Two months on

Several years running a mining colony, after my time in the military, had given me a fairly good idea of what was involved in the "logistics" of running what amounted to a major project. Or so I thought. But Children of Earth wasn't a frontier mining colony or a covert operations unit. It was a starship the size of a downtown city block with a crew of four hundred thirty five people, all of whom I would be directly responsible for.

It was mostly a KHI project still, with their project management staff handling most of the details. But I still had things to keep track of through far too many aspects of the project. And as more and more of the ship's crew was finalized and came aboard, I found myself having to fully integrate them into the mission plans. Scientists. Technicians. Operational crew. Most of whom had been selected and in training for a good deal longer than I had. But they were only now coming together as a crew. And that's where my responsibilities really started.

While I still hadn't gotten a good handle on the Captain, aside from a vague feeling that he wasn't especially happy to have me as his XO, I had established a working relationship with most of the other department heads. Including the tactical unit we'd been assigned for 'mission security and other miscellaneous duties as required.'

I fully understood having a couple squads of specially trained soldiers aboard, even if their primary duties would be grunt work for the science and maintenance crews. There was the finite possibility we'd receive a hostile welcome on Earth when we arrived, and having some dedicated professional soldiers might make the difference between mission success and a bunch of dead scientists.

Of all the crew dossiers I had to read, theirs were the ones I understood. Each of them had been in one of the Alliance elite units. Drop troopers. J-TAC. Special Forces. All elite, hand picked, combat troops. All of whom had volunteered for this and spent most of the last year training to do all the other jobs they'd have to do aboard Children of Earth, while maintaining combat readiness in case it came down to it.

They'd been designated "Operational Reserve, Combat Auxiliaries," which promptly got shortened to ORCA. Operationally, they were answerable to the Captain, like everyone else, but their CO, Lieutenant Conner, answered to me. These, at least, were folk I would know how to lead.

Over in Medical, Belize appeared to be having an easier time of it. Socially, if not technically, since her job was so technical at this point. At least from my perspective.

There were two major stages to this mission that would take a doctor's care. The first, and longest in duration, if not in direct attention, would be Cold Sleep. Hibernation. There was a fifty odd year period at each end of the mission where the entire crew would be in suspended animation. The doctor's care going in, and coming out, would have a huge affect on the crew member's survival during that long period in the middle where the only thing watching them would be the ship's mainframe.

While Bel was a good doctor already, and well prepared for the other half of the job - maintaining the crew's health for the decade or so we were expected to stay in Sol system before coming home - cold sleep was something new. Or, more precisely, the kind of long duration hibernation systems we would be trusting our lives to were new. We'd dealt with people who'd been stuffed into Cryo more than once out on the Rim. But those were always short term, self contained, little freezer pods, intended to keep someone in suspension for up to, maybe, five years. This was a whole different animal.

On this end, leaving 34 Tauri, most of the crew would be in suspension before the sled pointed her nose at Sol and lit the torch. The doctors would have to worry about maybe fifty people to get safely to sleep before they, themselves, went into the tanks.

That was a job I didn't envy. There was some debate, still, as to who'd be the next to last person to go into suspension: me or the Captain. The last person to sleep, though, would be one of the doctors. They would have to put themselves into suspended animation. No one but the computer looking over their vitals as they settled in for the long sleep. No one to bail them out if something went wrong.

That would be scary. Probably the most alone a person could ever be.

For her part, I don't think I'd ever seen Sabrina happier. Since getting here, she and Elsoph had been almost inseparable. I would actually be worried if I was the jealous type, and I'd ever seen Elsoph show interest in, you know, a girl. But for 'Brina, this was like being a kid in a candy store. She was getting hands on with Children of Earth at a level that most of the people who'd worked on her hadn't. She'd been looking at specs for this ship for over two years at an academic level, and now she was up close and personal with a truly amazing piece of hardware.

She was making it her ship. She'd been Elsoph's baby, but now Sabrina was coming in to be the big sled's step mother. The good kind. Not the wicked, send to your room so the mice can talk to you in the dark, kind.

Her enthusiasm for the job was contagious though. We were both working crazy long hours, but when we got time together she could barely stop talking about all the shiny new things she'd gotten her fingers into, and how amazing the engineering was, and the mods she wanted to do but wouldn't have time for, and how tomorrow it would be the pre-nuclear framastatz decoupler, or something else that was only just within my comprehension. In contrast, I normally didn't want to talk about dealing with personnel issues away from the compact office I had as Executive Officer. Which usually resulted in my having to gently remind her that she was my wife, as well as my Chief Engineer, which subsequently led to both of us sleeping quite well, if not long enough.

All in all, things were coming together. As massive as the project was now that we were actually into it, I could see how it would all fit together. It was still overwhelming, to be sure, but it wasn't insurmountable.

And we still had another eight months left to go.