Chapter Four
Waterhen lacked a proper shuttlebay, an issue that had sometimes caused problems during her patrols around the sector. There was nothing that could be done about it, short of tearing out dozens of vital compartments to make the space for even a small shuttlebay, and Leo and his crew had learnt to work around it. Besides, it was quicker to launch a shuttle attached to the hull than open the shuttlebay doors and launch the craft into space. But it was still awkward in so many ways.
He sighed inwardly as he squirmed in his dress uniform, borrowed from Captain Archibald’s supply and carefully refitted by Flower. The original outfit had been cunningly disguised to hide the wearer’s paunch, ensuring he looked thin – at least until he got undressed – while ensuring Leo looked as if he’d slimmed down with remarkable speed or surgical intervention, at least until Flower had gone to work. It was still far from perfect, and she’d had to remove a great deal of gold braid neither Captain Archibald nor himself had been entitled to wear, but it was better than the alternative. His eyes swept up and down the welcoming party, feeling a twinge of unease. It was one thing to take part in such ceremonies, but quite another to organise them. There were so many different interpretations of regulations, when it came to welcoming a new commanding officer, that it was very easy to make a mistake.
And let’s hope Francis brushed up on his ceremonial procedures during the long flight from his former post, Leo thought, unkindly. He’ll have needed to do something to keep himself busy for twenty minutes or so.
He schooled his face into a blank mask as he felt the faint but unmistakable sensation of a shuttle latching onto the far side of the hatch. Francis had been on the commodore’s staff. Organising such affairs would have been part of his job, unless he’d passed them on to someone else and then taken the credit. Leo wouldn’t have cared to bet against it. There was an old joke about a test for young officers, their seniors asking them how to do something, and the right answer being order a sergeant to get it done. It had been funny, at the time. It wasn’t so funny now.
The hatch hissed open. Showtime.
“Attention on deck,” Leo said. It had been a long time since he’d practiced giving the command, but it came naturally. Normally, junior officers were on a rota to carry out the welcoming ceremony, something else he’d skipped when he’d been promoted all the way to Lieutenant-Commander. “Present arms!”
The welcoming party straightened as Francis stepped through the hatch, wearing a dress uniform of his own. His face was set in an expression of smug superiority, his eyes narrowing briefly as he glanced across the line of faces. Leo had inspected everyone carefully, making sure there wasn’t anything out of place. The instructors at the academy had been hyper-criutial, pointing out everything from cadets who’d forgotten to shave to enlisted men who were wearing the wrong uniforms, something they’d done purposefully, If they’d been noticed before the ceremony began …
“RSS Waterhen,” Leo thundered. “Arriving!”
He braced himself. Would Francis play his role? Or would he try to bluff his way through? Or … he had said he wanted to be welcomed with full ceremony, as though he was the legal CO as well as the de facto commander. It would be hilarious if he’d forgotten his role in the military play, although the humour wouldn’t last long.
Francis straightened. “By order of Commodore Blackthrone, Governor and Viceroy of the Yangtze Sector, I assume command of RSS Waterhen,” he said. It wasn’t quite the formal wording, but that was for legal commanders. It might have ended badly if Francis had used the ceremonial wording, something he wasn’t entitled too. His eyes flickered to Leo. “I relieve you.”
Leo spoke, tonelessly. “I stand relieved.”
A rustle ran through the group. Leo felt a twinge of something he didn’t care to look at too closely. He’d told the crew that a new senior officer was arriving, and that officer would be assuming command, and the news – Flower had told him, later – hadn’t gone down very well. The crew had been reluctant to accept Leo at first, after Captain Archibald, and it had taken some time for them to get used to him. The bar had been set so low it was practically on the deck, and yet …
Francis’s face darkened, just for a second. Or perhaps Leo was imagining it. Francis had never given much of a damn about anyone else, certainly someone who wasn’t related to him or high-ranking enough not to have to care about Francis’s family connections, but he might have learnt a little in the last four years. Stranger things had happened. A crew who wasn’t personally loyal to their CO wouldn’t actively sabotage him, but they wouldn’t give him their all either. Francis had done nothing to earn the loyalty of this crew. Was he smart enough to know it?
“All standing orders remain in effect, until otherwise noted,” Francis continued. There was a hint of pique in his tone. “We will continue our quest to eradicate privacy from this sector, to establish Daybreak’s primacy throughout the local planets and stars, and lay the groundwork for the full incorporation of this sector into the Daybreak Republic. This ship may be old, but under my command she will go on to play a full role in the reunification of the human race and the prevention of another interstellar war …”
Leo kept his face blank as Francis droned on, making a speech that probably hadn’t come from his family’s speechwriters. Rhetoric was taught in schools, with children urged to study the great speakers and learn how they convinced others to follow their lead, but he had a feeling Francis had never been a good student. The speech was too long and cumbersome, too long to hold anyone’s attention. His old tutors had said, more than once, that it was a capital mistake to make your audience bored, resentful or angry. They would often vote against you out of spite. Here … who knew?
