Lt. Leary, Commanding (17 page)

"Like a cow pissing on a flat rock," Hogg muttered, though he didn't sound especially unhappy about it. The rain was blasting itself to mist on the canopy over the walkway from the edge of the pool to the corvette. Watching it, Daniel could imagine he was in one of the metal-roofed hunting cabins deep in the interior of Bantry—

Instead of waiting for the arrival of the courier whom the Navy Office had an hour ago alerted them to expect.

Apparently thinking in the same track, Ellie Woetjans said, "If the RCN don't teach you nothing else, it'll teach you to wait." There was a chorus of, "Amen!" and "Too right!" from the half dozen spacers in the the
Princess Cecile
's entranceway.

Woetjans was a rangy, powerful woman who was taller than Daniel by six inches. As bosun she rapped helmets with a length of electrical cord to get the attention of landsmen she was turning into riggers. No need of that with the present crew, of course.

Woetjans was soaking wet, having just come in with the team which had changed out the main hinge of Dorsal 3. The antenna had stuck a few degrees short of closure twice during testing. Daniel had been willing to lift with it—joints loosened in service, after all—but since there were a few minutes unexpectedly available, the bosun had taken five riggers out despite the rain. She hadn't bothered to change when she returned in case the courier with the
Princess Cecile
's orders arrived during those few moments. The crew was even more excited about the corvette's next deployment than her captain was.

Well, make that
as
excited. Admiral Anston had called Daniel in personally, after all. He wouldn't have done that if he'd planned to send the
Princess Cecile
to the Home Squadron protecting Cinnabar against Alliance raiders—who had last attacked some seventeen years ago. There was every chance that Lt. Leary's first operational command would be an independent one.

"Daniel?" said Adele's voice through the earphones of the commo helmet Daniel was wearing along with his utility uniform. "A car and truck have just cleared the main gate with Bay Ten as their announced destination. Over."

He should have guessed that Adele would be monitoring not only ordinary communications traffic but also intercepting limited-distribution messages that she and her software thought might be of interest to the
Princess Cecile
. A truck, though? Why on earth would the courier have a truck with him?

"Adele," Daniel said, "we're only about three minutes from the gate here. Why don't you come join me for the courier's arrival? You can monitor the console through your helmet, you know. Over."

Adele sniffed. "Can I really?" she said, not angrily but with enough of an edge to remind Daniel who he'd been talking to. "Perhaps I'll print out the instruction manual for my equipment to read while I'm waiting with you. Signals out."

Smiling faintly but tense all the same, Daniel said, "He's on his way from the gate," loudly enough to be heard by those with him in the entrance. He lifted his equipment belt with his thumbs to settle it more comfortably over his hipbones.

The rain had slackened again, though that was hard to tell because of the water still dripping from the antennas through the flare of the area light above the
Princess Cecile
's hatch. Headlights swept down the curving roadway toward Bay Ten in Vs of spray. The lead vehicle, illuminated by the following one, was one of the enclosed two-place scooters used by the Navy Office message service.

Adele came down the companionway from C Level and the bridge. Unconsciously her hand brushed the right cargo pocket where her personal data unit rode. She had no need for special tailoring when wearing a utility uniform.

The vehicles pulled up at the shelter for visitors to Bay Ten. A figure in a close-drawn rain cape got out of the scooter and started down the walkway toward the corvette's hatch, hunched over against the weather. The rain was coming down harder again. It wasn't the downpour of minutes earlier, but it still blew under the canopy.

"There's a driver in the car," Hogg noticed aloud. "Since when do couriers get drivers?"

Adele frowned, then flipped down the jump seat intended for a sentry at the airlock and took her data unit out. Daniel glanced at her, wondering what in the world she was doing.

The wands flickered. Without looking up Adele said, "I'm finding what department the truck is assigned to. Its vehicle number went into the records when it passed the gate."

Daniel opened his mouth to say, "Well, we'll know in a moment. . . ." But it wasn't certain that they
would
learn in a moment; and anyway, that probably didn't make any difference to Adele. She had more faith in data that she uncovered herself than she did in what somebody from the Navy Office told her; and thinking about it, Daniel too had more faith in what Adele learned in her own fashion. He swallowed his comment unspoken.

