Chapter 2: Don't get me started
"But you brought them all back in one piece?" Kara Thrace was saying.
"Yes, ma'am," for a moment her companion affected the air of a rural but officious cadet. After a moment she grinned. "The Chief was incredibly pissed about what I'd done to my bird, but there was nothing he could really do. I took the damage saving my squadron from an attack of angry meteorites. What can I say?"
"You know, in all my military career, I don't think I ever racked up quite such a stupid excuse for damaging a bird," Once-Captain Thrace remarked.
"Don't get me started, Grandma Kara," Sharyn Adama retorted. "I can go all night about the stupid things you've done, in and out of the cockpit. Starting with punching the XO of your ship out - and didn't you once lay the President out in the middle of a cabinet meeting?"
"He was my husband, Sharyn."
"Yes. He was also the President, and assaulting him was treason."
"Like he was going to press charges?" Kara grumped, taking a gulp of bitter liquor. It was distilled something-or-other, and not too bad. It had a good bite. Sharyn grinned and sipped her own mug.
A knock sounded.
"Who is it?" Kara asked.
"It's just me," Youngman stuck his head around the door.
"Then I'm not sure 'just' is the appropriate term," she smiled.
"Of course it is," Sharyn said. "I mean, it's not like the President is anyone important."
"Where were you when I needed a wife, Sharyn?" he asked.
"Probably in my cradle, sir," she retorted briskly. "Been making my grandmother's life difficult, have you?"
"I've certainly been trying."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, I was just stretching my legs," he turned to Kara. "Harry Damian died."
"When?"
"About an hour ago."
"Frak," she said after a moment and gulped her drink. "Does Jachtian know?"
"I just called him. He doesn't want the job."
"How bad, doesn't want the job?"
"He says he'll resign if I promote him. He can't handle the job and he knows it."
"He's afraid to try," Sharyn said.
"Yes, but he knows he can't handle it," Kara said.
"And this with the vote on the education reforms coming up," Sharyn noted. "How bad's the count?"
"Bad," Youngman said. "Is this off the record?"
"I don't spill political secrets," Sharyn said. "Never have. It's too much fun knowing them."
"You have a sick twisted mind. And quite a bit. To get those reforms passed would mean juggling the budget again and cutting money out of the funding for new mines."
"Ouch," Sharyn said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her feet on her grandmother's desk. She had inherited the Thrace contempt for ceremony. "Which mines are taking the biggest cuts?"
"Camperdown, Essellheim, Vahntoran and Essillee," Kara said promptly.
"Well, Camperdown can make that back by sinking the new shaft they've been talking about, Essellheim will have lower overheads this coming fiscal year because they've finally got the drainage set up so they don't need the shaft pumps any more and Essillee - um." She frowned. "Vahntoran has that refinery that works at less than fifty percent capacity."
"Right."
"Yes, and they've been having trouble with that because Vahntoran was supposed to be more productive."
"Right, so Essillee is just the next valley over, and they're the same ore type. Right now Essillee is sending ore by ship to a refinery in Guavarre Bay, one that's owned by the Mitchell Consortium."
"Which hates me."
"Right. So swap refineries, and that'll balance the budgets at both of those mines plus costing the Mitchell people a hefty chunk of income. They hate you anyway, so you've nothing to lose. And since you'll have to construct a better road in and out of the Jawurgen Hills to transport the ore anyway, you'll be very popular with the farmers in the area who have always been politically neutral."
Kara blinked. "What she said," she managed weakly.
"Nice idea. Thanks, Sharyn. Where'd you learn all that stuff."
"Grandpa set those mines up, remember? When he had your job? I helped with the paperwork."
"You could be a brilliant politician. Why do you want to be a fighter pilot instead? The daily risk of death, tightly regimented life, things always going wrong and being accused of doing no real work most of the time…"
"Oh, so you've been a politician, have you?" She answered instantly and with evident amusement.
"How long are you here for?"
"I'm on leave for three weeks. Just finished my tour on the Nogales."
"That's good. Congrats on your promotion."
"Not bad, eh? Captain at my age?"
"Lee managed it. Ow!" Kara rubbed an abused arm. "That hurt!"
"He was twenty-seven."
"And you're, what…"
"Twenty-two. I got to skip half of high school and the officers training program, remember?"
"Yes, the fast-track scholarship program. You did well."
"I worked bloody hard," she said. "Look, if you don't need my grandmother to help with the Damian-Jachtian problem, we'll go home. If we stay here she'll just start working again."
