“It was interesting,” Crenshaw said. “I did wonder at Uncanny’s reaction speed.”
“She’s not taken part in exercises or real operations for months,” Kat reminded him, bluntly. “Her crew needs the practice more than ours.”
Not that it would keep me from drilling the crew until they can work their consoles in their sleep, she added, silently. We’re going to be very far from help.
“That excuse won’t be accepted in wartime,” Crenshaw pointed out. “The enemy won’t let them have an easy day because of it.”
“Of course not,” Kat said. “Any other thoughts?”
“We need to carry out more exercises,” Crenshaw said. He paused. “There is another matter of some concern, Captain.”
Kat leaned forward. “What?”
“I’ve been reading the crew evaluations from the last nine months,” Crenshaw said. “It’s hard to be sure, because Lightning spent the last month orbiting Tyre rather than going to war, but some disturbing patterns have begun to appear in the data. I’ve noticed that departments headed by foreigners or largely staffed by foreigners have poorer stats.”
“I’m not sure that proves anything,” Davidson said. His voice was so tightly controlled that Kat glanced at him sharply. “What are you saying?”
“They’re not up to our standards,” Crenshaw said. “You must have noticed.”
Kat bit down—hard—on the comment that came to mind. Crenshaw wasn’t quite the incompetent she’d assumed, but he was lazy. She’d never heard him volunteering for any duties let alone doing anything she hadn’t assigned to him. But then, apparently he had been studying the stats. She wasn’t sure if she should applaud his initiative or start worrying about what he might have in mind.
She managed a long exhale. “What are you trying to say?”
“That we have been diluting our Navy’s efficiency by bringing in outsiders,” Crenshaw said firmly. “And that we will pay a heavy price for it.”
Davidson frowned. “I’ve worked with a great many non-Tyre spacers,” he said. “And while most of them don’t have the experience and training we try to give our officers, they learn, and learn quickly.”
“And many of them have good reason to want to fight the Theocracy,” Kat added.
“But they are not primarily loyal to Tyre,” Crenshaw insisted. “Captain, how can we be sure they can be trusted?”
Kat rubbed her eyes, silently cursing her sister—again. She could see Crenshaw’s point, but she knew better than to let him stampede her into rash action. Sir William had served in the Navy long enough to lose all the rough edges—and he wasn’t the only one. The others would learn in time. Besides, the Navy was desperate for manpower. There wasn’t time to run everyone through Piker’s Peak!
“We trust them until they prove otherwise,” she said. It was the Navy way. A crewman, or an officer, was considered trustworthy until they weren’t. “Or do you feel we should send them all back home?”
“I think we should be concerned about their loyalties,” Crenshaw said. “And how many of them have relatives behind the lines?”
That was a good point, Kat realized, better, perhaps, than Crenshaw knew. Lieutenant Aloysius Parker had betrayed Kat’s squadron during her mission behind enemy lines after his captured sister had been used to blackmail him into serving the Theocracy. But Parker hadn’t been a foreigner. He was born on Tyre.
“The point of the matter,” she said, “is that their homeworlds have joined the Commonwealth. They have the right to join the Navy. And we are very short on manpower, so we should be glad to have them. I admit that the planned slow integration of foreigners into the Navy has been tossed aside by the demands of war, but . . . we must work with what we’ve got. I don’t see any reason to mistrust them as a group, Commander, and neither do you.”
Crenshaw looked alarmed. “Captain . . .”
Kat talked over him. “Or is this because you’re afraid they will be competition?”
“What will happen to us,” Crenshaw asked, “if we start passing command slots to outsiders?”
“By then, the outsiders will be fully integrated,” Kat said. “And if they are not, they will not receive any command slots.”
She sighed in irritation. She hoped that was true. Tyre had been founded on a very strict work ethic, one that wasn’t shared by the rest of the Commonwealth. Immigrants to Tyre had to integrate or get out. But that would change, she suspected, as more and more Commonwealth worlds gained power and position. Who knew what would happen then?
