Lt. Leary, Commanding (40 page)

_I
t was crowded with four on the cab's bench seat, but Woetjans
had insisted in riding up front with Adele, Daniel and Liebig. The central driver's station was the problem: Adele was squeezed between Daniel and the right doorpanel, while Woetjans had the relative luxury of all the space to Liebig's left.

Woetjans didn't do things without a reason. Adele wouldn't have requested the bosun's presence, but her strength and experience had been a welcome addition when Mon ordered that she accompany Adele's party.

"Adele?" Daniel said. "Can you connect me with Spires? The squadron's scheduled liftoff is in ten minutes, so it's time for me to take my medicine from Commodore Pettin. The news will make his day, I'm sure."

"We told Captain Mon that you and the crew were fine, sir," Woetjans said. Adele felt her lips tighten at the bosun intercepting a request meant for her. "We called in as soon as we landed."

"Yes, I'm sure you did, Woetjans," Daniel said. There was a touch of reserve in his tone, an echo of what Adele herself was feeling. "But I need to report to the commodore directly and tell him that it'll be at least four hours before I reach the harbor. Adele, can you . . . ?"

"Of course," Adele said. She'd already wiggled out her personal data unit and brought it live. "Do you want the cruiser's communications center or a direct patch to Mr. Pettin?"

Adele had linked the aircar's satellite radio to her RCN helmet, but she couldn't claim to be any more comfortable with the helmet than she was with the radio's own peculiar voice controller. She'd learned on the flight out from Spires that the aircar was as smooth as a library table, so she'd reprogrammed the unit in order to run it with her wands through the data unit.

She hadn't expected to be quite as cramped as she was at the moment, but the task was easy enough. She switched on the radio and brought up the RCN menu as she spoke.

"He'll send me a rocket whichever choice I make," Daniel said reflectively. He didn't sound depressed, but his voice wasn't as boyishly ebullient as usual. "I think the direct line, though."

He grinned. "I'd rather be accused of arrogantly calling my superior direct," he said, "than of being a coward and hoping that I could avoid his notice by dealing with his staff."

"Ma'am?" Woetjans said. "Officer Mundy? Don't make the call. Don't make any more calls out till we're back with the
Sissie
, all right?"

Daniel leaned forward to look at the bosun past Liebig. Obviously the driver had been warned to expect what was happening now, because he had a false smile and his eyes fixed front.

"Woetjans?" Daniel prompted gently. Adele froze her display and watched the tableau from her corner.

"I'm sorry, sir," Woetjans said. She did sound sorry. Though she faced Daniel, her eyes were focused a thousand miles away. "The captain's given me orders that you aren't to call anybody till you resume command of the
Princess Cecile
; Acting Captain Mon has, I mean."

Adele couldn't see Daniel's face from where she sat, but his silence itself was telling. Woetjans took a deep breath and continued in an anguished voice, "Sir, Mr. Mon gave me the job instead of, instead of somebody else—"

Adele dipped her chin in a nod of understanding.

"—because he knew I'd follow naval discipline. That I'd put this pipe through the radio—"

Woetjans tapped her length of tubing with a little finger. She'd brought it to encourage the Captal if that proved necessary. It wasn't. The prisoners hadn't even complained aloud at being marooned with the remnants of food Daniel's unit had brought to South Land.

"—if that was the only way to keep you from getting a signal out. Sir."

"I see," said Daniel. He leaned back in his seat and grinned. "Adele?" he added. "What would you have done if Captain Mon had given you the orders that he gave Woetjans?"

It was an honest question, so Adele paused a moment to form a complete and honest answer. "I like Mon well enough," she said. "It's clear that he has what he considers to be your best interests at heart. But I wouldn't thank anyone who tried to control me for my own good, and I wouldn't be a party to a plot to do that to you."

She grinned just enough to lift one corner of the knife blade line of her lips. "Of course," she went on, "I bow to
force majeure
in the form of Woetjans's bludgeon."

Daniel laughed merrily. "Well, Woetjans," he said, "I hope I understand naval discipline as clearly as you do. Captain Mon has given you a lawful order which I'll watch you obey, little though I care to do so."

