crewmembers and working on the Rekesh. I’ve explained the urgency to you before. Well, it’s no less urgent now. We’ve been here for almost three months. During all that time people have been scouring unsettled systems for us. At any moment the buoy we concealed at the jump point may go off. And what if the one we know is not the only jump point in the system? Either way, we could find ourselves having to try to fight a battle cruiser with six people.”
Ro-Lecton frowned. “But Commodore, the success with Nila… Doctor Kor-Nashta was almost pure luck borne of desperation. We still don’t know the treatment is safe. There are tests, limited trials.. it could take months to get a vaccine ready.”
Kas shook his head again. “I’m afraid not, Doctor. Your tests and limited trials will have to be carried on simultaneously — on us. You have a week to make sure your serum won’t kill a healthy man or woman, Doctor. Then we begin inoculating our crew and yours, and begin awakening the sleepers.”
Ro-Lecton looked scandalized. “There’s no way I can be certain there won’t be violent reactions, side effects…”
Kas shrugged. “True. But you have a fifteen-person medical team to deal with those problems, Doctor. Up ‘til now, you’ve been laboratory research scientists. But your people are also qualified physicians and med techs. We can no longer afford to work on a research basis.”
“But the risks…” the Doctor protested, though in a weaker tone.
“This is a Fleet crew. We’re paid to take risks. One week, Doctor. Then I get the first injection.”
Ro-Lecton was clearly unhappy about it, but he finally assented.
Having tracked down all the weapons they could find, Kas’ crew was now scouring the Rekesh for stills and drug labs. They’d found and destroyed seven stills and two drug labs, but Kas knew there were probably at least that many more left to find. Nila’s recovery had raised morale considerably, but scouring the huge ship in suits was still exhausting work. Kas was tempted to wait until the week he’d given Ro-Lecton was up, then seal the Rekesh and reactivate life support. But, he reminded himself, Ro-Lecton couldn’t be positive the infective agent was airborne. Nor was the little doctor certain his serum was effective. At any rate, he decided to keep them searching in suits until they began awakening sleepers. Once the reviving began there would be time to bring the big ship back to life.
Ro-Lecton might disagree with Kas’ decision to begin inoculations, but on the appointed day an adequate supply of vaccine was on hand. The medical staff administered it to themselves and Starhopper ’s crew without protest.
Contrary to carefully-contrived appearance, the cold sleep cabinets had been laid out to permit the orderly revival of their occupants. Closest to the sick bay had been the medical people, of course. Then came the officers and petty officers, then the civilian techs, and finally the bulk of the crewpeople. While Gran, Tera, Lady Jane and Lar began reviving officers, Kas, Rom, Toj, and Edro began working to awaken the Vir Rekesh. With the central AI disabled or dead, this meant lighting off several fusactors and activating six distributed comps. Slowly, slowly, the big ship began coming back to life. Kas took advantage of the activation of the supply comps, and located uniforms for himself and Starhopper ’s crew. By the time there was atmosphere throughout the ship and a livable temperature was being maintained, all of the officers and senior petty officers had been revived.
Leadership aboard a Fleet ship was always problematic. Fleet officers might be members of planetary elites, but Fleet ratings were usually gutter-sweepings and street toughs — uneducated and largely uncivilized. Many were felons given a choice between confinement and enlistment in the Fleet.
The Fleet took them, and ran them through Fleet or Marine boot camps. There systematic brutality routinely broke their spirits and then rebuilt them as sailors or marines. They entered the Fleet machine as misfits — they came out Fleet.
But that didn’t mean they became robots. Any Fleet crew could be expected to take advantage of any opportunity to set up and run at least one still to produce alcoholic beverages, and fighting was almost inevitable. In this case, there were sure to be stills and perhaps even drug labs scattered all over the huge battle cruiser despite Fan-Jertril’s efforts. After all, he’d had other priorities — still- busting had been low on the list.
