Ghost Fleet
Page 13
Britlot wondered where to begin. He looked at the flowers again.
“And what brings a delegation from the Confederation so far after all these years?” asked Minister Jalketh.
Britlot hesitated. Jalketh was the only government official present. How much had Adian protocol changed over the centuries?
“I would be happy to enlighten an all-party delegation, Minister.”
Jalketh grinned. “I see you’ve done your homework, Captain Britlot. I would expect nothing less from a formal Confederation delegate.”
If only you knew. “At your convenience I will present my petition to the Council, or brief a delegation. When might I anticipate this?”
“Well, Lieutenant-Commander, the Council is not now in session. When it sits, your petition will have priority. Until then I leave you in the Navy’s capable hands.”
Britlot rose with Jalketh, and took his proffered hand. Fleet Admiral Fenton and Commander Cetph also rose.
“Captain Britlot, I have matters to attend to, but I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Have you any concerns, please bring them to the attention of Commodore Cetph. He heads this training base.”
Britlot saluted. Commodore Cetph turned Britlot over to Commander Travlot, who waited for him.
“Winter Sky had just completed a training voyage when she met you. Her crew has leave coming and they will be your hosts, Lieutenant-Commander.”
Britlot nodded. As he had suspected, Winter Sky was a training ship. He hoped he would get a tour of a new Adian vessel before he left.
“I’ll take you to your quarters,” Travlot told him. “We get good weather this time of year. I advise you to take advantage of it. We’ll find escorts to take you to all the good spots.”
Britlot nodded. In other words, the Adians intended to keep them under close observation. He didn’t blame them, and the crew needed the time to relax.
With the base at only half complement, everyone had plenty of room. They gave his crew their own barracks; private rooms for each, and much space to spare. And they treated Searcher’s crew as honored guests, taking them to the small town nearby, which made much of its living supporting the military. The Adians escorted them other places as well. Days passed slowly.
* * *
Britlot turned onto his back and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his body. Adia. All the tension built up over the past months had melted away with the landing. He had done it! He had found the Adians when no one even believed they existed. And, according to Travlot, he had family here. He could wait.
The cool grass under him cushioned the ground; he wondered if he’d ever want to move again. A contented groan from Feneya indicated that she had turned over as well. He thought about opening one eye to take another look at her, but decided the effort greater than he could manage.
Peace. No worries, no duties. By the gods, it felt good after the long months cooped up on Searcher. Simply being on a planet and out of the confines of Searcher had done wonders for crew morale as well. Discipline problems disappeared. Having found the Adians basically friendly completed the cure. His crew was happy again. Feneya, also, had warmed once more. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her friendship.
The scent of flowers carried on the light breeze. The flowers. The scent returned Britlot’s thoughts to the meeting room. A naval establishment with flowers on a conference table. Not what he’d expected. Nothing was as he’d expected. Not even the ...
“Hey, lazy ones!”
Britlot didn’t even bother opening an eye to Lieutenant Sharden’s call. With Winter Sky docked above and her crew given leave, Sharden had looked up Feneya and they’d gotten on like old pals, which surprised him, given what Feneya had told him about their beginnings. No, he corrected himself, perhaps not so surprising. After Travlot had thawed, they, too, had gotten on well.
“Take the gravity off your feet, Era,” Feneya said.
“Too nice a day. Let’s go have a picnic. I know a great spot.”
“Mart?”
“Ah, why not?” He struggled to his feet, gave a hand to Feneya and pulled her up as well.
Far from the barracks, in the country, the small landcruiser pulled into a lane, slipped down a dirt road and ended up at the side of a beautiful lake. Trees surrounded the area and made it an oasis of silence. Mart and Feneya looked around, speechless.
“Swim, anyone? Mart? Feneya?“ Eraphene grinned.
“We didn’t bring any swimwear,” Mart confessed.
