TheAdvisor26

==Chapter 26 - The Advisor==
Restored Star Lord-Class JumpShip
New Syrtis Star System
Federated Suns
[Training Cycle 1, Day 92...]
"We made it."  it was a little shocking. Three months ago, most of the trainees could just about identify 'a Jumpship' as being a barbell-like deep space structure of mysterious shape, that somehow needed liquid hydrogen and large amounts of germanium.
The Chief Instructor stood behind Robert Shaw, "Feel it?"  her voice came over the suit mic, because she didn't take her helmet off even with the ship pressurized.  "Feel how the thrusters respond?"
"Yes mum." he said.
"Good, good.  We're almost docked, can you make it soft?"
"Um...no?" reluctantly replies Shaw.
"Alright, watch the needle-ball, and feel the thrusters through the collective in your right hand. As you adjust thrust rates with your left, the range markers at the top of the ball will rise or fall depending on thrust. Just like when we did docking practice with the dropship last week. Imagine how it feels and keep the ball aligned, count the rates..."
He felt the ship around him, and watching the 'needle ball'-a screen showing the docking probe from just behind, and it correlated.  He slowed their rate of approach to the naval station, and increased aft thrust gradually...
"Bring us to zero when the needleball turns green." she reminded him.
Before he realized it, velocity was zero, and the screen was locked in a green state.
"Good...good."
She stood up, and took her helmet off.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Form up at the nose airlock. Past that airlock, are showers, clean uniforms, and fully operational head facilities with toilet paper.  Dinner will be in two hours, you are to report to the mess deck here!  Dismissed!"
Robert didn't need to be told twice.
----
Anh watched them go, and then, checked with Willard.  "All accounted for?" she asked.
"Everyone's on the station."
"Great! If anyone needs me, I'm in the Galley just aft of the Mess Deck. We have the Caterers deliver the rest of the stuff-the desserts and snacks, through starboard number one docking ring's airlock, and tell 'em to hurry the ****** up."
She was already on the way to the Galley, where, thanks to keeping everyone in helmets on the trip back. Nobody could smell what Anh was cooking.
She wasn't sure how they'd take it, if the kids knew.  The galley was near the outer ring of the ship's now-functional and restored grav deck. That meant she could make a proper meal-well, at least, as proper as you can get when you can't cook over open fire.
Pho'gah, Banh mi sandwiches,  Deep fried chicken with baked potato and three kinds of gravy available, Spicy fish chowder, and fresh-baked biscuits.  The LCN cooks that snuck in with the 'shipyard crew' on the last supply drop were already mostly done with the parts that took real work.
Catering to a class of one hundred and forty nine cadets meant she would have to wait to eat until after.  It wasn't nothing but a thing, maybe four hours longer than they had to endure living on recycled waste and nutrient replenipaks.
The Crew or in this case, the Cadets, eat first.
"Ah hope et's awraht." she muttered, checking the crispness of the fried chicken with a probe, and then adjusting the temperature on the deep-fryers.
Admiral Palmer met her in the galley, grinning.  "I think they'll be shocked.  Where did you get the recipes for this stuff?"
"The Pho' ga is a Kowloonese staple, same for the three kinds of Banh' mi." she said, "I didn't have gooselivers, so we substituted with something less...noxious. The chicken was a family recipe, except your guys got it better than I ever could from the smell.  One of the things we did on long patrols, was writing contests, art contests, cooking contests...I broke out the recipes from my last Quarantine tour for the gravies."
"And serving the crew?" he asked.
"Tradition." she said, "After any successful cruise, it's traditional for the senior officers to serve the crew a meal in dock, before anyone goes on pass.  Good CO's serve good food, mediocres sometimes have everything catered in, but the 'everyone' will include whoever's assigned as cook's mates-they get a break that day...and command staff eat last, with the CO eating dead last."b
"Hmm, not a bad tradition."
"It's good for luck." she agreed.
-----
Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter
Category:Works by CannonShop
Category:The Advisor Chapters