The courier reached the hatch and stepped into the entryway, out of the weather. The trousers of his 2nd Class uniform were darkened several shades from the original dove gray where the rain had soaked them.

"Orders for the officer commanding RCS
Princess Cecile
," the man said, his voice rough. He coughed to clear his throat.

Daniel stepped forward. "I'm Lieutenant Leary, commanding RCS
Princess Cecile
," he said.

The stiffened bill of the courier's cowl shadowed his face. He brought from beneath his cape a packet closed with the Republic's seal, a winged sandal, over an embossed RCN.

Daniel broke the seal with his index finger, watching the holographic wings flap three times. If the envelope had been opened before it reached him, the charge would have dissipated whether or not the seal itself were damaged. There was no reason to suspect forgery, but the Matrix makes people—those who survive—careful about details.

He drew out the document and read:

Navy Office, 16 xi 45
Lt. D. O. Leary,
Comdg. RCS
Princess Cecile
, Harbor Three.
Lieutenant: So soon as the Republic of Cinnabar corvette which you have been appointed to command shall be in all respects ready for space, you will proceed to the Strymon system, touching at such ports as you may think proper.
If possible you will meet at Sexburga the squadron under Commodore Pettin, already en route to Strymon, and place yourself under his command for the remainder of the cruise. If you do not join Commodore Pettin en route, you will report to him in the Strymon system.
During your presence at Strymon you will do all in your power to cherish, on the part of their government, good feelings toward the Republic of Cinnabar. In addition you will carry out such other duties as are placed on you by competent authorities. You will return to Cinnabar in accordance with the directions of Commodore Pettin.
The courier bearing these orders will provide additional oral instructions which you will carry out as a part of your duties.
You will communicate to all the officers under your command the orders of this Office that no one be concerned in a duel during the course of this cruise.
Commending you and your ship company to the protection of Divine Providence, and wishing you a pleasant cruise and a safe return to your planet and friends, I am,
Very respectfully,
Anston

Frowning slightly, Daniel handed the dispatch to Adele to read. To the courier he said, "You have oral instructions for me?"

The courier undid his cape's throat catch and shrugged the garment off. It fell on the deck behind him. He was Delos Vaughn. He said, "Indeed I do, Lieutenant."

Daniel's face didn't change. He said nothing while his mind shuffled through possibilities.

"And I have a reserve naval commission," Vaughn continued in the silence; sharply, a little nervous in the face of Daniel's lack of reaction. "I have a perfect right to wear this uniform."

The others present were taking their cue from Daniel. Apart from Adele, none of them saw anything remarkable in the situation.

"All right, Mr. Vaughn," Daniel said. "Come into my cabin and you can deliver your instructions."

He turned, catching Adele's eye. She'd risen to her feet when the courier arrived, but the data unit was still in her hand. She gave a minute shake of her head, her expression guarded.

"There's no need for privacy, Lieutenant," Vaughn said. "The further instructions are that you carry me to Strymon aboard your vessel, and that you provide me with such assistance as is commensurate with your duties as an officer of the Republic."

"Mr. Vaughn . . ." Daniel said. The storm had resumed in all its elemental fury. Its thunder and actinic glare were anchors for Daniel's mind, underscoring how trivial human concerns were against the majesty of nature. "An RCN corvette is not a pleasure yacht. Perhaps—"

"You have your orders, Mr. Leary," Vaughn said, momentarily the aristocrat to a servant. "They are clear, are they not?"

Daniel felt his face tighten and grow warm with the blood rising to the skin. "Quite clear, Mr. Vaughn," he said.

"As for the comfort of a yacht," Vaughn said, a gentleman to a peer again, "I don't require anything excessive for the few months the voyage will require. The van there—"

He twisted his head, sketching a gesture toward the vehicles waiting at the poolside.

"—holds my baggage. We can store it here in the entryway for the moment. As soon as we've reached orbit, you can expend a missile and then put the baggage in the emptied missile rack. And you'll need to find accommodation for my two servants, though they can sleep with the common spacers."