Eraphene laughed gaily. “Who needs swimwear?” She began to strip down. Mart and Feneya exchanged glances and shrugged. They disrobed quickly. A splash from the lake told them Eraphene hadn’t waited.
“Until now, I don’t think I really knew what ‘free’ was,” commented Feneya. She grinned. “Well, let’s go!”
After the swim, they lay on a large blanket and dried in the sun. Some time later, Eraphene sat up and regarded the two Confederation officers. They were lying face up, with eyes closed. She noted that Mart’s hand had somehow made its way over and covered Feneya’s. She grinned.
“Food, anyone?” she suggested quietly.
Mart opened one eye. He sighed and then opened the other. “Well, it would be a waste not to.”
Feneya also sighed and pulled herself into a seated position. An attractive couple, Eraphene decided. She grinned to herself when Mart gave a small start as he realized he was still naked. A little self-consciously, he pulled on his pants. Feneya followed suit and, after a moment, so did Eraphene. Confederation people were obviously not used to going around without clothes.
It had taken quite a while to get them to this point. Yet surely, if slowly, they had relaxed and began to enjoy what Adia had to offer. The reluctance to accept all the hospitality offered—especially to accept any sort of gift, though they had no Adian currency and little chance to acquire any—seemed quaint.
Finally Mart had raided his secret wine supply and attempted to use it to trade for goods his crew wanted. An Adian officer had appeared and confiscated the bottles. He promptly took them to the base commissary, which then auctioned them and presented Britlot with the proceeds.
Britlot had then surprised the Adians by dividing the cash equally among his crew. With their newfound wealth, the Searcher’s crew opened to the invitations. Paying their own way obviously held importance for them. Admirable.
Much of that cash ended up in the hands of local merchants, payment for souvenirs. Souvenirs that their Adian counterparts would have gladly given them, for the Confederation crew were eminently willing to part with their own possessions in order to give keepsakes. Interesting.
Eraphene realized she’d been eating in silence, lost in her own thoughts, when Britlot—Mart—cleared his throat. She returned her attention.
“Where are your thoughts?”
She smiled sadly. “I was just thinking that my leave ends soon and I’ll lose a couple of newfound friends.”
Sobered, they ate in silence until Feneya suddenly started tickling Mart. He roared in surprise and turned to fight back only to be ambushed by Eraphene. Moments later they were rolling on the ground, laughing and gasping for breath. In high humor they returned to the base as the sun began to set.
Sub-Lieutenant Krirtol, dressed in uniform, came out to meet them, visibly upset. She saluted.
“Captain, we have a problem. Gunnery Spacer Pren Dorvon has been arrested.”
“On what charge, Sub-Lieutenant?”
“Riot, sir.”
“What?” Riot could garner the death penalty in the Confederation. What had possessed the man?
With Lieutenant Sharden’s help, Britlot, now uniformed and grave of face, found the brig and obtained permission to talk to his crewman.
News of the charge shocked Dorvon. The blood drained from his face.
“This is ridiculous, sir. It was just a minor dust up in a local establishment.”
“You started a fight? Guns, we’re supposed to be ambassadors
for the Confederation. I thought you understood that.”
Dorvon looked hurt. “I didn’t start it, sir. The marines sort of started it.”
“What marines?” Britlot sighed and sat down on a stool in Dorvon’s cell. “Let’s have it.”
“Well, we were having a good time...”
“Who is ‘we’?” Britlot groaned to himself. Perhaps he should have waited until morning, until Dorvon was completely sober. No, he had to clear it up now.
“Me and some of the spacers around here. Just went in for a few friendly drinks. Then the marines showed up. You know how it is, sir, marines and spacers?”
“Yes, I know. Please go on.”
“Well one of them made a crack about the Confederation Navy, and that started it.”
“You hit him?”
“No, sir. I was thinking ’bout being an ambassador and all. One of the other guys hit him.” Dorvon looked anxious to have Britlot believe him. Strangely enough, Britlot did.
