Old crew, New crew

The next week was packed. Gaelin was officially relieved as her executive officer. He would go on to the Crusher, but there was no word of who her new Number One would be. Lieutenant Zachary was assigned as her new tactical officer, with no word as to what would happen with Lieutenant Hughes. Abigail had returned to Saganami Island for her next assignment, leaving medical communications and engineering as gaping holes in her table of organization. Crewmen poured aboard. Her new Bosun Master Chief Cyntia Sharpe came aboard, and began molding the crew. That left Lieutenants O'Malley and Huggins as still in her establishment.

But she was perturbed by other replacements. The purser's replacement was a humorless man named Damian Cathcart, a fellow Gryphon Highlander he was a member of the Third Reformation Anabaptist church, which had taken the more negative aspects of the pre Diaspora Baptist church to heart. A firm teetotaler, and someone who really didn't understand why anyone would wish to do more than read the bible and do their duty.

That grated with her own Second Reformation Catholic faith, Not a major problem, but then again, it could cause undue friction later. The annunciator sounded, and she pushed the stud. "The Master at Arms to see you, captain."

Another rock in the river of her command. Her old Master at Arms had been reassigned to the SuperDreadnought HMS Intrepid. Her replacement, Senior Chief Justin Christian did not live up to that name in attitude. To those who don't serve aboard ship, the title meant little. The best non-military description of his duties was as the deputy sheriff of the local police department. Some were harsh, some lax, and the problem was you didn't know what they were like until it was too late. MA Shawna Stapleton whom he had replaced was what Rebecca considered a perfect Master at Arms; she cut slack when the person deserved it, but verified that it was necessary before bringing the hammer down.

On the other hand Christian's last assignment had been to Chelmsford Military Prison located on Thorson Manticore A III's moon, where he had been the number three enlisted man in rank. In his thirty-five year career this would be only his fourth shipboard assignment; he had done his last fifteen years assigned to that prison.

"Send him in." She leaned back in her chair as the man stalked in. Stalked was the only way to describe his way of walking, you thought of a predator moving confidently toward it's prey. He was a large stocky man, his red hair in a buzz cut. His eyes were set back in his head, and Rebecca was reminded of the trophy head of a prize Gryphon Hedge boar her father had once hunted.

Christian snapped to attention. "Ma'am, I am currently investigating a person of interest aboard ship for bootlegging, profiteering, and misappropriation of stores. I already have proof of complicity of several officers and senior ratings in this."

She hid her brief smile. Bosun Sharpe had been here to see her less than a day after coming aboard, about pretty much the same thing. If Christian was the deputy, Sharpe would be the Sheriff. However while the Master At Arms concentrated on possible illegalities, the Bosun concentrated on keeping her ship smoothly running. "And how is your investigation going?"

"Not bad so far. I've already brigged the man and his doxies, and am waiting for the Bosun to return aboard to commence interrogation."

She looked up, eyes cool. "Brigged them? On whose authority?"

"As the captain should know-" He began. She hated it when people started a comment in that way; it implied that the one spoken too; whatever rank, was clueless, even if they did happen to be an officer. "-I have the authority to incarcerate malefactors when I have proof of a violation of the regulations. I have proof of the bootlegging, and the misappropriation, and only await the evidence of who else is part of this scheme. So, according to the regs, I arrested Engineering second Dollaryde and the two Andermani woman that bunk with him."

"Is that so." She leaned back, looking at him coolly. "Tell me, Mr. Christian, have you read the Admiralty Addenda to the regulations concerning Armed Merchant Cruisers?"

"No ma'am."

"Well I have. According to the addenda, there is a large amount of leeway given to the commanding officer, that's me, as to what is and is not allowed aboard ship."

"Pardon me for saying this, ma'am, but this tub isn't an armed cruiser. She's a fleet collier, and they follow the same regs as any fleet auxiliary."

Rebecca and the other Manticoran officers had spent days explaining Manticoran sporting events to Lieutenant Huggins on their last cruise. After being inflicted with soccer, rugby, polo and the Coup, Huggins had retaliated by explaining a game known as Baseball, still played on only six planets in all of Solarian space; and Grayson.

Some of the rules had stuck in her mind. Strike one, she thought. No one in his right mind called a ship a tub to his captain's face. "Let me set the record straight, Mr. Christian. While her designation is as a large fleet collier, Witch Maiden was designed as an armed merchant cruiser, and since my taking command has been expected to proceed as one. Colliers are trash haulers, carrying supplies from station to station with relative speed and are armed to defend themselves.

