Cursed Command (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “And he got dumped on me,” she snarled. It crossed her mind that William McElney must have felt the same way when she’d arrived on Lightning. But she’d been his commanding officer, not an XO who needed to be knocked into shape. “Why did you allow her to push his name forward?”

  “I didn’t have a say in the matter,” her father said. “Candy has been building up her own association of friends.”

  “Oh,” Kat said.

  She shook her head in annoyance. Kat had often called her sister an airhead, but Candy was far from stupid. She was interested in dances and parties and countless other affairs that Kat loathed. And Candy had surrounded herself with a circle of people she considered interesting, including Justin Deveron, who bored Kat to tears. But if Candy was using her contacts to build up her own patronage network, possibly positioning herself for the dukedom after their father died, perhaps Kat should be taking more notice.

  But I never wanted to build up a political network of my own, Kat thought. I just wanted a starship.

  “I should refuse him,” she said. It would cause Candy no end of problems—and a considerable amount of embarrassment—and Kat could refuse him. “I have no idea of his qualifications.”

  Her father gave her a sardonic look. “What were your qualifications when you took command?”

  “I didn’t ask for the command,” Kat snapped. What was it about her father that made her act like a teenage girl? “Father, I don’t know him!”

  “Then I suggest you get to know him,” Duke Falcone said. “Politics . . . Candy will never forgive you if you ruin this for her.”

  “She nearly torpedoed my career last year,” Kat reminded him. “Father—”

  “We need as much influence as possible,” he snapped. “Kat, give him a fair shot.”

  Kat met his eyes. “This isn’t you putting a bungee boss into the CEO’s chair,” she said sharply. Her father had a habit of testing his young subordinates by giving them power, just to see what they’d do with it. Some of them passed the unspoken test and remained in their new posts. Others were never trusted with power again. “This is someone in a position to make life-or-death decisions that could save or damn the entire ship. I won’t be able to remove him from his post in the middle of a battle.”

  “I understand what is at stake,” her father said. “Do you?”

  “Politics,” Kat snarled.

  “Yes,” her father said. “Politics.”

  He tapped his desk meaningfully. “The Commonwealth is under a great deal of internal strain,” he said. “You know it as well as I do. The structure King Travis built was never intended to endure a long war. All our plans to gently integrate the other worlds into the whole have been tossed aside, smashed by the demands of war. The reactionaries are growing scared. What will it mean for the future?”

  Kat opened her mouth, but her father held up his hand.

  “If the reactionaries feel more threatened,” he added, “they will start making demands in the Houses of Parliament. If they do, they’ll bring a great many problems out into the open. Who knows what will happen then?”

  He shook his head. “We need the war to end now,” he warned. “But it isn’t going to end in a hurry, is it?”

  “No, Father,” Kat said. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. She’d never seen her father look . . . defeated before. “We can’t go on the offensive until we have a decisive superiority.”

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, recalling the last set of intelligence reports she’d read. A handful of additional warships had been sent behind enemy lines to disrupt the Theocracy’s economy, but there weren’t enough of them to make a real difference. Yet, she knew from Admiral Junayd’s debriefings that the Theocracy was far more fragile than they’d dared hope. The enemy could possibly collapse under its own weight.

  And if we’re wrong, she told herself sharply, we have years of fighting still to come.

  “Precisely,” her father said. “And that is why you will be taking Mr. Crenshaw as your XO.”

  Kat sucked in her breath. “Father . . . how bad is the political storm likely to be?”

  “I wish I knew,” her father said.

  He turned and rose, pacing over to look at the books lining the wall. “Tyre was founded on a powerful—and stable—economic base,” he said. “Demand rose slowly, then sharply, after the Commonwealth was founded. We even embarked on a long-term investment project to uplift the economies and industries of the planets we invited to join. But we never anticipated a war on such a scale, not until we first encountered the Theocracy, and then it was far too late.”

  “I know that, Father,” Kat said.

  “Then it’s time you came to grips with the consequences,” he added. Duke Falcone turned to face his daughter, holding his hands behind his back. “And the ramifications. We made promises. Promises that have now, through no fault of our own, been broken and left in the dust. Our plans to absorb skilled newcomers, while creating jobs and such on their homeworlds, have fallen apart. I suspect it won’t be long before there are more and more shortages on Tyre itself. How will our people cope when there are worse problems than bouts of random terrorism and sabotage? The price of just about everything is already rising. What will happen when they can no longer purchase something online and get it delivered within the hour?”

  Kat snorted, rudely.

  “I was at Piker’s Peak,” she said. The naval academy wasn’t anything as bad as Marine Boot Camp, according to Patrick Davidson, but the experience had still been a shock. “I think I had worse problems than not being able to order a toy car online.”

  “People are going to be facing deprivation,” her father said. “And that will have an effect on politics.”

  “Poor babies,” Kat sneered. She knew enough about Captain McElney’s homeworld, Hebrides, to feel no sympathy whatsoever. He knew the meaning of deprivation. He’d grown up with very limited food and drink even before the pirates had started raiding his homeworld. “Imagine how they will cope.”

