Personnel Changes

[Note: No Sex in this Chapter]
The Admiral reached for a manilla folder on his desk. Thorndike knew his way around a computer keyboard as well as any Line Officer in the fleet, but he preferred the tactile feel of paper when discussing serious issues.

"First of all, I was saddened by the lost of Lieutenant Faraday," the Admiral said with a somber voice. "He was a good man. What happened to him was a real tragedy. . . A real tragedy."

Like every Officer in the EX program, Faraday had been personally interviewed by Thorndike. "I don't know why the psyche battery didn't pick up on . . . you know . . . what happened."

Besides being an outstanding Officer, Lieutenant Michael Faraday had been a personal friend of Commander Richard Smith. "Well, it was his wife, Sir. The tests couldn't have factored that in."

"They should have," the Admiral replied. His brow clouded as he added, "They will going forward."

He allowed his words to hang in the air for a few seconds before pressing on. "Anyway, I'm assigning Lieutenant Hammer as your new First Officer."

"Actually, sir," Smith responded, "I was hoping Lieutenant Moonwatcher would get the job."

"He's done a fine job as Acting First Officer," the Admiral said. "I'm going to put a Letter of Commendation in his service jacket. But besides the fact that Lieutenant Hammer is higher up on the seniority roll, I would avoid at all costs moving a man up from Second Officer to First Officer onboard the same ship. First of all, he would still think like a Second Officer and would be overly critical of his replacement's actions. Secondly, the crew would still view him as a Second Officer. And more importantly," the Admiral took another puff on his cigar, "You would still view him as a Second Officer."

Smith opened his mouth to reply, but the Admiral cut him off. "Are you honestly going to tell me that Lieutenant Moonwatcher is of the same calibre as Lieutenant Faraday had been?"

"Well, no . . . but he will grow into the job," Smith answered.

"And you, of course, will be his space-daddy while he is growing," the Admiral replied. "Now Lieutenant Hammer you will view as fully grown and expect him to perform as a First Officer. Not as a First Officer in training."

Smith let it go. The Admiral was making a good point. Admirals are not infallible, but usually they are correct more often than not.

"I am also having to pull Petty Officer Callahan," the Admiral said. Smith did not say anything immediately. He did not have to. His facial expression said it all. The Admiral continued, "The Bureau of Personnel has promoted him to Petty Officer First Class. I can't justify having a First Class running a commissary department as small as an EX's. He's being transferred to the Procyon."

Smith nodded approvingly for Callahan. The Procyon was a front-line cruiser. One of the Solar Guard's best ships.

"But don't worry," the Admiral grinned slyly at Smith. "I've found a cornbread and buttermilk replacement for him. Third Class Petty Officer Dawson. He was born in West-by-thunder-Virginia. You'll continue to have your fried chicken and okra."

Smith chuckled, "I don't think okra is in the supply catalogue. Cookie never served any."

"We are also adding two stewards to your crew," the Admiral continued. "The modifications to the berthing spaces include a room for the Boatswain, the Cook, and the two Stewards. The First Officer, Second Officer, and the Midshipman retain their current three-man room. And, of course, your private room." The Admiral grinned, "Or broom closet. Depending on your point of view."

The Admiral stubbing out the short remanent of his cigar signalled the meeting was over. As Smith arose, he also stubbed out his smoke once the Admiral had extinguished his own. "You know," Smith commented, "These passengers might be good for the EX program. The government might 'bite the bullet' and shell out the credits for a larger class of ship capable of carrying more human cargo."

"That sounds political," the Admiral replied. "Only Flag Officers are supposed to think along political lines."

"Sorry, sir, I . . ." Smith started in his apology but the Admiral laughed.

"Don't be," the Admiral circled around his desk and clasped his arm around Smith's shoulders to walk him to the door. "I'm not going to live forever. Somebody is going to have to step up when I die."

"You probably won't die quite so soon if you give up those fire-sticks," Smith pointed out, referring to the cigars.

"Blah!" the Admiral answered. "Anyone can quit smoking. It takes a man to face cancer."