SALVATION
Copyrights 343 Industries & Bioware
Rated A for Adult
Additional Sources:
(I will use a lot from them, bc I am too lazy to make something up myself.)
- Daia's Asari Wiki
- CerberusDaily News Wiki
- Halo/Mass Effect Wiki
I tried to contact an admin for permission, but I didn't find a PM button (maybe I am just plain stupid).
All credits to their respective owners.
AN: I originally wanted to bitch about Kelly Gays new book and Gulity Sparks and why they suck (multible reasons) and his character resurrection is dumb as f***. Or why i think most of the ArbyisChiefsbestfriend / the didact is a good chracter crowd are a delusional bunch of -censored-. But anyway, this chapter was finished like a month ago. It somehow sucked all my motivation out of me. I just want it out and move on to 4. Not really interesting anyway. Just a small filler tbh.
(V3.0)
1100 hours, November 17th, 2595 (military Calendar)
UNSC Stalwart-class frigate Brotherhood, Junkyard, Agrion
Beta Columbae System, (Sector L-421), Outer Colonies
There was surprisingly little going on in the locker room at this time of the day or maybe it was just his imagination. Anyway, for a ship in space time played only a minor role.
Hours turned into days, days into weeks and weeks into month without much change in the daily routine of the sailors on board. For ships in Slipspace it was even worse, as well as for ships traveling a lot between system. Time seemed to crawl in FTL.
Since every local planet had its own time zones, some had longer days, some shorter, it was very easy to lose track of it.
The only thing that gave some orientation was the standard earth time, which was used on all ships through the human space. Here on Agrion, it was 4:20 am - at least on this side of the planet. On Earth otherwise just after 11 am. A complex topic overall.
He pushed the train of thought away and tried to focus on what was ahead of him. He quickly dried his short hair with a small towel form his locker, then threw it on the bench beside him and took out he black and gray combat suit.
His fingers glided over the surface. It looked relatively inconspicuous, but the first impression was deceptive. The suit consisted of several layers, including Kevlar, a woven-in titanium-ceramic layer and probably the most important thing for his upcoming trip: a system that could keep the temperature stable over a longer period of time.
The suit was vacuum-tight, which was another plus point and offered a filter system for oxygen. It could provide the wearer with air for over an hour – in combat situation.
The leader of the ODSTs on board was so kind and gave him two sets of reserve armors as well. Grand would only have taken the vacuum suit, but he insisted. In an emergency it was better to be safe than sorry.
The once modern ODST body armor was hopelessly outdated, but still functional.
Standard from 2551. So, no energy shields for him or any other fancy new tech.
With unsteady hand movements he began to put on the armor when he heard wet footsteps coming out of the shower area.
A bare-assed Enfield, with only a towel around her neck, tore open the locker beside him and began to dry her hair. He tightened the last straps on his left leg armor before checking the status of the suit. Everything was fine, he could safely start his little space adventure.
Beside him he could hear a faint swear.
"Are you sure you got my correct size, Admiral? The thing feels as it is at least two sizes too small," groaned an annoyed blonde Lt. and angrily pulled at the clothing.
"The size is right. They have to be skin-tight. Do you need help?"
"No, it's okay. I'll manage somehow."
William looked up. Enfield must have turned around in the meantime, because he was starring right at her backside. No wonder the beautiful blond bombshell had trouble – with that ass of hers it was a real challenge getting into the uniform.
He averted his gaze.
A few minutes and hundreds of courses later, she collapsed on the bench next to him, exhausted. He couldn't help but smirk a little.
"When was the last time you put a BDU on?"
"Never. I wore some marines suits a couple of times during training missions, but never a vacuum suit."
"Never? What about boot camp?" Zero-G was normally a part of every standard basic training in the Navy.
She shook her head. "Don't have any. Actually, I'm specialized in personal management."
William stared at her in disbelief.
Any fresh recruit who joined the UNSC had to complete a 6 month long basic combat training. It contained things like Shooting, movement in terrain, survival, battle drills and communication, too name a few.
After the BCT normally came the advanced individual training or AIT for short. It was mostly the same in all three military branches, but the Navy for example had a two-month long module for shooting and navigation in space.
