“I gather you want to be in this,” she said.
“We’ve been with you from the beginning,” Lee said. “And some of it’s been the best time of my life. You bet I want to stay.”
“Me, too,” muttered the others.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Ky said. “And here’s why.” Quickly, she outlined the differences in discipline that Hugh had named most critical. “The thing is, if you continue to act like civilians, that could get you killed—or, at worse, the whole ship lost. Yes, even just one of you,” she said to the disbelief in their faces. “Let me outline just one scenario. Say we’re boarded. You’ll say, Been there, done that, right? But I’m talking about actual penetration of the crew compartments, which didn’t happen last time. If you don’t do exactly what you’ve been told—what you’re supposed to—without thinking up any heroic bits that backfire—”
“Why would they backfire?” Lee interrupted.
“And there’s another problem,” Ky said. She sighed and shook her head. “Lee, you and the others are used to talking to me as the captain, yes, but also as Gerry Vatta’s little girl who needs taking care of.” His eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yes, you are. That’s understandable. But it has to stop. This is now a military ship; we will be maintaining military discipline. For some of you—including some of the best of you—that’s going to be a considerable strain. You weren’t trained for it; you’re not used to it; you still have that history with me when we had a nonmilitary relationship.”
Lee opened his mouth and shut it; Mehar raised her hand. Ky nodded at her.
“I don’t understand why it all has to be military, Captain. I mean, why does it have to be that way for us as well as them?”
“Because a ship’s crew has to be all one piece, bonded,” Ky said. “You have to trust the military—the present military—and they have to trust you. Everyone has to know that everyone else will follow orders quickly, precisely, without questioning, in any crisis. And the newer crew have to know that they are equal with you, that you’re all on the same footing.” She paused again; they were listening intently—not rejecting it, but not yet completely convinced.
“Look,” she said. “You are my oldest crew; we’ve been through a lot. I can never forget that, I trust you and respect you at a level the others still have to earn. But I can’t treat you differently and be fair to them.”
Lee nodded, as did Mehar. Lee raised his hand this time before blurting out anything; Ky nodded.
“I understand that,” he said. “And—I guess—I understand the need to change. But…I’m not sure I can change, and I sure don’t know how fast.”
“Good points,” Ky said. “Here’s what I want to do. I’ve spoken to some of the military side about what might help you transition with as little difficulty as possible. You’ll all need to do some physical training and some cross-training in other specialties. You’ll all need to start learning, if you haven’t, the correct procedures, in the military sense. The parameters have narrowed; I’ll be pickier about precision; I’ll be pickier about discipline. I want you to get to know the fighting crew, not stay aloof from them. Lee, I know you’ve partied with them—” Chuckles broke out, relaxing some of the tension. “You don’t have to like them all, but you need to know them.”
“Er…what if they…,” Mehar started. Ky looked at her. “Sorry,” Mehar said. “Captain, if I may?” Ky nodded. “Some of them…they’ve made remarks…personal…”
“That will stop. I’ve told them. No hazing, none of that. It happens in basic training, but this isn’t standard basic training and we don’t have time for it. I’ve made up a cube with some of the procedural stuff for you—for instance, if someone makes an unwanted sexual advance, there’s a procedure for reporting it. There will be consequences.” Mehar had stood beside her in that corridor when she and Mehar together had killed the mutineer leaders; when Gary Tobai died. She was not about to tolerate anyone hassling Mehar.
“Another thing. No questioning orders, at least not without first asking permission, and never in action. That’s going to be hard for some of you in particular.” She gave Lee a grin; he smiled back, sheepishly. “But there are reasons, among them gaining the trust of the military bridge crew. They have to know that you do what you’re told first, and ask questions later. And yes, before you ask, there’s room for initiative and all that—but not now. Clear?”
Nods, murmured combination of “Yes, ma’am,” and “Yes, Captain.”
