New Blood

The pinnace docked at personnel airlock four. With the crew flooding aboard it was faster than waiting for Cargo two to open again. The midshipmen swam the tub in order of seniority, meaning Chin-Li Krueger of the Imperial Andemani Navy went first Joshua Stanhope, Grayson Space Navy went second, and the two Republic of Sidemore midshipwomen, Jessica Riyal and Stacey Kramer last. With experience in zero gee, they allowed enough room for the gear they towed, so when Stacey landed on the deck the others were far enough away to allow her to pull her trunk out of the way of the enlisted men that followed.

"Request permission to come aboard, sir?" Krueger requested for all of them.

"Permission granted." The Ensign returned the salute. He checked his clipboard. "The ratings will take your gear to the Middie quarters. You four are to report to the Exec on the bridge."

"Zu Befel!" Krueger replied. "Come." He started off, but the ensign coughed.

"Do you know where the bridge is, snottie?"

Krueger blushed. "No, sir."

"Fredericks, escort our... impetuous new officers to the bridge."

The seaman first saluted. "Yes, sir." He turned to the young officers. "If you will follow me please?" He led them past a group of missile techs and cargo handlers being commanded by a petite oriental woman in a uniform with Chief's stripes. Krueger slowed to get a better look, but Fredericks asked him to pick up the pace.

It wasn't far, really. Five decks up from the cargo bay, then two hundred meters forward past CIC. The bridge was cramped for something the size of a superdreadnought in mass, closer to what was proper for an older heavy cruiser. The tactical section was fully manned as three officers, one standing, the others seated worked through a problem.

"Commander? The new midshipmen." Fredericks reported.

"Thank you. Please stay for a moment, we'll need someone to guide them to their quarters." She turned, hands behind her back. "I am Commander Hughes, the executive officer. It's traditional for midshipmen and midshipwomen on their graduation cruises to be formally welcomed aboard their ships. That duty falls to either the executive officer or to the assistant tac officer, since she's normally the officer candidate training officer for the deployment. Our assistant Tac Officer was a middie herself on the last deployment, so you get two for the price of one. She will be in charge of your duties, I will be making sure it it as harsh as necessary. This is Abigail Carruthers, our A-Tac." Abbie turned, leaning back, hands clasped.

"Before you think she is too young to know that job, I will tell you know that some of the most innovative tactics we used in our last deployment were suggested and tested by these officers. Those tactics on our last deployment along with our LACs led to the destruction of six podnaughts, the surrender under threat of two podnaughts, two CLACs, twelve battlecruisers, 12 heavy cruisers, eighteen destroyers and almost 450 LACs. So when you sit down in that chair as J-tac, expect to learn.

"All of you have already been told this over and over again. But I will repeat it one last time because it is the truth. This cruise, here aboard Witch Maiden is your true final exam. Even if you technically fail this, there are careers in the service assuming you don't do something stupid enough to put you in from of a court-martial board or otherwise prove unworthy. But," she let her green eyes sweep their faces, and there was no longer any smile in them, "if you screw up badly enough aboard Witch Maiden, you may not receive a commission in your nation's fleet. If you screw up less than totally, you might receive a commission, but it won't be a commission as a line officer, meaning you will never hold command of a ship.

"Remember that, Ladies and Gentlemen. This is a pass-fail test. It isn't a game, and is not a test you can retake or make up. We know all of you are intelligent, motivated, and well educated; graduating from Saganami Island is not easy. We expect you to do well. And I strongly recommend to you that you demand a level of performance out of yourselves that exceeds what you've already done.

"The second point is this is going to be hard. It's supposed to be. In fact, it's designed to be harder than it really has to be, like drills. These two officers faced a month of drills where they lost every time because they made mistakes. It is a fact that some middies break on their snotty cruises, and that's always a tragedy. But it's far better that they break then, than break in action after they've received their commissions . . . or after they've actually received a command of their own. One is a sad commentary on a person's strengths, the other two cost more than one person's dignity, they cost lives that could have been saved.

"There are going to be times, over the next several months, when you're going to feel harried and driven to the point of collapse, where you will want to say to hell with it, and quit, and that is your choice, though it is the only crash and burn offense you can commit without facing a court. If you collapse, we're going to be there shouting at you not to give up until you really do quit, or you get back up and go on. Afterward, if you survive it, you'll know you can survive almost anything worse than the real thing, and, hopefully, you will have learned to have faith in your own capacity to rise to challenges.

