Inadvertent Adventures (9 page)

They had browsed through three shipyards and passed on all of the ships before something odd happened. A man with a particularly upright posture and elegant bearing met them at Charleston Harbor Civil/Naval Shipyard. He looked at them and then focused on Sterling. "You say you're looking for a freighter in the twenty million credit range? It'd be a small ship for that price."

"We have some experience with a small trading vessel," Sterling said as he looked the man in the eye. There was something familiar about him.

The man stared at Sterling right back. "And which of you holds the captain's certificate?" he asked.

"I do," Sterling answered. "My wife and our navigator also hold current captain's certificates."

"What did you say your name was, sir?" the salesman asked. When Sterling had introduced himself and Ann, the man checked his 'Pad and nodded.

"I have something that might interest you, but you would need some very special qualifications to purchase her. She was just retired yesterday, as a matter of fact. Fleet Surplus."

"There's a lot of that going around," Ann all but whispered. "What class of ship?" she asked.

"Francine Webber."

"The
Webber's
are fleet supply ships," Olaf said from the back of the room. When everyone turned to look at him, he smiled sheepishly and continued. "I served on the
Concorde
when I was younger."

"What shape is she in, and which ship is it?"

"She hasn't been delivered yet, so she's in whatever shape the Navy left her in when they decommissioned her. As to the name," he paused and looked at Olaf, "she's the
Concorde."

"Conny's
been decommissioned? Oh, now I feel old." Olaf's expression made everyone laugh.

"How much?" Sterling asked, drawing the man's attention back to himself.

"Twenty-three million Confederate credits," he replied. "Unfortunately, the captain or owner, one or the other, would have to hold a reserve commission from the Navy."

"This is getting strange," Sterling muttered. "What's on your 'Pad that made you check my name a second time?"

"I am not at liberty to disclose that information, sir," the man said, and something about how he said it set off an alarm in the back of Sterling's mind.

"Am I correct in guessing that you wouldn't have offered us that ship if my name had been different?"

The salesman took a step away from Sterling, clutching the 'Pad to his chest. "Sir, I cannot…Really, Sir, I'm not allowed to…Would you
stop…
Oh, very
well.
We received a communiqué from Epsilon Quadrant Command asking us to extend
'special consideration'
to a person with your name. The
Concorde's
decommissioning papers were with it, along with the requirement that it be sold to someone with a reserve commission. That's not usually the case."

"I--we--would like to take a look at her, if that's possible," Sterling said and the man took another step back.

"This way. Our shuttle has clearance to enter the Navy portion of the Yard." He turned around and led them through the offices to a shuttle-dock. Once they were on board and strapped in, he took the pilot's chair himself.

The trip was a short one, and soon they were staring at the enormous bulk of the CSS-NR
Concorde,
SVH3168, as she floated in orbit. She was nine-hundred and thirty meters long, and one hundred and fifty-six in diameter, and still sported the brilliant white paintjob of a CSS-Naval Reserve vessel. They did a thorough hull inspection, but aside from some pitting from small orbital debris, the ship looked to be in excellent shape.

"She has to be ten times the size of the
Jolly Jane,
" Sterling almost whispered.

"Closer to thirteen," Olaf said without turning away from his port. "Her gross tonnage is only forty-nine thousand tons, but that's because she's mostly hollow. She can carry twenty thousand tons of cargo, and has the power to go anywhere and keep up with the fleet." He turned and looked at Sterling. "The
Francine Webber
class freighters have the same engines as the
Vyestnik
class light cruisers."

"Can we go aboard?" Denise asked, and the salesman answered by nudging his controls to guide them to a docking port on the ship's side.

"The atmosphere has been replaced with nitrogen to avoid vacuum-damaging the interior fittings. We'll have to wear oxygen masks, but not environmental suits." The salesman produced masks and handed them to each member of the party. When they were all fitted, he cracked the seal and led them into the
Concorde.

It was cold inside, but just frosty, not frozen. Olaf took the lead and ran his fingers along the walls of the passageways as they made their way to the control room. There they found a pleasant surprise.