“Here’s the cube,” Ky said, handing them out. “Take it and look at it, first thing. If any of you change your mind and want out, either after looking at it or after trying the training, just let me know. I will always respect you and the service you’ve already given me—and Vatta—no matter what you decide.”
More nods.
“Dismissed,” Ky said. They all looked startled, but began moving out. “Lee, just wait a moment, would you?” Lee, Hugh had pointed out, was a critical person; he had been operating in a semi-military role for a long time now, and his cooperation and leadership would help with the crew transition—if he could stand the discipline.
“Sure, Captain,” Lee said. Then he pulled himself into an exaggerated version of “attention” and said, “Am I supposed to stand like this when I talk to you?”
Part willing, part resenting. Ky shook her head. “No, certainly not all the time. Lee, when my father sent you out as second pilot under Riel, you were starting to get bored, weren’t you?” He had told her that once.
“Yes, Captain,” he said, relaxing slightly but still more formal than usual for him. His hand twitched; she knew he wanted to run it through his hair, as he often did while they talked.
“And you told me you actually enjoyed the excitement, that being with a privateer didn’t bother you at all, right?”
“Right, Captain.”
“Lee, you have a lot of potential. I think so, and Hugh thinks so. You already know how to use small arms; you’ve already shown yourself to be brave and resourceful. But I can’t tell how much the tighter discipline will bother you. Some very brave and resourceful people just don’t handle it well. Give me a clue.”
Lee’s stiff posture relaxed still more. “Honestly—I don’t know, Captain. I always kind of hankered after the hero-stuff I saw in entertainment vids, imagined myself as a space ranger type, but I knew it wasn’t realistic. And the villains were usually the ones hyped on discipline, all that standing in stiff rows and saluting and barking yes sir, no sir, immediately sir like trained animals.”
“Um. And if you keep thinking of military discipline in those terms, it will be harder for you and you will resent it. Tell me, do you think my Exec is competent?”
“Hugh? He’s brilliant!”
“So, if he tells you to do something, how likely is he to be right?”
“Hasn’t been wrong yet,” Lee said. Then he blinked. “Oh. But I always ask, don’t I? Or nearly always?”
“Yes,” Ky said, grinning. “You do. And I know, and he knows, that it’s not really insubordination, that desire to understand his reasoning…I suspect you’re picking his brain, actually, storing away how he thinks so you can use it if you ever need it. But what do you think it looks like to the military crew? Like, for instance, my weapons officer?”
Lee grimaced. “Like I’m a snotty civilian who won’t take orders without a lengthy explanation, I’m guessing.”
“Something like that, yes,” Ky said. She said nothing more, waiting. If he could reason it out on his own…
“So…what you want me to do is just…follow orders, and if I want to know why and wherefore…ask him later, if he’s not busy?”
“That would be perfect,” Ky said.
Lee thought that over; she could practically see the gears meshing. “And you think,” he said finally, “that if I adapt without an argument, the others will fall in line?”
“I think it would be easier for them,” Ky said. “You’ve got a lot of inf
luence, and rightly so. If you had gone in the military, they’d have recognized your leadership potential.”
“Do pilots have a rank, in the military?”
“Why? Is there someone you want to pull rank on?”
“No,” Lee said. This time he did run his hand through his hair. “I just…if I’m going to have to learn all that military stuff, procedures and whatnot, I don’t want to be just that civvie pilot who’s finally gotten some sense.”
“Lee, you could never be that, not in my eyes,” Ky said firmly. “But yes, military pilots have rank, and I’ll tell you what—you get through a training period, and I’ll pin those—” Her mind raced. They still didn’t have uniforms, or rank insignia. “—those whatever we decide on, when we buy them, on your shoulders myself, at a formal ceremony. You and all the rest. Deal?”
He grinned. “Captain, I don’t think military commanders make deals. I thought only traders made deals.”
“As Vatta and as your captain, I make deals if I want to,” Ky said. “And that’s a promise.”