“We shall accomplish great things together,” Francis finished. He liked the sound of his own voice. “Mr XO, remain with me. Everyone else, dismissed.”
His eyes flickered back and forth, before focusing on Leo as the rest of the welcoming party filed out of the compartment. He hadn’t saluted the flag. Leo was tempted to point it out, although he knew it would just cause trouble. Francis seemed to have gathered himself in the last few hours, no doubt after being given a pep talk by his uncle. Leo wondered, suddenly, if the Blackthrones had a rivalry with the Sullivan clan. It would explain a great deal, if they did. Leo’s exploits had reflected well on his patron. Cutting him down to size would put his patron in an invidious position.
Francis sniffed. “There’s a faint ordure in the air.”
“That’ll be the air circulation filters,” Leo said. He should have expected Francis would notice that. “We’re currently in the middle of a maintenance cycle, in which we have to modify civilian-grade filters to fit our systems. It’ll take us some time to complete the cycle.”
“Really?” Francis seemed unimpressed. “And you can’t just draw supplies from the naval depot?”
Leo cocked his head, innocently. “What depot?”
Francis glared. “The depot established here!”
“Oh. That depot?” Leo caught himself before he could push harder. “The majority of the pre-placed supplies were stolen by the rebels, as we discovered after the fact, and we have worked our way through the majority of the supplies we brought with us. The local fabbers are incapable of producing compatible filters without reprogramming, and that would limit the development of local industry. I decided to modify civilian filters without putting demands on local producers …”
“The navy has priority,” Francis said. “Always.”
“The navy has orders to foster the development of local industry,” Leo countered. “And restricting their growth will do the exact opposite.”
Francis conceded the point with a shrug. “Very well,” he said. “Show me to my cabin.”
“As you wish,” Leo said. “Follow me.”
He tried not to feel anything beyond bland attention to duty as Francis shadowed him through a maze of corridors, constantly pointing out issues that were impossible or simply too costly to fix. The corridor plating looked as patchwork as the hull, thanks to a lack of proper replacement planting, but it worked … Leo had no qualms about trusting his life to it. A number of open hatches, left accessible so the crew could swap vital components without delay, drew sardonic noises from his companion, although he didn’t look inside to check if the components were actually approved by the navy. Some were, some had been purchased or captured and reconfigured to fit Waterhen. The ship’s age told against her, Leo knew all too well. There were quite a few components that simply weren’t produced any longer, not on Daybreak. Or anywhere else.
The hatch hissed open. Francis snorted. “What is this?”
“My cabin.” Leo corrected himself a moment later. “Your cabin.”
Francis made a rude noise. “This isn’t the captain’s cabin, Morningstar.”
“No, sir,” Leo said. He turned to face Francis, keeping his voice as maddeningly innocent as possible. “Captain Archibald has not yet moved out of his cabin.”
“Not yet …” Francis started again. “He’s still on the ship?”
Leo managed, somehow, to keep his face still. That would have been hilarious, a routine right out of Commander Blackadder, in which the character was forced to keep his idiot of a captain from making deadly mistakes without exposing his shortcomings to his superiors. The show was frowned upon for being subversive, and there had been calls to ban it on Daybreak, despite which it had one hell of a cult following. He wondered, idly, if Francis had ever watched the show. It was unlikely, but possible.
“No,” Leo said. “He’s on Daybreak. But he is still the legal commander of this ship.”
Francis reddened. “Are you telling me …”
“That is the legal position, as outlined by Commodore Blackthrone,” Leo said. “Captain Archibald is still the legal CO.”
“He should be arrested for desertion and put in front of a court martial,” Francis muttered. It was the first thing he’d said, ever, that had Leo’s wholehearted agreement. “Did he ever set foot on his ship?”
“I believe he travelled to Daybreak two months before I was assigned to this ship and never actually returned,” Leo said. “No one was inclined to question his absence. He might come back.”
Francis snorted. “Were we not taught that certain matters had to be reported to the IG? Such as a CO deserting his command?”
“Yes, sir,” Leo said, neutrally.
“And?”
“Yes, sir,” Leo repeated.
He sighed inwardly. Francis wouldn’t understand. How could he? His family name was a sword and a shield, a powerful weapon he could use to advance himself and a defence against the spite and hatred of jealous enemies, even those who technically outranked him. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, a degree of wealth and privilege so intense he literally couldn’t imagine what it was like to be without it. He was at no risk from a man like Captain Archibald, no matter the gulf between their ranks, and the hell of it was that, if he had been a good man, he could have done the XO’s traditional job of shielding the crew from a tyrannical captain. But instead …
Sure, the old XO could have reported her CO’s absence and technically she should have, Leo reflected. But the last thing she wanted was him ordered back to his post.
Francis said nothing for a long moment, then scowled. “Take me to the captain’s cabin.”
