“If you say anything again like what you just did, I will forget my intentions of relieving you for loss of confidence. I will have you up on charges for actions unbecoming an officer and actions prejudicial to the service, if not worse. We will let a court-martial get to the bottom of exactly how reports with your signatures claiming full battle readiness left your ship, it being in a battle zone and on standby for battle at any time. I will see you cashiered from this Navy.”
That was too much for Sampson. “You may think you can prance around in this little fiefdom of yours, Longknife, doing anything a spoiled rich brat may want. But no real Navy court of officers will find me guilty of anything but doing the best anyone could at an impossible job. I told everyone we needed three more months to get the Connie ready for space, but that king of yours gets word his old lady is here, and we’re ordered to space in a week. I’ll get my command back the second we get back in human space,” she said, glaring at Kris.
“That was not a ‘yes, ma’am’ or a ‘no, ma’am.’ But I’ll answer it. There are no ships headed back for human space. All of us had better start planning on being here for the next five, ten years. Assuming we don’t lose the next battle with these bastards and just die.
“Maybe you weren’t listening or failed to get the message. We are all here for the duration. And here, if you don’t work, you don’t eat. As of right this second, you are out of a job. You can apply your competency with ships and their gear—your fitness reports say you have some—or you can resign your commission and drop down to the planet and look for a job. Have you cut and gutted fish? Spread manure over fields? Those jobs have openings.”
Kris let that sink in. It looked like Sampson might have actually heard some of it. “Now, get out of my sight.”
The Navy officer did a perfect about-face, but halfway to the door, she stumbled and had to make a grab for a chair. With each step she took toward the door, she seemed to deflate like a balloon.
Once the door closed behind her, Kris settled down into her chair. Her heart was pounding, and her mouth was dry. She felt like she’d spent an hour with puggle sticks in OCS.
Abby knocked on the door from Kris’s night cabin, entered before Kris replied, and offered her a glass of water.
“I’d make it stronger, but we aren’t on the Wasp.”
“Water’s just fine,” Kris said. She drank it down and handed the glass back to her maid. She found herself rubbing at the tension in her scalp.
“Why was that meeting just about the hardest I’ve ever had?”
“’Cause you can’t kill the SOB,” Abby said. “Seeing them that deserves it dead at your feet kind of feels good. This civilization thing is overrated.”
“And you are way too bloodthirsty for a maid.”
“And you’re alive because of it two or three times.”
“All too true. You hear anything about someplace we might wrestle up some chow?”
“Sorry, baby ducks, but all my back channels are with the colonials, and they’re at the end of their rope. I hear whispers that Ada was kind of worried that next year they might have to start doing that egg-examination thing.”
“Ouch,” said Kris. “I guess we got here just in time.”
“Sounds like it.”
Kris stood. “Two meetings down, two more to go. Check with Amanda and Penny. Tell them I’d like to have them at the meeting with the business folks. Penny can bring Masao if she wants.”
“You’re meeting with them is in forty-five minutes.”
“So I better get this next one over fast,” Kris said, and headed for the wardroom.
31
“Atten-hut,” greeted Kris once more, and she did her best to say, “As you were,” before too many people were out of their chairs. The wardroom had three long tables, pretty empty this time of day. Most present had congregated at the far end, near the coffee urn.
Kris went to stand beside the urn. Either she or the coffee should hold their attention.
“The first exercise always looks worst. We’ve had ours. Now we’ll do better. You have the rest of today and tomorrow to mend and make ready for a repeat of this exercise Thursday.”
She paused before adding, “We will do better,” in a voice that left no room for doubt.
She searched around the room. Most were seated in groups of six around their captain. There was a group of five. “Lieutenant Sims, I believe you are the XO of the Constellation.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young JO said, jumping to his feet.
“You are, effective immediately, acting captain.”
Getting a ship is supposed to be an officer’s dream. Lieutenant Sims’s face showed no joy. He looked more like Kris had invited him to his own hanging.
She’d have to do something about that, and quick.
“Mr. Benson,” Kris said.
“Yes, Your Highness,” the old admiral replied.
“The Constellation will not be involved in any more squadron exercises for now. It is to go into the yard as soon as you finish up-gunning the Wasp and Intrepid. I expect that to be in ten days or so. Mr. Sims, you and the crew of the Constellation have ten days to mend and make ready so the yard has little to do when they get you but remove the Hellburners and remove more of your Smart Metal.”
The man gulped. Now his face showed relief that he wouldn’t be taking the Connie out anytime soon, but Kris had also dropped a heavy burden on him and his crew. She expected a lot of what was wrong to be right before the yard had to lend a hand.
“And, Mr. Sims, if I were in your shoes, I’d set Condition Able and give the crew some more comfortable and private quarters. We’re a long way from home and we have those bastards breathing down our neck. Things are bad enough without hunting for morale problems.”
“Yes, ma’am. Good idea.” At last, he showed relief.
“Now, to our main problem. We came here to fight. We brought a base force, thank you very much, Mr. Benson, to keep us in fighting shape. We brought an industrial base to support us. We brought everything we thought we needed, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.” Kris paused. It was clear her listeners had already gotten The Word.
“They say an Army moves on its stomach, and, at least in that one way, Navies are the same. The folks below have been living on the edge of starvation for eighty years, and they don’t have a reserve that can feed twenty thousand more mouths. We must feed ourselves.”
“And the beer, ma’am?”
Kris didn’t see where the question came from, but she had the answer and gave it to them. “Since we arrived, the colonials have not had a drop to drink. They’ve given us all they have. I wondered why I was drinking water on my honeymoon.”
That got a laugh, but a dry one.
“This morning, Marines dropped down to look at several ways to increase the food available to us and the colonials. Some worked. Others were less successful. A few big-toothed critters thought to develop a taste for Marine and will be served up as barbecue tonight.”
More laughter.
“If the Marines get their sights on more of them, we may be serving a new kind of burger at the Canopus Burger Bin.”
Some looked intrigued by the thought of a new taste. Others, not so much.
“As soon as I finish here, I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the industrial and mining types. We’ll be going over their plans. Those plans will now include such logistical items as steel fishing boats, aircraft to speed up the survey of this planet, and trucks and ships to haul food from where we find it to where our stomachs are. They are in for a surprise.”