The Corbin Protocols: Warning shot

Captain Jean Paul Roclair looked at himself in the mirror, wanting to rip it from the bulkhead. He had lost so many of his friends, family to the damn Manties, now this! He was to make nice, put up with their crap, even choke down the garbage they fed his people last night. He had complained to the Executive Officer, but what had he gotten? Nothing!

There was a knock on the open hatchway, and he glared at Duval. The bastard seemed to like this shit! "What?" He snarled.

"Time for breakfast."

"Oh that is truly a joy." Jean Paul growled. "What will we have this morning?" He asked with false cheer. "Perhaps sewage from their recycling centers? Maybe we will have to eat real shit this time!"

"The captain asked that we all be present for breakfast."

"So she can no doubt watch our humiliation."

"She did not say, Captain."

"Fine. But after breakfast, I will go to the flagship, speak with Admiral Tourville himself! This is unconscionable!" He pulled his uniform tunic down sharply, then stormed past his second. The others of his detachment looked at him, and he saw the fury in their eyes as well. "Follow me." He ordered.

They marched in step down the passageway to the dining area. He glared at the same 1st class cook that had fed them that insulting meal the night before. If nothing else, he would rip that man's liver out and feed it to him before he died. He was still four meters from the serving line when he heard, "Ten-Hut!" The reaction, whatever the navy was automatic. They all stopped, snapping to attention.

"As you were." Roclair turned as the Manticoran captain came in. She was, oddly enough, in a full dress uniform with a dress sword on her hip. "Good morning, Commodore Roclair. I have a habit of checking any mess aboard my ship where there have been complaints., and I felt you and your people should witness it." She walked down past the Republican ratings and officers liked she belonged; as if she were in their navy instead. First she went to the coffee tureen, filling a cup, then toward the serving line where the cook and the five messmen waited with trepidation. "Ah, 1st class cook Sinclair. One of our better, from what I had heard. And what are we serving our guests today?"

The cook looked as if his captain were a ticking time bomb. "We're... not ready to serve them yet, captain."

She paused, looking at her watch. "Yet it is 0800. Breakfast is always served starting at 0800 aboard my ship." She kept walking toward the man, and he cringed back as she picked up a tray, setting the coffee cup and a plate on it. "Now let's see. Excellent, soft and hard boiled eggs." She picked up an egg, examining it. "Chief Missileman, hand me that juice glass, please."

The Republican rating walked over like the audience member who has been asked by the stage magician to show that the rope they will tie him with is real. She nodded, thanking him absently, then tapped the supposedly cooked egg against the rim of the glass. When it cracked, she moved her fingers, the shell peeling as the liquid dropped into the glass. "If this is soft boiled, I suggest you cook them a bit longer. Let's try the hard boiled." This one also rendered an uncooked egg.

"Now when I was in my first year at Saganami Island, I had a Senior Chief in PT who felt the best breakfast before the five kilometer run was raw eggs. Did you know that, 2nd class cook Sinclair?"

"But, captain! I'm a Fir..." His voice died as she looked up over the rim of the glass she held.

"Excuse me. Are you correcting me, rating?"

"Ah, no, Captain."

"Good." She examined the two yolks floating in the uncooked white. "A spoon please, chief." The magician's assistant handed her a teaspoon. "He always told me to break the yolks before drinking them. Drinking two eggs like this without breaking them, he said, is like eating raw oysters; something I have never wished to try." She broke the yolks, then stirred the mixture so it looked like she was making scrambled eggs. "The next thing to remember, is you might wish to vomit when it hits your tongue. Are you listening 3rd class Sinclair?"

"Yes, ma'am." He almost whispered.

"So what you need to do is treat it like Aquavit or Vodka, and shoot it straight down your throat. Like this." She took the glass, and upended it swallowing, then set the empty glass on the tray. "Ah, perfect." She looked at the serving line. "Now what I see is raw eggs, uncooked breakfast steaks beside bacon that looks like it should be used for firewood." She picked up a piece, the rasher shattering in her grip. "Uncooked hash browns, fruit uncut. And what is this?" She looked into the coffee cup before dipping in a finger. "Tepid water. What I don't see, Cook striker Sinclair, is a decent meal.

"Now, will you accept this punishment? Or shall I have you brigged for a proper court martial?" The man started to look away, but began nodding suddenly as her expression darkened. "And the rest of you who stood by and let him do this and didn't report it?" They nodded like bobble headed dolls.

"Commodore Roclair?"

"Yes, captain?"

"I am sure there are some among your people that know how to cook better than this man has shown. Please, ask them for me to make a proper breakfast for your people." She looked at the other messmen standing behind the serving line in shock. "Who is the junior one among you?"

A girl raised her hand tentatively. "Seaman Second Wagoner, ma'am."

"You will take charge of seaman second Sinclair, Cook striker Wagoner. Your assignment is to make sure he does all of the dishes in every mess aboard ship, and have them all done before lunch, where he will again do the dishes, and again after dinner for the next week. At the end of that time, perhaps he will earn back the rank I have taken from him.

"The rest of you know that it is not wise to cross your captain, and you will learn never to act in this manner again. All of you are sentenced to forfeiture of pay for three days. Number One."

"Yes, skipper?" The Republicans had been so entranced by the performance that they had not noticed her arrival.