He beamed at Daniel in open-faced enthusiasm.

Daniel had a sudden vision of himself as a cog in a vast machine which stretched away in all directions. Parts whirring, trembling; wheels and pistons and slides in vibrant motion, and somewhere a control board at which a faceless figure sat. He thought,
I am Daniel Leary, officer by grace of God and the will of the Senate.
I am not a cog in anyone's machine!
 

"I see, Mr. Vaughn," he said aloud. "As you say, my orders are clear. You may board with the clothes you're standing in. We won't be making room for your traps by lessening our combat effectiveness in time of war; but as you say, the first leg of the cruise shouldn't be too long. And we haven't room to accommodate servants for supernumeraries, I'm afraid. This is a corvette, not a battleship."

The first leg would be no more than eighteen days or he'd know the reason why!
 

"We can find you utilities to wear, I'm sure, until you can buy civilian kit at our first planetfall."

He nodded to Adele. "Since Officer Mundy," he said, "has moved into the captain's lounge—"

One of the two small cabins of Daniel's suite off the bridge, intended for entertaining non-RCN guests where they wouldn't have access to a console tied into the corvette's data bank.

"—then we can put the passenger in that cabin." He smiled at Vaughn. "Which you will be sharing, sir, with the infirmary and Medic; if you're determined to take passage with us."

"You know I don't care where I sleep, Daniel," Adele said with a moue of irritation.

"Nor do I, Lieutenant Leary," Vaughn said, grinning—to Daniel's surprise—in satisfaction. "But if it hasn't become a point of honor with you, I have two small cases waiting in the car that brought me. In total they amount to the one and a half cubic feet permitted a midshipman under naval regulations. And I'll hire a spacer to do for me on board, as I believe is customary?"

Aren't you a clever devil?
Daniel thought.
Trying me on to see if I'd let you have whatever you wanted.
A Leary of Bantry kowtowing to a foreigner!
 

"Yes," Daniel said aloud. "That should be workable."

He checked the time on the flat multifunction card he wore on a wrist clip while in utilities, then looked up again. "You have five minutes to get your two cases aboard, Mr. Vaughn."

He smiled and felt the thrill of the words as he added, "We're to lift ship as soon as we're ready, you see. And the
Princess Cecile
is ready for her first operational cruise now!"

As the
Princess Cecile
trembled, white rings became blue solids on the sidebar to Adele's communications display. One at a time, eight of them: the plasma thrusters switching from standby to live, expelling minute streams of white-hot ions into the pool. Very shortly Daniel would slide his linked throttles forward and the thrusters would lift the corvette to transatmospheric orbit.

Adele was detached, unaffected by the tense bustle of the bridge around her. She had duties at this moment, though they were of the negative variety: to block all incoming messages unless they directly concerned the vessel's liftoff. The operation was complex and potentially dangerous if botched, though there was more risk of the sun going dark in the next minutes. Between the time the liftoff sequence began until the
Princess Cecile
reached orbit, even Admiral Anston could wait.

Betts, the Chief Missileer, and Sun, the gunner's mate—a corvette was too small to rate a master gunner—were taut at their consoles to the left of Adele's, though neither of them had as much to do with the process of liftoff as the Signals Officer did. Woetjans and a team of riggers waited in the corridor. They would climb onto the hull after the
Princess Cecile
reached an altitude at which the antennas could be deployed. That would be at least ten minutes and might be thirty, but the riggers already wore their suits with the faceplates hinged open.

They were all spacers, feeling a responsibility to the ship and its performance. To Adele, the
Princess Cecile
was the metal box in which she happened to ride at the moment. She would do her job and whatever else Daniel or another asked of her, but she couldn't even pretend to care whether the ship rose to orbit—as it would, as surely as the sun would rise—or instead exploded here in Harbor Three.

The hatches were closed, the thrusters lighted; the fusion bottle that provided both plasma and auxiliary power was a green sphere in Adele's holographic display, and the High Drive a hollow green-edged bar indicating that the antimatter converter was on standby but fully functional. Adele didn't need to echo the ship's indicators on her screen; she did so merely from a desire to show solidarity with the rest of the crew to whom they were important.