"Third is that although you will hold temporary warrants as Queen's officers for this deployment, and although your positions in the chain of command are very real, you have not yet even attained what a civilian corporation might call an entry-level position. The warrants give you the authority to issue orders to those junior in rank, however that authority is a double edged sword.

"You are still technically a trainee, but unlike the trainee in civilian life, you can have your military life cut short because as an officer, even a temporary officer, if you are not where you are supposed to be, doing what you are supposed to do, it can all fall apart, and a later court of inquiry can point at you and assign blame. Once a man's career was destroyed because he wasn't where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be, and his ship was lost to enemy action. It took his heirs over a century to clear his name.

"Back during the third century Pre-Diaspora during a wet naval battle, William Sitgreaves Cox acted without orders abandoned his gunnery post after his gun crews abandoned theirs. He then went up on the main deck, where he carried his mortally wounded commanding officer to their sickbay. During his absence from the quarterdeck, all of the officer senior to him were killed or disabled. He returned to discover that he was not only the senior officer remaining, and in command, but his ship had been boarded.

"He was tried by court martial for dereliction of duty as commanding officer, and found guilty." Hughes leaned back. "One thing every naval officer learns is history. Look up USS Chesapeake VS HMS Shannon during the War of 1812.

"You also face the difficult task of projecting authority over men and women many of whom are older than you are, with many T-years more experience than you possess. You must have confidence in yourself before you can expect those men and women to have confidence in you. And be assured that they will recognize any effort to lie to them, just as they'll recognize petty tyrants in the making when they encounter them. But your self-confidence can't stop with the ability to make them obey you. It must extend to the point of being willing and able to learn from them without sacrificing your authority.

"The fourth point is that you're making your snotty cruise in time of war. It's entirely possible that Witch Maiden will be called to action while you are on board. You may be wounded. You may be killed and not even know you're in danger before you are dead. Abigail's fellow Midshipman made it home with a prize ship in time to die during the Yawata Strike. What is even worse, as I can tell you from personal experience, you may see those you care about—friends or those under your orders—killed or wounded. Some of them might even die because your orders personally send them to their deaths. Accept that now, but don't allow it to prey upon your thoughts or to paralyze you if the moment actually comes. Remember that aboard this ship, you are officers. You may live, or you may die, but your actions—whatever they may be—will reflect not simply upon you, but upon every man and woman ever called upon to wear the uniforms we all wear. See to it that any reflections you cast are the ones for which you want to be remembered . . . because you will be."

She paused, her eyes circling the stiff young people once more, and silence stretched out in the compartment. She let it linger for several seconds, then smiled again, suddenly. "And now that I've hopefully scared you all to death," she said in a much more cheerful tone, "I suppose I should also point out that it won't all be doom and gloom. You will find yourself feeling utterly exhausted from time to time, cursing your parents and birth. You may even feel your superiors are taking a certain unholy glee in contributing to your exhaustion. You might even be right about that. I feel a gallon sweat is easier to replace than a pint of blood.

"But that doesn't mean you won't find opportunities to enjoy yourselves. While we expect a level of professional demeanor and deportment, you won't be on duty all the time. I expect you'll even discover that those same superior officers may be surprisingly approachable if you find yourself in need of advice. Remember, People, you're here to learn, as much as to be tested, and while it's part of our job to identify any potential weak links, it's also our job to help temper and polish the strong ones.

"For example as a merchant cruiser, we have a relaxed view of what our crew can do, so if you see someone dressed in civilian clothes, don't assume they are out of uniform; they might be on a ship board pass. We also have what might be called a pub just forward of Prifly and there is no rank in the pub, so people can mingle as if they are just people, not officers and enlisted. To work out what is and is not appropriate, read the Admiralty Addenda to the regulations." She grinned. "So head down and unpack. Engineer Chief Foster will meet you there in thirty minutes, and he will be giving you a guided tour. I would suggest that you pick something you won't mind getting dirty in. He has a very hands on approach to tours.

"Fredericks, escort them to quarters. You officers will stay there ready to go. Dismissed."

Ten minutes later, the cargo rating had delivered them to what had once been merely junior officer's quarters, but now had a sign that read SNOTTY ROW. The four bunks in two tiers faced each other with a table bolted to the floor between them. "Head and showers are down the passage, second hatch on the aft bulkhead. Hardwired router for wireless access to the mainframe, and a small galley," He opened the hatch to show them. "Enough for making hot beverages, storing cold ones and cleaning up. Junior officers mess is port side forward, you're on third meal rotation until further notice." Fredericks motioned toward a printed schedule on the bulkhead. "Is there anything else I can help you with, sirs?"