Shooting and walking around in space was difficult, even more though in a real combat. For becoming an officer in UNSC Navy you were forced to absolve additional training sessions like flying and navigating smaller ships or calculating easy Slipspace jumps.
"So … you never learned anything about navigation or Slipspace calculation," Grand asked her worriedly. The only answer he got was an embarrassed shrug from his officer.
Grand groaned. Enfield had a lot to catch up in the next months.
"I can find someone for you who has the required qualifications and can replace me if you wish sir," she said with a low voice. Her had bowed low.
"Nonsense, you definitely stay." He stood up. "Look at me Lieutenant."
She lifted her head anxiously, lips pressed tightly together and looked at him.
"You do an excellent job Enfield; without you I would be completely off-course and Charlotte could do everything with me. We have a local academy in Calais, let's see if we can get you in there. The rest is learning by doing," he told her firmly.
"But first, we put you into that suit." In the next quarter of an hour, he showed her how to put on the rest oft the BDU and some smaller tricks he still remembered from his AIT. An ODST would have laughed at their time.
"Ready?"
"Yes, sir."
William snatched Charlotte's data chip from the top shelf in his locker, right next to his watch.
"Okay, let's go." He began marching towards the hangar.
There was far more activity in the frigate's hangar than in in the locker room – and divinity more than he expected.
The entire deck was full of D77H-TCI Pelicans, Warthogs driving around with small cargo trailers carrying ammunition and fuel for the dropships.
Grand could even spot a handful of Scorpion tanks.
Between the ships he saw the deck crew rushing around doing their assigned duties. Everyone was clad in a different color, which signaled their role on board, much like on old air craft carriers form the 21st century.
Like everything he saw since his arrival in this sector weeks ago, was from the time of the war against the Covenant and displayed clear signs of use. Scratches here and there and in-between a few blackish dents form plasma weapons. The crew clearly did their best to keep each ship ready for battle as long as possible.
Very ship you lose, even if it's just one of the old Pelicans, hurts. Spare parts on the market for these types of ships were usually quickly sold out.
Grand could understand why there was such a hassle on deck, most likely Captain Cleveland ordered to buy as many spare parts as possible from the colonists.
A clever move, but god-damn was it depressing to see his Navy forced to buy scrap like they were some ratty little scavengers.
The more he saw, the more determined he became to buy the warehouse complex from SinoViet in order to at least provide the repair and maintenance teams with the bare minimum.
As he trudged across the deck with Miss Enfield, he kept an eye out for some ODSTs to accompany him on a Pelican. At the far end, he finally discovered several Pelicans who were neatly lined up next to each other.
There were about two dozen, fully combat ready Helljumpers who dragged their equipment into the transporters, checked their weapons or just sat bored on the ramp of the pelicans.
Most of the regular UNSC soldiers avoided them. It was known that the members with the death skull mostly didn't get along well with outsiders. All noobies who wanted to get into the elite unit had to undertake two additional years of training. At the end only three percent made it.
Most of the members were specialist in their field with years of combat experience, born survivors or wacky lunatics that nobody wanted in any other unit … or all at once. In the United Nation Space Command was only one other major special force, the Spartans, but they were rarely used.
Spartans were called in when you wanted to have a job done quickly, silently and above all efficiently. They were so to speak the sniper rival of the UNSC.
Helljumpers were more the SPNKr type. Always at the front, right in the middle of the combat. If a mission stalled or a front line threatened to collapse, they were sent in, but that doesn't mean they could conduct covert operations.
The admiral strode purposefully towards one the soldiers with his back to him and throwing loudly orders around.
It had to be Chief Petty Officer Max Hulme, who commanded the 64 ODSTs on board of the Brotherhood.
The arrival of the two wasn't unnoticed of course and some of the soldiers gave him suspicious looks. He could nearly feel their piercing stares, but as fast as they mustered him, their attention shifted to the person behind him.
Dozen pairs of eyes ogled the blonde officer in her skin-tight suit form top to bottom. The Lieutenant was clearly uncomfortable and she slowed down a little more. Before he could intervene, Hulme noticed their looks and he snapped at angrily at his men: "What the fuck are you staring at, you morons? Did you see a ghost?".
"No sir, but fresh meat," replied one of the jumpers with a crooked grin, while his gaze still lingered on the young woman.