"However, an armed merchant cruiser is designed to carry the fight to the enemy when and where possible. Unlike a collier, she is doing more than going from station to station, she spends a lot of time out of contact with command authority, and is expected to act as a warship as circumstances dictate. She is also expected to remain on patrol for a length of time that would stretch a warship's resources; the average patrol leg for a warship is a bit more than six months. During the first war with Haven when I was assigned aboard as tactical officer of this very ship that operational patrol was 19 months out of contact beyond occasional communications traffic.

"She can not expect to have access to the R&R facilities a fleet unit does; and cannot avail herself of local facilities very often. Due to that and the alcoholic beverages stores are limited, a small operation by what you might call a bootlegger can be allowed under that Addenda at the captain's discretion."

"Small? We have found six 200 liter vats, captain! Not to mention a still!"

"Correct me if I am wrong." She purred, "But this ship will have a full crew of 2400 people on our next deployment, correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And 1200 liters works out to what, a little over 2500 pints?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So this operation is supplying approximately one pint per crewmen per brewing cycle; every 14 days if I am not mistaken."

"Ma'am it isn't just quantity under the regs. They allow a crewman to brew up to 10 liters for personal consumption with the permission of their officers. But making more than that, or selling it... that makes it bootlegging."

"My father was a lawyer, I do know the definition of bootlegging."

"He may have been a lawyer, but Navy Regs are not like civilian criminal law."

Strike two. "Allow me to correct your misconception, Mr. Christian. My father was retired Rear Admiral Robert Michael Duvalier, Baron Duvalier." His face went red, then pale. "Yes. He was once the Judge Advocate General of the Navy. He served in JAG for over half of his career, ending it as the head of JAG for ten years before retiring to manage his estates. Since he always wanted one of us to be a lawyer, he discussed cases he was working on with us at dinner. So yes, He, knew, as I do, the regs in this regard." She watched his face run through different thoughts. She'd play poker with this man any time.

"When Mr. Dollaryde started his original operation, he was caught almost immediately by the Bosun. Mr. Riley who was the Bosun at that time assisted him, since he, of course, knows the Addenda I have mentioned, and the production at that time was actually just over the ten liter ceiling you mentioned. He, along with the Master at Arms you replaced assured Dollaryde stayed within regs by using the addenda to get permission to expand it.

"His larger operation was approved at the highest level aboard this ship; at the time, the ship's executive officer. All material used in fabricating those vats came from store requisitioned for him by those senior ratings, and paid for by him from his salary. You cannot misappropriate what has been authorized. The product was tested for assured quality by the outgoing ship's medical officer. All funds for expanding it and the necessary ingredients were verified and issued by the outgoing Purser via the ship's discretionary fund, and countersigned by the senior officer when it began to show a profit, which would be me.

"As for profiteering, it is defined as an act that pays dividends to the person carrying it out; yet Dollaryde has put all funds from 'selling' his product in the ship's discretionary funds. He uses those funds he has added to purchase more ingredients, and nothing else. So his personal profits are nonexistent. If I am correct, we have seven hundred dollars in the fund that arrived there from his efforts during our last deployment, allowing us to purchase more of our own needs. Also by 'buying' his output, we now have over 1400 dollars that was not spent on buying beers from the Solarian systems we passed through.

"So by definition, every crewman we had aboard ship has profited, and is therefore equally guilty." She leaned forward, hands folded beneath her chin. "So are you going to arrest us in order of rank? Or alphabetically?" Christian's mouth moved like a fish out of water as he tried to think of an answer. Rebecca took pity on him. "So, you will release Mr Dollaryde and his associates; after all, they are getting married as soon as they can get the permission."

"As to that, captain, the regs disapprove of-"

Strike three; she wished she could just dismiss this man as the Umpire (was that the right word? The game still confused her.) could in that weird game. "That is quite enough." While her voice was still conversational, he reacted as if she'd struck him with a whip. "There is no regulation denying an enlisted man the right to get married, only custom which says he should wait until he gets his 1st class rank. Nor is there a prohibition about whether he should or should not marry a foreign national; though, a captain can decline to allow it. The same is true for the Andermani Navy, so all they needed was the permission of their superior officers; Commander Kiel for the two women, and myself for Dollaryde, and approval in this case from the Andermani Naval attache and the Admiralty JAG office, which is what they are waiting for.

"Now that those have been addressed, do you have any further business with me?"

Christian started to shake his head, then his eyes grew sly. "Captain I do have a report that someone aboard has a cat, which is against regulations. It's been seen in hydroponics-" As he spoke, Oselli came in.