"The chief down in Cargo 2, the small woman. Who is she?" Chin-Li asked.

Fredericks grinned. "Fengniao Klumbach, her twin sister is a Computer tech chief in CIC. I am sorry to say, sir, she's unavailable. She and her sister are marrying our head brewmeister day after tomorrow."

The Andermani looked at it with a considering expression. "You have a brewmeister aboard this... ship?"

Fredericks returned the same look coolly. "Yes, sir. Second class engineer Dollaryde. He makes some of the best beer in the Galaxy in our opinion." The statement suggested that the delay in saying 'ship' and his surprise that they had such a man aboard had not gone unnoticed.

"I was not insulting the ship." Chin Li demurred. "My brother served aboard her sister Hexenkönigin when she was in our service. Serving aboard Hexenmädchen is an honor."

"Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you." The rating saluted, and departed.

"Ease down, Chin." Joshua Stanhope suggested, testing the upper bunk on the one side. "You do know we Graysons pride ourselves in our brewing too. Can't say the Manties might not know a thing or two about it." He took off his hard billed cap, tossing it on the bunk, then moving his locker over to lock down beside it. The two girls flipped over who got the bottom bunk, and Stacey anchored her locker down beside the upper. "Was it just me, or did the XO scare the crap out of you too?" She asked.

"We are used to that in the Imperial Navy." Chin Li commented, opening his locker to pull out an undress uniform. "The best way to make steel is to fold it until you have a lattice of fibers that will take the strain. We treat our cadets the same way; though having a chief petty officer punch you in the mouth when you're wrong is also part of that in the RaumsAkademie."

"Then thank god I'm in the Sidemore Navy instead." Riyal commented. Kramer agreed.

"That is odd though, Chin." Stanhope commented, shrugging into his own undress uniform. "Why did you end up doing your snottie cruise aboard a Manty warship instead of going back to the Empire for it?"

"While we are not going to be directly a party to this war with the Sollies, service in combat will be important to my later promotions. And as for 'warship'. This one and her sisters are neither fish nor fowl nor good red meat. We might see combat. But then again, we might only cruise between ports just like any fleet collier."

"Not if that last cruise was any indication." Jessica commented. "I read the unclassified reports. Over two hundred million tons destroyed, six SDs in combat, the rest after capture along with a slaver and a heavy cruiser as prizes. That is not something you expect from something that isn't a real warship."

"Peace, Jesse." Chin Li commented. "I will let the proof be in the pudding, as that old saying goes."

There was a polite cough, and they all turned. The man standing there was shaped like a wall, with muscles upon muscles. He had the hash marks of almost 30 T years of service on his sleeve, along with three wound stripes and two for being mentioned in dispatches. Even in undress, he looked like someone who could make his own hatch by walking through the closest bulkhead. His voice when he spoke was soft and mellow. Obviously he didn't feel the need to actually threaten anyone to get their attention. " I am Senior Chief Engineer Patrick Foster. I will be your guide for a tour of the ship." He looked them over critically. "I see you've already changed into your grubbies. That is good since we'll be starting in hydroponics. If you will follow me please, young gentlemen and ladies?"

Wedding Preparations

And still they came. The few remaining marines of the original company departed to return to their unit, to be replaced by a reinforced battalion of 600. Pods, both Andermani design and Republican began to fill her cargo holds and launch rails. While the Republican were longer ranged, 54 million kilometers compared to the 26.5 million of the Andermani, the shorter ranged models were being loaded into cargo bay one for the launch rails. The other pods were too large to launch more than three at a time using the rails without a major refit.

All halted however when the captain assembled them in Cargo Two, where all of the small craft assigned had been docked to outside access ways to clear it. A space almost a kilometer by one half held the entire crew and guests. The captain came down the passage down the center in dress uniform. She took her place facing Francis Dollaryde in his dress uniform as Salvatore Hammerwell's Rite of Joy boomed from the speakers. Warrant Officer 4th Patrick Dollaryde escorted the twins in their wedding gowns down the aisle in place of their own dead father, delivering them like the precious jewels they were to his son.

Rebecca lifted the pad with the service on it. Part of her was bothered that such a joyous event was separated by only one page from the service for the fallen. She set the thought aside, looking at the three people watching her patiently. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered today before god and in the sight of this company to join this man and these women in holy matrimony."

The trio had written no vows of their own, and there was silence when she asked if any had just cause why they should not be joined. When it came to 'you may kiss the bride' it was amusing that instead of choosing one to kiss first, Francis brought them both together before him to have a three way kiss. The crew applauded as they turned, and were announced as Mr. and misses Klumbach-Dollaryde, the only condition all three had set; that neither name be lost.

