by David Drake
As an ex-naval officer, Merikur knew that even in orbit it was unusual, even potentially dangerous, to call the bridge crew to attention, but he also knew what Yamaguchi was trying to do. She was simultaneously paying him the respect denied him on boarding while also demonstrating the readiness of her crew.
Still, the point made, there was no reason to have a dysfunctional bridge crew. “As you were. Thank you, Captain . . .”
Yamaguchi’s body was no more than five feet tall but her personality filled the bridge. “Captain Marie Yamaguchi, Sir. I apologize on behalf of myself and the ship for my absence when you came aboard. Shall I summon my first officer?”
Merikur smiled. Yamaguchi was offering to relinquish her command. Someone had screwed up and she was accepting the responsibility. His respect for her went up a notch. “That won’t be necessary, Captain.”
From the corner of his eye Merikur saw the tension drain out of the crew members near enough to hear. The crew liked Yamaguchi and was pulling for her. Better and better. “I could use a cup of coffee though.”
In spite of her best efforts to look impassive, Merikur saw relief in Yamaguchi’s eyes. She’d met the general and survived. “Of course, Sir. My day cabin is right this way.”
As in every other Port Class Cruiser, the captain’s day cabin was just aft of the bridge. As he entered, Merikur noticed a transparent display case filled with sea shells and stopped to admire them. Another side of Yamaguchi’s personality. “Pretty.”
“Thank you, Sir. A hobby of mine.”
As she ordered coffee Merikur took a chair. He’d hardly settled in when the coffee arrived and was served by a Cernian steward. Like most Cernians this one was short, no taller than Yamaguchi, and olive-green in color. Many humans called them trolls. Short and squat, their heads seemed to merge with their torsos, and at first glance their features seemed coarse and ugly. A closer inspection revealed intelligent eyes and an expressive, remarkably human-looking mouth. Like most Cernians, this one wore a short jacket and skirt combination.
Remembering Ritt’s comments about possible conflict with the Cernians, Merikur made a mental note to find out how many were on board. He blew the steam off his coffee and took a sip. “Good coffee.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Merikur found himself looking into bright brown eyes. He could see the wheels turning. Yamaguchi’s actual rank, commander, was the same as his less than a day ago. Obviously she’d heard about his double jump to general and was wondering what made him so special. Well, he couldn’t answer that one, because he didn’t know himself. But he could clear the air. “Let’s clear the deck, Captain.”
“I’d like that, Sir.”
“I’m going to need all the help I can get to carry out my orders. That includes straight talk from my senior officers. So when we’re alone let’s cut all the ‘yes Sir, no Sir’ crap and just talk. My name’s Anson.”
She grinned. “And mine’s Marie.”
“Good,” Merikur said. “O.K. Marie how’s the ship? Can she run? And more importantly, can she fight?”
Yamaguchi took a sip of coffee. “She’s as good as any twenty-year-old ship can be, and in answer to your questions, she can fight better than she can run. Newer hulls can run circles around us.”
“Fair enough. Now the senator. Is he pissed because I didn’t come running?”
Yamaguchi laughed. “No, he’s not pissed, not according to what my ensign tells me, but his chief of staff, a guy named Tenly, sure is. But I think the senator was amused. If anything, you probably gained some points with him.”
“Good.” Merikur swallowed the last of his coffee. “Well, I guess I’d better go and see him. What time are we scheduled to break orbit?”
Yamaguchi glanced at the watch strapped to her wrist. “About three standard hours from now. The senator’s in a hurry.”
Merikur stood. “That’s understandable, I suppose. Thanks for the coffee, Marie.”
“You’re welcome, Anson. Come back any time.” She said his name carefully as if it might break. “And Anson?”
Merikur paused by the door. “Yes?”
“Welcome aboard.”
He nodded and disappeared around the corner. Yamaguchi leaned back and raised her coffee cup in salute. “To the Naval Appointments Board. I think the idiots finally got one right.”