But the men in cold sleep aboard Starhopper wouldn’t be in a life-or-death situation. They’d climbed into cold-sleep cabinets at the shipyard on Prime, and would awaken to be shuttled almost immediately to the huge ship. There was no dedication to the mission, no involvement in its earlier phases. They would be unfamiliar with and unknown to their officers and petty officers. They would be, in other words, a typical Fleet crew. Given the Fleet’s habit of selling commissions, discipline was always rather a hit-or-miss affair. Some officers took their leadership training seriously, and enforced discipline rigorously. Some carried it too far and became martinets. But most simply left discipline to the senior petty officers.
Those petty officers, of course, were usually well aware of the caliber of their officers. Some responded by ignoring their officers, and enforcing discipline in their own way, often brutally. A small minority, becoming angry with officers that refused to lead, simply went limp, and allowed their troops to do as they pleased. These few usually found out that while the Fleet might tolerate incompetent officers, it would not tolerate incompetent or ineffective senior petty officers. If their compatriots didn’t set them straight in an unofficial — if brutal — way, they usually found themselves coming to the attention of ever-more-senior officers until they either responded or were cashiered.
It this case no one knew anyone. Kas had no idea which officers, if any, were competent. How many were prejudiced against outerworlders? He’d been promised that they were all technically competent. But that didn’t mean that they would be effective officers and leaders. How many would be petty tyrants? How many ditherers running to him with every decision? How many foppish dilettantes?
The greatest threat to Kas’ mission was not the Alliance or the Glory or any external force. It wasn’t even the plague. If Ro-Lecton had failed, Kas would simply have pushed the Rekesh into an orbit terminating in the system’s sun. No, the biggest challenge was the combination of a Fleet crew and the weapons, drug labs and stills aboard the derelict.
As soon as the last of the petty officers had been awakened, Kas called them and the officers together for a briefing.
“We didn’t have time for a detailed briefing on Prime,” he began, “so I’ll do it now.
“In case you’ve forgotten or didn’t know, I’m Kas Preslin. Yes, that Preslin, the one who had the, uh, rather spirited discussion with Admiral Lu-Jenks. Since it was common gossip throughout the Fleet, I imagine most of you know the story.
“The obvious next question is why I’m out here wearing a star instead of cashiered or hanged.” He shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that it was Fleet Grand Admiral Pankin’s decision.” He smiled slightly. “Now I don’t disagree with his decision, of course. But some of you might. To you I say ‘that’s too bad’. I’m here, you’re here, and you’re under my command. Any officer that I find is not behaving in the best traditions of the Fleet, and doing their best for this mission, will find himself popped back into cold sleep. Petty officers will find themselves broken to common spaceman, and wearing lash stripes.
“If I find that you’re actively hampering the success of this mission, I won’t bother with cold sleep. I’ll space you. Consider yourselves warned and pass the warning along to your ratings.
“Now,” he continued, “Each of you and each of the ratings assigned to this mission were hand-picked by Grand Admiral Pankin’s Chief of Staff. That means that technically, you and they are the cream of the Fleet, the best. I’m proud to have you with me on this mission.
“But we all know there’s more to a crew than technical expertise. An outstanding gunner, for instance, can be a disciplinary disaster off-duty. So don’t assume your people are some sort of elite. You will have to be very watchful. There are some special circumstances on this mission that make vigilance especially important.”
He went on to repeat the story of the Vir Rekesh. There was dead silence in the crowded messroom as he recounted the mutinies, the fighting, the despair, and the heroism of the battle cruiser’s crew. “You have all been vaccinated against the plague,” he continued. “But there’s no inoculation against disciplinary failure and mutiny. We cannot conceal the signs of fighting aboard the Rekesh, and mutiny is contagious. All of you, officers and petty officers alike, will be expected to keep a close eye on those around you and under you. Report suspicions, so they can be investigated. Don’t wait for evidence; that evidence might turn out to be a homemade knife stabbing into your back some off-watch. You heard me mention two mutinies, and a lot of fighting. Starhopper ’s crew has spent the last two months in suits, scouring the Rekesh for weapons and disposing of every one we found. We got rid of hundreds of them, but no one is prepared to bet we’ve found them all.
