He sat down on the chair and motioned for Janet to sit on the sofa. “All right,” he said. “What’s the problem?”
Janet met his eyes. He found it hard to read her expression. “Captain Abraham,” she said finally, “was selling off military components.”
William wasn’t too surprised. “I see.”
“He would take our regular shipments from the fleet base and have them distributed to his contacts,” Janet said. “Some of the supplies would go to other warships, sir, but others were passed on to civilian ships. They were just never plugged into Uncanny.”
“I see,” William said again. He’d wondered how anyone had managed to sell components from Uncanny. Their buyers would wonder if they’d bring them bad luck. But if the components had never been used . . . they might just overlook their origin. “And no one ever thought to report it?”
“Captain Abraham had powerful friends,” Janet said. She looked down at the deck. “And everyone who knew had an interest in keeping their mouths shut.”
“Of course they did,” William said. Civilian spacers would happily pay through the nose for military-grade supplies. They came with so many redundancies built in that they could last for years, particularly when installed on a civilian ship. “The whole scheme would have fallen apart eventually, would it not?”
He shook his head slowly as he spoke. Yes, it would have fallen apart . . . unless someone was quietly changing the records to cover their tracks. A clerk in the supply department would be more than enough to alter the files. There were so many components moving through the logistics network that any discrepancies might simply be overlooked. Captain Abraham’s little scam might have gone undetected for years.
“The supply department will question our request for replacements,” Janet pointed out. “And that will cause problems.”
“Yes,” William agreed. “It will.”
“We’re due to leave in a week,” he reminded her. “Put in the requests anyway. I’ll write a covering note. They’ll have to give us the supplies if they want us heading out on time.”
“They’ll wonder what happened to the other supplies,” Janet insisted.
“I’ll leave that to the IG,” William said. He rubbed his eyes in irritation. The last thing he needed, right now, was to spend the next month testifying in front of a board of inquiry, particularly when his ship was meant to depart. “Do you know who else was involved?”
“A couple of others,” Janet said. She swallowed hard. “They haven’t returned to the ship.”
“Then pass the details on to me,” William said. “The IG can handle them.”
He had practically promised amnesty to any sinners on his crew, provided they put the past behind them. But the IG wouldn’t be inclined to honor his promises, particularly after they discovered the scale of the deception. They’d demand heads on plates, he knew from bitter experience. And Captain Abraham, the big fish, was dead. They wouldn’t have the satisfaction of having someone to put on trial if—when—the whole affair became a political football.
If they’re among the deserters, he thought, they can go straight into custody. But if they’re not . . .
He pushed the thought aside for later contemplation and leaned forward. “I have a different question for you,” he said carefully. “What did you actually do for Captain Abraham?”
Janet flushed. “I was his . . . his mistress.”
William groaned. Regulations flatly forbade liaisons between a commanding officer and anyone under his command, although there was some degree of flexibility worked into the system. It wasn’t unknown for a captain to bring a mistress onto a ship, even though such an affair could cause a stink if something went wrong. However, Janet was a bona fide naval steward, directly under Captain Abraham’s command. Their relationship was flatly illegal.
And she doesn’t seem to be mourning him, he thought. She may not have been given much choice in the matter.
He leaned back. “How did that happen?”
Janet’s flush deepened. “He talked me into it,” she said. “And then . . .”
“You were committed,” William said. He cocked his head. “Did you apply for a transfer?”
“He blocked the one attempt I made,” Janet said. “Then I was trapped because—”
“Because you were on this ship,” William finished. He met her eyes. “Rest assured, I don’t want a mistress. I need a steward.”
“I can do that,” Janet said. She sounded relieved, her face slowly returning to normal. “Sir . . .”
“Good,” William said. “I assume you know who’s responsible for producing the rotgut?”
He turned to survey the compartment, not bothering to wait for her answer. Of course she’d know. A captain’s steward should know everything she needed to know to do her job.