###
The wardroom was fairly large—Port Class Cruisers were large ships—and packed with people. Civilians talked to each other, officers came and went, and everyone shouted orders at the small army of aliens and enlisted people who actually did the work.
Remembering the attaché case he’d left with Nolte, Merikur stopped a passing Cernian and said, “Excuse me. I left my attaché case in my stateroom. Cabin four on B deck. Would you get it, please?”
“Of course, General. It would be a pleasure.” The Cernian clapped his hands in a formal salute and disappeared into the crowd. Right at that moment a chief petty officer noticed him, realized who he was, and bellowed, “Attention on deck!”
All the uniforms snapped to attention while the civilians looked around to see what the fuss was about. Merikur spoke. “I’m General Merikur. Would the most senior officer in this room please step forward?”
A harassed looking lieutenant commander stepped forward. From the red braid running over the lieutenant commander’s right shoulder, Merikur deduced he was one of Windsor’s military aides. A rather recent one given the man’s obvious confusion. Merikur sympathized.
“I think I’m senior at the moment, Sir.”
“Excellent. Your name?”
“Moskone, Sir.”
“Thank you, Commander Moskone.”
Merikur turned to the now silent crowd. “From now on you will submit your needs to Commander Moskone. You will do this one at a time. He will prioritize your requests and assign people to carry them out. Please remember that this is a warship and not a cruise liner. Although the crew will do everything they can to ensure your comfort, military necessity may require them to return to their normal duties at any time. If this occurs, please try to be understanding. In the meantime, I see the wardroom bar is open. Perhaps those of you with less urgent requests would step over and have a drink on me. Thank you. Carry on.”
As half the crowd headed for the bar, and the rest lined up to see Moskone, Merikur heard a voice at his elbow. “General Merikur?”
“Yes?” He turned to find a man in livery standing by his side. He wore a tight-fitting grey tunic with a high collar. He had nervous little eyes, a sizeable nose, and a forehead that looked like it must be perpetually wrinkled with worry. A large crest, Senator Windsor’s no doubt, decorated his breast pocket. A vein throbbed in his right temple. Before the man could answer, Merikur said, “Chief of Staff Tenly, right?”
“He’s wired to the max,” Merikur’s AID volunteered. “Makes citizen Ritt look like a piker.”
Tenly looked surprised, and disappointed. “That’s correct, General, I . . .”
“. . . Want to introduce me to the senator. Lead the way.”
Obviously miffed, Tenly led him across the wardroom, the crowd parting before him. Merikur spotted Senator Windsor right away. The man had that special something which causes some people to stick out in a crowd.
Aside from that indefinable charisma, the senator was a handsome man with thick black hair, flashing brown eyes, and perfect teeth. If Windsor had any flaw at all it was his hawklike nose, but even that worked to his advantage, granting him a slightly predatory air. He rose at Merikur’s approach and stepped around Tenly to hold out his hand.
Forced aside, the Chief of Staff could only glower and watch the two men come together. “Senator Windsor . . . I’m General Merikur. It’s an honor to serve under you, Sir.”
The senator’s handshake was strong and firm. He nodded towards the other side of the room where Lieutenant Commander Moskone seemed to be bringing things under control. “You have a way with words, General. Perhaps you
should give politics a try.”
“And from what I hear, you get things done, Senator. The military could use an officer like you.”
Windsor laughed. “Point and counter point. Sit down, General. We have a great deal to discuss.”
Merikur took a seat at what normally served as the wardroom table, and was now functioning as both desk and conference table for Windsor and his staff. Windsor gestured towards a tray.
Merikur shook his head. “Thanks, Senator, but I just had coffee with Captain Yamaguchi.”
“Ah, yes. First a soldier must look to his weapons.”
Windsor smiled, but Merikur got the point nonetheless. Windsor had raised the issue of Merikur’s priorities and then put it aside. The message was clear. “I’m giving you this one, but don’t push your luck.” Merikur decided to clear the air.
“Can we speak frankly, Sir?”
“I sincerely hope so, General. A good working relationship is critical to our success. What’s on your mind?”