“Deal,” Lee said, nodding. “Er…yes, ma’am, Captain.”
After some thought and discussion with Hugh, Ky assigned Gordon Martin as the civilian crew’s trainer. “You did a good job with Jim,” she told him.
“I’ve barely got Jim up to decent civ,” Martin grumbled. “And now I’m supposed to get him to actual soldiering?”
“You’ve done better than that, and you know it. Thing is, the civilian crew know you from way back; they trust you. They’ll take things from you that they might not from, say, Jon Gannett. At least it’ll be an easier beginning.”
“This has the potential to be a rolling doughnut,” Martin said.
“I know. But it’s worth a try.”
“So am I working with all of them, or just the ones who want to stay?”
“All of them for now. Just in case we run into something when we drop out of FTL.”
“Right. Makes sense. How many hours a day? You know, in real training—”
“You’d have them clock-round. Yes. But they’re still ship crew, with real duties. Let’s start with four hours and see where that gets us.”
Nothing more was said for a few days, and Ky got no hints from the crew as she made her rounds through the ship. On the bridge, Lee seemed to be working well with Hugh, giving crisp “Yes, sir” and “No, sir” to orders. Gordon’s first five-day report, a brief one-page summary, indicated no significant problems.
The very next day, Ky was walking the ship as she did every first-shift, just passing the portside aft battery, when she heard a comment from someone in the aft environmental chamber, inboard. “—didn’t sign up for this,” the voice was saying. “If I’d known I was getting shanghaied—”
“They told you it was a privateer, didn’t they? They told me—”
“Yeah, but a privateer’s like a pirate—no rules, no saluting, none of this military stuff—just, you know, adventure and a share of the loot—”
“You’ve never been on a privateer before, have you?”
“Uh—no, but I thought—”
“You thought! You should’ve asked somebody who had—”
Ky decided to let them work it out for themselves, but she made a note to herself that Environmental Technician Twigg should be herded into Stella’s end of things as soon as possible.
CHAPTER
FOUR
When Vanguard dropped out of FTL in the empty system that had been their next programmed jump point, Ky immediately contacted the other two ships and explained the change of plans.
“So—we’re not going to Ciudad?” Captain Argelos of Sharra’s Gift asked. He looked confused, and Ky didn’t blame him. She had been so certain that’s where they should go, before that jump.
Ky shook her head. “No. Not at first, anyway. We need allies; telling them that one of their ships has been destroyed and we couldn’t save any of the crew is not the way to get help.”
Argelos nodded. “That makes sense. But what are we going to do, just the three of us…do you really think we can accomplish anything?”
“I should try to find others from Bissonet,” Pettygrew said. Bassoon’s captain looked hollow-eyed, as if he’d lost kilos of weight while they were in FTL flight. “I can’t just ignore what happened…”
“Turek didn’t start with the resources he had now,” Ky said. “We can do a lot with three good ships, and we’ll have more once we have something to show others. Dan”—she used Pettygrew’s given name for the first time—“I can’t stop you if you want to leave, but consider—it’s a big universe, and you have no idea where other Bissonet ships might be. Please consider staying with us for now—we can help you, and you can certainly help us.”
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Pettygrew said. “Back home—I don’t want to think about it, but—”
“I don’t know what’s happening back at Slotter Key, either,” Ky said. “And I know my family’s mostly dead.”
Pettygrew looked down, then nodded slowly. “All right. If you think we can do anything—”
“We did. We blew away some of their ships. We damaged others. Now—” Now, before anyone had too long to think, she had to get them busy about something they could do. “—I need to know your munitions status.”
Pettygrew grimaced. “I threw everything I had, short of the galley sink. That’s another thing; I can’t fight without replacements—”
“And you?” Ky turned to Argelos.
