Chapter 6

I was arranging my books and carved animal collection in my new office when I heard Joy's voice behind me.

"For exceptionally meritorious service and performance of his duties while serving as the Captain of the CSS Sacajawea, resulting in the recovery of three hundred twenty four lives."

I turned around to see my oldest daughter run her hand along the frame of the Silver Star Citation hanging on the wall behind my desk. It was good to finally have her back after her three week stint at SpaceMed U over on the Florence Nightingale.

"You did good, Dad. I'm glad you let the ladies talk you in to putting this up in here."

Joy glanced up at the ship's large new nameplate hanging high on the bulkhead that Tom handcarved out of genuine Idaho Western White Pine. "And the name change is a nice touch, too."

"The name was all Gina's doing." I couldn't help but chuckle at that memory. "The powers that be over at BuShips were getting pressure from all sorts of directions when it was revealed that the ship's name had to change. The Russians were the frontrunners, pushing for Yury Gagarin. The Germans, Indians, and Japanese, though, weren't far behind—all clamoring for their own great explorers I've never heard of. And then there was Gina." I laughed.

"What'd she do?"

"She asked me if she could send in a name, so I said sure. Lewis and Clark are big names in Idaho, so I thought, as a proud native of the state, she'd pick one of them," I shook my head, looking up at the hand carved letters. "Nope. She went with her favorite heroine—Sacagawea—originally born in what is now Lemhi County and the only reason Lewis and Clark ever made it back from their expedition alive."

"And that was it? They just went with her suggestion?"

"Oh, heavens no!" I answered with a laugh. "They didn't pay one lick of attention. Until, that is, she started her write-in campaign. She emailed anyone and everyone. I warned her not to get her hopes up but she persevered, eventually enlisting her siblings and roughly two hundred other children to do the same."

"You mean... ?" she asked, gesturing toward the door and the rest of the ship.

I nodded. "Pretty soon the media caught wind of the Miracle Children's campaign to rename their old ship and it was all over but the paperwork."

"Wow!" Joy exclaimed, a huge grin on her face. "Way to go, girl! Now I'm really impressed!"

"Yeah, she's something," I agreed proudly. "She'll probably be my boss in about ten years."

I then nodded towards the framed award. It had been nearly a month since that day. "As for the citation—like I've said before—Emma, Serena and I didn't really do much except show up with a transporter pad. The lion's share of that citation's credit goes to Janey. If it wasn't for her, there wouldn't have been any children to save."

"Janey?"

"It's the name the ship's AI took for herself," I responded.

Janey herself chimed in from the ceiling. "From his journals, it is clear that William Clark did not normally call Sacagawea by her multi-syllabic name. Instead he gave her the nickname Janey, likely derived from the then common usage of the name Jane by military personnel as a generic reference to any female. It seemed fitting to use it."

The AI paused. "And Captain Hendricks is being overly humble. Without his decisive action, none of the children would be alive today."

"I couldn't agree more, Janey!" Joy asserted as she wrapped me up in a big hug.

About that time, however, a dark-haired cutie dashed into my office, putting a finger to her lips indicating that we needed to be quiet. I nodded and she quickly slipped past us and tucked herself under my desk.

Knowing she needed cover, I sat down in my chair and pulled it in just enough. Right as I picked up one of my PDAs and began flipping through it—Joy busied herself as well—a tall boy, maybe ten years old—I think his name was Brian—stopped at my door and glanced in, clearly looking for someone.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

He looked about some more but then shook his head and after a moment continued on down the hall.

<Janey, is he gone?>

<David, that is cheating.>

<Yeah, so? Is he gone?>

I swear I could hear her sigh. <Yes, David, the boy in question "is gone.">

<Good.> I pushed the chair back and gave the girl the all clear sign.

She gave me a huge grin and, like a rabbit, was out of the hole and towards the door in no time flat.

"Heather," I called quietly.

She stopped and turned her head.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" I asked.

She got a sheepish look on her face. Fully turning around, she sauntered back until she was standing right in front of my chair, looking me in the eyes. A smile peeked out as she leaned in to give me a kiss. Then she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. "Thank you, Daddy," she whispered ever so softly in my ear.

"Any time, Princess," I whispered back.

And with that she was back out the door like a shot.

Her place, however, was taken moments later when my teary-eyed, thirty-four year old daughter—looking little more than a teenager herself—plopped down in my lap and laid her head on my shoulder. It brought back fond memories. We stayed that way for a while, quiet at first but then reminiscing about all sorts of things from her childhood.