"It's all here," Denise almost whispered. "They didn't gut the controls, navigation, or communications suites." She turned to the salesman, but he simply shrugged.

"As I said, she was just decommissioned yesterday," he reminded her. "They haven't had time to strip her for parts."

"I think someone likes you, Sterling," Olaf said as he floated over to the engineering panel. He flipped a few switches and the ship's system checklist came up on the screen. "Engines are cold, but no red flags. Cargo spaces are clear and all of the cranes show full function. Weapons systems are--"

"Weapons?" Sterling, Ann, and Denise asked at the same time.

"Defensive only. Fore and aft gamma ray lasers. Short range and designed for close-in torpedo and missile interdiction. Weapons systems are inactive." He pushed a button, but nothing happened. "Weapons are locked out. It wants a command authorization code."

Sterling looked at the salesman, but he held up his hands. "I have no idea and no way to find out how to activate the weapons. I'm surprised that they weren't stripped, no matter how sudden the decision to decommission her was."

"We'll take her," Sterling announced as he looked at his wife. She smiled back at him and nodded. "I'll transfer the funds as soon as we get the paperwork done."

"Do you hold--"

"I do," Ann said as she took the few steps needed to reach Sterling's side. "I hold a reserve commission as a Rear Admiral. That should be sufficient."

"And are you going to be listed as owner or captain?" the salesman asked.

Sterling said, "Captain and co-owner."

"Very well. If you'll follow me, I'll pilot us back to the office and get the paperwork started." The salesman turned and left the control room with the others following him.

Sterling kept his eyes moving but they kept being drawn back to the salesman. There was something about him that was familiar and yet in some way odd. The puzzle was eating at him the whole way back to the shipyard office until he finally just had to ask.

"I'm sorry. I know you told us your name when we arrived, but there is something familiar about you that I just can't place. Have we ever met or served together?"

The salesman smiled and shook his head. "We've never met, but you know my Uncle Ed. Mom's big brother."

"And your uncle's last name, young man," Ann asked in a suspicious tone.

"Teach." He turned and smiled at all of them. "Uncle Ed got me this job and sends special customers to me on occasion."

Sterling managed to look slightly embarrassed as the other members of their party stared at him. "Yes, I'd say someone likes me."

T
HE PAPERWORK TOOK THREE DAYS TO
complete and included interviews with several Naval Investigative Service and Confederate Security agents. The reason for that became clear when Admiral Teach showed up at the end of the third day.

He said with a cherubic grin, "Well, Sterling, I see you found a ship that suits you." Then they shook hands.

"Yes, Sir, we did. How did you pull that off, if you don't mind my asking?"

Admiral Teach chuckled. "Well, Admiral Gacie was complaining that his fleet of mothballed ships was getting out of hand and he wanted to dispose of some of them.
Concorde
was on the list to be stripped and scrapped, so I sent her to Tony with your name attached. You've never met Lev Gacie, but he was my first Executive Officer back on the old
Harris Stent.
He signed off on sending her out whole because not much on her is worth salvaging. Including her weapons and fire control." He smiled and looked at Ann.

"Admiral Stevenson, I have the weapon's activation codes for your ship. The interviews you have been going through were to license her as an armed merchantman. That's also why there was the requirement that one of you hold a reserve commission. With the trouble that your First Mate tends to find himself in, you may need them." Admiral Teach paused to grin at Sterling's blush. "You are familiar with the regulations concerning the use of your weapons, so I won't waste any time going over them. Just don't make me regret doing this."

"We won't, Sir," Ann said as she came to attention.

"What did you name her?" Admiral Teach asked. The ship was too far away to even see, much less read the name on her nose.

"I named her the
Admiral Ann's Revenge,
Sir," Sterling said and Admiral Teach turned to look him in the eye.

"You know that my unlamented ancestor and namesake called his ship the
Queen Anne's Revenge
don't you?"