“I hope you are right,” Crenshaw said. He rose, then stopped. “With your permission, Captain . . .”
Kat nodded. “Dismissed, Commander,” she said. “Take the conn and keep us on course.”
Crenshaw turned and walked out of the Ready Room. Kat waited for the hatch to hiss closed, then turned to look at Davidson. “Is he out of his mind?”
“I think he’s worried about his prospects for future promotion,” Davidson said. Her lover gave her a long considering look. “And he has reason to worry.”
Kat sighed. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been asking a lot of questions,” Davidson said. “I’ve been hearing rumors passed through the crew. Commander Crenshaw has been speaking, privately, to a number of foreign-born crewmen. Some of the rumors have been worrying.”
“And of course I haven’t heard a word,” Kat said. She was the captain. There was no way she could sit down next to a junior crewman and exchange rumors. “Have you heard anything specific?”
“I believe he talked to a couple of my marines,” Davidson said. “I’ll ask them for details if you wish.”
Kat rubbed her eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.
“I don’t understand him,” she admitted. “He’s got the ability to be a good officer, but he doesn’t have the motivation.”
“He was probably pushed into the Navy,” Davidson said. “I’ve met his type before.”
Kat ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “What did you do with them?”
“A handful became good marines,” Davidson said. “Those were the ones who found the grit within themselves to keep going. Others quit, eventually, or were dismissed after failing to meet the required milestones. Your XO . . . I think he’s cut from the same cloth.”
“I see,” Kat said. “What do you think I should do with him?”
“It depends,” Davidson said. “You could tell him to stop asking questions, which won’t make him feel any better and will probably make it harder for him to work with you. Or you could have a quiet talk with him instead . . . or you could let him keep asking questions until he realizes there’s nothing to be worried about.”
He paused. “If indeed there isn’t anything to be worried about.”
Kat rose. “Do you think we should be worried?”
Davidson stood up too. “Do you remember Rose MacDonald?”
“Yes,” Kat said. The political aide had sailed with Lightning when the ship had travelled behind enemy lines. “She was asking questions as well.”
“The Commonwealth has made promises,” Davidson said. “And those promises might have been made before the war, but the newcomers still expect us to keep them.”
“I know that,” Kat said.
“Then it’s time you faced up to the implications,” Davidson said. He sounded distressingly like her father. “Sir William is the first colonial to take command of anything heavier than a destroyer. We’ve been happy to accept foreigners in the lower decks, but not on the bridge. It’s a point of principle with us that most if not all of our officers go through Piker’s Peak, yet . . . how many colonials have been allowed to pass through her hallowed halls? I would be surprised if there wasn’t some resentful muttering already.”
Kat groaned. “Should we be worried about a mutiny?”
“Not yet, I think,” Davidson said. “But I would be concerned about what will happen after the war.”
“I already am,” Kat m
uttered.
She led the way through the hatch and down to Officer Country, silently cursing Crenshaw, Candy, and politicians in general. There was a war on! She didn’t have time to worry about such matters. The marine standing guard outside her cabin stepped aside, silently, as she opened the hatch and walked into the compartment. It crossed her mind, as the hatch hissed closed behind Davidson, that Crenshaw might be inclined to use their relationship against her, but she found it hard to care. She wanted, needed, to work off some of her frustration.
“Things will be better once we get to the sector,” Davidson assured her. “And until then you can keep the crew busy by conducting endless drills.”
Kat nodded in agreement as she turned to face him. The trip from Tyre to Vangelis would take at least five weeks, assuming they didn’t run into hyperspace storms or anything else that would force them to change course. She wasn’t anticipating trouble, but she knew, all too well, just how quickly hyperspace could turn dangerous to passing starships. And besides, Davidson was right. The drills would keep the crew—and Crenshaw—busy.
