After listening to all three of the interviews again, my concerns weren’t alleviated. They seemed like nice enough people, but had zero experience in low gravity environments and had not grown up with technology. I just didn't see how it would work out.
I wanted to talk to Marny and Tabby about the recruits, but they were in mid-furball. As I watched, I was grateful to no longer be on the receiving end of Tabby's angst. Marny was able to absorb the pounding and also hand out her fair share, but it was clear that Tabby had the capacity to finish Marny if she wanted to. Finally, after twenty minutes of all-out brawling, Tabby relented, bumped her gloves on top of Marny's and bowed.
"What about these three?" I pinched the three names I'd chosen from the top of Marny's list and flicked it to her.
"Aye, Cap. They look like winners to me," she said.
"What in the plains of Mars are you seeing?" I asked. "They're all laborers, without a lick of low gravity training or technology."
"Aye, Cap. We'd have work to do. But you'd be surprised what can be trained in a short period of time. What you're missing is that each of these fine young recruits has worked hard for a living, defended their homes from an invasion, and when asked to step back into danger to help their fellow human beings, were first in line. That's not the sort of thing you can train," she said.
***
Marny approached Hotspur with four recruits jogging behind her in two-by-two formation. I had to admit, they already looked more like spacers, now wearing the dark-blue vac-suits we'd adopted as uniforms aboard Intrepid. Marny had required officers to change their suits so the right shoulder was gold with a narrowing slash from the shoulder across the chest ending in a point at the ribs. She'd argued that crew would need a sense of individual identity and the ability to quickly recognize officers.
"At ease," I said as they jogged to a halt in front of Hotspur's loading ramp. With the exception of Ortel, each had a backpack slung across their backs, presumably carrying the possessions they most wanted to bring with them. Marny had limited them to thirty kilograms. Zebulon seemed to be breaking her rule as I noticed the neck of a stringed instrument sticking out above his head. Marny had coached me on how to interact with the crew, especially on our first several interactions. As captain, I was expected to be mostly out of reach.
"Trainees report," Marny commanded.
"Seamen Baker, Zebulon, Mark-Ralph and Licht reporting for duty," Ortel replied. Marny had assigned him as team leader for the small squad, his experience as a spacer critical for the first phase of their training. I hoped his age wouldn't become a hindrance as he was the youngest by several stans.
"Welcome aboard." I caught Ortel's eye and gave him a nod. "It takes a special kind of person to leave the safety of their home and place themselves in the path of danger for the benefit of others. Each one of you, for whatever reasons, made that choice today. Such is the legacy of the crew you're joining. More rational people might ask to quantify the pending danger so they could weigh those risks against the possible gains. You haven't done this. It also takes a special kind of crazy to join us on this mission. If you were to ask me, I'd say you're all nuts, which puts you in good company as I welcome you to Loose Nuts Corporation.
"Any questions before we get going?" I asked.
"How dangerous could this be? Aren't we just picking up livestock?" The question had come from Zebulon, the tree cutter with shoulder length blond hair. His easy smile felt mocking to me.
Marny raised an eyebrow at me. She'd warned me about a question answer session and I'd ignored her.
"The most powerful corporation in the known universe has labeled us as enemy number one. To make matters worse, we just stole one of their prized warships. Best case, they're just really pissed now and will be gunning for us even more than before. At worst, they've shared this theft with every civilized nation in humanity and we're now on the shoot-first-talk-later list for every one of them," I said. "Add to that, my gunnery crew has never seen the inside of a ship, much less fired a ship's weapon. Your question was insightful, Mr. Zebulon. I'll leave it to you to decide what you’ve learned from the answer, however."
PRIDE GOES BEFORE FALL
"Ada, would you set a course for Jeratorn?" I asked.
"How close in?"
"Two hours on sixty-percent burn," I said.
"Copy that," she answered.
"Jeratorn?" Tabby asked. "I thought we needed cows and pigs."