Sterling grinned hugely. "Yes, Sir. That's part of what makes this so amusing. Blackbeard's ship was called the
Concorde
when he captured her.
"

The admiral pursed his lips for a moment. "I didn't know that. You have a strange sense of humor, Sterling." He looked over at Ann and smiled. "Try to keep him out of trouble for a while, Ann. At least until I retire." With that and a parting handshake he turned and left the crew of the
Admiral Ann's Revenge
alone.

Denise stepped forward and came to attention. "Captain Ann, our shuttle is ready to take you to your ship."

"Thank you, Nav. Let's be on our way then." Turning, she said, "Engineer Olaf, lead the way."

Olaf led them to the small in-system cargo shuttle they had been forced to buy along with the
Admiral Ann's Reveng
e. It had cost another two million credits, which had completely depleted Sterling's share of the
Jolly Jane's
insurance and ship's account, but was necessary because the
Webber
class ships could not land on a planetary surface. It also took up a thousand tons worth of cargo capacity. Olaf took the controls and quickly made his way to their ship.

The
Admiral Ann's Revenge
floated at anchor just outside the naval shipyard proper, and Olaf made a wide approach to show Ann the name on her hull. Then he swept down along her side and activated the remote that opened the door for their shuttle bay. When the shuttle was securely clamped in position and the umbilicals attached, he cut power. Sterling then led the way to the hatch.

"After you, Captain," he said as he pushed the hatch open, and Ann floated through to her new command.

"All hands, report to control for departure. Mister Stevenson, get us clearance to move to the commercial spaceport for fueling and cargo. Nav, coordinate with the First Mate on the maneuver. Engineer, let us know as soon as the engines are ready for acceleration." Her voice never varied from the calm authority of the admiral that she had been and all three of her people immediately moved to obey her orders.

As she laid in the course, Denise said, "With the captain's permission, I think we should radio ahead to the Spacer's League and register for crew members. You will have to interview several dozen spacers to get the six additional crew members this ship requires."

"Very well, and thank you for the advice," Ann said without looking up from her panel. "
'Hiring'
a crew is something I've never had to do before. Engineer, how many people crewed the
Concorde
for the Navy?"

"One hundred and seventy-six, Ma'am," Olaf replied. "The ship didn't actually require that many, but the cargo handling, clerical, supply, and support staff filled it out."

"And you concur that ten people will be sufficient to crew this ship in most foreseeable circumstances?"

"The right ten, yes Ma'am. The ship itself isn't that hard to run most of the time. Getting the right mix of personalities is never that easy though, especially among civilian spacers." Olaf paused for a moment. "Not to tell the captain her business, but specifying ex-Navy types might help."

"Nav, have you sent that message yet?" she asked. Denise shook her head “no.” "Add the ex-Navy request and send it, please."

"Message sent, Captain. Course set and laid in. Ready for thrusters."

"Very well. Mister Stevenson, get us under way, please. Minimal thrust until you get used to how she handles." Captain Ann sat back and smiled.

"Aye, Captain, minimal thrust." The ship shuddered, and then the star-field in the main viewer began to slowly shift.

* * *

Denise and Olaf were seeing to the ship while Ann and Sterling were interviewing potential crew members. They had fueled the ship and finished loading the wardroom freezer and refrigerator, and found themselves at loose ends.

"Drink?" Olaf asked.

"Sounds good," Denise agreed. "I'll tell Ann and Sterling." She walked over to the com panel and pushed the wardroom stud.

"Wardroom, Captain Stevenson," Ann answered.

"Captain, it's Denise. We're finished loading the ship’s provisions. Request permission to leave the ship for a while."

"Granted," Ann answered. "Take your communicators so we can recall you if you're needed."

Denise smiled at Olaf. "Understood, Ma'am." She let go of the stud and headed for the station with her husband beside her.

Other eyes were watching the ship, and three men followed them away from the dock. The last one could wait, but the first two were right where they needed to be.

Olaf and Denise went to one of the dozens of spacer bars that were located near the docks. They took a seat near the back and ordered beer and snacks. When their order arrived, Olaf lifted his glass and said, "To absent friends."