Enfield's head was now more like a tomato in color, which earned her a few laughter forms some of the soldiers.
The petty officer whirled around and went seamlessly into a salute at the sight of his superior officer. Holmes handed him the two sets of armor earlier this morning.
"Admiral Grand, Lieutenant Enfield we are prepared and set to start at any time."
"At ease Hulme," he replied shortly.
In the meantime, all the other ODSTs jumped to their feet and all kinds of laughter had suddenly ceased.
"Are your men always so respectful with visitors Chief," he asked.
Meanwhile his gaze wandered over each of the soldier's present, most avoided his gaze or stared at the things behind him. He stopped at boy who made the dumb comment.
"Won't happen again sir. You have my word on that."
"I am sure it wont Chief, unless they want to scrub every toilet in the Navy for the rest of their lives. Clear enough gentleman?"
"Crystal Sir," he pressed out through clenched teeth. William was sure Hulme would take care of the troublemaker. He was clearly not amused about the unprofessional behavior of his men in front of a flag officer.
"Good. Are you expecting problems?" he continued after a short pause and nodded towards the transport ships and their crew.
"I thought we could turn it into a little training mission. The boys need it badly, they have been sitting on their lazy asses for too long. This is the best opportunity in a long time to get some real space training."
He was probably right, if such an opportunity arose one should take full advantage of it.
Suddenly he had an idea.
"Will all your men go with us?"
"No sir, just Fredrik, Ned and me," he replied briefly, pointing to the Pelican in the middle with two dark-skinned men standing by his side.
"Would it be possible if someone from the other team could instruct my lieutenant in the basics of Zero-G. Her experience with operations in weightlessness are limited. Someone with manners preferably."
His Lt. shot him a pleading look that he deliberately ignored. Some of the ODSTs had stepped closer, apparently hoping they would be selected to help the pretty gray eyed women with her training.
"Got just the right man for it." The Chief turned around. "Coats come over here!"
A man with black hair and blue eyes marched out of the left Pelican, an M45 Shotgun slung over his shoulder.
"Coats, this is Lieutenant Enfield, you will accompany and train with her in Zero-G today. She has no experience with anything like this, so start with the basics. Questions?" Hulme briefly informed the taller ODST.
The man nodded. "Got it." He turned to Enfield. "This way ma'am."
"One moment coats."
"Admiral?"
"Bring my Lt. back in one piece. Not a scratch."
"You have my word sir."
William nodded encouragingly to Lorena again before the two of them disappeared into the Pelican's body and out of sight.
"Let's go Chief."
The chief gave him a short nod: "Let's go ladies, we are moving out!" A few minutes later the transporters left the frigate and raced with full speed towards the junkyard. The flight through space was mostly calm, but inside the ship the atmosphere was a little tense.
The Pelican pilots had to steer the old D76Hs with uttermost concentration, because the ships radar system couldn't cope with the sheer amount of debris. After a handful of nerve-wracking minutes, they finally reached their destination.
"We're here sir," the pilot informed him over the TEAMCOM channel.
Grand loosened his seatbelt, got up and opened the door which separated the cockpit form the rest of the ship. The 2nd pilot, responsible for navigation, was already out of his raised seat directly behind the pilot and disappeared through the door.
Through the large front window, he had a good view of the Starsky. The once so proud carrier was floating in the middle of the junk field, surrounded by countless smaller ships drifting around her and occasionally crashing into each other.
He moved into the seat behind the pilot. "Can you get us closer?"
"How close sir?"
"As close as possible, just keep some distance."
The Navy pilot pushed the control stick forward and brought the Pelican within 140 meters of the old Punic carrier.
He could already say that the condition of the ship was catastrophic, Charlotte had not exaggerated with her description. If the other sides are in an equally modest condition, he could probably consider his plan to make the carrier flyable again as not realizable.
"I told you it was a bad idea," came a satiny like voice over the internal loudspeakers of his helmet, rebuking him. "But you didn't want to listen sir. Stubborn as small child," she continued after a moment of silence. "Men and their toys. As soon they have something in their mind, they…"
"We were wrong."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You understood me." His AI was silent. He sighed deeply, as he didn't get an answer after dozens of seconds.
"I was wrong."
"Ahh that sounds better," she agreed, amused.