“Simply this, Senator . . . Or should I say ‘Governor’?”
“I won’t be sworn in until we reach Harmony Cluster.”
“Then for the moment, I’ll stick to ‘Senator.’ Ideally, our relationship should be a simple one in which you give the orders and I follow them. And that’s how I hope it will be. But I must warn you that under certain circumstances I have orders to act on my own.”
Windsor nodded thoughtfully. “And those circumstances are?”
Merikur grinned. “Beats the hell out of me, Sir. I’m to make sure you don’t ‘go too far.’ What that means, the bastards wouldn’t say.”
Windsor threw his head back and laughed. “So if you’re right they give you a medal, and if you’re wrong they hang your ass! By God, General, we have something in common!”
Merikur smiled. The senator had all the gloss of a customized pistol and was just as dangerous. Merikur liked him. “It would seem so, Sir.”
Windsor slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s have an agreement, you and I. If you feel I’m heading in the wrong direction, you let me know. Then if we can’t find a way to work things out . . . you’ll do whatever you think is correct. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough, Sir,” Merikur answered, with unstated reservations.
“Good. What else is on your mind?”
“I’m told there’s a possibility of conflict with Cernians.”
“Excuse me.” It was the Cernian servant with Merikur’s attaché case. “Your case, Sir.”
“Ah, let’s ask an expert about that. General Merikur, may I present my closest advisor, Eitor Senda.”
Merikur felt the blood rush to his face. He’d sent Senator Windsor’s closest advisor to bring his attaché case! He started to speak, but realized he didn’t know a respectful form of address appropriate to aliens in general or Cernians in particular. As far as he knew, the Cernian had no military rank, and he wasn’t a citizen . . . so what was he?
Senda smiled and answered Merikur’s unasked question. “My people do not use titles the way humans do, General. Please call me Eitor.”
As the alien spoke, Merikur was unable to spot any anger or resentment at his gaffe, but he apologized anyway.
“Think nothing of it,” the Cernian replied easily. “I used to make the same mistake on Terra. All you generals look alike.”
Merikur laughed and felt somewhat better. Another Cernian arrived and offered Senda a curiously shaped metal device. Senda leaned on it and Merikur realized it was some sort of chair.
Noticing Merikur’s curiosity, Senda said, “On Cernia, we use human furniture in our torture chambers.”
The humans laughed and Windsor said, “Speaking of Cernia . . . why don’t you give the general a quick briefing. I’m sure he’ll sleep better.”
“I have the most recent intelligence estimates on file,” Merikur’s AID volunteered. “Not that they’ll do you much good unless you take the time to read them.”
“Well,” the alien said thoughtfully, “we Cernians are just part of a very complicated situation at the center of which is the Haiken Maru.”
Like most naval officers, Merikur was familiar with the Haiken Maru Conglomerate. It had started as a simple shipping line, but it had grown over the years until it controlled entire systems, and its political influence reached deep into the Senate. In spite of strong evidence that the conglomerate was engaged in smuggling and unlawful commerce with pirates, navy ships still had orders to avoid undue “harassment” of Haiken Maru vessels.
“Like many other conglomerates,” Senda continued, “the Haiken Maru has its own security forces.”
“Which brings us to Harmony Cluster,” Windsor added.
“Yes,” Senda agreed patiently. “The Haiken Maru is quite strong within Harmony Cluster, and since they use a great deal of alien labor, they will probably resist the senator’s reforms. The mining world called ‘Teller’ is a case in point. It seems the workers object to conditions there, and are fighting some sort of guerilla war.”
“Which is where the Cernians come in,” Windsor added helpfully.
The alien gave Windsor what might have been an annoyed look, although Merikur wasn’t sufficiently familiar with Cernian facial expressions to be sure. “Yes, that is where we Cernians come in. The labor force on Teller is part Cernian.”
“So Cernian forces might choose to intervene?”
Senda closed both eyes and opened them. The Cernian equivalent of a shrug. “Possibly. Like humans, various Cernians have various opinions. There should be more current information available when we reach the Cluster itself.”
