Five months on

Officially, at least, the major work on Children of Earth and the crew integration phases are complete. The ship, now, has started into the Acceptance phase with the crew's undergoing their final training stages before we start the final shakedowns before departure. Never mind the 'last testing stages' would take another four to six months, depending on how things went.

Sabrina and Belize were both taking well to their roles. They'd both settled in well with their teams and quickly earned the respect of the people in both directions of their respective food chains. I hadn't had it quite so easy. While I was a competent leader and had managed to gain the respect of many of the people who reported to me, most notably the ORCA's who I understood, and the Scientists, who I did not, there was still a very subtle friction with the Captain and other members of his hand picked ex-fleet staff.

The inter-service rivalry between those who served in the Ground Forces and those who served in the Alliance Fleet, was as old as the Alliance. Older. Records from Earth that Was had some famous examples of rivalries between the different services almost as intense as the rivalries between different national militaries. As long as it didn't interfere with operations, the rivalries were usually pretty healthy. They kept the services sharp by trying to out do one another, rather than just drilling against synthetic enemies. And therein lay the problem.

While I was an accomplished pilot with hundreds of hours in the command chair, my official service record was with a ground unit, not a fleet element. I was a Major, not a Lieutenant Commander, and that difference in title apparently mattered more to the Captain's senior staff than my current position as their Executive Officer. Never mind there was an official promotion in the works, which would actually give me the Fleet rank of Commander, equivalent to a Lieutenant Colonel, the fact was my capabilities and matching responsibilities had never been limited by my official rank.

There was a reason Admirals would would talk to me when I asked.

I would deal with things, of course. I actually understood Captain Gill's reason for being a little standoffish with me. He'd wanted to pick the deck crew entirely on his own, but to his mind, had been saddled with an unsuited officer who'd been picked by the constructors, rather than the Alliance.

Not that our problems were even that pronounced. But one thing I had learned from my covert operations experience and, to a lesser degree, running the colony on Hale's Moon, was how to read when someone harbored ill will. Even when they may not admit it to themselves, I had learned to see it. He could claim he was perfectly happy having me as his XO but I know, deep down, he resented a Gropo, picked by the company, on his staff.

Dealing with Gill, and all the fleet specific retraining, made me relish the occasional breaks we took planetside. I'd been born and raised on Ariel. I'd probably been to every worthwhile place to get some away time on the planet. But a favorite, shared with a fair number of Children of Earth's crew, was a small island roughly in the middle of nowhere.

Bolinger's Rock wasn't well named. While the center of the roughly five my three kilometer island was indeed quite rock like, it was actually the highest point of a mostly submerged undersea mountain: the central cone of an ancient undersea volcano. Shallow reefs surrounded the central island, providing natural breakwaters that let Bolinger's retain some truly pristine beaches.

There wasn't actually much on the island, save a tracking station near the peak KHI had installed decades ago to monitor atmospheric flight tests, some bungalows used by the station's resident technicians, and a couple of landing pads. The island itself was named for the Range Master who'd overseen the station's construction, and had become kind of a 'special benefit' for KHI executives and specially invited guests once they'd landed a retired luxury transport in the island's lee on a specially built pad.

Now, it was mostly ours.

Since the finalization of the crew and their coming aboard, we'd pretty much annexed the "Liner-turned-Hotel" for our own needs. Given the stress the crew was under, and the fact that we may never see a beach again, Grandfather had been willing to turn the keys over. While the station was still quite active, it's crew had been augmented by a handful of people who were dedicated full time to supporting whoever was visiting the grounded "Lady Minerva."

Laying out on the beach, under the light of a star I would soon leave far, far, behind, listening to the waves, I could forget, if only briefly, the troubles of the 'Verse. It was an excuse to pretend I didn't have any responsibilities. Besides, 'Brina still liked me in a bikini. for that matter, I think the ORCAs may have too.