"I assume we're persona non grata on any civilized planet, so we're going to have to deal with an intermediary. Beth Anne Hollise runs a successful smuggling operation from Jeratorn," I said. "I'm hoping for a contact."
"Why not Berandor?" Tabby asked. "At least we can trust him."
"Jake asked us to cool it for a while. There's a lot of heat around our names right now," Nick said. "I don't like talking to Hollise anymore than you do, but Jeratorn won’t check our ship's identification as long as we pay their docking fees. It's a good option."
"Navigation is complete. I'm showing one hundred thirteen hours in fold-space," Ada announced.
The bridge was currently crammed with people. I hadn't laid out a watch rotation and people wanted to know what we were up to. I chastised myself for not doing a better job of setting expectations. Somehow, my job had turned from septic repairman to chief communicator. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when we'd started, but things rarely were.
"All hands. This is Captain Hoffen. We transition to fold-space in five minutes," I announced.
"Ada, after Nick double-checks the numbers, would you lay it in?"
"Yes, Captain, they're in and waiting for your approval," Ada answered. I found the navigation orders she'd crafted on the screen in front of me. Nick had signed off and a count-down was silently ticking away. I approved the orders and watched as the timer showed on the forward bulkhead.
"I'll put together a watch schedule and get it out shortly," I said.
"Captain," Ada caught my attention. "I've proposed a two-person watch schedule per Marny's recommendation. She's asked that we rotate the new crew into the watch."
I opened the schedule she'd sent. The addition of the new crew made it easier to run the four-four-six configuration of shifts we all preferred. With the new crew members, we'd actually have enough down-time where we weren't just running for sleep every time we came off shift.
"My name isn't on here," I said.
"Marny said that's how it has to be and if you have a problem with it, talk to her," Ada said.
"You need to accept this," Mom, who was standing next to the doorway to the ready room, offered. "A captain is available to all shifts. It's why your quarters are so close to the bridge."
Without further warning we shifted into fold-space. I closed my eyes, which didn't help, then shook my head, trying to clear the swirl of color behind the lids of my eyes. I wasn't sure what I thought about being out of the watch schedule, but I'd have to live with it. When transition finally ended, I opened my eyes and made room on my forward display to show current and upcoming watches. Ada and Nick were on current watch and it looked like Tabby and Baker were up next.
"I'll retire for now," Mom said. She, no doubt, had a shift coming up later. "Liam, when you get a chance, I'd like to run over some things with you."
"I'll walk with you," I said. "It looks like Ada has things well organized."
"Best to remember that, Liam," Ada said as we cleared the bridge door and it had already started to close.
"Do you know where you're going?" I asked. Mom had turned forward and was walking fast enough that I had to hustle to keep up with her.
"Never be seen moving from one location to another lackadaisically. Crew pick up on a captain's attitude and will unconsciously adopt her stance," Mom said. At least now I knew what she wanted to talk about. "My berth is just around the corner."
We were about to round the bend that would take us to the port side of the ship when we ran into Marny and Seaman Baker. Marny turne
d sideways and pulled her hand up in a salute. Baker mimicked her. Mom continued forward, turning her shoulders to make room, giving a quick salute. I followed her example, watching Baker as I did. The woman's face, ruddy from working outside, looked unusually pale. I suspected she hadn't enjoyed transition to fold-space any more than I had.
Upon reaching the port passageway, Mom turned left to head aft. From previous exploration, I knew that to take the passageway forward would lead us down to Deck-3 where the crew were housed. Three doors down, Mom palmed open the door to a reasonably spacious room, three meters wide by four meters deep. She'd configured her bunk to a single size along the starboard bulkhead and a couch on the aft bulkhead.
"Is all that saluting necessary?" I asked.
"Better to start with it and back down than to try to add it later. Marny and I talked about it at length and we believe that since we're likely to experience combat, we want to observe a higher level of discipline than most civilian ships."