"Sorry to interrupt, captain. Irene has had her daily romp in hydroponics." He set down the cat who promptly raced across the room and leaped into Rebecca's lap. She watched Christian's face pale again.

"Let me know when you find the culprit. Dismissed." She watched him slink out, then looked at Oselli. "You planned that little 'cat sighting', Os."

"I did, ma'am." Oselli replied. "He took it upon himself to tell Mr Dollaryde that it would be a cold day in hell before he got to marry the girls, then he paraded Dollaryde and the Klumbach twins through the passageways like felons in shackles boasting out loud about how he'd caught them fair and square. I felt it was the least I could do to break his kneecaps over Irene too."

"He did what?"

"Why do you think he waited until the Bosun wasn't aboard?" Oselli told her. "He spoke to the Bosun as he is required to do when he found the vats. She told him you already knew and approved, and he replied he'd have to speak to you personally about it. No doubt he expected you to take his side."

She looked at him for a long moment. "And who, pray tell, convinced him I would?"

"One of the chiefs, I think, ma'am."

"I even know which one." She replied. She scratched Irene's ears. "Just for the record, Os, if you had told me what he did to the Darling Duo before he came in, I would have personally place kicked him out the nearest airlock toward the sun. Thank you for... mitigating my reactions this one time. But I want to know when he oversteps his authority again before he reports."

The annunciator sounded. "Lieutenant Hughes to see you, Ma'am."

"Maybe they've finally given her new orders." Rebecca said. "Send her in."

The door hissed open, and Diedre Hughes strode in. She was a solid woman with her red hair tied in a ponytail down her back, and green eyes that reminded her of Gaelin Watson's Holmes. She saluted, and Rebecca returned it. "How may I help you, Diedre?"

"I've received orders, ma'am. An Executive officer's spot. Since your new exec and A-Tac are both aboard, I figured I'd tell you, then bring them in."

She stood, walking around the desk to shake hands. "Good for you. I hope you do well in your next posting. Send them in."

Hughes saluted, and marched back out. Rebecca looked at the door, which stubbornly stayed closed. "Where are-"

The door opened and Hughes, now wearing a Lieutenant Commander's insignia marched back in, followed by a young woman in a brand new Ensign's uniform. They snapped to attention. "Captain, Commander Hughes and Ensign Abigail Carruthers requesting permission to report aboard as Executive officer and Assistant Tactical officer."

Rebecca gave them a smile and a salute. "You have excellent timing as always, Number One."

"The timing is due to Chief Oselli, ma'am." Carruthers said. "I arrived aboard yesterday, but he asked Commander Hughes and myself to wait until he set up the appointment for us to report aboard."

She turned her head to look at her keeper. "And what reason did he give?"

"That you would have some unpleasant business to deal with first today, so you needed something pleasant to follow. Something about the new Master at Arms." Hughes replied.

She sighed. "His timing was excellent, since I did need something to cheer me up." She admitted. "Are you fully up on what's happening aboard, Diedre?"

"Yes, skipper. I wasn't sure if you knew, but our purser's assistant is a Sphinxian, and he has a treecat. So we have someone to take care of Irene at need."

"That's good news." She motioned toward the module in the corner of the office. When she decided to keep Irene aboard, she had bought the latest version of a treecat survival module on the market. However Irene didn't like being alone in it. "How about our new department heads?"

"Surgeon Lieutenant Commander Ramsey will be reporting in by this afternoon, along with Commander Hayes and Lieutenant Gill, our new Communications officer. Also the replacements for our LACs will be coming aboard," she looked at her chrono, "One hour from now."

"Has Lieutenant Huggins been informed?"

"Yes, skipper. She's going to greet them after you have. We are also getting four midshipmen for this voyage to arrive today at 1600. I wanted Abbie here, because technically she's supposed to be OCTO."

Officer Candidate Training Officer was an important post during a deployment. The OCTO's purpose was to run the midshipmen ragged learning their new trade. However that was usually an additional duty assigned to the A-Tac, or if they were too busy, the Executive Officer.

"So you will be taking OCTO this deployment?"

"Well yes, and no, skipper."

"I sense a Machiavellian plot. Sit down and fill me in." They sat, and Os arrived with steins of beer.

"What I'm going to do is have Abbie handle the OCTO duties with my oversight. After all, she has been run ragged on this very ship, and knows the most difficult duties here already. She will give me a listing of assignments, and I will alter them as necessary. I have already told her that if it gets to difficult, I will merely step in and take over."

"Ah. Well, Abbie, think you can handle it?"

"I'll give it my best." The girl looked down into her beer. "My main worry is that I might feel too much sympathy for them. After all, it was only Michael and I last year until you added the other two snotties from the outgoing personnel."

