Authors: Christopher Nuttall
Curious to see his reaction, she led him on a tour of the most important parts of the ship. Main Engineering was a hive of activity; thankfully, they had tested all five fusion cores and discovered that they were in perfect working order. But then, replacing even one of them was a nightmare at the best of times. In theory, one fusion core was enough to power the entire ship, but she knew no CO who would care to rely on it. They would certainly be unable to operate at full capacity without at least three cores.
Tactical was a slight improvement; weapons and targeting sensors were one area where it wasn't easy to skimp on the basics. But the training programs she had intended to use to ensure that the crew were brought up to standard had been delayed, even though she had thought that they were standardized. Clearly, someone had decided to modify the system now that the war was over. The Captain said nothing, but she could see his grim scowl flicker over his face before he hid it behind a blank mask. He’d been an XO long enough to fully understand the value of constant training.
The only two compartments of the ship that were fully functional were sickbay and Marine Country. Sandy showed him the sickbay quickly, including the rows of stasis pods for crewmen who were too badly wounded to be healed onboard ship. They’d all been tested by the Medical Directorate, Doctor Gayle Foster assured them. Nothing could be allowed to go wrong with the ship’s medical bay.
“I’ve also passed my xenobiology courses,” Gayle said. She had started life as a civilian doctor before making the switch to the military. “I can provide basic treatments for all known forms of intelligent life.”
Sandy scowled. She knew that xenophobia was bad, but it was hard to avoid a basic distrust of aliens – all aliens – after what the Dragons had done to the Occupied Zones. Most of the stories were nightmarish, ranging from mass slaughter to enslavement, collaboration and eventual genocide. Humans had resisted, of course, but it was impossible to defeat a foe who controlled the high orbitals on the ground. And, when many worlds had been on the verge of liberation, the Dragons had unleashed biological weapons on the remaining inhabitants.
She led the Captain to Marine Country, where a full company of Marines waited for his inspection. The Federation Marines were renowned as the best of the best, the men and women who had stormed countless worlds, clearing the way for national formations to secure the ground. Even now, with countless officers and men being told that they had to leave the military, the Marines still stood proud. But then, there was no shortage of work for them to do on the formerly occupied worlds.
The Captain didn't seem nervous around the Marines, she noted, as he spoke quickly to Jess and her subordinates.
That
wasn't uncommon, but he didn't seem to be blinded by his own arrogance either. Indeed, there was something almost wistful in his gaze, something that confirmed her own thoughts.
Knight
was hardly an uncommon surname, yet combined with his ridiculously fast promotion it was clear that the Captain had links to the Knight Corporation. She felt another flash of resentment which she pushed aside, ruthlessly. It wasn't as though she didn't have family connections back home.
In the end, they returned to the Captain’s office, which was attached to the bridge. “I’ve been using it for paperwork,” she confessed, when he noticed the datapads on the desk. “And handling a few other matters.”
The Captain nodded. “I need to ask you something,” he said, as he sat down on the sofa and motioned for her to sit facing him. “How long will it be before we can leave safely?”
Sandy considered it, recalling everything she’d had done since she’d come onboard. “Maybe a week, assuming we don’t run into any major problems,” she said. “The yard crews are the real problem right now. We haven't been able to push them into working overtime and bringing in additional crew, it seems, is forbidden. If we do run into any major problems ...”
“... We might have to put the departure date back a few days,” the Captain said. He scowled, gracelessly. “The Admiral will not be happy. Nor will the Governor.”
“The Governor?” Sandy asked. “Who ...?”
“We are to provide transport for her to the Fairfax Cluster,” the Captain said. Her implants reported that he was sending her a file. She accepted it and started to skim through the headings, looking for the important points. Their mission orders hadn't been transmitted to the ship either. “And then we are to start patrolling the sector.”
Sandy winced. One look at the file was enough to convince her that whoever had assigned Governor Wu to the Fairfax Cluster knew next to nothing about the local environment. The person who had bungled the refugee crisis was unlikely to endear herself to the local government, which – after all – had saved itself when the colonies had been abandoned by the Federation. Cold logic indicated that the Federation had had little choice, but cold logic meant little to the men and women who had put up a desperate and nearly futile defence.
“But she won’t make herself popular,” she said, before she could stop herself. A certain degree of frankness had been encouraged in the Colonial Militia, but the Federation was a great deal more uptight about such things. “This person will offend everyone.”
The Captain smiled, rather dryly. “I’d tend to agree,” he said. “But she has been given the job.”
Sandy made a mental note to send a warning message to her relatives in the Fairfax Cluster. If they presented Governor Wu with a united front, perhaps she wouldn't try to break the unity of the Bottleneck Republic. But, looking at Wu’s record, somehow Sandy doubted that the whole matter could be resolved so quickly. The people of the Bottleneck Republic might only have agreed on one thing – they had to remain united against outside threats – but they clung to it with a death-grip intensity. If the Dragons were no longer a threat, they might well turn against the Federation.
“We will ensure that she has a relatively pleasant voyage,” the Captain added. “Are our living quarters ready for occupation?”
“More or less, sir,” Sandy said. “The crew will have taken your bags there by now. Do you wish an Ensign to be attached to you?”
