doing to the computer lab? I’ll get Mike, Butch and Zach and meet you there in, Looks at his watch, fifteen minutes?

Si, why the lab?

"It is easier to bring a wake to a widower, than to pull a stubborn Irishman away from work who is in