“At least Uncanny doesn’t seem to be having any serious problems,” she said softly. “That’s one weight off my mind.”
“And off William’s,” Davidson said. “She doesn’t have a very good reputation, does she?”
Kat grinned, then leaned forward and kissed him, hard. It had been too long. Davidson kissed her back, one hand fumbling with her uniform clasp while the other stroked her back and buttocks. Kat gasped as his tongue slipped into her mouth, then pulled him gently towards the bedroom. She had plenty of space and she intended to make the most of it.
Afterwards, they lay together, savoring the afterglow.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I needed that.”
“You’re welcome,” Davidson said. “I live to serve.”
“I’m sure you hated every last minute of it,” Kat said. She sat upright and glanced at the chronometer. She had an hour before she was supposed to be on the bridge, taking the conn and supervising the next set of exercises. “It must have been completely awful.”
Davidson poked her in the chest, then sat up and gave her a long kiss. “It did have its moments,” he said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. “Do you want me to join you in the shower?”
“I probably should decline,” Kat said mischievously. Showering together tended to lead to more lovemaking. She turned to smile at him, then walked straight into the shower and turned on the water. “But if you want to join me, come on in.”
She smiled as he followed her into the compartment and stepped under the water. “How are things in Marine Country?”
“Not that different,” Davidson assured her. “We have a couple of maggots and a handful of transfers, but they’re fitting in nicely. They’d like something to do, of course.”
“We can practice boarding and counterboarding later,” Kat assured him. She turned to allow him to wash her back, then returned the favor herself. “Or we might just set eyes on a pirate ship.”
“If they’re fool enough to come too close,” Davidson pointed out. “We haven’t exactly been hiding, have we?”
“We will,” Kat said. The odds of running into a pirate this close to Tyre were low, but she’d privately determined to take the two cruisers into stealth a week before they reached their first destination. Ten bulk freighters, seemingly unescorted, would be a valuable prize for any pirate. “We’ll see who we can lure into our web.”
“They’ll be calling you Lady Spider before too long,” Davidson warned. “How does that sound?”
Kat snorted. “Compared to what the Theocracy calls me? High praise.”
She stepped out of the shower and dressed hastily, then waited for Davidson to finish dressing before heading to the hatch. “Speak to your marines,” she ordered as she checked her appearance in the mirror. “Let me know what they were asked, and why.”
“Understood,” Davidson said. Kat shook her head in quiet amusement as she turned to look at him. He looked perfect, not a single hair out of place. Kat didn’t know how he did it. “I’ll drop you a recording afterwards, if you like.”
“Please,” Kat said.
She led the way out of the hatch and headed back towards the bridge, wondering just what Crenshaw would make of their relationship. William hadn’t said anything, but she’d suspected that he’d known and approved. Crenshaw . . . thanks to Candy, he probably already knew. Candy certainly knew Kat had been dating Davidson, on and off, for most of her career.
Which didn’t stop her from trying to set me up with a bunch of weak-chinned losers, she thought with a hint of vindictiveness. Candy wasn’t a bad person—Kat knew she could have had dozens of worse sisters—but they were so different that it was impossible to imagine them finding any common ground. Did she think I’d dump him for someone with a fancy title?
Kat pushed the thought aside as she stepped onto the bridge. Crenshaw, sitting in the command chair, hastily rose, offering her the seat with a wave of his hand. Kat nodded, then took a moment to study the status display. The convoy was proceeding normally; indeed, nothing had apparently changed in the two hours since she’d last looked at the display. But a series of warnings noted that the underlying ebb and flow of hyperspace was growing stronger. They might have to alter course or return to realspace soon if the threatening storm blossomed into a real danger.
“We’ve been monitoring the background radiation,” Crenshaw said quietly. “If it continues to rise, we’ll definitely have to alter course.”
