She looked up. “Are they good crews?”
“I believe so,” William said. He knew some of the officers and crewers he’d recruited personally. The others had taken a little more care. He’d read their files carefully—evidently, Asher Dales had an agreement with the Commonwealth allowing a certain level of access—and contacted their former commanding officers for references. They were all good crewers. “They certainly know their jobs.”
And they’re experienced, he added to himself. The crew may drink, or set up illicit stills, but they won’t let things get out of hand.
He allowed himself a tight smile, even though he knew there was still a great deal of work to do. He hadn’t felt so happy since . . . since he’d stood on the bridge of his first command, back before the mission to Jorlem. Unlucky—Uncanny, he reminded himself sharply—had been in poor condition, but she’d been his. The four destroyers and one freighter he’d purchased for Asher Dales were in a better state, while their crews had practically been handpicked. He might no longer have access to the vast supply network that had kept the Royal Navy functioning, but having sole command more than made up for it. He’d taken care to purchase all the supplies he’d need to keep the squadron running for three to five years.
“As long as you trust them,” Tanya said. She looked around the tiny compartment. “I don’t know anything about naval affairs.”
“Which makes you smarter than far too many lawyers I’ve had to deal with,” William said truthfully. Tanya would probably have made a pretty fair lawyer if she hadn’t been called back to her homeworld, a homeworld she’d admitted she barely remembered. “Suffice it to say that we should have enough firepower to deal with plausible threats.”
Tanya lifted her eyebrows. “Plausible threats?”
“Well, we won’t be able to do much if the sector is invaded by aliens,” William said dryly. “Or if one of the other Great Powers goes fishing in troubled waters.”
He looked at the holographic starchart for a long moment. It was hard to be sure, as he’d never been able to follow politics on Tyre, not when he hadn’t been raised on the corporate world, but it looked as though a number of politicians wanted to withdraw the navy from the Theocratic Sector. Not a reassuring thought. William knew his destroyers could handle pirates, if any of them came knocking, but not a larger threat. The remnants of the Theocratic Navy were out there somewhere. William liked to think that their poor maintenance habits had finally caught up with them and their ships had broken down in interstellar space, but he couldn’t allow himself to believe it. And while the Commonwealth had no interest in a little expansion, whatever the locals thought, there were other interstellar powers out there. One or more of them might see advantage in snapping up the liberated worlds before they developed space-based defenses and industries of their own.
“Then it’s better to depart now,” Tanya said. “We’re not going to get there in a hurry, are we?”
“Dandelion and Primrose will reach Asher Dales in three weeks, unless something goes wrong with the drives,” William told her simply. “Lily, Petunia, and Macdonald will take longer.”
He concealed his annoyance with an effort. The Flower-class destroyers were good ships, even if they were slightly outdated. They’d been the fastest things in space in their day. But now, two of them had to be detached to escort the freighter. Macdonald was armed, but William had no illusions. She wouldn’t be any match for a pirate ship with a brave or desperate crew.
And if they knew what the freighter was carrying, they’d take whatever risks they had to take to get their paws on her, William reminded himself. They’ll be desperate for top-of-the-line spare parts.
“I’ll be traveling with you, of course,” Tanya said. “Or would you rather I stayed on the freighter?”
“You won’t see much difference,” William told her wryly. “The freighter cabins are even smaller than our cabins.”
Tanya’s lips curved into a smile. “Impossible.”
“Believe it,” William said. He’d earmarked a cabin for her, the second-largest on the ship. It still didn’t have enough room to swing a cat. She was lucky she wasn’t a midshipwoman. The midshipman quarters were so tiny that only one person could move about at any one time. Everyone else had to stay in their bunks and pray they weren’t late to their duty stations. “Bring your kit and anything else you want onto the ship by 1700.”
He made a show of checking his wristcom. “We’ll be leaving at 1900. If you’re not aboard, we’ll go without you.”
“That would be embarrassing,” Tanya said, deadpan.
William snorted. It would be more than merely embarrassing. An officer or crewman who missed the deadline for returning, who was left behind when his ship departed, would be in deep shit.
“I don’t have much to bring,” Tanya assured him, standing. “And I have it all at Orbit Station.”
“Just remember we do have mass limits,” William said. The last transport he’d traveled on had been crammed with civilians bitching about the mass limit. They hadn’t realized that the starship had only limited space. Thankfully, experienced spacers generally knew better. “And don’t try to evade customs.”
Tanya laughed and left the compartment. William watched her go, then turned his attention back to the datapad. The final set of checks had been completed, some under his personal supervision; there were no problems, as far as his crews could tell, with the destroyers. But it would only be a matter of time before something developed. William had been a spacer long enough to know that a component would wear out or someone would make a mistake in the listings or . . . something . . .