“Tell the producer that we’re operating on the one-pint rule from now on,” he added. “All the usual rules apply. I don’t want a single drunken crewman on my ship while we’re on active service. And if they don’t feel inclined to listen to me, they’re going right out the airlock.”
Janet coughed. “Sir?”
“Emergency regulations,” William reminded her. He wasn’t entirely bluffing. “I can have someone put to death for sabotaging the ship and crew if necessary.”
“Yes, sir,” Janet said. “I’ll see to it.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Captain,” Lieutenant Bobby Wheeler said, “Commander Sirius Crenshaw has boarded the ship.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Kat said. “Please have him shown to my Ready Room.”
She sighed as she leaned back from her desk. Two days had passed since she’d returned to Lightning, two days spent working her way through the files and consulting with her senior officers. Commander Crenshaw was not going to have an easy time of it. Everyone had known, even if they hadn’t been supposed to know, that Commander Christopher John Roach, the former tactical officer, had been earmarked for the post. Having an outsider brought in didn’t sit well with his friends. Kat had authorized Roach’s transfer to Uncanny almost as soon as the request came in, trying to save herself from some trouble in the future.
It’s still a problem, she thought. Crenshaw hasn’t seen any real combat service.
The irony still didn’t amuse her. She had no doubt that William had felt the same way too, when he’d discovered that his commanding officer had been promoted over his head and over the heads of countless others with more experience. He’d initially found the experience of taking orders from someone thirty-one years younger than him humiliating. Eventually he’d grown to accept her and work with her . . . she could do the same with Crenshaw. If nothing else, she reminded herself, she was his superior officer. She could beach him if necessary.
She pushed the thought aside as the hatch chimed, alerting her to Crenshaw’s arrival. Keying the switch under her desk, she straightened up and watched the hatch opening, revealing a marine and a starkly handsome young man. Sirius Crenshaw looked to be in his late thirties, with bright blue eyes, blond hair, a firm jaw, and a strongly muscular body. He’d actually had his uniform tailored to show off his form, she noted; it wasn’t against regulations, even though it was definitely frowned upon. He was handsome . . . and yet, there was something in the way he moved that bothered her. He wasn’t quite used to his own body.
He’s had his body enhanced, Kat thought as she rose to her feet. No one was that muscular without cheating. And quite recently too.
“Commander,” she said. “Welcome aboard.”
Commander Crenshaw saluted smartly. “Thank you, Captain,” he said. He had a very aristocratic voice, suggesting that his experience outside Tyre and Piker’s Peak had been limited. He’d certainly never learned to dampen the accent. “It is my pleasure to serve.”
Kat nodded, dismissing the marine before motioning for Crenshaw to take a seat. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, once the hatch hissed closed. “I . . .”
“I must say
that it is a great honor to serve with the remarkable Lady Falcone,” Crenshaw added. “I was a great fan of the way you put Lord Smelly in his place.”
Kat felt her mouth drop open in shock. Interrupting the captain? And Lord Smelly? Who the hell was he? Who the hell did Crenshaw think he was? She’d looked up his family and, while they were far from unimportant, they were hardly her social equals. Did Crenshaw honestly believe that his social rank gave him the right to talk to her as if he was her superior?
“You really taught him a lesson,” Crenshaw continued. “I . . .”
“Shut up,” Kat said sharply.
Crenshaw closed his mouth, his eyes going wide with astonishment. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that. Kat wondered, briefly, if she could just dismiss him right now and dispatch him back to the planet. Her superiors wouldn’t be amused and her father would go ballistic, but she had a feeling the king would support her. Yet, the last thing the Commonwealth needed was another political crisis. She’d just have to do the best she could.
“You are here to serve as my XO,” she said, keeping her voice level with an effort. If nothing else, he should know not to suck up to her. “I don’t care about anything else, not when we’re hastily prepping for deployment. If you can’t do that, you can leave right now and I can put in a request for another XO.”
Crenshaw stared at her. “My Lady . . .”