“Then?”
“Well, my guys was outnumbered, and marines is marines, no matter what navy, I thought, so I joined in. Then the local constable showed up and we all got carted off. It wasn’t any riot, sir, it wasn’t.”
“Okay, Guns. I’ll look into it in the morning. In the meantime, you do what you are told, when you are told. I do not want to hear otherwise.”
“Aye, sir!”
Dorvon looked very relieved. Britlot, on the other hand was troubled. Could a minor incident, which would mean little at the defaulter’s table in the Confederation, mean death here?
Britlot slept little that night after he put the rest of the crew on warning. Not that he had to; word of the charge had sobered them up considerably.
* * *
“Ah, Lieutenant-Commander. Here to see justice done?” Commander Travlot appeared nonchalant, even though the spacers in question had been from Winter Sky’s crew.
“I hope so, Commander.”
The two of them walked into the court together. There, a Major Kelnor of the Adian Marines met them. They took their places. A stern Captain nodded to them from the Tribune’s seat.
“Lieutenant-Commander Britlot. Are you prepared to allow your spacer to be tried by this court?”
With little else he could do without compromising the mission as he saw it, Britlot agreed.
“Aye, sir, I am. However, we ask, should the defendant be found guilty, that he be dealt with by Confederation Officers and have any sentence served within the Confederation.”
The Captain raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.” He and Dorvon had talked and Dorvon, angry with himself and with the Adians for blowing everything out of proportion, had told Britlot, ‘If I get the chop, I don’t want them doing it.’
“Very well. This court has no objection.”
Adian guards brought in the accused, and they heard the evidence. It seemed to Britlot a lot of trouble over nothing. Perhaps because civilians were involved? Finally the Captain asked each man if he had anything to say. Dorvon stood first.
“Sir. If I may, the trouble started because of me, sir. These other men,” he indicated the spacers, “were simply trying to defend my honor because they knew I’d been told to stay out of any such altercation.” He must have practiced the speech, Britlot thought.
The Captain glared down at Dorvon. “And even so, you joined in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you accept full responsibility?”
Britlot tried to catch Dorvon’s eye, to tell him no, but Dorvon had eyes only for the Captain.
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. This court accepts that. I find you guilty as charged. Restitution must be made.” The Captain looked down at the tavern owner’s submission. He looked up and quoted a figure. “Besides that, damage was done and it will be up to you to see that you and your compatriots repair it.” He signed a piece of paper.
“Lieutenant-Commander Britlot.”
“Sir?”
“As you have indicated your desire to be involved, you shall supervise these repairs and ensure that the tavern owner is properly compensated. Is that satisfactory?”
“Yes, sir.” Britlot did not allow his confusion to show. Such leniency to a man who pled guilty to Riot?
“Next case.”
“What was that all about, Britlot?” Commander Travlot asked upon exiting the courtroom. “Not that I object. You see, if not you it would have been me.”
“I’m a little lost here, Commander. In my fleet, a charge of Riot can draw the death penalty.”
“Death?” Travlot stopped short and looked aghast at Britlot. Then he calmed. “What is the definition of Riot, in your books?”
When Britlot explained, the Adian burst into laughter. “No wonder you were worried. Means something quite different here. Riot, indeed!”
Britlot soon found himself the center of attention, butt of the joke, which spread like wildfire. Adian officers came to the tavern to rib him good-naturedly and to offer comments on the quality of repairs.
The spacers and marines didn’t find it so funny. They would have much preferred working without a number of officers present. An object lesson, Britlot told his people. Not knowing the rules here, they had to be on best behavior. He added several nights’ early curfew to Dorvon’s sentence.
A few days later, Commander Travlot reappeared.
“How’s it going, Lieutenant-Commander? All done with the civilians?”
“Yes, Commander. Back to the waiting routine.” He looked up at the greying skies. “Looks like rain.”