"Couldn't have them lording it over the two of you, Abbie."

"Actually, I think you cracked down on us when Michael was assigned to the prize crew." She said softly. She didn't mention that the young man she had worked alongside had died in the Yawata Strike.

"Absent friends." Rebecca toasted, and they murmured in reply before sipping. "We did crack down, because Michael was the spark to the rest of you, and we had to set the fire ourselves. Though you did get the better part of two weeks after the report where we didn't. But diamonds are only lumps of coal under immense pressure, and you proved to be a diamond."

"Thank you, Captain."

"So I expect you to be that spark in his stead. You know what needs doing, and how a snottie can shirk aboard here. So whenever you see someone slacking, just let the Exec know, and we can come up with something disgusting for them to do."

"Understood."

"Now you are handling a spot usually assigned to a lieutenant, Abbie, and while you have a flair for tactical operations, you have almost twice as much on your plate compared to when you merely assisted as J-Tac just from the new assignment. I think you can handle it; so did Diedre from the efficiency report she wrote for you. If you think it might be a stretch, tell me now, or when it becomes too much."

"I'll do it, or die trying."

"I don't think you have to go that far, but I admire your spirit. Well, ladies, let's be about it." She sighed. "Now if only the Admiralty will get off their lead bottoms and come through for Dollaryde, my day will be perfect."

"About that..." Hughes took a chip folder from her blouse. "Abbie arrived yesterday, but I have been here since the night before. This arrived in our message queue this morning and I decided to bring it up personally."

Rebecca looked at the folder. "You do know that giving your captain two surprises in less than an hour can be hazardous to your health, Number One."

"Yes, Mr. Watson told me that before he departed. However Holmes thought doing so made sure to keep the captain on her toes, captain, sir."

"If Holmes were human, I would be afraid to bend over in the shower around him." Rebecca commented, taking the folder and slotting the chip. She spent a long time looking at it, then tapped her intercom.

"Communications, Chief Winston."

"Have Engineering rating Dollaryde and the Klumbach twins report to my office at once, chief."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Bad news, skipper?" Hughes asked.

"I know how good a poker player you are, Diedre, but I have yet to get any reports about our junior here. So you'll just have to wait."

A few minutes later, the three enlisted personnel arrived, and arrayed themselves at attention. Rebecca had noticed that the women always arrayed themselves as if flanking him when together. The few times she had seen them off duty they were a six legged giggling mass moving through the passageways, always with him in the center.

They saluted. "Reporting as ordered, captain." Fengniao reported. She was senior in grade to her sister, though from their personnel files, only by two days.

"At ease." They relaxed incrementally. Rebecca hid her smile. "I have just received this from the Admiralty. The Andermani Navy is understandably upset that they are losing two ratings of your caliber, and have held up your promotions to chief petty officer because of this. JAG and the Foreign office have gotten together with your naval attache and come up with a compromise.

"Attention to orders." The three snapped to attention, though their eyes showed the hurt. "Pursuant to Andermani regulations, the Klumbach twins are ordered to report aboard their new ship immediately. Once there, they will assume their duties as 1st class petty officers." Their shoulders sank. "That ship is HMS Witch Maiden. Pursuant to orders from the Admiralty, upon arrival there, the Klumbach twins are to be separated from Andermani service, and transferred in grade to the Royal Manticoran Navy. At that time they have permission to marry at a date not yet set."

The three of them stared at her. "At a date not yet set?" Dollaryde asked softly.

"Well you can't very well have the navy telling you when it will occur, now can you, Mr. Dollaryde?" They stared at her with dawning understanding. "Once the date has been set, the Twins will receive their Chief's rockers." Rebecca looked up as Os came in, a bottle of brandy on a tray with glasses. "So if you would tell your captain when it is to occur, we can get the rest of this mess cleared up."

"As soon as possible!" Dollaryde almost shouted. The women hugged him from either side.

"Well that was quick. Once you've made the arrangements for any guests and the priest, let me know."

"None of us are very religious, Captain. I was thinking... Could you perform the ceremony?"

She looked into the hopeful eyes. "When, Mr. Dollaryde."

"Would the day after tomorrow be too soon?" He asked as if he expected her to say no.

"With us deploying in less than two weeks? It would be just under the wire. I will inform your division heads, and you had best spend the time between now and noon of the day after tomorrow letting any people who need to know to get up here for it."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"But first," Os began passing out glasses to the officers and enlisted, though he did start with the stunned women and their soon to be husband. Rebecca made sure Os also had a glass before lifting hers. "A toast to the Darling Duo and their soon to be husband. May life grant you the best of times, and keep your love true."