  “It will be a shock,” Kat’s father agreed, seemingly unaware of her sarcasm. “And the results will be unpredictable.”

  He met her eyes. “Try to get on with your new XO, Kat,” he added. Duke Falcone almost sounded as if he were pleading. “We can’t afford another political catfight right now.”

  “I understand, father,” Kat said. She took a breath. “But if he threatens my ship and crew, I won’t hesitate to put him in the brig.”

  She rose, half expecting her father to call her back as she headed for the door. He very rarely let her have the last word. But he said nothing . . .

  . . . and that frightened Kat more than she cared to admit.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  William had had second thoughts about holding the speech in the shuttlebay as soon as he’d seen the space—a number of components had been stripped out at some point and not replaced—but it was the largest single compartment in the entire ship. He’d put Goodrich and two of his subordinates to work, checking the bay’s integrity, while he summoned the remainder of the crew to assemble at 1700. Goodrich, after being reminded that he would be in the shuttlebay too, had actually done a good job. William would have been pleased if the crew hadn’t still been flocking into the shuttlebay at 1725.

  And two crewmen had the nerve to argue that they should be excused, he thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Invitations” from a starship’s commanding officer were orders, however phrased. At least I managed to set them straight.

  He surveyed his new crew. They didn’t look very professional or very military. Only an armchair admiral would expect his men to be snappy dressers at all times, but Uncanny’s crew looked as if they’d been on combat duty for the last two years, their uniforms filthy and ill fitting; their expressions a mixture of tiredness, bitterness, and resentfulness. William knew from his experiences that crewmembers could easily fall into the trap of blaming one’s superiors for everything that went wrong. To them, he had
to seem like yet another commanding officer punching his ticket while their ship decayed into uselessness. He didn’t blame them for being wary.

  “That’s everyone, save for the watch crew,” Janet said. “And those who haven’t returned to the ship.”

  The steward sounded nervous, as if she expected him to blame her for the missing crew members. William felt a stab of irritation, which he ruthlessly suppressed. He’d already alerted the shore patrol when the missing crewmen had failed to answer the call summoning them back to the ship. They’d spend the next few days in the cells until the Admiralty decided what to do with them. Technically, they were guilty of deserting their posts, but a court-martial would be a public affair. Questions would be asked when the Opposition realized that the Uncanny had practically been abandoned when there was a war on.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “The ones we have here are the ones we will have to work with.”

  He cleared his throat. A disciplined crew would have fallen silent at once, but the Uncanny’s crew took several minutes to stop muttering among themselves and start waiting for him to speak. William sighed and then gathered himself. He had to do more, it seemed, than merely introduce himself. Somehow, he had to convince them that things were going to be different in the future.

  Otherwise they’ll just remain in their rut, William grimly realized. He’d seen crews go bad before but never on such a big scale. An alert officer—a strong officer—could have stopped it, if he’d stood up and made it clear that it would not be tolerated. And that would be the end of my command.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said shortly. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Captain Sir William McElney, and I am your new commanding officer.”

  He paused long enough to allow his words to sink in. It still felt odd to introduce himself as Sir William. A knighthood—a new knighthood—brought social cachet that an inherited title could not. They would know he’d actually done something to earn the title. By now, he would be surprised if some of the more enterprising members of the crew hadn’t looked up his profile on the fleet’s datanet. They wouldn’t be able to read the classified portions, but even the unclassified sections were impressive. He certainly hadn’t spent the last ten years manning a desk and sucking up to his superior officers.

  Not that anyone would let me man a desk on Tyre, he thought wryly. I’m too insignificant to get such a position.

  “An ordinary commanding officer would make a flowery speech at this point,” William continued, when he judged the moment was ripe. “He’d tell you all what a fine bunch of fellows you are; he’d promise glory everlasting and fame eternal if you just follow him blindly. And he’d brag about his accomplishments . . .”

  He paused, noting to his relief the handful of quickly hidden smiles.

  “You’re not going to get any of that from me. I am going to be blunt.

  “This ship is a disgrace. I know, she has a bad reputation. I know, two of her commanding officers and a dozen other crewmen died in accidents. I know, she was intended as a testbed and only entered service after a dozen of her sisters. I know all that and I don’t care. This ship is a disgrace! She’s a threat to life and limb. Right now, she’s more dangerous to her crew than she is to the enemy.”

  He made a visible show of getting his anger under control, silently gauging their reaction. A handful of crewmembers looked shamefaced, but others looked as if they were keeping their expressions under control. Did they think he was just another official blowhard? Or a crook? Or someone who would also be dead soon enough? He honestly didn’t understand how any crew could have tolerated serving on such a dangerous ship. Someone should have contacted the IG or filed an anonymous complaint.

  “This is how it’s going to be,” he told them.

  “We have a planned departure date, one week from now,” he added. He ignored the collective sharp intake of breath. A week sounded ridiculously optimistic. “By that time, I want this ship up and ready to go. I’ve already contacted the Admiralty and requested additional crew, both shipyard workers and starship crewmen, but you will be doing the majority of the work. So I have this to say to you.”