“Perhaps. However, your waiting is at an end. I’ve just heard that you’ll be transferred to the Capital tomorrow to meet the Council.”
CHAPTER 12
LORMAR
Relnie moved quickly to answer the tele-vid.
“Lemm! It’s good to see you.” She watched him during the two-second delay scrambling and distance put in the call. He looked tired.
“I’m at Spacedock Bravo II,” he told her. “I have my new ship. She’s the Tempest. You can send mail to me addressed to her. She’s a good ship, Relnie, and I’ve the makings of a good crew.”
Relnie wondered. He might say so simply to relieve her worry. Fat chance. “I’m pleased to hear it, Lemm.” She passed on family news, and received unrestricted Fleet news in return. The familiar pattern returned without effort. Having to settle for his image when she’d had him beside her for over a year hurt, but she managed to not convey this. They could do nothing about the situation, so why concentrate on the negative?
“How is Jol doing?” Lemm asked, brushing something from his eye.
Relnie went cold. His gesture signaled that the comm was monitored and she should say nothing that would cause trouble with the censors. “He’s a little unhappy, Lemm. Problems at work, but nothing to worry about. You know how he is about changes in routine.”
Lemm gave a quick grin. “What was it this time?”
“Customers exhausted their entire inventory, and now there is mandatory overtime. You know how they feel about that—even though it means extra money.”
Lemm laughed. “Tell him it builds character.”
Relnie laughed back. “I’ll tell him you said it.”
“Leave me out of it. It was just a suggestion.” His face softened. “I have to go, Relnie. I love you.”
“I love you, Lemm.” The screen went blank.
Relnie sat back into her chair. Jol was upset all right. The customer had been Fleet. The unexpected pick-up of the torpedo guidance heads before the order had been completed could mean nothing, but Jol saw it differently. She recalled his angry face.
“It’s obvious, Mom.” Anger deepened his already deep voice. “Fleet worries that they may lose us as a source, so they take no chances. That means they expect to lose Lormar if the Tlartox attack.” He turned to look out the window at Melsie and Colli.
“Now, Jol, Fleet would never give up Lormar.”
Relnie was shocked. “You’ve heard of such plans?”
Jol relented. “I don’t know, Mom. There are rumors.”
“Rumors!” She pounced on the word. “Rarely true.”
A discouraged grin appeared. “I agree, but indicators suggest otherwise. And morale has suffered. I see bad times coming. Dad suggested that we move in here if things become bad. Did he tell you? Ah, good. Colli and I have started making preparations for the move. Colli will advise Pel and Jerinth to do the same.”
“It will be good to have the whole family together.” What else could she say? The conversation ended.
Now Lemm knew, too, and she hadn’t wanted to bother him with it. Ah, well. That’s what she got for marrying a Fleet man. She put her feet up and contemplated room assignments.
TEMPEST—RECALIBRATING
Commodore Taglini excused himself, and the five captains relaxed in the wardroom of Tempest as the short squadron rested in normal space, recalibrating navtanks.
“Well, at least someone is happy,” Vella Mesicsah commented to no one in particular.
“With good reason,” Honin Neco responded. “I think we’ve done damn well with what we have. This squadron has become a fighting concern.”
Ulla Thugan hid a smile, seeing Ten Llemartol nodding his approval. “We’ve a long way to go before we’re ready for a fight, Honin.”
“Now, Ulla, don’t discourage him,” Llemartol remonstrated as he eased his leg into a more comfortable position. “Honin is quite correct. We have done well.” He held up his hand to forestall her objection. “You, also, are quite correct, we have much work ahead of us. For the moment, though, let us enjoy our successes.”
Neco nodded in agreement, his eyes bright as he watched the hero of Restovine take up his cause.
“Very well, Ten.” Thugan’s blocky face cracked into a smile, “Let us enjoy our moment.” She stood and filled all their glasses. “Honin?”
“To the Squadron,” Neco toasted without hesitation.