The Captain shook his head. “No, thank you,” he said. “I can handle my own dressing, I think.”
They shared a smile, mixed – in Sandy’s case – with a certain amount of relief. She didn't like the tradition of officers using ensigns as personal servants, certainly not on small ships – and
Dauntless
was quite small compared to a fleet carrier or superdreadnaught. And there were officers who took advantage of their subordinates, despite naval regulations that actively banned the practice. It wouldn't have happened in the Colonial Militia ...
Of course not
, she thought, ruefully.
We encourage our officers to look after themselves
.
“I will formally assume command this evening, if that will allow the officers to attend,” the Captain said. “Until then, I will go through the ship’s service logs and see what I can do to get additional yard crew out here. If the Admiralty is keen for us to depart rapidly ...”
He shrugged. “If not, we can delay our departure by a week or two. It probably won’t make much difference.”
Sandy couldn't disagree. Given the existence of hyperspace storms, no one – not even a politician – would expect a starship to leave or arrive precisely on schedule. Smart officers always wrote a certain amount of slippage into their movement orders, just to ensure that they had room to manoeuvre if necessary. If the Admiralty had wanted the mission to begin at once, they would have assigned another ship.
“Understood, sir,” she said. “When will the Governor be coming onboard?”
The Captain grimaced. “Maybe the day before we depart,” he said. He didn't sound very enthusiastic about meeting Governor Wu. “She will not wish to be confined any longer than strictly necessary. It’s probably for the best.”
“Probably,” Sandy agreed. She’d served on ships that had carried high-ranking officers and civilians, including reporters. The experience had rarely been pleasant, despite the good food and drink her CO had brought onboard. Most of them had either looked down their noses at the naval crew or demanded far better treatment than the ship could provide. “How much do you know about the Fairfax Cluster?”
“Not enough,” the Captain said. He looked down at the deck, crossly. There were just too many reports for him to read. “Can we go over it once we know when we will be leaving?”
Sandy nodded. “It will be my pleasure, sir,” she said.
“Carry on,” the Captain said. He nodded at her as she stood. “We’ll catch up on everyone else later.”
Glen sucked in his breath as he stepped onto
Dauntless’s
bridge for the first time. It was hardly the first bridge he’d visited, let alone served on, but it was
his
. A single large chair sat in the centre of the compartment, surrounded by a holographic display that showed
Dauntless
and the shipyard’s orbital platforms. Beyond the chair, there were seven consoles, controlling everything from the helm to tactical and engineering. The entire starship could be operated from the bridge.
Unless something goes wrong
, he thought, ruefully. In theory, a crew as small as ten men could operate the starship with the help of the automated systems, but they could be unable to maintain or repair the starship if necessary.
Ark Royal
had had an oversized crew purely to handle emergencies, something that was currently annoying the bureaucrats, particularly the ones who had no operational experience of their own. Surely the ship didn’t
need
ten thousand crewmen ...
The chair swung around, revealing Sandy. Glen smiled at her, although he was pretty sure he detected a flicker of resentment in her expression. He’d taken the opportunity to read her file, only to realise just how many reasons she had to resent him. She had more years in the military – first the Colonial Militia and then the Federation Navy – than he’d had years of life. In a just world, she would have a command of her own by now, just like the other officers he’d overtaken thanks to his brothers. Glen couldn't help feeling excited at taking command, but he also knew that the way he’d taken it would store up trouble for the future. The fact that none of it was his fault would be lost on his detractors.
“Captain,” she said. “With your permission ...?”
Glen nodded. Sandy tapped a switch on the side of the command chair, summoning the senior officers to the bridge. Glen waited until they had all arrived and lined up in front of the command chair, then took a step forward, pulling a sheet of paper from his uniform pocket as he moved. The traditional method of assuming command could not be sidestepped unless they were under heavy enemy fire. And even then avoiding it would be regarded as bad luck.
He smoothed out the piece of paper and started to read out loud. “From Luna HQ to Captain Glen Knight,” he said. “You are ordered to take command of TFS
Dauntless
and uphold the duties and responsibilities of a Captain in the Federation Navy. Fail in this charge at your peril. By order of Admiral Rupert Patterson, Chief of Naval Operations.”
There was a long pause. Glen silently folded the paper, remembering the first time he’d heard an officer use those exact phases. He’d taken command, taken the powers and obligations of a commanding officer on himself. Then, the young Glen had wondered if the new commander really knew what he was doing. Now, he knew, his own crew would be having the same thoughts about him. The CO was
responsible
for his ship and crew. Whatever happened, the buck stopped with him.
He stepped over to the command chair, where Sandy was waiting. “I relieve you,” he said.
“I stand relieved,” Sandy said. She stood, allowing him to claim the command chair. By tradition, only the senior officer attached to the ship could sit in the chair. Normally, it was the Captain. “Welcome onboard, Captain.”
Glen turned to face the other officers. As if a spell had been broken, they clustered round him, offering congratulations and pledging support. They all looked tired, Glen noted with a flicker of guilt; they’d been pulling additional shifts just to get
Dauntless
ready for space. Once they were underway, he promised himself, he would ensure that they all managed to catch up on their sleep, even though there was always something to do on a starship.