With a satisfied nod, Jacob stood up and spoke. “All right, we’re going to get started. I expect an organized line, not some rushing mob. People who can’t wait in a line without getting out of control have no business on any of my ships.” The last sentence seemed incredibly strange to him. Since when did I start commanding a fleet? “When each of you steps up, I expect you to have identification, references, and a willingness to obey orders. This isn’t some trading scow you’re flying on, these are warships.” He let that statement hang in the air, but it did little to calm the eagerness in their faces. Another sigh threatened to escape, but he restrained himself. “Let’s get started.”
He settled back down into the seat and nodded at the first young man waiting. The spacer stepped forward, looking around in confusion as if he had expected a chair to be set up for him to sit as well.
“What’s your name?”
The young man blinked. “Yuri Romanov.” He held out an identification card, and one of the support crewmen took it, running it through a reader set up for that purpose. Jacob kept his attention focused on the young spacer.
“What is your current occupation?” Jacob thought he could guess it already from the lubricant stains and worker’s overalls, but he waited for the answer to confirm his instincts.
“Ship’s engineer, sir. I worked on the repair docks.” A grimace showed how much he had enjoyed that work, though Jacob didn’t know if it was a reaction to the work or to the people he had been working for. “I know a lot about basic maintenance and how to repair battle damage. You could use my help.”
“I’m sure we could.” Jacob glanced at the Support crewman with the young man’s ID, who nodded. “All right then, you understand you are signing up for a term of service with the Celostian Navy? That means doing what we want you to do, taking orders and following them, and staying where you are assigned for the period of time specified in your service contract.” With one finger, Jacob tapped the slim reader in front of him. “The contract can be modified for how long, as well as how much pay you’ll receive, but until the time is up, the Navy will do with you as it pleases. This won’t be some job you can just quit when you tire of it. If you disobey orders, you’ll be brought up on charges and likely tossed into a cell. If you desert, you could be shot.”
The young spacer paled slightly. A frontier spacer never likes to give away his independence, but he needs to hear it. They all do. “I understand. Sir.”
Jacob leaned back in his seat and nodded. “Good. I am going to leave the period of time you’ll sign up for up to you. Given the emergency we find ourselves in, we are going to ask at least six months from you, and your pay will be subject to review before I can guarantee it. If you choose, you can enlist for anywhere from six months to five years. The longer you sign up for, the more likely the Navy will take your pay request seriously, though they may disavow anything I do here and ignore any effort I make to get you your money. Any questions about that?”
Each detail seemed to drain a bit of the eagerness out of Yuri, but he still nodded. “No, sir.”
Now for some of the good things. “There are some things you don’t need to worry about, however. While you're a member of the Navy, you will be protected by the benefits the Navy provides. If you are killed in action, the Navy will attempt to send recompense to your family. If you are wounded or fall ill, you will have access to our medical facilities free of charge, and if you become crippled in our defense, we won’t kick you out in the cold. There are a lot of former service members who would be more than willing to look after you when you leave the service, and we won’t use you up and toss you aside. And if you serve your full allotment of years by your rank, you’ll be given a compensation to retire on. Are you still interested?”
Some of Yuri’s eagerness returned. “Yes, sir.”
So far so good. Jacob let a slight pause hang in the air, and then leaned forward. “Yuri, why do you want to join the Navy?”
There was another pause as Yuri his head in thought. When the young man’s head came up, there was a measure of defiance in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “For most of my life, the pirates have been in control of this station. They beat my father, they frightened my mother, and they were using me to help them hurt people.” The last words came out in a fierce growl that barely escaped Yuri’s clenched teeth. “You will give me a chance to stop them, to make things safe for my family, for everyone. That’s why I want to join.”
Jacob nodded, watching the spacer’s face for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he slowly stood again and stuck out a hand. “Good. Welcome aboard. Fill out this form, give it to the crewmen there, and we will get you started on what you need to know.” Yuri shook his hand, and Jacob smiled. “I’m glad to have you with us.” The spacer murmured his surprised thanks and moved over to start scribbling on the reader.
For a moment, Jacob watched him. He remembered filling out that form himself. Has it really only been a year? He shook off the memories, turned to the next person in line and nodded. “You’re next.” He took a seat as the young woman came forward. She looked nervous. “What’s your name?”
The day seemed to stretch out after that point. Spacer after spacer came forward and answered the questions he put to them. Some of them turned away at the prospect of losing their personal freedom; others balked when they heard of the lack of official salaries or benefits. Many, however, stayed, determined to continue even if it meant a personal loss. More than one swore vengeance against the pirates, and Jacob started to worry his crews were going to be filled with bloodthirsty groups of spacers. Others expressed desires to see the galaxy beyond the boundaries of Reefhome. Still others had been impressed by the actions of the Wolfhound in defense of their home, and some few actually had the gall to say they wanted to follow his example. As if I’m anyone important.