They had flown around the carrier for over five hours now, inspecting every small detail. Everywhere Grand looked was the same harrowing sight. Holes form plasma-based weapons, so big and deep that you could easily fly through with his Pelican.
The left side had been torn open by a direct energy projector. The gab was several hundred meters long and dozen decks deep. You could see the titanium frame, which normally was hidden underneath the dozen meter thick armor.
One of the two MACs was completely destroyed. Her electric coils must have been melted under the immense heat.
It seems a hangar was directly hit by a plasma torpedo and exploded like a fuel depot, killing hundreds if not thousands of human lives. Only dust remained from the UNSC personal and material stationed here. The few who had survived had been killed a second later by the penetrating vacuum.
Sadly, it didn't look any better inside of the carrier. After hours of flying around William decided to take a quick lock inside.
And quick it was. He and his companions didn't get 4 corridors far. The lack of necessary power to activate and control the doors and elevators made it extremely difficult for them to push further into the Punic carrier. In the end, the ODSTs could only open some of the bulkheads with heaps of C-9 foaming explosive.
Without power, Charlotte couldn't access the ship's internal system either and so she was forced to play his private guide while he trudged through on of the huge hangar bays.
The hangar was completely empty, no ships, no tools lying around, no vehicles or weapons – nothing.
"Did you know Admiral, that the Starsky played an instrumental role in the 2nd battle for Earth?" Charlotte's question caught him by surprise. Not sure what to answer he remained silent. "After the battle of Voi the Prophet of Truth disappeared through the portal with his remaining fleet. Followed closely by the Arbiter, after the Sangheili glassed a huge area between Voi and the portal. The remaining UNSC ships tried to close the gap in orbit over New Mombasa caused by the Prophet of Regret"
"Do you know why they glassed half of the city," he asked her, interrupting Charlottes little history lesson, while starring into the darkness of space.
"No, all information about the Voi incident, as well as about the portal are classified."
If he was honest, he hadn't expected any other answer.
Of course, he like millions of people, had searched the Waypoint network for information, but in vain. All he found were conspiracy theories and some pictures showing the area and its facilities form the border of the heavily restricted area.
In the months after the war, the whole area around the portal was turned into a restricted military area, the mostly destroyed cities such as Voi and New Mombasa were completely razed to the ground and their remaining population was resettled.
Then the UNSC started to build. Gigantic underground facilities were constructed into the Kilimanjaro and the field around the portal. Navy bases for hundred of thousands of Navy personal were built on the East African cost. Orbital lifts, automatic defense system, planetary and orbital shield generators, as well as the huge generators that ensured their energy supply were added over time.
Overall, it was turned into the most secure place in human territory over the following decade.
The only two places open to the public were a memorial near Voi, which served as a monument for all the brave souls and fallen heroes of the great war. The other was a place at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro, also called the Garden of Eden.
It was a paradise. A paradise on earth and in the middle of this artificially made paradise stood a single tombstone with an elegant but simple inscription – Master Chief 117.
After the Master Chief was declared dead on October 27, 2558, only to reappear a few months later at the height of the AI rebellion, he disappeared for good towards the end of the uprising. Many hoped that the chief would appear again, unfortunately here was no trace of him – until today.
Several years long he was listed as MIA, but his status was officially changed to KIA in 2567. Afterwards the construction of the "garden" begun. There were already plans to add a "Museum of Mankind" in a few kilometers distance. The Museum will be accessible to all people after its completion and would house a diorama about the soldiers who fought at the side of the Spartan in the Battle of New Mombasa and Voi.
"Admiral?"
Grand didn't react and continued to stare into the blackness of space.
"William? Are you okay?" Only now the soft voice came through.
"Yes – I'm fine. Just spaced out for a sec," his words didn't sound very convincing even to him.
"As you wish sir," she sighed softly fully aware that something was amiss.
"As I said, Lord Hood and Fleet Admiral Harper tried to close the gap with their remaining ships, but a day later additional Brute reinforcement's arrived in Sol with the last remaining CSO-class supercarrier. Many suspected that Truth's ship was much faster than the other ship or they had to regroup after battle of High Charity. Whatever their reason was, the Brutes armada outnumbered Admiral Harper's fleet 3-5 times.