"What did you want to talk about?" I had things I wanted to start researching, although I knew I had several days to accomplish those tasks.
"Standing orders," she said.
"What's that?"
"Orders you create that organize the crew. For example, mess schedules. Will all crew eat together or officers eat by themselves? What about exercise? Is it mandatory or a suggestion? Certifications. Do you want officers and crew certifying on ship's systems? That sort of thing," she said.
"I guess I'd like people to eat together at least once a day, maybe have officers have breakfast together," I said.
"That's doable. I'd propose you gather all available personnel for evening meal at 18:30 to 19:00. That will offset with the watch change. We can set the first meal at 06:30 to 07:00. The meals we have aboard are heat and serve or meal bars. Currently, the crew is small enough that officers and crew alike should set food out. Once we get a few more crew, we can rotate that responsibility. I'll send you a schedule," she said. "As for certificate training…" Mom pulled up a list, fifteen long, of items she wanted to get through with me. Ninety minutes later, I finally escaped only by making the excuse that I needed to use the head.
"Captain on the bridge," Marny announced when I entered again. She'd placed a stool next to Baker's workstation.
"As you were," I said after a message with those words exactly popped up on my HUD from Marny.
"Where'd you go?" Tabby asked. "You've been gone a while."
"Mom wanted to go through a list of standing orders she thought I should implement."
"Like what?" Tabby asked.
I gave her the top four examples I could recall.
"Those sound reasonable," she agreed.
"Did Silver say anything to you, Marny?" I immediately felt bad that I'd interrupted her conversation with Baker.
"Aye, Cap. Perhaps you could implement the orders around meal preparation, times and locations first. That would give us a means to solicit input on the remaining items," Marny answered.
"Sounds like a good plan," I said. "Baker, what did you think of transition to fold-space?"
She looked to Marny, who nodded, then back to me. "It was ... colorful, Captain."
"Everyone keep their lunch down?" I asked.
"Mark-Ralph did, sir," she answered, her cheeks turning scarlet.
"Nothing to be done about it," I said. "I'm still trying to get used to it." Then I asked, "What do you think of our ship? Be honest."
"Air smells funny and everything is so clean. There's no dust," she said.
"Oh, there's plenty of dust, but the ship's air-scrubbers filter it all out," I said. "You'll have to ask Nick to give you a tour of the mechanical plant."
"I'd like that, sir," she answered.
I settled back into my chair to organize the tasks I needed to accomplish. Not having a watch responsibility was going to give me more free time than I was used to and I wanted to make sure I took full advantage of it.
"Marny, one more thing and I'll let you go," I said.
She gave me a reassuring grin. I think she enjoyed watching me struggle with the mantle of leadership. "Fire away, Cap." I was jealous at how confident she was in her role.
"I assume you're organizing martial training. I'd love a chance to spar with our new recruits. I'm tired of getting my head caved in by Ms. Masters."
"Aye. I was planning to talk with the two of you about that," she said looking at Tabby and then back to me. "Our trainees are required to spend one hour out of every twenty-four engaged in physical activity. Top on that list is yoga for strength and flexibility and one of the martial styles."
"Sure," Tabby said. "I'm in. I'd even be willing to set up a schedule."
"Count me in for yoga and kick-boxing." I said to Tabby.
"Already have you down."
***
"I want to spar with Masters and this yoga is stupid." Mark-Ralph was about as bendable as a tree and I understood his frustration. We’d need to spend time researching modified exercises that didn't require as much flexibility.
"Stick with it, Mark-Ralph, it will take some time. If you don't stretch, you're going to pull something."
"I've never had trouble winning a brawl, ain't that right, Big Z?"
"You handed out your fair share," Zebulon answered noncommittally. Unlike Mark-Ralph, Zebulon had taken to the yoga forms. His flexibility wasn't great, but he wasn't fighting it.
"Put you down a few times," Mark-Ralph pushed.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Ralphie," Zebulon said casually.
"Don't call me that. I hate it when people call me that."