Each spacer who stayed soon formed part of a second group who were filling out the slim forms and turning them in to the crewmen waiting nearby. A few were then turned away, either due to problems with their identification, background checks or physical abilities, but not many. Young, old, athletic or not, Jacob had made sure the crewmen knew they needed every person who could reasonably serve.
Finally, after several hours of work, Jacob had enough. His head felt like it was filled with fog, and pain streaked through his skull. Just when he felt he was going to have to call for a break, he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He looked up and back to find Taylor waiting, a smile on the larger ensign’s face. “I’ll take over now, sir. Go get yourself some food.”
Jacob nodded and gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Taylor. I’ll make sure Ashford relieves you soon.”
The former Gunnery officer nodded cheerfully and took the seat while Jacob staggered wearily away.
As he passed the group of waiting recruits, they all quieted and watched him go. When he had passed by, the chatter started up again. Jacob shook his head after he reached the relative privacy of the corridor. They're just overestimating me because they’ve only seen me as a captain. I can’t let this get to my head. All the same, he felt a little flutter of pride that lightened his steps as he walked.
A little ways down the corridor, he came to where the repair crews were lining up to file into the shuttles. Their destination was the repair docks where the Talon, formerly the Rand’s Ire, was going to be docked. The waiting engineers looked almost as eager as the recruits back at the table, though some of these were exchanging grim looks. They knew full well how much was going to be asked of them; repairing a spaceship, even the lighter ships like corvettes, frigates and destroyers, was time-consuming, delicate work. A rush job would demand extremely high levels of effort to complete on time, and many of them were going to have family aboard those vessels depending on those repairs.
One engineer detached himself from the group and made his way over to Jacob in a hurry. His hair was gray, with white streaks at the temples. Worry now twisted his face, which added lines
to his already wrinkled face. He glanced back at the shuttles to make sure he wasn’t going to be left behind before he spoke. “Sir, I wonder if I could have a moment of your time.”
Jacob paused, surprised by the cautious respect in the man’s voice, and nodded. “Sure. What can I help you with?”
The engineer stood, wringing his hands as he spoke. “My name is Davram Yorkshire. I lead one of the repair crews on the docks.” He hesitated as if wondering if he should stick out a hand, and Jacob offered the engineer his own in invitation.
Yorkshire gave Jacob's hand a nervous shake and continued with that same, hesitant tone. “I would like the chance to make a few—minor—modifications to the ships, sir. They would just be to provide some more protection for you when you fight, nothing major, mind you, just a little more protection.” The engineer continued dry washing his hands, looking as if he had just proposed marriage to a girl who hated him. Jacob tilted his head.
“Why would you think we aren’t protected enough already, Mr. Yorkshire?”
Davram’s head bobbed just a little bit. “Pardon my intrusion, sir, it’s just that I’d like to be sure. I’ve watched quite a few ships go through the yards during my time here, and the ones that go into combat always seem to have so many holes put in them. I’d just like to provide a bit more security for the crew, sir.”
The way the emphasis landed on the word ‘crew’ caught Jacob’s attention, and somewhere in his memory, Davram’s last name suddenly clicked into place. “Yorkshire? You have a son named John?” The engineer hesitated, as if he had been caught in a robbery, and nodded with trepidation. Jacob smiled, his suspicions melting away.
“It’s natural to be worried about your loved ones when they enter the military, Mr. Yorkshire, but you can be sure we will do everything in our power to keep them safe. The ships will all have a sufficient amount of armor, and our point defense crews will be very well trained.”
“Of course, sir, of course.” The engineer made a little bobbing bow before wringing his hands again. “The thing is, sir.” He paused again, then continued in a much fiercer tone. “The thing is that I would just like to be sure, sir. Is that all right? If I could just be sure.”
Jacob looked at the man’s face, the way his hands had suddenly clenched, one fist tightly gripped by the other hand. Would my dad have been like this if he had survived? He nodded slowly. “Yes, Mr. Yorkshire, you can be sure. Just check with Petty Officer Turley before you make any major changes, and do your best.”
The engineer nodded once, a sharp movement that set his gray hair tumbling over his forehead. “Yes, sir. You won’t regret it, sir.” He withdrew, nervous energy bleeding away into excitement and determination as he hurried back to the lines of the repair crews boarding the shuttles. Jacob watched him go, a faint smile on his lips, until he came to himself and continued his journey back to the Tube.
The market was busier now, with families hurrying from one spot to another. There was a more frantic air in the place, more energy and conversation stirring the air. Mothers were leading children around, occasionally arguing with their older sons and daughters in exasperated worry. Older men were buying tools or coveralls, as if preparing for journeys or new duties. Worry, hope, fear and love swirled in every face Jacob passed, every half-heard snatch of conversation. Watching and hearing it all, he couldn’t help but feel a little lonely.
When Jacob passed groups of people, their conversations would fade to whispers. He caught more and more people shooting glances or outright staring in his direction as he walked, and it was hard not to be intimidated by the weight of those stares. Just keep going. I have to show strength. They’re counting on us. Head held high, he walked across the park at the bottom of the market and made his way up one of the longer stairways, taking the steps two at a time.