  He paused again. “I’m going to be working my ass off over the next week, doing everything in my power to move the work along,” he warned. “I expect the same commitment from each and every one of you. This ship is going to be brought back into service as quickly as possible. If there are problems, I expect them to be brought to my attention; if you have proposed solutions, bring them to my attention too. I will not hesitate to make certain that those who work above and beyond the call of duty will be rewarded.

  “Some of you are thinking that nothing is going to change. Some of you are thinking that I won’t last long enough to make any real difference. Some of you are thinking that you just don’t care, one way or the other. Your careers are already in the gutter and you don’t have a hope in hell of getting out.

  “Well, you’re wrong.

  “This is your last chance to be worthy of the uniforms you wear. If you forget the past and put in the effort, you’ll have a clean slate and a shot at a rejuvenated career. Get rid of anything you might have that’s against regulations and get to work. You have my word, as your commanding officer, that this is your second chance. Use it or leave the ship before the newcomers arrive. There will be no further warnings.”

  He allowed himself a moment to again survey the crowd. He knew that the crew would have a lot of possessions technically deemed “against regulations,” from porn caches to illicit drugs. He might wink at the former, but the latter was incredibly dangerous. If there were any drug addicts on the Uncanny, they’d be wise to apply for transfer before the ship was searched from top to bottom. Tyre might have a relaxed attitude towards recreational drug use, but that attitude wasn’t shared by the military. William wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at anyone caught with anything more dangerous than shipboard rotgut.

  “I expect each and every one of you to remember that you are serving officers or crewmen in His Majesty’s Navy,” he concluded. “Like I said, I’ll be working my ass off over the next week, and I expect the same commitment from you. I swear to you that any crewmember who puts in that level of commitment will have me backing him or her to the hilt. But anyone who decides to be lazy, anyone who decides to fuck around with the ship’s safety . . . you’ll find me your worst goddamned nightmare. And you can take that to the bank.

  “I’ll be in my Ready Room, putting together the intensive repair and maintenance schedule,” he added. “If any of you wish to bring problems to my attention, you may visit in person or send me a message through the datanet. Until then, get some sleep. We start work in six hours, once I’ve finished putting the schedule together. Dismissed.”

  He waited, wondering just how many of the crew would remember that they were supposed to salute. A ragged wave of salutes washed through the compartment—he couldn’t help thinking that his instructors would have broken down and cried—before the assembled crewmen turned and slowly filed out of the compartment. At least they weren’t chatting to one another. He hoped they’d have the sense to get back to their bunks and catch some sleep before receiving their assignments. And get rid of anything that would get them in deep shit if they were caught.

  It won’t be that easy, he thought numbly. An addict won’t want to give up his stash, and he’ll keep telling himself that he won’t be caught.

  “Captain,” Janet said. She held out a datapad. “I have a complete copy of the new roster for you.”

  William took it and ran his eyes down the list. Four of his senior officers were marked as absent, including the XO. They’d all be refused permission to return to the ship, even if the shore patrol didn’t arrest them on sight. And nearly two hundred crewmen and junior officers were marked as missing. In theory, a heavy cruiser could be operated with a mere tenth of her seven-hundred-strong crew, but William wouldn’t have cared to try it in practice. The Uncann
y’s command datanet and automation couldn’t be relied upon, at least not yet.

  And if we took damage, we’d need to repair the ship, he reminded himself. That won’t be easy with a reduced crew.

  “I’ll go through this in greater detail later,” he said. “Put out a call for replacement crew and officers.”

  “Aye, sir,” Janet said. She paused. “But will we get them?”

  “We should,” William said. Uncanny was due to depart in a week, after all. The personnel department wouldn’t make too much of a fuss if he scooped up officers and crew, even if they hadn’t requested to serve on Uncanny. Hell, he could take crewmen who were in line for other postings, citing the needs of war. “But leave the XO post to me.”

  “Aye, sir,” Janet said.

  William nodded, slowly. “Are there any other concerns?”

  “The Chief Engineer needs you to sign off on an emergency request for spare parts and other supplies,” Janet said before hesitating. “There’s a problem with them.”

  “I see,” William said. He looked at her. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Janet flushed. “Can we discuss it . . . elsewhere?”

  William made a face, but nodded and led the way back to his Ready Room. The corridors looked deserted; he hoped that meant that most of the crew were in their bunks. Yet, if Janet was fearful of being overheard . . . the sooner the command datanet was scrubbed, the better. If people had been poking into the network, they might have laid the groundwork for a systems failure at the worst possible time.

  His Ready Room was a mess, much to his annoyance. Captain Abraham seemed to like clutter; he’d scattered books, paperwork, and pieces of art everywhere. And the paintings on the bulkheads were downright pornographic. William would have been embarrassed to have them hanging anywhere someone might see, if he’d been inclined to have them at all. He didn’t even want to summon a team of crewmen to take them down and send them to the former captain’s relatives. God alone knew what they’d think of the paintings.