“That’s Captain,” Kat snapped. “This isn’t the Royal Palace, Mr. XO.”
She went on before he could say a word. “I understand that you served as tactical officer on HMS Dangerous,” she continued. “Did you see action?”
“No, Captain,” Crenshaw said. “We were posted to the border, not to the war front. The only real excitement we saw was a pirate ship hunting our convoy. We blew her out of space.”
“I see,” Kat said. “After that . . . you applied for a posting as XO?”
“Yes, Captain,” Crenshaw said. “My application was fast-tracked. I received my promotion two weeks after my return to Tyre, but I wasn’t posted to a ship.”
Of course not, Kat thought. Any captain worth his salt would pull out all the stops to keep an inexperienced XO from taking a post on his crew.
“I finally had to ask my family for help,” Crenshaw admitted, as casually as if he were ordering dinner. “They called in a few favors, and here I am.”
“Yes, you are,” Kat said. The nasty part of her mind wondered if she could arrange an accident. Or perhaps she should just send Crenshaw back to his family in the certain knowledge that she wouldn’t receive reprimands until she returned from the Jorlem Sector. “I have very high expectations of my crew, Commander. I will expect no less from you.”
“Of course, Captain,” Crenshaw said.
“You’ll formally take up the post tomorrow morning,” Kat explained. “Before then, I want you—”
“Not now?” Crenshaw asked. “Captain, I . . .”
“Should not be interrupting your commanding officer! You’ve never served on an Uncanny-class cruiser before, so I suggest”—she hardened her voice to make it clear that it was actually an order—“that you spend the next few hours familiarizing yourself with the ship and crew. You’ll be formally invested as XO tomorrow morning, after shift change.”
Crenshaw looked irritated, but he had the wit to keep his mouth shut.
Kat gathered herself. “Make good use of the time,” she ordered. “Do you have any other issues that should be brought to my attention?”
She cursed her father under her breath. It was clear that Crenshaw and she were never going to be friends. Crenshaw had been lucky—damn lucky—that Dangerous hadn’t been posted to the war front. And so was everyone else. A failure there might have had disastrous consequences. Admiral Christian would not have been amused.
“I brought two servants with me,” Crenshaw said. “Should I arrange for them to be assigned cabins?”
“No,” Kat said. Gods! How stupid was this man? “You’ll put them back on the shuttle and send them home.”
Crenshaw gaped. “I have a right to servants . . .”
“Not on a military ship,” Kat said. She had a steward. Everyone else had to handle their own affairs. “Did you have servants on Dangerous?”
“Well, no,” Crenshaw said. “But I’m a commander now . . .”
“You still don’t get servants,” Kat said. Had someone set Crenshaw up for a fall? Or was he just the idiot he sounded like? “Send them back to Tyre, Commander. Then start exploring the ship. I want you aware of every last nook and cranny before we depart.”
Crenshaw rose. “Yes, Captain,” he said.
He saluted and then turned, striding out of the compartment as if he were on a parade ground. Kat watched him go, thinking dark thoughts about her sister. If Kat hadn’t worked so hard to get Sir William a promotion . . . was someone taking an elaborate revenge? Or was she merely due for some bad luck? Perhaps the Uncanny curse was reaching out to strike her.
On impulse, she keyed the command datanet, ordering it to keep track of Commander Crenshaw’s movements, then went back to her work. Zack Lynn, her chief engineer, had requested a multitude of spare parts from the logistics officers, but they were insisting on having the request countersigned before they produced the required items. Kat read the request, signed it, and sent it off, hoping that would be enough. Lightning was an important ship, but there was no hiding the fact that she wasn’t on her way to the war front.
And it puts us behind ships that are going to the war, she thought, darkly.
She shook her head in annoyance. Independent command was the best post in the navy—and she was technically a squadron commander too—but it brought its own problems. She was expecting trouble—the reports from the Jorlem Sector had made it very clear that piracy was definitely on the rise—yet the logistics officers thought otherwise. It wasn’t as if they could rely on drawing spare parts from forward bases, if necessary. There were no forward bases.
