As the Uruonti’d War wound down by the end of 3358, First Fleet grew in size, resources, and personnel. Because of this, and the need to quickly regain the confidence of Earth’s allies by diversifying First Fleet’s role, two new fleets were created. Second Fleet was given the task of guarding key human interests, such as heavily populated planets and space lanes. Second was also charged with helping allies develop their own navies by providing advice and training. Third Fleet was created to protect and serve lesser human interests. Since many of these interests were far-flung, Third Fleet also developed a strong diplomatic corps to enlist the aid of aliens and independent human governments, and to prevent turmoil.
It was at this time that Earth philosophers and political students began to think of the Sol system as being truly intergalactic. Earth has power, presence, and safety in the galaxies because of the strength, dedication, and ingenuity of the men and women of First Fleet. To realize the full potential of this view, Earth began to allocate more resources to First Fleet, which distributed them to the higher Fleets.
As 3361 came about, First Fleet was only a small part of what was now the Ten Fleets of Earth. The Ten Fleets of Earth was made of three parts: the lower fleets (First, Second, and Third), the ancillary fleets (4th and 5th), and the higher fleets (6th through 10th).
"Strap on Your Armor and Get to Work!"
I vocalized my concerns to my crew. We were in the forward galley, eating breakfast and going over the various reports that Rovsky was demanding.
My Sergeant was red-eyed and disheveled. My Engineering Chief had puffy eyes and winced at loud noises, grabbing his head in pain. Both had spent the night carousing around the space dock, and getting into all sorts of trouble. FC Moody had contacted me earlier, because several of his Marines mixed it up with Marie and Thomas. He wanted me to know that my crewmen were essentially innocent, being enticed to a rather spirited brawl. From what I understand, my crew held their own.
"What was I supposed to do about mankind's problems with my pathetic fleet?" I had asked, wallowing in self-pity. Marie stated simply, "You have to strap on your armor and get to work. Move forward, never look back, and never second guess yourself."
Aardwolf’s reply was as logical as the man himself. "Look, you have to look at this from a critical standpoint. Logically, you cannot save the universe by yourself. But you can help by taking your missions one at a time and utilizing your resources to the best of your ability. And, you can look at this problem like any complex system needing solving. Break it into pieces and conquer each piece, one at a time."
Yeah, okay. That was all fairly obvious. Good advice, I’d say. I was feeling a little less sorry for myself.
"How the hell am I supposed to grow this fleet when resources where so scarce?" was my second question. My crew didn’t have any ready answers, but they helped brainstorm a bit. It was Aardwolf who helped find a solution.
He was jotting notes on his palmpad, writing whatever came to mind. He was following some kind of problem-solving technique used by bloomin’ geniuses. There was one line of thought he was working through that caught my attention. He was comparing the Fleet to an old-time navy fleet, the kind that floated on water. In his thinking, when ships were made of wood and harnessed the wind, a captain could ask a boon of the Queen, if the captain could show a profit for the kingdom. He moved into another line of thought, where a duke or other nobility could grant a favor. Working his way through a fictional supply line, he came to the "scrounge."
In human militaries as old as fire and the wheel, there was always a slick-talking low-ranking enlisted man who would fetch things for the generals or majors or kings. The "scrounge" was the supply-line between the lines. There was a variation of this noble creature that I had encountered during training: the packrat; or just "the rat." Instead of fetching unique or illegal items for his superiors, the rat made a personal profit. In basic training, the rat was a handsome, smart, devious chap who somehow never got promoted and never took on any type of responsibilities. He was becoming rich by selling a little of this and a little of that, and some of "that" was official Ten Fleets property.
I brought up the personnel files for Hub Base 442. There were over 500 people on or around the base, from cadets to a Commodore. Scrolling through the files, I found what I wanted: Ensign Shiny Slickpea, AKA, the Rat.
Next Chapter >> 23: Shiny Slickpea
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