“Which isn’t to say we won’t have other problems,” Windsor added cheerfully. “You know, pirates, crop failures, disease, that sort of thing.”
“I can hardly wait,” Merikur replied dryly.
“However,” Windsor added with a smile, “there’s something more pressing for us to worry about right now.”
“There is?”
“Why, yes. I want you to marry my niece before we break orbit.”
Chapter 3
The wedding was a brief and depressing affair. Bethany Windsor was beautiful, but her eyes were red from crying.
Merikur was grimly formal, replying to Captain Yamaguchi’s questions with grunts of assent, flushing with embarrassment when asked to slip the ring onto her slim finger. Even the ring was false, something that Tenly supplied and which Bethany removed the second the ceremony was over.
Senator Windsor meanwhile looked on with cheerful enthusiasm, nodding as Yamaguchi read the traditional words, and slapping Senda on the back when it was all over. “Excellent, just excellent! All right you two, off to your stateroom, I’m sure you have lots to discuss!” The latter was delivered with a broad wink to Merikur.
Straining to maintain some semblance of dignity, Merikur ignored the wink, and extended an arm to his new wife. To his tremendous relief she took it. They walked in silence until the stateroom hatch hissed closed behind them.
Bethany crossed the cabin and stood facing a bulkhead. Her head was bowed and her voice tight with emotion. “General, I wish to apologize for my earlier behavior. It was unforgivable. If I wanted privacy, I should have closed the hatch. Can you accept my apology?”
She was so unhappy, so completely miserable, that Merikur wanted to comfort her. But all he could offer was a few inadequate words. “Of course. I can imagine how you feel, I’m . . .”
“Can you ?” She whirled to face him. “Can you imagine what it’s like to have someone like Tenly show up at your home and tell you that your marriage had been dissolved? That the husband you love has been reassigned? That your father’s brother is giving you to some general in return for services rendered? Can you really imagine what that’s like? No? Well let me tell you something, General Merikur, it hurts so much that I’d just as soon be dead.”
For a moment they stood there, she hysterical with grief, and he speechless from the utter injustice of it all. She’d been m
arried? To another officer? Why hadn’t Windsor told him?
Because Windsor didn’t think it was important. After all, what were the wishes of two or three people when compared to the future of the whole human race? The senator’s eyes were so full of his own vision he was blind to everything else.
But she didn’t have to blame Anson Merikur. He didn’t want the marriage any more than she did. He’d married her out of duty—under threat—goddamn it, the same reason she’d married him. The least she could do was not act as though he were an animal bent on dragging her off to bed against her will.
Merikur squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Rest assured I have no intentions of . . . imposing myself upon you. I suggest that for the balance of the trip, I sleep out here while you use the sleeping cabin. Please try to think of us as comrades in misery. If there’s anything I can do to make your journey more comfortable, please call on me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“No,” said Bethany, looking down at her spread fingernails. “We have one more piece of mutual business.”
“Excuse me?” said Merikur. He paused in the middle of a step toward the door and turned.
She ran her finger down the touch-sensitive closure beneath the left arm of her dress, then began to lift the garment’s hem over her head. “We have to consummate the marriage,” she said in a voice muffled slightly by the fabric.
“Don’t be absurd!” Merikur snapped. He glanced reflexively over his shoulder to make sure the door was fully closed.
Beneath the dress was a body-stocking so sheer that only the fabric’s slightly greater albedo permitted Merikur to distinguish it from his wife’s bare, tawny flesh. Her breasts were too firm to need even minimal support . . .
“Absurd, General?” she said coldly. She flung the dress into a corner, hooked her thumbs beneath the straps of the body-stocking, and took a deep breath. “What could be more absurd than to have my—let’s call it my life—” she looked up fiercely, meeting Merikur’s eyes for the first time since she’d made her announcement, “yes, let’s say my life, destroyed by a political marriage. And have it benefit no one, because I was too fastidious to make the marriage legal.”