The only real resistance the carrier faced was Admiral Harper's Valiant cruiser, two Punic-class carriers and some remaining OPDs – including Lord Hood's. During the day the remaining alliance troops on Earth were able to block or destroy the reactors of the OPDs and thus crippled the last super MACs.
While the final battle for the planet was being fought over New Mombasa, a few light-years away, without the knowledge of the Covenant, humanity gathered its strongest fleet of all times to liberate her home world.
Many of these ships were originally enroute to Reach, but never made it there in time. After the fall of humanity's most important military base outside of the Sol system many declared the war for lost and over."
William knew the pictures and videos of the legendary battle for mankind's home world. He had seen dozens over dozens of ships being torn to pieces by plasma weapons and how supercarrier took out one ship after the other with deadly precision.
"Meanwhile, hundred of ships from all the remaining colonies arrived at Fleet Admiral Ward's location. Including two Valiant-class cruisers and three other Punic-class carriers. The Starsky was one of them.
The price the Navy had to pai for this fleet was enormous. Hundreds of colonies were left completely defenseless – billion of lives were now abandoned and without any protection.
At the height of the battle Admiral Ward jumped directly in their backs. Trapped and surrounded between Earth and her defenders, the Covenant was now forced to fight a battle on two fronts.
Suddenly the tide had turned and the Navy had a numerical advantage over its opponents. Fleet Admiral Ward ordered the majority of his ships to engage the invaders flagship, while the Army on ground somehow succeeded to reactivate the energy supply for some of the orbital defense platforms.
Due to the incoming human reinforcements, the Brute's were forced to fly straight into the kill zone. At this time most of the super MACs were still offline, but not for much longer.
They noticed too late that the platforms were online again. Lord Hood ordered all stations within range to open fire on their capital ships. The first shot missed the supper carrier by a few thousand meters, penetrating two destroyers and knocking out a cruiser.
Only then the rest of the alien fleet realized they were in a more dangerous situation as initially suspected. In a desperate maneuver the carrier tried to avoid the second shot, unsuccessfully.
The Navy always wondered if an OPD could take out an CSO-class supercarrier – they could.
The shot hit the lower front of the ship with 4% of the speed of light and left it at the top of the middle part.
The ships front was completely pulverized and the command center within, as well as the brute chieftain, leader of this battlegroup. The occurred explosion killed several ships nearby. Five seconds later another volley hit the rear of the carrier, the uranium projectile penetrated its armor and destroyed several vital generator systems. The reactor overheated and the remaining vessel exploded in silent blaze of light.
For split seconds it was the brightest light in Sol.
Robbed of a leader chaos erupted in the Jiralhanae fleet. Dozens of ships made an emergency Slipspace jump, multiple Chiefs started fighting each other for command. The disarray caused by the loss of leadership helped the UNSC win the battle. The Prophet of Truce never received his reinforcements.
A victory paid with the blood of millions of UNSC personal and billions of civilian lives.
Among the victims were Fleet Admiral Harper and his cruiser, countless other Admirals and Generals as well as the Starsky. All capital ships were destroyed or unfit for combat, only one of the Punic-class carriers was fully operational after the battle. The Navy lost 87% of her ships, the Army 75% of her ground personal and the Air Force was wiped out almost completely." Charlotte ended her history lesson in a visibly sad-sounding voice.
"The girl has been through a lot," he muttered softly.
"Yes, and like you can see she is no longer the youngest either."
"The best place for her would be a museum."
"Bringing the carrier to a museum will be difficult, but you could make one out of it – just look at the size of the hangars."
"You're right, Charlotte," he muttered absently lost in his own thoughts again. "A lot of space for hundreds of Longswords, their pilots, staff for repairs and …"
"Spare parts from a certain warehouse complex?" The AI followed as quickly as always.
"Yes exactly. Lots of space for storage," Grand continued. "I need to run a few additional calculations later. Is the Starsky completely empty?"
"Mostly, the aircraft decks, armories and crew quarters have been largely cleaned up."
"Mhmm ... well, lets go back." He took on last look across the empty hangar before making his way back to The ODSTs and the Pelican on the other side of the room.