"It's weird with you not being a chaplain or pastor anymore. Do you miss it?"

I thought about that for a few moments. "Yes and no," I replied. "I do feel sad every now and then. But, that said, I'm doing pretty important work right now—so those sad thoughts go away rather quickly. Besides, we're called to be salt and light in this world, this universe, really. I think we're doing that."

"Do you think you'll ever go back to being a pastor someday? I mean, you still believe in Jesus, right?"

I nodded. "I still believe—some days more than others—but no, my pastor days are long gone. The Apostle Paul was very specific: A pastor, if he is married, is to be the husband of but one wife. That's not me anymore."

"Well," my daughter began with smirk, "technically you're not married."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Actually, the Greek literally says that a pastor or 'overseer' is to be a 'one woman man'—so even your technicality doesn't help, though I appreciate the effort."

"Mom's miserable," she then told me, somewhat out of the blue.

"I know."

She lifted her head up and gave me a strange look.

"Oh, you mean she's miserable NOW as opposed to how she usually is," I corrected with as straight a face as I could maintain. "My mistake."

"Dad!" She protested, slapping me lightly on the chest. "I'm serious!"

"I know, Sweets, and I'm sorry," I replied.

"No you're not," she groused.

"You know me too well," I responded, lightly kissing her on the nose.

She scrunched it up and then rolled her eyes. "She was all set to move in with Mark but I guess he, Stephanie and the kids all got picked up a couple days ago. And Luke is still deployed, so now she's heading to Portland to stay with Gracie."

"I know."

"God, that's going to be awful! Poor Gracie," she continued. "Mom and her have never gotten along all that well and ... wait a minute. What do you mean 'you know'?"

I just smiled at her. "Joy, you worry too much."

"You know," she questioned matter-of-factly. Her eyes widened considerably as she recognized the look on my face. "What ... you brought them here?"

I laughed. "Janey, where is Mark right now?"

The AI responded quickly. "Joy's brother Mark is currently playing with his and her children on the Lido Deck."

With a squeal of excitement, my oldest daughter leaped off my lap and made for the door. Suddenly she paused and turned toward me. "You have a Lido Deck?"

"The nice engineers that the good folks over at BuShip sent over asked what I wanted and I said a pool," I replied with a shrug.

She gazed at me in amazement.

"Why is it everyone assumes a K'treel Explorer is this itty bitty ship? We have nine fully extended pods, for crying out loud." I gestured toward the door with a shooing motion. "Go on! Janey will direct you how to get there."

<Shall I tell her about it being a clothing free zone?>

<No. Let it be a surprise.>

"Whoa there, Justin! Let's slow it down, okay?"

The little boy, who'd just come flying around the curve and into my legs, looked up at me in embarrassment. "Sorry, sir."

"Now, where are you off to in such a hurry?"

His eyes danced from mine to the group of other children patiently waiting for him down the hall. "Coz—I mean, Constantine—and the Coatls challenged the Sacs to Headhunters and we're going to watch."

"Very well," I replied sagely. "Carry on."

The child nodded politely and then quickly scurried off to rejoin his friends.

I chuckled as I watched them leave. It wouldn't be much of a match. Winnie, Gina, and the girls were nearly unbeatable.

A lot has changed since that day when I started calling for rescue teams and all the medtube space we could get. Suddenly we were on everyone's radar—being one of the few bright spots in an otherwise negative news cycle. And all because one of those sleep trainers just happened to be in range of a few surviving sensors Moby had been able to access. The media—at the instigation of some Confederacy PR team, I'm sure—quickly dubbed the young survivors the "Miracle Children."

After they were evacuated, the marines sent in tactical teams to do a thorough search of the rest of the ship. A number of bodies were recovered but, unfortunately, no additional survivors were found. Still, that was just the start of the changes.

When the Marines headed out, one Corporal Regina Huxley soon showed up in her tug from the bone yard with orders to haul our damaged Mark I pods off to the recycler. The Fleet Auxiliary then offered to replace them with brand new Mark IIs, no questions asked. On top of that, one of the Navy's Orbital Shipyards loaned us a few spare robots to begin repairs on the hull. Two others sent engineering teams to help reconstruct the bridge and crew quarters, put in new engines, or do anything else we wanted done—like build an Operations Center ... or a Lido Deck.