When he reached the third level, Jacob took a corridor nearly directly opposite the one that he had entered by. There were far fewer people along this corridor, and those who were walking in it were generally headed the opposite direction he was, as quickly as they possibly could.
The long corridor had been built to accommodate far more people than it did now, and soon Jacob’s footsteps were sounding ominously loud in the cavernous hallway. Not all of the lights worked, leaving several dark spots pirates might have used to inspire fear in the locals. Jacob wasn’t intimidated by the occasional walk in the dark, and before long he had reached the market he had been aiming for.
The corridor was partially blocked off by a small waist-high barrier that stretched across the mouth of the entrance. Four heavily armed Marines stood there, two facing the plaza ahead and two facing the corridor. Beyond them was the sullen murmur of the prisoners allowed to roam the central area.
As Jacob approached, one of the Marines paused in his patrol, his head tilting to the side for a moment. A few moments later, Jacob heard the soldier speak. “Ensign Hull, sir. Sergeant Chiun will be here soon to meet you.”
Jacob nodded and stood patiently on the corridor side of the barrier. While he waited, he watched the former pirates milling about in the space beyond.
The Plaza had been one of the four great markets of Reefhome Station. When the pirates had occupied the station, a demonstration had taken place there. The pirates retaliated by closing down most of the shops and stores in the area. Those who had participated were shot, imprisoned or simply disappeared, and afterward the Plaza had been used for public executions or kangaroo courts where members of the community had been forced to attend at risk of their lives.
Unlike the Tube, which was cylindrical and tall, the Plaza was a wide space four stories high. Trees were scattered around the place, emphasizing a garden here or providing shade for a bench there. Empty rows of shops and stores lined the edges. Some buildings sat one or two stories high, squat and blunt against the backdrop of the gardens and pathways, while others hung from the ceiling like square stalactites. Ladders and stairways led between buildings and connected the hanging buildings to the floor. Small railed bridges stretched between buildings on the same level. In the center, where a statue commemorated to the founders of Reefhome Station had once stood, was a small clear space that was lower than the majority of the rest of the Plaza, forming a kind of amphitheater for speakers or performers.
The shops along the edges of the market were closed and boarded up. The statue at the center was gone, removed when the pirates had crushed the demonstrators, and the other corridors that led into the Plaza were now sealed, with doors as thick as battleship armor welded shut. The buildings with rear exits or side entrances were sealed shut as well, while those that did not were now being used as living quarters rather than as stores. The trees and gardens here were barely alive, their leaves brown and curled more often than not, and bare patches of dirt showed through in frequent wasted patches of soil.
Prisoners moved despondently among the closed buildings and half-wilted trees. The crews of the ships that had faced the Wolfhound and lost were there, along with the small garrison of enemy troops that had occupied the station itself. Robbed of their armor and weapons, they were being held in this place to the satisfaction of all. Many on the council had decided it was particularly delicious that many of the pirates who had helped crush down the station’s inhabitants were being watched in the place where they had so often mocked their hostages.
There were a lot of them. Nearly a hundred pirates had been taken off the Ire and the Ravager each, with another hundred or so coming from the crews of the captured skiffs. Not nearly as many had been rescued from the wrecks of the carriers and the Hand, however; only about fifty or so in all had survived the savaging of those three ships. Another three hundred pirates or so had been on board the station, bringing the total up around seven hundred.
Jacob heard boots striking the deck and turned to see Sergeant Chiun marching along the corridor toward him. Her movements were economical and her face was as impassive as ever; she gave little emotion away as she approached. There
was always a flicker of glee whenever her eyes moved to take in the milling groups of captured pirates, but nothing else gave away her frame of mind.
“The area is secure, sir. At last count, all of the prisoners were still present and accounted for. We’ve had a few disturbances, but nothing we haven’t been able to keep control of.” Her voice was steady and unmoving, and Jacob detected no real hesitation in her voice. He nodded.
“Do you think you will be able to train some of the station personnel to take over? We’re going to need all the troops we can get.”
Chiun hesitated for a moment, and then nodded reluctantly. “We may be able to set up some heavier guns at the entrance and reinforce the plugs on the other openings. That way they will be able to hold the pirates here no matter what happens.” Her back stiffened slightly. “I would still feel more comfortable with the Marines placed in charge of the prisoners, sir. Civilians aren’t going to be nearly as reliable.”
“I know, Sergeant.” Jacob shrugged. “They would be even worse as boarding troops, however, which is where we'll be using you and your men. You did a wonderful job aboard the Ravager.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across the Marine’s face. Jacob tried to keep his voice neutral. “Unfortunately, you didn’t do so well at following orders. I will give you some more practice at it. Get the station security forces squared away, and then start training some of the new recruits as Marine candidates.” Chiun's smile disappeared as he spoke, and when he finished, she was as grave-faced and solemn as ever.
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