“Then there are the stills and drug labs. You’re going to see the remains of the biggest, longest party in the history of the Fleet. It went on for weeks, and covered most of the ship.
“We will be running, and maybe even fighting a battle cruiser with only three hundred officers and crew, less than a tenth of her full complement. We will also be saddled with a bunch of civilian techs that will be repairing her enroute. Her central AI has been shut down. Her astrogational comps have been destroyed. We’ve brought spares, and the civilians will be installing them. Then, of course, there are the doctors and med techs that came up with the cure for the plague. In other words, you’re going to have civilians underfoot. And no, I won’t make them go back into cold sleep when they’ve finished their work. We may need them or their expertise. In an emergency, some of them might even be able to serve as crew.”
Kas turned to the petty officers. “You petty officers have a tough job ahead of you. When you go aboard the Rekesh you’re going to see a total mess. There are passages literally covered in dried blood. With life support restored, there will be bits of flesh rotting. The stench will be bad until we get her cleaned up. But that’s not the worst.
“There’s a cargo net in her hangar bay that’s full of some three thousand bodies. Some of them are pretty horrible and all are in various stages of decomposition. The Rekesh ’s hangar deck will be left open to space for the trip home to prevent further decay. But that’s not the worst, either.
“No, the worst is the combination of weapons, drugs, and booze. I want you to let your people know that anyone caught with a weapon will be given a drumhead court-martial and executed. Anyone caught drunk or stoned will be given lashes — lots of them. We can’t tolerate even a single lapse of discipline.”
He shrugged. “But we can’t tolerate losing crew people, either. Even if most of the civilians volunteer to serve as temporary crew, we’ll be trying to run the Rekesh very short-handed.
“Every man or woman I’m forced to execute is one less to help us fight if we’re attacked. Every one I’m forced to flog is unable to function for days. We simply can’t afford it.
“So, I’m depending on you officers and petty officers to keep that from happening. I expect you officers to give your petty officers quite a bit of latitude when it comes to unofficial discipline. Ignore cuts, bruises and black eyes unless you feel they’re becoming too frequent. Give your petty officers room to work.” An enthusiastic rumble began among the petty officers, though a number of the officers were frowning.
Kas raised a hand. “Don’t get too excited, you petty officers,” he continued. “Yes, you’ll have as much support as possible. But I expect the officers to be watching, and monitoring. Bullying and brutality will not be tolerated. At the first sign that any of you is a bully or a brute, I’ll break you to common spaceman. Then you can see how you like it!”
He sighed. “This is a very unusual mission, and an unusual situation. We might have to fight the Rekesh at any moment, without the ability to jump out of this system. More than half the governments in man-settled space are scouring uninhabited and out-of-the-way systems looking for us. We have very little time.
“All right,” he concluded. “We’ll probably take a week or so to get things sorted out before we begin awakening the rest of the crew. I’ve already moved into the flag cabin aboard the Rekesh. You petty officers would be well advised to spend that week looking for stills, drug labs and weapons.” He smiled grimly. “You know, check the places us officers would be too dumb to look. All right, a boarding tube has been rigged so you won’t have to suit up to get over to the Rekesh. Once you get aboard her you’ll be issued uniforms. You’ll have to let the issuing officer know the insignia you’ll need. As you know, we were unable to bring any service records with us.” He smiled again, less grimly this time. “That does not mean you can convince me that all of you are Master Chiefs! Some of the officers will know some of you, and most will have seen your records before we left. Be advised — when in doubt, I’ll just assume that any of you is qualified for common spaceman. Is that clear?
“All right,” he continued, “I’d like the officers to remain, but you petty officers are dismissed.”
There followed a period of benign chaos as the petty officers filed out, and the officers talked, whispered and gestured among themselves.
Kas regarded the twenty-two officers remaining after the NCOs left.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen. I see only three familiar faces among you. That’s unfortunate, but we’ll live with it.
“What you may consider even more unfortunate is that we have no written records for any of us. Oh, I’m sure that those three will be able to fill you in on what a sonofabitch I am. But I will have no one to fill me in on each of you.” He shrugged. “You may consider that good news or bad news, I don’t know. But it means that each of you is starting with a clean slate.
“Now. Grand Admiral Pankin gave me somewhat more of a free hand than is usual. I may be selecting a Fleet Captain from among you to command the Rekesh, and possibly a Captain for Starhopper. Yes, I did say ‘may’, and I did say ‘selecting’. Seniority will not be the deciding factor. And be advised, Starhopper ’s exec is command qualified.
“I’m sure that I’ve just shocked some of you. Sorry about that. But I intend to deliver the Rekesh safely to Prime, and will do whatever I consider necessary to complete that mission. I will be talking with each of you individually over the next few days, forming opinions of you, as you will form opinions of me. I sincerely hope that both sets of opinions are favorable.” He dismissed the officers, and then watched as they milled about for a few moments before shuffling out. It was hard to gauge reactions, but there seemed to be little overt dissatisfaction. With a sigh, he began preparing for his first individual interview.
Chapter 12
Kas’ first visitor was Roi Tremling. As the staff insignia on his shoulder boards showed, Tremling was an Engineer. In fact, he was almost a caricature of the breed. His shipsuit was already rumpled, and even the three gold Commanders’ stripes on his left shoulder board were stained. His military bearing was noticeable only for its total absence; he slumped, even when tossing Kas a rudimentary salute. Despite the grease-stained rag he wrung ceaselessly between his fingers, his hands were none too clean. Kas suppressed a grimace as he invited the man to sit.
“Thought I’d go first, Commodore,” Tremling muttered, “So’s I can get back t’work. Then th’ rest o’ you can get on with your military silliness.”
Kas’ face darkened. “It’s your military silliness, too, Commander!”
Tremling shrugged slightly, but did not reply. Kas’ flush deepened and anger flared.
“On your feet, Commander!” The man looked annoyed, but obeyed. “Now,” Kas continued, “You must be an outstanding engineer, mister, because you’re a disaster as an officer. But I will not have my crew snickering behind their hands at one of my officers, line or staff! Nor will I permit you to infect junior officers with disdain for the Fleet and its purpose.
“Now, I have no choice but to assign you as Rekesh ’s Chief Engineer. But by all the weird gods of the galaxy, by the time we get back, you will be as acceptable an officer as you are an engineer, or you’ll die trying!
“Now,” he continued in a more moderate tone, “I know you’ve a lot to do to get this ship combat-ready…” Tremling muttered and Kas paused. “What?”
Tremling glowered. “I said, ‘If it can be done at all’.”
Kas matched the man’s scowl. “You mean, ‘If it can be done at all, sir!’ he demanded.
After a moment, Tremling’s eyes dropped, and he grated a reluctant, “Sir”.
Kas stared at the man for a moment, seething. Finally, he controlled himself enough to snap. “That will be all, Commander. For now. But rest assured,” he grated as the pudgy man rose; “You and I will be having much more contact in the weeks to come. For now, get out of my sight, and get my ship on-line!”
Kas found that he had to allow himself a few moments to subdue his anger and control trembling hands. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind before his next interview.
But the man who next entered was nearly the antithesis of the engineer. Tre Wansung marched into the room like a cadet on parade, snapped to attention, and rendered Kas a textbook salute. Where the engineer was large and hulking, Wansung stood only about 160 centimeters tall, and probably massed about 70 kilos. Slim and graceful, he conveyed an air of tightly constrained energy. His blond hair and youthful face belied his Commander’s shoulder boards.