He twisted to look through the window into the passenger compartment. Woetjans had brought a cask of Sexburgan beer for the rescued unit, saying that it wouldn't affect their ability to function when they reached the corvette. Adele wondered how Tovera was getting along with the festive spacers.

Daniel turned back with a satisfied expression. "I trust I'm allowed to listen to traffic between the squadron and the
Princess Cecile
, however?" he said. "Ah, assuming that's possible, Adele?"

"Of course it's possible," she said, frowning. Daniel didn't mean to be insulting, but how would he react if she said, "And can you walk through that open door, Daniel?"

"Yeah, sure," Woetjans said. "Sir, you know I didn't want to . . ."

"Part of being in the RCN is learning to carry out unpleasant orders, Woetjans," Daniel said without expression. He tried to smile but gave it up as a bad job after a moment.

Adele checked the machine-made transcripts of the past four and a half hours of commo traffic between squadron command and the
Princess Cecile
; for her, written text provided a quicker way to assess material than sound bites were. Each message in turn proved low-level and routine: duty rosters, liberty records, the current supply manifest, and similar matters.

While she was scrolling through the data, the display threw up a red sidebar: the
Princess Cecile
was receiving a communication for the captain and slugged Squadron Six—Commodore Pettin himself. Betts, the duty officer, had just passed the call on as directed.

Adele paused only a moment, then routed the message live through the speakers in both cab and passenger compartment.

"
Sir!
" Mon's voice said. "
Acting Captain Mon here, over.
"

"
Mon, if you're in charge, then Lieutenant Leary is still absent from duty,
" Commodore Pettin replied. Adele wasn't good at identifying voices, but no one else in the squadron would have shown such disregard for naval propriety. "
That's true, isn't it?
"

"
Sir
," Mon said, "
I've failed to recall Captain Leary from the expedition on which you ordered him.
I'll keep trying, and I'm confident that he'll have returned well before the liftoff time you originally set.
Over.
"

Daniel's left hand clenched, released, and then clenched again. His expression remained calmly attentive, his head cocked slightly to the side.

"
Well, he won't find a ship to report to if he does,
" the commodore said, his tone suddenly cheerful. "
Lieutenant Mon, I'm making your appointment to command of the
Princess Cecile
permanent in the absence of Leary. A captain who can't keep in touch with his ship has no business in the RCN.
Your command will lift in six minutes, according to the schedule of operations. Hold in orbit for the remainder of the squadron to join you.
Squadron Six out.
"

"
Sir!
" said Lt. Mon. "
I'm very sorry, but the
Princess Cecile
is not ready to lift. While under my temporary command, the cooling system for her Tokamak went out of order. I haven't been able to repair the problem yet.
Over
."

"
By God, Mon,
" Pettin said. He didn't sound angry, just amazed. "
By God.
I suggest you get your little problem solved in the next five minutes. Because if your foreign-built so-called corvette doesn't lift with the squadron, you will have no career at all. None!
"

The transmission ended in the hiss of an open line; Adele broke the contact. No one in the cab spoke for a moment.

Adele looked out the side window. The aircar was over land again; North Land, she supposed, but geography didn't greatly interest her. Most of the continent was as barren as its wholly uninhabited sister.

"I very much regret Lieutenant Mon's decision," Daniel said quietly. "But I'm not one to second-guess the man on the ground."

He gave first Woetjans, then Adele a smile with something of steel in it. "And a great deal can happen before Commodore Pettin returns to Cinnabar and files his report with the Navy Office. We'll see what we can do in the interim to change his mind."

As the aircar dropped in tight spirals into the harbor, Daniel noted that the
Princess Cecile
was ready to lift off as soon as the gangplank came in. The turret would have to be lowered and two hatches were for the moment being used as gunports, but in an emergency all that could be taken care of while the corvette was bound for orbit.

Daniel nodded in approval. That was what he'd expected, of course, from Mon or any competent RCN officer, but it was still a pleasure and relief to see that his confidence had been justified.