So much for having to take care of it all ourselves—which was a good thing, since we had all those kids coming back. Truthfully, there was really nowhere else for them to go. While the AIs and DECO did manage to track down the sponsors who'd fathered 57 of the children, that still left 267 orphans they didn't know what to do with. And just what were we going to do with that many kids, you ask? Why, start a boarding school, of course.

"Ah, just the man I was looking for," Erica remarked as I walked in. With a smile, she stepped back from her workstation in the OC and came over to me. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she leaned up and in for a passionate kiss.

After a few minutes of that, I whispered in her ear. "So, what did you need to see me about?"

"Do I need a reason?" she asked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"No," I admitted with a chuckle. "I'm always glad when a mother of my children wants to spend time with me."

"Always and forever," she murmured, kissing me again.

"So how are things going?" I asked, looking around the newly built and up-to-date Operations Center. I could see Emma, through the large office window, pacing back and forth—clearly talking either to Janey or someone else. She appeared to be very agitated.

"Busy," Erica replied, taking my hand and leading me to her station. "This did come in for you, however," she added, handing me a PDA. "It's from Eureka. Legate Groesch made it safe and sound and has a request."

I scanned the text and nodded. "He wants teachers." I sighed and handed it back to her. "He'll have to stand in line if he's looking for sponsors. They rarely stay teachers. Tell him his best bet is to survey the concubines coming his way. How is our..."

Erica handed me another PDA. "The Hendricks-Janey Search Algorithm alpha test has found fourteen candidates among the unclaimed concubines currently in orbit."

"Hmm, that's far lower than I would have thought." I scanned the list and then moved to the far wall to start bringing each of them up on the oversized display. I tagged five potential teachers I liked on the PDA and handed it back to Erica. "I want a full background on these—family, work history, the works—but go ahead and get them transferred here. And Janey?"

"I've already alerted the AIs of the other nine to have them retested with the newer CAP criteria and we'll have the information you've requested momentarily, David."

"Excellent! What would I do without you ladies?"

"I believe the answer you're looking for is—nothing productive," the AI shot back with a teasing lilt to her voice.

I laughed. "Nice one, Janey, and too true!"

"David, can I see you a moment?"

I glanced over to see Emma leaning out the office door, motioning for me to come to her.

"Duty calls," I remarked to Erica and followed it up with a kiss. She giggled and squeezed my bottom as I walked away. "Cheeky, cheeky monkey," I called back to her.

She just wiggled her eyebrows and giggled again.

Emma, however, did not appear to be in a jovial mood, so I stowed the comment I was about to make and quietly closed the door behind me. "You look like you've been arguing with Traci again."

She responded with a sigh. "Yes, but that's a matter for a different day." Leaning back against her desk, she crossed her arms and gave me a rather serious look. "Janey, what's the number of requests to send students to our Explorer Academy that we've received so far?"

"One hundred thirteen."

I let out a low whistle. "What are your thoughts?"

"That it would be a mistake to accept them," she replied bluntly.

"Why?"

"Because of whose kids they are." Emma rolled her eyes and then began pacing. "I thought I'd left behind the corporate shark tank when I was extracted but—dear God!—that was nothing compared to the chummed feeding frenzy up here in orbit with Central Command!"

Picking up a PDA, she began reading off a list of the families making the request for one or more of their children—names belonging to key leaders and staffers on both the Victory and the Success.

She stopped and stared at me again. "Some of these kids are probably fine but many are drinking the same elitist Kool-Aid as their parents. If you let them come in, they'll poison the well and ruin everything you're trying to do."

"Janey, what's your opinion?"

"I concur with your XO," she responded. "I believe that many of the students on the list would have difficulty integrating with the current student body."

I stood quietly for a few moments but then nodded my head. "That's my thinking, too," I replied. "Besides, I'd prefer to fill the school with extractees from Earth rather than kids already up here. But we don't want to burn any bridges if we don't have to."

Emma turned her face to the ceiling. "Janey, please create a standard response to such requests, thanking them for their interest but then explaining that our staffing levels are too low to be taking in new students at this time."

"Done."

"We do need to think about how to enlarge the student body, though," I mused out loud. "At dinner last night, Priya mentioned the idea of extracting from second and third world orphanages. I think it's an idea worth exploring. Pull her and Sharon into the OC and have them take it on."

The initial suggestion caused a look of alarm to cross her face—no doubt from the thought of one more thing on her "to do" list. That eased tremendously, especially when she realized I'd just given her two more workers.