He shrugged. “The same. No, I think I ended up with five missiles in reserve. And what I had in trade goods might buy another ten, at a cut-rate weapons shop. If the ansibles were up—”
“If the ansibles were up, we’d all have less trouble,” Ky said. “We’re low, too. So the first thing to do is resupply. I have funds—for now. We need to find a place, come in looking strong but not threatening—”
“That’s a neat trick,” Pettygrew said.
“—and see what we can pick up,” Ky said, without answering that. “I’ve been searching the catalogs—Vatta catalogs—and there’s a system near here that’s listed as having a major outlet for munitions at good prices; they have manufacturers in the system. Even bigger than MilMart at Lastway, it looks like. Vatta picked up cargo there before—in the old days.”
“Exactly the sort of place the pirates would be hanging out, I’d think,” Argelos said.
“Quite possibly, and if so, we’re in trouble. I’m sure they’ll have agents there, at least. I’ll admit that the Vatta database has warnings posted about it. Some fraud in the repair shops, for instance, selling old parts for new, that kind of thing. But it’s likely to have what we need, and it’s only one jump away. We’ve got experienced weapons crew who can detect substandard munitions.”
They both nodded. “So where is this gun shop?” Argelos asked.
“One jump, five days.” Ky hesitated. “Another thing—these shipboard ansibles are making communications much easier, but we know the pirates have them—we need to find a way to protect our messages.”
“Scramble ’em?” Pettygrew said. “That’s easy enough.”
“But it lets the pirates know someone else is using the tech,” Ky said. “I’d rather they didn’t know that…though the ones who got away back there may have noticed. Do you have any technical wizards who might be able to add a channel or whatever, something the pirates won’t know exists?”
“Dozi,” Pettygrew said, before Argelos could say anything. “Dozi Lattin. She might be able to—she’s been tinkering around with ours, very carefully.”
“Nobody on my ship,” Argelos said.
“That’s good news, Dan,” Ky said to Pettygrew. “If we can detect their transmissions, but they can’t detect ours, we’ll have a communications advantage even if we can’t understand anything they’re saying. It’s definitely worthwhile hanging about here for a few days while your tech works on the problem. She should be able to give us a yea-or-nay in two da
ys, right?”
“I’ll ask her,” Pettygrew said.
“Full scans, power up, and ready to jump out if trouble arrives,” Ky said. “We can risk spacing at a half light-second, so we can use conventional tight-beam until we get the new channels on the ansibles.” She wondered whether to talk to the other captains about Hugh’s recommendation that they train all the crew in military skills, but decided to wait for more secure communications, if they could get them.
She considered contacting Stella to let her know the ship was still intact, but decided it was too risky. So far, no one but she herself knew that Stella had one of the small ansible units; if the pirates realized that one unit was on a planet or station, they might attack it—and she would not be there to protect Stella and Toby. Best to wait until she could use a system ansible, where her signal would be drowned in a million others. She didn’t analyze the surge of relief that decision gave her.
Dozi Lattin’s solution, as she explained the next day to Ky over the reconfigured system, was “not elegant at all, but it works.” Between Lattin’s Bissonet accent, much thicker than Pettygrew’s, her rapid delivery, and the technical complexity of the explanation, Ky soon felt drowned in detail.
“So—the short of it is, you’ve modified the system so the pirates won’t detect it? And it still works?”
“Yah,” Lattin said. Onscreen she was a thin, unkempt woman whose jacket pockets bulged with data wands. She pulled one out. “It’s all on here; your communications staff can have a copy when we get somewhere we can pass information hard. They don’t want to be just following directions forever. And I’ll be working on a better—”
“That’s great, Dozi,” Pettygrew said. He winked at Ky, the first humor she’d seen from him. “But I need to talk to Captain Vatta. Later, eh?”
Lattin smiled and ducked away from the screen; Ky was not surprised to see that she almost ran into someone coming onto Pettygrew’s bridge. Typical tech, that, striding along with head down, concentrating on anything but her surroundings.