1930 hours, November 17th, 2595 (military Calendar)
UNSC Stalwart-class frigate Brotherhood, Orbit, Agrion
Beta Columbae System, (Sector L-421), Outer Colonies
His fingers kept pounding on the table he was sitting at while his eyes rested on the hologram in front of him. The Starsky's hologram was marked in several places with different shades of red, highlighting the damaged areas of the former carrier. Depending on how heavy it was, the color became a darker shade of red.
"According to initial estimates, it would cost 223 million credits to repair the carrier. I've also taken into account the necessary renovation work that has to be done if you really decide to convert it into a storage facility."
"Thank you, Charlotte."
The female AI gave him al lovely smile before her hologram faded away. With a heavy heart and after careful consideration he had finally rejected the thought of getting the ship afloat again. But his voyage was maybe not entirely unsuccessful.
The renovation would cost him or rather the Navy a lot of money, but could bring some advantages in the mid-terms. One point was certainly, that a warehouse directly in orbit could deliver necessary parts and tool quicker to their required location.
The other was far simpler. He didn't need to build large warehouses on the surface of Agrion. That to be fair couldn't be prevented, but for the first couple of months he found a cheap solution to store parts and staff. He switched off he holoprojector and closed the file on his pad, which held all the plans, sketches and some of his personal notes for the project. Now all he had to do was to find a way to get everything to Agrion as soon as possible.
As if on cue, the door opened with a low hiss and Lt. Enfield stepped into the room, still visibly exhausted form her improvised training session. He eyed her briefly. It didn't seem like Coats went easy on her, just because she was an officer. Good.
"How was training?"
"Great sir." Lorena sat down on the chair next to him and couldn't suppress a quiet moan. "My whole-body aches like hell. I never thought that a few hours in space would take so much strength," she finally replied. He could understand her. His head started pounding a while ago, maybe not form the excursion but from all the other stuff Grand tried to get working.
"Yes, walking in space looks easier how it is. What about Coats, did he treat you all right," he asked casually while typing on his pad.
"Who? … oh, you mean Michael."
"Michael," he challenged with a raised eyebrow.
"Uhh … I man Petty Officer Coats, of course. He was very polite." She avoided his gaze and stared firmly on her fingernails as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing she had ever seen. William ignored her slightly flushed cheeks.
"He gave me a crash course in space navigation survival training in Zero-G."
"Anything else?" He asked his blushed Lieutenant.
"Well, we briefly practiced movement and shooting in Zero-G as well. Just the basics – nothing too complicated."
"Good, good," he grunted satisfied. "Have you heard anything new of SinoViet?"
"Yes," she typed a few command in her tablet, "we got little bit more time. Three months to precise, but we have to pay the additional cost for personnel, storage, electricity."
"At least something. Are they gonna assist with the transportation?"
"No sir."
He stared at the ceiling. It would be months before the Starsky was modified to function as a depot. Even setting up storehouses on the planet would take several weeks, but he couldn't wait that long.
"Can we rent some additional storage space on the surface if necessary?" He closed his eyes. His head was going to kill him.
"I think so Admiral, should I inquire?"
"Yes, do that and I will try to – damn it." He pushed back his chair and moved over to the window. The throbbing pain wasn't getting away, he should have packed some pills."
"Sir?" Enfield looked at him with a concerned expression.
"Fine." Came his edgy answer. "Got a lot on my mind. Don't worry about it."
"Don't believe a word he says Lorena," Charlottes voice could be heard over the speakers. Speaking of the devil.
"Thank you for your concern Charlotte, but I am fine."
"Oh really? When did you sleep for more than 6 hours in the last few days," she asked, enraged.
"Yesterday, I was 8 hours in my cabin …," he began to justify himself.
She interrupted William: "You didn't sleep more than 4 of the 8 hours, but kept working instead. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Charlotte was mad. She had her hands on her hips and was marching back and forth on the table. Her otherwise graceful face clearly reflected her anger.
"All right," he sat back in his chair before continuing, "what do you think I should do?" Lorena had already opened her mouth and was about to say something when the artificial intelligence beat her to it.
"Less work and more sleep Admiral. Your Work-Life-Balance is completely screwed. You could face some serious health issues in the long run sir. Try to slow down a bit."
"I've already transferred the projects for the border security and the shipyards to Peterson and Delany," he replied to his worried AI.