“And keep a sharp eye out for trouble,” Kat added. Pirates liked lurking near the fringes of energy storms, knowing that any watching sensors would have trouble picking them out against the maelstrom. “Do we have anything on long-range sensors?”
“Nothing beyond a handful of random flickers,” Crenshaw assured her. He gestured towards the sensor console. “There were certainly no solid returns.”
How reassuringly competent, Kat thought, darkly. She couldn’t help finding it a little annoying. Why can’t you be like this all the time?
She sat down in her chair and keyed her console. “Alter course to keep some distance between us and the storm,” she ordered. “And order Uncanny to sweep our flank.”
Crenshaw glanced at her. “Captain, if there’s anyone out there, they’re unlikely to trouble us.”
Kat was inclined to agree. There was no time to take the two cruisers into stealth, not when any watching eyes probably already had a solid lock on their relative positions.
“It’s good practice,” she said reassuringly. There was no substitute for real experience, even if they were jumping at shadows. “There might not be anyone there at all.”
She leaned back in her command chair and watched as the convoy altered course to avoid the disturbance. Hyperspace rolled and seethed with energy, but didn’t look as though it was going to blow up into a full-sized storm. Still, Kat kept a close eye on her ship’s readings until the convoy had skirted the edge of the disturbance and resumed its original course.
“There might have been something there,” Lieutenant Commander Samuel Weiberg mused thoughtfully. The tactical officer studied his readings, going over them repeatedly. “I picked up a handful of flickers that might have been artificial.”
“Might,” Crenshaw repeated. He didn’t sound convinced. “Do you have anything solid?”
“Not at this distance, sir,” Weiberg said. He turned to look at Kat. “We could reverse course and investigate.”
Kat considered it, briefly. She had two ships, after all. She could detach Uncanny to take a look, even if there was nothing there. But time was pressing. The sooner they got to Vangelis, the sooner they could hand the freighters over to the locals and begin their actual mission.
Besides, she thought, we don’t know for sure there’s actually something to find.
“No,” she said finally. She wondered if Crenshaw would argue with her. “We continue on our
present course.”
“Aye, Captain,” Weiberg said.
Kat glanced at the console, checking the live feed from the long-range sensors. Was there something there? There were hints, nothing more . . . they could easily be nothing more than sensor distortions, echoes of starships that were in reality hundreds of light-years away . . .
She shook her head. She’d never know for sure. And nor would anyone else.
“We’ll have plenty of time to hunt pirates later,” she said finally. “But for the moment, protecting the convoy is our top priority.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Signal from Lightning, sir,” Lieutenant Stott said. “We’re to enter stealth mode in ten minutes.”
“Acknowledge,” William said. “And then alert Mr. Goodrich.”
He sat back in his command chair, feeling a rush of excitement. Even with Uncanny’s issues, the four weeks they’d spent in transit had been starting to grow tedious. But now they were crossing the border and heading straight into the Jorlem Sector. Who knew how many pirates were lying in wait?
“All systems report ready, sir,” Roach reported. “And long-range sensors are clear.”
“For what it’s worth,” William agreed. The small convoy had skirted two more hyperspace storms during the voyage, something that had probably made it harder for any prowling pirate ship to get a solid lock on their position. “Take us into stealth mode on command.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
William glanced down at the steady stream of reports from the ship’s departments, reminding himself not to be too excited. Even now, ten freighters would rarely travel in convoy without an escort. The pirates might just be smart enough to give them a miss, even if they couldn’t see any escorting warships. But then, they might also reason that the freighter crews were trying to bluff them. It was possible . . .
He checked the latest set of readiness reports. The ship’s crew had shown a remarkable improvement over the last month, even if they weren’t quite up to Lightning’s standards. But then, Lightning had a decent commanding officer, a strong XO and an excellent set of senior officers. Uncanny had been nearing rock bottom when he’d been assigned to her. And yet she’d cleaned up nicely . . .
Cursed Command (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 3) Page 10