"Here, here!" the officers called, and they all sipped.

New teeth

The five LACs coasted in, and began sliding into their landing bays. Rebecca Huggins watched them with envy, especially the one marked Katana one. She had received her promotion on time as had her surviving squadron mates, so she was no longer a J.G. Her glance strayed to the others. Another Katana, two Ferrets, and two Shrikes. That meant her assets were evenly balanced. One of the problems from the last deployment had been the preponderance of Shrikes; she had seen three of them lost simply because she had been forced to thrust them into an environment where they had a lesser chance of survival compared to the newer models.

Of course these were the new versions of each. The Shrike D carried the newer missiles with half a million miles more range; the Ferret Cs had the updated EW suites making them superior to any previous model, and the Katana Bs had improved targeting systems. In fact her crews had spent the last week getting used to the new bells and whistles when their own birds had been replaced.

Her head cocked. Why did that one Shrike have a gold circle? That meant... A new squadron commander? She was stunned. She had been replaced and not had not even been worthy of being told? The intercom at her desk chimed, and she tapped it. "Pri-fly, Lieutenant Huggins."

"Ah, good, I got you personally, Rebecca." The captain's voice sounded cheerful. "Your new birds are arriving, I see. Send their COs down, then I'll have them go back up for the briefing."

"Yes, ma'am. I will assure the new squadron commander knows what to do." There was no pain in her voice as she said it. After all, it was normal for a Squadron to have a lieutenant commander, not some lowly lieutenant. She had enjoyed her stint, but rules were rules.

There was a long pause. "New squadron commander? What new squadron commander?"

"Shrike 003 has a squadron commander marker according to my tactical readout, Captain."

"If they sent me a lieutenant commander, I should have been informed, Rebecca. I'll find out what's happening. But until I say otherwise, you are still in charge. So kick them in gear and get them down here soonest."

"Yes, ma'am." She switch it off, and watched on the monitors as the crews disembarked. She tapped the annunciator. "Commanding officers of newly arrived LACs, report to the Captain's cabin, please." One man stepped from the mass, and began shouting orders. She sighed. Oh, him.

Rebecca looked up as her annunciator sounded. "Yes, corporal?"

"Lieutenant Quintain and a party of four reporting aboard."

"Just one moment." She brought up the name and the corresponding personnel file. "Send them in."

The hatch snapped open, and the new LAC commanders came in. She noticed the ones following the lieutenant first. They were all enlisted personnel in a uniform she recognized as from the Republic of Sidemore, all Warrant officers; one WO4, a WO3, and two WO2s. Depending in time in specialty, the senior one was being paid as much as the lieutenant that marched them in like common enlisted men. Her attitude, already soured by his high handedness became almost acrid.

Now she looked at the man leading them. He was at least half their age, and while he had a full lieutenant's bars, the only medal he wore was for being at the battle of Manticore. That was three strikes without even opening his mouth.

"Lieutenant Matthew Quintain and a party of four reporting as ordered, Ma'am!" He saluted, as did the others."

"At ease, gentlemen and ladies." She told them. She looked them over, and was pleased with the competent looks the Warrants gave her. "You are joining Composite Squadron 1175. On our last deployment, they killed two Solarian Podnaughts by themselves, with an assist on a third. They also took fifty percent losses doing so. So I expect you to live up to that record. Welcome aboard. Report to Pri-fly for your intro briefing. Mr. Quintain, a word in private, if you please."

The Warrants snapped to attention, and marched out. Rebecca looked at the man remaining. "By whose authority did you mark your craft with a commander's icon?"

"I checked your losses, ma'am, and the standings when we all made lieutenant. I outrank everyone aboard, so that makes me the Squadron commander, ma'am."

"I beg to differ, lieutenant. Your class standings were lower than Rebecca Huggins, who is my present squadron commander, and survived the destruction of her craft. You both made your J.G rank the same day, but she made her lieutenant's rank ahead of you. She also earned medals of valor for the Battle of Manticore, while all it seems you did was survive it." She leaned forward.

"I know a detached Squadron command is a plum assignment, but you don't have it yet. So a word to the wise in your shell-like. You have seriously ticked off both your squadron commander, and your captain with that show of arrogant presumption. Bringing the Warrant Officers down here like children too stupid to find the head did not improve matters. Don't let it happen again, or I'll snap you back so hard, you'll think you were a first year cadet. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, captain." He almost whispered.

"Then get up to Pri-fly. Until you've risked yourself and delivered half as much as my other surviving LAC commanders, I expect you to walk and talk softly. Dismissed."