The buffet had been driving the crew mad; Rebecca had it laid out before the ceremony, and once it was done, with, her permission, the crew descended like piranha on a stupid cow. Rebecca smiled as she watched. The trio moved through the throng; neither woman would let their prize free, and a lot of those who watched envied the younger man.

She pushed herself toward them, and all three looked up at her approach. "My wedding gift is to all of you." She handed Dollaryde a simple scroll of paper. "Within Oak Glen there is an old brewery that is now defunct. That building and 100 hectares of land had been deeded to you by me to perpetuity. All I ask, is one keg a year as long as you accept it." She handed him the patent. He bowed to her, the women holding him bowing with him.

Rebecca moved away. "A fine gift." She looked at Jinhua Kiel in civilian clothes worthy of a Graffin. "A match for mine." The Graffin held up a scroll. "I have a similar grant within the Empire in Sedlow."

The trio conversed close enough that none could hear. "My lady Graffin, and you, Baroness. Do you make this that only one can be chosen?" Dollaryde asked.

The women looked at each other, and laughed. "With the same provision both are acceptable, Herr Dollaryde." Jinhua said.

"Then we thank you both." Fengniao told them.

"Then go celebrate." Rebecca laughed.

The party went on. Rebecca found herself free of the press, heading for the lift. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy a good party, but she had to report for orders the next day. She reached it sighing as the doors closed. It shot upward, and she loosened her collar in relief. A little work, then perhaps the party would still be going.

She exited at the Senior officer's deck, nodding to the sentry on her office as she strode in. What she did not expect was a young girl, perhaps teenaged, who looked up from the cat in her lap. "Excuse me, young lady. What are you doing in my office?"

"My Mutti told me you had a beautiful cat. She spoke to your steward to get permission for me to visit her." The girl held up Irene, who didn't give a damn who was petting her as long as she was getting the attention.

Mutti, German for mother. "Ah, your mother is Jinhua?"

"Very few call her by her given name now that she has the title." The girl commented. "She will be happy that her investiture did not overawe you." She stroked Irene. "I am sorry, Kapitain. I did not introduce myself. I am Fenghua Kiel. I am nowhere close to the title; my cousins are first at my mother's request."

Rebecca finished unbuttoning her tunic. "Has Oscelli made sure you had something to drink? Hot chocolate perhaps?"

"Yes, Kapitain, though I prefer hot cider." She lifted Irene who merely hung there, eyes closed, purring. "Such a beauty she is. Like your late father's."

"How did you know what kind of cat my father had?"

"My Mutti knows everything." The girl commented.

"And she didn't say she'd kill you?"

"Only once." The girl confided. "I didn't ask her anything else."

"Smart girl." Rebecca walked to the pantry, returning with a bottle of water. "So you came for the wedding?"

"No, I came to see the cat. Didn't I liebchen?" She lifted Irene, who meowed and purred. She set the cat down, and stood. "Thank you for your patience, Kapitain." She walked over, and held out her hand. "It was a pleasure to have met you." Rebecca shook her hand and watched her leave in bemusement. She keyed the computer on, and brought up the files she had to check. The one thing she had learned today was where Witch Maiden would be operating, and she wanted to check the systems carefully.

She had just finished the first section, the defenses already in place (Pathetic) when a cup of tea landed on her desk. "Thank you Os."

"The reception is still going on, captain. It won't be going much longer, another hour perhaps. The ship isn't going to die horribly because you take a short break."

"I know, Os. It's just our operational area is almost undefended."

"It is?"

"Yes. We're assigned as a Q ship to 10th fleet to patrol the Northern frontier from Foshee in East to Pequod in the West, but the main threat is south of Tillerman and along the southern frontier. That's why the defenses are still so pathetic. Some indigenous LACs about as modern as Grayson deployed before the Alliance was formed, a few destroyers that would be called frigates if they were honest, and that's it. Worse yet our assigned area is over 600 light-years long, and to be effective we have to patrol all eight of the systems in the first and second tier meaning the depth we have to cover is between 80 and 160 light years deep. It's a volume larger than the Silesian Confederacy assigned to one ship! Even at the worst of our draw down during the first war we had at least half a dozen warships assigned to that volume before Operation Trojan Horse started."

"Maybe we won't be alone."

"I hope not." She said grimly shutting down the computer. "Well I have to go back down and pretend this is doable out of our resources."

