“Thank you for your opinion, Lieutenant Commander Sampson.” Kris knew that was a double slap. She had not recognized her as the captain of a ship. She had not even given her the honor normally afforded a lieutenant commander of being addressed as commander.
Sampson’s face reddened, but she said nothing.
“I knew the situation was bad when I took this command. That it’s worse than even the king realized when he appointed me does not persuade me that it is hopeless. Other ships are coming out to reinforce us. They will need to eat. Logistics, as I have often been told, is what separates the professional warrior from the dilettante and amateur. The time may come when running is our only choice. From where I sit right now, that time is not now. We will stay and we will prepare to fight.”
Now Kris did fix her eyes on Sampson. “Last night, I ordered you to transfer a chief to Mr. Benson. He was, until recently, the skipper of a fishing boat. We need him to command a fishing boat again, harpooning the big ones. You asked for an explanation for me ordering his transfer last night. You have it now.”
“Will I get a replacement for him?” Sampson shot back.
“No,” Kris said bluntly. “Other Sailors will be drafted off the frigates to help with the food issue. There are no replacements. I know this will be a leadership challenge. I expect all of you to meet it.
“Any questions?” Kris said, with finality.
There were none.
“Then all of you except Lieutenant Commander Sampson are dismissed to join your staffs in the wardroom. I’ll be with you as soon as possible. Feel free to discuss our food problem with them. If anyone has any ideas, I’m hungry for them.”
That drew a chuckle as the officers filed out of the room.
Former Admiral Benson eyed Sampson, then glanced at Kris. His eyes held a “good luck” in them, but he said nothing.
SHOULD I SHORTEN THE TABLE, KRIS?
NO, NELLY. I LIKE HER JUST WHERE SHE IS.
The scion of wealth and power faced the scion of a family whose Navy blood went back to when ships sailed the seas, not space. They locked eyes. Kris began yet another battle for her command.
30
As soon as the door closed, Sampson filled the silence. “Yes, my ship has problems. All new ships do, and this is a new class and a new design that not even headquarters can figure out what to do with. Besides, my crew is sloven and needed additional training before we sailed. What happened today was not my fault.”
“Wrong answer,” Kris said. “General Trouble taught me from the start that when the question is raised about a command’s failures, the only answer for the CO is ‘Mine, sir.’”
Sampson’s eyes fell to the table. “We can’t all be legends.”
Kris pulled the flimsies that Nelly had printed out and tossed them across the table to Sampson.
“Are these the availability reports from the USS Constellation for the last week?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” came in full evasion.
“Is that your signature at the bottom of each of them?”
“It might be. I’ve got a cute ship’s lieutenant who can sign my name better than I can.”
Kris liked this woman less and less.
“In the exercise today, your ship was able to operate just forty percent of your main battery, and your reloads were few to nonexistent.”
“I told you. My crew needs more training. They’re the dregs of the brigs. You think the best would come out here, face a helpless fight with one of them damn Longknifes who never knows when to call it off but can run away herself just fine?”
Kris knew the tactic. Sampson couldn’t face her on the facts, so she was changing the subject. Throwing all kinds of dirt and mud Kris’s way.
Kris stayed on subject and bored in. “Your reactors spent most of the exercise redlined. One went off-line entirely. You were at risk of a major engineering casualty, one that threatened your entire ship, yet you did not inform me of your problems or ask to drop out of formation.”
“There’s no way you can know that,” Sampson snapped, then switched gears in mid defense. “And whoever told you that is lying through their teeth. I have the reports that show my engineering was performing at 4.0.”
“Lieutenant Commander, I was personally monitoring the Connie’s engineering performance. It was because of my own assessment of the risks you were taking to cover up your failed performance that I gave the Connie specific and separate acceleration orders from the rest of the squadron.”
Kris had had enough of this.
“Lieutenant Commander, your squadron commander has lost confidence in you and your ability to perform your duties as captain of the USS Constellation. You are relieved of your command and will be reassigned to the shipyard. Clearly, Mr. Benson has more than enough work to keep all his personnel busy.”
Sampson shot to her feet. She glowered down at Kris. “You can’t relieve me of my command. The Navy gave me that ship, and only the Navy can take it away from me.”
“The Navy also gave me command of this squadron,” Kris snapped. “You stand relieved.”
“You’re no squadron commander. Just because your grandfather lets you hold down a desk doesn’t make you anything.”
“That great-grandfather is your king,” Kris pointed out through clenched teeth.
“Who as soon as he got wind of the rumor that his old lady was alive yelled for us to drop everything and parade across the galaxy so he could sniff at her skirts.”
Kris was appalled. “That woman you’re talking about is the former commander of BatCruRon 16 and the retired leader of this colony. Since when does the Navy leave anyone behind? You know they’re alive, you get them. Even if you have to cross a galaxy,” Kris said, thinking of her own debt to Phil Taussig and the Hornet.
The woman towering over Kris paused for a moment. Was she finally hearing her own words? If she did, it didn’t seem to matter. She shook her head.
“You’re not relieving me of command for any of that. You’re relieving me because a lot of my crew came whining to you that I won’t let them sleep around like the rest of the skippers do. I know. Officers, enlisted, they’re all merging their single rooms and fornicating. I won’t let that happen on my ship. I keep my crew in proper bunkrooms so we can keep our armor up. The rest of them may think they’ll have time to armor up when the enemy shows up. I keep my ship combat ready at Condition Baker all the time. No love boat mine.”
Kris refused to be led down that rabbit hole. Doggedly she went back to the facts. “I am relieving you strictly for your lack of performance today, Lieutenant Commander.”
For a moment Sampson continued to scowl down at Kris. Then she spat. “You arrogant, self-serving bastard. You don’t know what a Navy tradition is. How dare you lecture me on respect for them, you upstart! You’re the one who’s going to turn my Navy’s ships into whorehouses and your officers into whores and pimps.”
Here was a blatant challenge to Kris. To Kris, her entire command, and, very likely, the king whose orders she obeyed.
With slow, cold deliberation, Kris rose to her feet. For the first time in her life, she found her full six feet coming to good use. Now she stared down at Sampson.
Sampson looked up at Kris and seemed to shrink even before Kris said, “You will brace yourself, miss, and you will keep your mouth shut except to answer ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, ma’am.’ Do you understand?”
Rage flamed in Sampson’s eyes. She wanted to do anything but follow Kris’s orders. Still, Sampson had worn the uniform so long that she could not but come slowly to attention.