“Yes, sir.” Leo led him through two hatches and then stopped in front of the third hatch. “The compartment has remained sealed since our departure from Daybreak.”
“I do hope he didn’t leave a little surprise for unwanted guests,” Francis said. Perhaps he had been watching the comedies after all. “That would be quite awkward.”
Leo shrugged, and pressed his hand against the sensor. The hatch hissed open. A faint whiff of perfume drifted out, the lights coming on a moment later. Leo had been shocked when he’d seen it for the first time, half-convinced he was stepping into a cross between Aladdin’s Cave and a particularly high-class brothel, and he was depressingly unsurprised by Francis’s lack of surprise. He’d probably seen worse. He probably didn’t see anything wrong with them either.
He stepped aside to allow Francis to enter, allowing his eyes to wander over the compartment. It had been refurbished two years ago, the bulkheads stripped down to the point they’d explode into fragments if the internal compensators started to lose power. Leo had ordered them inspected carefully to ensure there was no risk to the rest of the ship, then left them in place. If the captain wanted to live in quarters with bulkheads that could easily become oversized antipersonnel mines, that was his problem. Whoever had done the refit clearly hadn’t expected any sort of acceleration. A slight shift in the compensator field would ruin every artwork in the cabin.
“And you just left this compartment sealed up?” Francis sounded incredulous. “Why didn’t you move the artworks to storage?”
“Captain Archibald is still this ship’s legal commanding officer,” Leo said. “I …”
Francis rounded on him. “Will you please stop saying that?”
“Yes, sir.” Leo hid his amusement. “It is technically illegal to remove anyone’s possessions as long as they have a legal right to be on the ship. There was no grounds for doing so, at least until the captain was finally relieved of command. Which hasn’t yet happened.”
“Get a crew up here and get this shit put into storage,” Francis ordered, curtly. “Somewhere on the planet below. It must be safe now.”
“Certainly, sir,” Leo said. He tapped the order into his datapad, then held it out. “Can I get a thumbprint?”
Francis glowered, but pressed his thumb against the reader anyway. Leo kept his face completely blank. The order wasn’t precisely illegal, he thought, but it was going to be an interesting debate if the matter ever reached a courtroom, one that would keep the military’s legal team busy for months or years. And make a great deal of money for civilian lawyers, if the matter got that far.
His lips twisted. “Might I also suggest shipping them back to Daybreak as soon as possible? There is nothing to be gained by leaving them on Yangtze.”
“If he wants them back, he can come get them,” Francis said. He stepped into the next compartment and stopped, dead. “Did he have a companion?”
“Not that I’m aware,” Leo said. Flower didn’t count, which suggested all kinds of worrying things about the ghostly captain. Captain Archibald hadn’t taken her to bed, despite owning her contract, and … Leo would have thought it the mark of a decent man, if the CO had shown any hint of actually being decent. “He spent much of his time in the pleasure dens.”
“But was still aware enough to sign off on requests for supplies,” Francis said. “Or did you somehow obtain his command keys?”
“I suspect he didn’t bother to do more than sign the requests,” Leo said, carefully. The fact Flower had used the codes to get what the ship needed was a secret he had no intention of sharing. “It wouldn’t be out of character.”
“Duly noted.” Francis was still staring at the bed. “Who knows what we can do with this space?”
Leo shrugged. The bed was easily big enough for two or three full-grown adults. There was no reason Francis couldn’t keep a companion in the cabin if he wanted, although it would be a breach of regulations. He wasn’t the captain … Leo was tempted to point it out, again, and then put the thought aside. He didn’t really want Commodore Blackthrone to relieve Captain Archibald in absentia. It would lead rapidly and inevitably to someone else, probably Francis, being promoted into the command chair. And that would doom his dream of returning to his post.
“You won’t have much time to do more than rest,” he said, finally. “There’s always something to do on a ship this size, from simple tactical sims and training to repair and maintenance work.”
Francis gave him an odd look. “You handle it yourself?”
“I had to know every last detail of this ship’s operations,” Leo said, a little stung. The crew wasn’t big enough to keep the officers from doing their share of the work. He had no qualms about doing everything from inspecting the mishmash of components to even scrubbing the decks. “The original plans are out of date. Half the stuff they show has been replaced and most of the rest isn’t where it was. If you don’t know what you have, and what you can do with it, you won’t know what you can rely on when push comes to shove.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Francis snapped.
He took a breath. “While I familiarise myself with this ship, you will continue routine operations and preparations for our next patrol,” he added. “We will be expected to depart orbit shortly.”
You mean, you want me to do all the work, Leo thought. Charming.
“My uncle expects great things from us,” Francis said. “And there will be rewards aplenty for those who do well.”
“Of course, sir,” Leo said, hiding his disbelief. “In order to familiarise yourself, would you like me to give you the files? They contain all the required information.”
“Of course,” Francis echoed. “And when I have read them, you can give me a tour of my ship.”
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