They landed just short of the gangplank. A curtain of spray flashed up from the quay: wheeled traffic had worn the stone enough that it filled when vessels maneuvering in nearby slips sloshed the harbor's surface. Liebig cursed because he hadn't noticed the puddle in the twilight, but Daniel wouldn't have cared if he'd been standing in the middle of the splash. He couldn't be much more bedraggled than the past few days marching in the desert had left him.

"Move it, move it!" Woetjans bellowed. The passenger compartment had double doors to ease the passage of the wealthy and corpulent. The spacers were neither, but they disembarked as hastily as they ran to action stations; the wide openings eased the process.

Woetjans was out before the car was fully at rest. Liebig followed an instant later after he'd shut off the power. Adele, on the other hand, was looking puzzled about what she should do next.

Rather than wait for her to open the door beside her, Daniel slid out past the steering yoke. "Woetjans, two men to help the signals officer!" he called as he trotted to the gangplank past the crewmen waiting tautly for their captain to lead them aboard.

Daniel felt thoroughly alive. The
Princess Cecile
had missed the squadron's liftoff, a difficult situation but not necessarily a career-ending one. He'd have to play his hand as well as ever an officer did to save himself, however.

"
Captain, I'm in the Battle Direction Center,
" said Mon's voice on the helmet earphones. "
I have a course to Strymon loaded, based on Commander Bergen's logs. I know you'll be able to refine it, but I thought we could get under weigh now and save a couple hours computation time over a cold start. Mon over.
"

Daniel went through the corvette's entryway at a brisk walk instead of the dead run that instinct urged him to. He didn't want to waste time, but in fact a few minutes here or there wouldn't make any difference. A hasty error would mean disaster—and if he spooked his crew into such an error, it could be just as bad as his own blunder.

"Thank you, Mon," Daniel said as he banged up the righthand—upward—companionway, taking the steps two at a time. That was normal practice, and a rigger's reflex kept his left hand gliding over the railing the whole time to catch him if he slipped. "Watch-standing officers report to the bridge and I'll brief you on our course. Out."

The ship's machinery was live, a symphony of whirrs, whines, and the occasional flurry of clanking like a drum riff. Spacers waited at their action stations. The bow dorsal section of riggers, both watches, stood suited in the corridor. They flattened themselves against either bulkhead as Daniel passed, nodding with a stern smile.

He threw himself into his seat and rotated the command console to face his officers. A year ago Daniel would've radioed his plans ahead to the
Princess Cecile
, trusting RCN encryption to limit his message to its intended hearers if he even bothered to think about security. A few months of contact with Adele Mundy had showed him that an information specialist with a powerful computer at her command could read
anything
she got in electronic form.

There might be eavesdropping devices on the
Princess Cecile
's bridge—and unlikely though that was, it was greater than the chance of there being another specialist of Adele's skill on Sexburga. Even so, Daniel had ceased to say anything over the air that he didn't want others to hear.

Mon and Pasternak—with a long cut on his forearm, covered with a sprayed binder/antiseptic; the Chief Engineer didn't limit his duties to giving orders—came down the corridor behind Daniel. The other warrant officers (including Taley, who wasn't a watchstander but was understandably curious about what was going on) were already on the bridge.

Daniel beamed. He had a
great
crew, a crew that other captains would give an arm for, and they'd every one of them volunteered to serve with Lt. Daniel Leary. By God! they had.

"As everybody in this compartment knows," Daniel said, starting without preamble because he'd sound weak if he tried to articulate what he felt about the spacers he commanded, "we could better Commodore Pettin's time to Strymon with the crew on half watches and me sleeping for the whole run."

There was a general chorus of nods and murmurs. Woetjans slapped the bulkhead with her right hand and said, "Damned straight we will! They could sail the
Winckelmann
's masts out and we'd still be waiting for 'em laughing when they finally staggered in."

Adele alone sat with the neutral expression Daniel knew by now was what her face wore when she was trying not to sneer. He was quite sure that Adele would make her opinion known if Daniel said he intended to humiliate his commanding officer in the most public fashion possible; but she wouldn't go out of her way to insult fellow officers simply because their understanding differed from that of noblemen like herself and Daniel—and senior officers like Commodore Pettin.