"Good job, Baker," I interrupted, not wanting to let things get out of control. I'd learned that Baker kept mostly to herself, but watched everyone. "And for the record, Mark-Ralph, you don't want to spar with Ms. Masters."
"Are we speaking as equals here?" Mark-Ralph asked.
"If you keep it respectful, we are," I said.
"Well, respectfully, I don't think you or Masters stand a chance against either Big Z or me. I'm not sure about Baker. And personally, I'd rather look at Masters than you," he said.
"Is that how you feel about things, Zebulon?" I asked.
"Seriously?" he asked and I nodded. "I think Commander Masters is hot as hell."
I mentally face-palmed. The only thing he'd taken from the conversation was a comment on Tabby's looks. A grin flitted across Baker's face, gone as quickly as it had appeared.
"That wasn't the question," I said, trying to keep exasperation from my voice. I was losing the group and knew for a fact that Tabby was spying on us from the bridge. I'd never live this down if I didn't regain control. I stood and opened a locker that contained the safety gear, tossing gloves and head protection to each of them.
"What was the question?" Zebulon asked, the slightly mocking tone back in his voice.
"In space combat, just like hand-to-hand, agility is key. And you're right, Mark-Ralph, your extra strength and mass are definite advantages. At some point, all the agility in the universe isn't going to allow a ship the size of Hotspur to take on and defeat a dreadnaught. Much like me trying to arm-wrestle you."
Mark-Ralph hopped to his feet with his gloves in place. "I won't need the helmet. I don't give you much of a chance of getting to my head."
"Join me in the ring, Seaman," I said, pulling on shin guards but nothing else.
Zebulon and Baker hung on the ropes as Mark-Ralph crawled through. I ran, placing my hand on the top rope and swung over. Mark-Ralph started to turn as I landed one foot on his thigh and wrapped my other leg around his neck and shoulders. He tried to stand, but my inertia had already sent us spinning into the middle of the ring. I grabbed his head and used my leverage to pull my other leg around, locking my ankles in front of his chest. The two of us fell to the mat and I released, rolling on my curved back and popped to my feet. Mark-Ralph clumsily tried to gain his feet, stumbling forward while throwing a sloppy punch which I batted easily with my hand and
danced away. I considered kicking him in the butt on the way past, but I needed to teach a lesson, not completely humiliate him.
"That's not fair. I wasn't ready," he sputtered, turning on me.
"I clearly saw you in the ring," I said. "No harm, though. Let me know when you're ready." He turned and firmly planted his feet on the mat. His body tensed as he prepared to rush me. It was more warning than I ever got from either Marny or Tabby, his hips and feet broadcasting his intended path.
Like a bull, he charged, arms wide, no doubt intending to wrestle me to the ground. His speed was such that I had a few moves I could utilize. I chose to reverse my clockwise dance and slapped his outstretched hand downward as I passed. He changed direction and tried again. This time I grabbed his hand and used his momentum, rolling back onto the mat and throwing him with my leg into the ropes behind.
"What kind of bullshit is that?" Mark-Ralph sputtered as he used the ropes to stand back up.
"You're right. I had you on the ground. I should have finished you," I said.
"Hardly a fair fight." His hands were down as he approached again. "You're not even hitting me." The muscular man was breathing hard from exertion.
"Remember the Hotspur and the dreadnaught?" I asked. I stepped in, slipped his right jab with my forearm and landed a quick combination on his face. I didn't want to hit him too hard as I wasn't wearing gloves and he wasn't wearing face protection.
"You're trying to confuse me. It won't work. Once I get a hold of you, this fight's over," he said and barreled forward.
I'd positioned him perfectly and jumped up, spinning my padded heel into the side of his face. I winced for him as I felt the contact. I'd tried to pull the kick, but also wanted to make my point. Between his momentum and my heel in his face, he dropped like a rock.
Give No Quarter (Privateer Tales Book 10) Page 7