"You know as well as I do that these two projects are only the tip of the iceberg. Who takes care of the business with SinoViet and organizing the transport? The modernization of the fleet and of the army, plus the extension of the planetary defense in this sector?"
He knew she was right – as always. In fact, he had enough to do with his normal duties as an admiral.
"All right, Charlotte you win. I will try distribute my work more in the future," he finally admitted his defeat. You couldn't win an argument with an AI.
As soon as his words left his mouth her expression brightened and a smile crept onto her lips. "Thank you, sir. It's nice that you finally came to your sense without forcing me to lock the door of your quarters."
William scoffed, like she would do that.
She continued without paying him much attention: "And I have a possible solution who could take care oft the logistics and transport job."
"Really? Let's hear," he waited anxiously for her answer.
"Lieutenant Enfield. She is already familiar with the substance, wouldn't you agree." Charlottes gaze had something mischievous in it.
"I am sorry?" replied the confused officer completely taken by surprise. She was absolutely silent until now, watching the argument between her best friend and her superior. "I hardly think that I am the most qualified person to lead such an operation."
"Oh come on Lorena, a little more self-confidence if I may ask," she was reprimanded by her long-term friend.
"No Charlotte, that's a bad idea. I'm …"
"I think it is a great idea," William interrupted her.
"You can't be serious Admiral," she looked at him in shock.
"I am serious Lieutenant. From now on your in charge," he countered calmly. "Just send me what you need and your suggestions and I'll look them over." Grand rose from his chair and walked towards the door.
Before he finally left the room, he glanced over his shoulder one more time. Lorena was still sitting in her seat and looked rather downhearted, while Charlotte had a smug smile on her face.
"Charlotte will certainly support you if you wish. Good night."
Grand quickly left the room, making it impossible for her to stop him again."
Once in his quarters, William unbuttoned his uniform and hung it on one of the hooks in his lockers. It almost bordered on insolence to throw Enfield into cold waters of responsibility. Unfortunately, he had little choice.
A comparable sector of this size was normally led by an experienced Fleet Admiral, three or four additional Admirals and one or two Vice or Rear Admirals. He on the other hand, had only a few dozen captains und Colonel Sleet as the highest representative of the Marines. The Army had a few Colonels, but as well as the Navy she was understaffed. He didn't know who was in charge of the Air Force though. Probably a Colonel as well.
He needed people who could take responsibility, people who knew what they were doing. People like Enfield.
Granted she was a little bit insecure outside of her comfort zone, but she made up for it with her cleverness and determination. Time will tell if she is up to her new task and the plans Grand had for his Lt.
The admiral threw the last of clothes in the laundry basket next to the small shower. A shower in his own room. A luxury he greatly appreciated.
Warm water ran down over his body and his tired muscles.
For a brief moment it felt like he was in heaven, free from all duties and responsibilities which his job came with.
But only for a short moment. As soon as he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, he was greeted by a waiting Charlotte, standing on his table. He walked past her to his closet and started looking or a pair of shorts.
"She has already started looking for some transport companies which can help us moving the spare parts," said the voice behind him.
"Mhmm … really? That was quick." Surprised by the news, he turned back to her.
"She is a smart woman Admiral, don't underestimate her."
There was a brief silence between them. They both stared at each other not knowing what else to say. Ultimately, it was Charlotte who broke the somewhat awkward silence.
"Don't you want to get dressed Admiral? It doesn't bother me, but sick you are of little use." The AI looked at him with an expression on her face he couldn't determine.
He dug out one of his pants. "You wouldn't be the first woman to see me like that, my dear. But thanks for your concern about my wellbeing."
"Regrettably," she muttered, before continuing in a far to low voice for him to understand properly. "But I'll make sure that I am the last one to see you like that."
"I beg your pardon?" He turned around. Her Hologram was gone, only the faint lights of some LEDs illuminated his room in an artificial blue glow.
While there was no sign of Charlotte, he couldn't shake off the feeling that she was still there 'watching' him over the various sensors at her deposal. Calling for her would most likely be of no use. The woman could be more stubborn than him – that's quite an accomplishment to be honest.
The thought made him crack a smile as he lay down on his bed, hopping to be back in Calais tomorrow when he would wake up.