"I don't believe it." Chin-Li commented, watching Dollaryde dancing with his brides to a waltz. Instead of holding one of them to him as would be normal, all three were hand in hand in a circle, moving one way half a circle, then back again. Occasionally he would twirl one in to hug her, then the other.

"Don't believe what?" Stanhope asked sipping. "If this is his beer, he is good."

"I don't believe those two beauties tied themselves to that Vogelscheuche!"

"English, Chin."

"He looks like a scarecrow!"

Stanhope remembered a story, the Wizard of Oz, and how they described one character. When he had been older he had looked it up the term, a shirt and pants stuffed with straw attached to a framework of wood so it looked like a man standing in a field of grain. He looked at the man again. He did look rather like a scarecrow, barely a dozen centimeters taller than his brides, and as skinny as a rail. "Well maybe he has qualities beyond brewing they appreciate."

"Or maybe they don't know any better." The Andermani commented.

Stanhope merely nodded. "Try it." He held out his stein to the other middie.

Chin Li took it, sniffing before sipping. "A bit rough, I think. But not too bad."

As a young man, Stanhope had considered becoming an actor. His attempt had run into a teacher who was so abusive that few stayed in the troop for very long. He'd learned after being criticized roundly that when it comes to subjective judgments, you always failed. No matter how good you were, the other person merely said you weren't good enough. In his judgment, this beer was excellent.

"Gentlemen." They turned, snapping to attention. Abigail looked them over. "I think that should be your last beer; we still have half a day of work to do. When this ends, you," she looked at Chin Li, "will be assisting in returning the small craft to the bay as one of the pilots. You," she looked to Stanhope, "are to work in Cargo four. We are receiving the last of the Republican pods at 1600, and the pods already stored there have to be stacked to clear space for them."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Both of you check your crews carefully. Make sure they haven't imbibed too deeply. Replace anyone you think is impaired. "Have you seen Riyal and Kramer?"

"Stacey is over at the buffet. She doesn't drink much, so she stopped drinking after her first. Jessica is right out there dancing."

"Then you, mister Krueger will let Kramer know to report to engineering for the next watch. Mister Stanhope, tell Ms Riyal to go to the bridge to work with Ms O'Malley on verifying the charts we received after the next dance. Gentlemen." She strode off.

"Well, I'm going to make another run at the buffet before we go. That shrimp salad was choice, and there was fresh bread, so a quick sandwich to take with me sounds good." Stanhope drained off the last of his beer. "I'll tell Stacey for you."

"Thank you, Joshua." Chin Li commented, his eyes still on the newlyweds.

Interference

Francis Dollaryde stood, stretching. The girls still lay sleeping, and he watched them in amazement as he dressed. He still didn't believe it. They were his wives now, and the wedding and reception would be memories he treasured. As for last night... He blushed at the memories. He sat on the very edge of the bed carefully to pull on his boots. He'd just gotten the second one sealed when an arm wrapped around his neck and he fell backwards between the women.

"Such a fickle creature." Fengniao commented, biting him on the chin. "He ravishes us through the night, yet expects to get away without a morning kiss."

"A very cruel man, our Leibchen." Cao Mei bit him on the neck.

"Hey, you're leaving marks!" Dollaryde complained laughing.

"Maybe we want all those who see you to know that we do bite." Fengniao purred, then she looked at her sister. Without a word both of the women began tickling him unmercifully. He struggled, laughing and trying to beg them to stop as he squirmed. They finally stopped, and one after the other gave him a deep long kiss.

"Go, you horrible man. We will punish you further tonight." Cao Mei said, then she leaped up, legs and arms wrapped around him to give him another kiss. "Or maybe you can punish us?"

"I'll think about it." He pretended to be nonchalant until Fengniao wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Or better yet I can lick you both into shape."

"Promises, promises, Schatzie." Fengniao murmured in his ear. He set Cao Mei down to give her a kiss as well, then left.

He blushed every time someone looked at him as he headed toward Fusion two. He had enough time to check the vats before he had to report; the beer in three of them should be ready to fill the kegs by tomorrow, and the others needed to be monitored. He told Lieutenant Crell who was the watch officer that he was going to run and check the vats, then headed the 100 meters further aft to main Hydroponics.

The goofy grin he'd had since he woke up slipped when he smelled the spilled beer. All of the vats and the still had been drained, but the heating elements had been left activated. The grain mash he'd started the previous day in one of the vats had burned into the metal meaning he would have to scrape the mass away from the shell of the vat and literally polish it down and sanitize it before using it again. The other five had only had liquid in them, but the wort and yeast had varnished the metal meaning he'd have almost as much work cleaning them before starting again.

But why would someone destroy all of his work?