Messages blinked up in front of her, and she skimmed through them, wishing the ship was already underway. There was just too much crap she had to deal with, crap she would normally pass on to her XO. But she didn’t know just how far Crenshaw could be trusted, particularly because he was not accustomed to the ship. The last message from William had been brief but had warned her that Uncanny might not be ready to depart on time. Kat had no idea how the Admiralty would react, yet she knew better than to slow her own preparations. The First Space Lord might prefer having two ships in the sector, but having one patrolling the spaceways was better than none.
Junk, she thought, crossly.
She keyed her terminal, hoping, praying, that she would find Crenshaw following orders and exploring the ship. Instead, according to the datanet, he was sitting in his cabin. She stared down at the screen for a long moment, feeling her temper rise. Unpacking his gear—how much crap had he brought?—shouldn’t take long. Even if he’d brought everything he could, he certainly shouldn’t be unpacking. What was he doing?
“Idiot,” she said out loud.
She tapped the console. “Commander Crenshaw, report to my Ready Room,” she ordered. “Now.”
And if he doesn’t shape up, she told herself as she waited, I’ll send him back home and to hell with the consequences.
The hatch opened five minutes later. Kat was grimly amused. If nothing else, Crenshaw had made his way from his cabin to her Ready Room with commendable speed. He looked surprised to have been summoned back so quickly. Then it struck her, suddenly, that he didn’t understand that he’d been doing the wrong thing. Clearly, no one had taken him aside and explained that this sort of behavior was unacceptable.
But I got away with a lot, Kat thought as she pointed him to a chair. On impulse, she called up his file and skimmed the reports. They were beautifully vague, but reading between the lines she saw trouble. He probably got away with everything too.
She kept her eyes on the terminal, forcing him to wait. It was a petty powe
r play, something her father had taught her would only be used by a person who was unsure of herself, but she had to admit that it felt surprisingly satisfying. Perhaps Crenshaw would open his mouth, giving her an excuse to tear a strip off him . . . or perhaps he’d have the sense to keep his mouth shut and wait, knowing that she was putting him in his place. She was actually quite surprised, when she came to the end of the file, that he hadn’t said a word. Perhaps she’d gotten through to him after all.
“I have a question,” she said, “and I want a clear answer. Why were you in your cabin?”
Crenshaw looked surprised. “I was taking a rest . . .”
“I gave you specific orders to explore the ship,” Kat said. “I don’t recall saying that you could have a rest first.”
She met his eyes. “If you have problems,” she added, “you should tell me.”
“I needed a rest,” Crenshaw said. He didn’t look tired. “Captain . . .”
Kat glanced back at the file. The word lazy didn’t appear anywhere, but there was a strong suggestion that Crenshaw’s work had been less than satisfactory. It didn’t look as though there was a strong reason to bust him out of the Navy—a man with Crenshaw’s connections could only be busted out if there was an ironclad case against him—yet his former CO had made no attempt to keep him. That, Kat suspected, was clear proof that the CO hadn’t wanted to keep him. She’d certainly tried to keep good officers under her command.
“Let me tell you something bluntly,” she said in a tone that dared Crenshaw to interrupt her. “I don’t give a damn how you got this post. I don’t care about your career. I don’t care what sort of relationship you have with my sister. And I don’t care how many other relatives you have that are trying to get you a post on a starship heading far away from Tyre. I don’t give a fucking damn!”
Crenshaw flinched. “Captain . . .”
“Shut up,” Kat snapped. “I don’t care.”
She glared at him until he leaned back in his chair. “All I care about is that you do your fucking job,” she hissed. “If you can’t handle it, leave now and I will happily tell our superiors that you are not qualified for anything more challenging than micromanaging a sand farm on a desert planet. If you can’t handle it, and you keep trying to handle it, I’ll kick you off the ship in disgrace. I don’t care what happens afterwards.”
Cursed Command (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 3) Page 6