"But you brought them all back in one piece?" Kara Thrace was saying.
"Yes, ma'am," for a moment her companion affected the air of a rural but officious cadet. After a moment she grinned. "The Chief was incredibly pissed about what I'd done to my bird, but there was nothing he could really do. I took the damage saving my squadron from an attack of angry meteorites. What can I say?"
"You know, in all my military career, I don't think I ever racked up quite such a stupid excuse for damaging a bird," Once-Captain Thrace remarked.
"Don't get me started, Grandma Kara," Sharyn Adama retorted. "I can go all night about the stupid things you've done, in and out of the cockpit. Starting with punching the XO of your ship out - and didn't you once lay the President out in the middle of a cabinet meeting?"
"He was my husband, Sharyn."
"Yes. He was also the President, and assaulting him was treason."
"Like he was going to press charges?" Kara grumped, taking a gulp of bitter liquor. It was distilled something-or-other, and not too bad. It had a good bite. Sharyn grinned and sipped her own mug.
A knock sounded.
"Who is it?" Kara asked.
"It's just me," Youngman stuck his head around the door.
"Then I'm not sure 'just' is the appropriate term," she smiled.
"Of course it is," Sharyn said. "I mean, it's not like the President is anyone important."
"Where were you when I needed a wife, Sharyn?" he asked.
"Probably in my cradle, sir," she retorted briskly. "Been making my grandmother's life difficult, have you?"
"I've certainly been trying."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, I was just stretching my legs," he turned to Kara. "Harry Damian died."
"When?"
"About an hour ago."
"Frak," she said after a moment and gulped her drink. "Does Jachtian know?"
"I just called him. He doesn't want the job."
"How bad, doesn't want the job?"
"He says he'll resign if I promote him. He can't handle the job and he knows it."
"He's afraid to try," Sharyn said.
"Yes, but he knows he can't handle it," Kara said.
"And this with the vote on the education reforms coming up," Sharyn noted. "How bad's the count?"
"Bad," Youngman said. "Is this off the record?"
"I don't spill political secrets," Sharyn said. "Never have. It's too much fun knowing them."
"You have a sick twisted mind. And quite a bit. To get those reforms passed would mean juggling the budget again and cutting money out of the funding for new mines."
"Ouch," Sharyn said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her feet on her grandmother's desk. She had inherited the Thrace contempt for ceremony. "Which mines are taking the biggest cuts?"
"Camperdown, Essellheim, Vahntoran and Essillee," Kara said promptly.
"Well, Camperdown can make that back by sinking the new shaft they've been talking about, Essellheim will have lower overheads this coming fiscal year because they've finally got the drainage set up so they don't need the shaft pumps any more and Essillee - um." She frowned. "Vahntoran has that refinery that works at less than fifty percent capacity."
"Right."
"Yes, and they've been having trouble with that because Vahntoran was supposed to be more productive."
"Right, so Essillee is just the next valley over, and they're the same ore type. Right now Essillee is sending ore by ship to a refinery in Guavarre Bay, one that's owned by the Mitchell Consortium."
"Which hates me."
"Right. So swap refineries, and that'll balance the budgets at both of those mines plus costing the Mitchell people a hefty chunk of income. They hate you anyway, so you've nothing to lose. And since you'll have to construct a better road in and out of the Jawurgen Hills to transport the ore anyway, you'll be very popular with the farmers in the area who have always been politically neutral."
Kara blinked. "What she said," she managed weakly.
"Nice idea. Thanks, Sharyn. Where'd you learn all that stuff."
"Grandpa set those mines up, remember? When he had your job? I helped with the paperwork."
"You could be a brilliant politician. Why do you want to be a fighter pilot instead? The daily risk of death, tightly regimented life, things always going wrong and being accused of doing no real work most of the time…"
"Oh, so you've been a politician, have you?" She answered instantly and with evident amusement.
"How long are you here for?"
"I'm on leave for three weeks. Just finished my tour on the Nogales."
"That's good. Congrats on your promotion."
"Not bad, eh? Captain at my age?"
"Lee managed it. Ow!" Kara rubbed an abused arm. "That hurt!"
"He was twenty-seven."
"And you're, what…"
"Twenty-two. I got to skip half of high school and the officers training program, remember?"
"Yes, the fast-track scholarship program. You did well."
"I worked bloody hard," she said. "Look, if you don't need my grandmother to help with the Damian-Jachtian problem, we'll go home. If we stay here she'll just start working again."