"Please get the names of all of these fools so that the non-judicial punishment I have ordered can be logged. Sinclair to be busted to seaman second for the week, forfeiture of pay for the same period. I also think everyone aboard needs a salutatory lesson in manners. For the next three meals, everyone aboard will eat what our good cook seems to think is proper fo r guests aboard my ship. That does not include you, Wagoner, or your people, commodore . I am sure I can find a decent cook on my ship, and if the next one is as bad, I will serve him up with an apple in his mouth."

She looked at her ashen crew. "If there are any complaints about the cuisine, let them know who to blame, and if I hear one whisper that blames our guests, the hammer will really fall." She looked around the faces of the surprised and delighted Havenites. "I owe you all an apology, not only for this man's actions, but for the insult given to you, and to your navy."

"That is unnecessary, captain." Roclair declared. "And if you would, will you join us for breakfast?"

"Thank you, but no. I have to head down to Manticore. Is there anyone else you are having a problem with?"

"None." He turned. "Chartaine!" The man stepped forward. "What you probably did not know, is our good computer technician worked in his father's restaurant in Nouveau Paris for ten years before he joined the Navy, from pot boy and dishwasher to Sous-chef. He makes a superb spinach and mushroom omelet."

"If he would, I would like him to prepare one for me for tomorrow's breakfast?"

"I would be honored, Captain."

"Then you had best get to it, Mr. Chartaine. There are hungry people here. Consider all of them," she motioned to the messmen, "your assistants, and order them about at need. If any seem bright enough to learn, teach them. I will leave you all to your duties." She nodded, and walked out with Hughes at her heels.

"That was... interesting, Captain."

"Captain Corbin could flay you to the bone without raising her voice. I learned a lot from her." She paused outside the head. "Is there anyone behind us, Number One?"

Hughes looked back, confused by the question. "No, skipper. Why?"

"I said the Chief taught me to eat raw eggs. What I didn't say was that I liked them that way. It tends to cause me to..." She clasped her hand over her mouth and bolted into the head.

New problems

After rinsing out her mouth and take a few breath mints to take the taste and smell away, Captain Duvalier walked out of the lift toward her cutter. Lieutenant Huggins was standing with her copilot at attention when she arrived. Huggins was dressed in the Light blue on dark blue dress uniform of the Grayson Navy wearing her billed cap. Her copilot in a pearl gray uniform she recognized as the uniform of the Sidemore Navy.

"Captain, we're ready."

"Good Rebecca. And this is..."

"Warrant 3 Wanda Buford, Captain. Commander of one of my Katanas."

"Captain." The slim woman saluted.

"I am sorry about the treatment of you and your fellow by Quintain, warrant. Hopefully it won't happen again."

"There's always at least one person who has to lord it over subordinates in every group." Buford replied. "No offense taken, Captain."

"Has Yeoman Pankowski started his newest masterpieces yet?"

"Most haven't decided what they want yet, skipper." She replied. "And the ones who have are going to be... interesting."

"How so?"

"Wanda figured we have enough Angels, so she's named hers Succubus." She pronounced it suh-coo-bus, emphasis on the second syllable, rather than Suck-You-Bus with emphasis on the first as a lot of people did.

Rebecca looked at the grinning Warrant. "You'll never get into heaven with that attitude, Wanda."

"As my Poppa used to say, Ma'am, 'If ya'll can't be sure of goin' to heaven, make sure to go to hell in style'."

She resisted the urge to grin back. "I will see what I can do about that. Let's be about it."

The women marched up the ramp. Francis saw the ramp closing, but continued on his way to supply. His replacement supplies hadn't arrived yet. He had enough to make one vat, but by the time they reached Torch that would be sucked dry.

Ensign Kyle, the assistant Purser looked up at his arrival, held a finger to ask for time, and finished what he was doing. "What can I do for you, rating?"

"I came down to check to see if my supplies have arrived, sir."

"Give me the invoice number." Dollaryde rattled it off. Kyle's finger flicked across the keyboard, and he paused. From behind his monitor a sleek head came up, and his treecat yawned in grreting to the young enlisted man. "That's odd. The invoice is marked as received. Can you verify what it is?"

"eight hundred kilos of barley, two hundred winter wheat, one hundred fifty kilos of cane sugar, and one case of brewer's yeast."

Kyle's face looked confused. "It was all marked delivered to the Commissary, except for the yeast, which was sent back as being the wrong kind." He reached across, scratching the cat's ears. "Why did an engineer order Commissary supplies?"

"I run the micro-brewery, sir."

The officer looked up appraising the enlisted man. "Ah so you are Dollaryde? I've tasted your Double Dragon. When can we expect some more?"

"Well that's the point, sir. Something happened to my last batch and it was dumped. I just finished cleaning the third vat, and was ready to start another batch, but I have only enough for one vat."

"Well we can't have that!" Kyle passed over a pad. "Re-order it. I'll keep an eye out and have you informed when it arrives. We're shifting to a parking orbit near the Junction in a couple of days, and it will be hell if it's not aboard by this time tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir." Dollaryde filled out the form. Mr. Danials had always had him fill out the forms so that there was a clear money trail for the brewery in case someone at the Naval Accounting office wondered what was going on. This way, it could be explained as Captain's Discretion. He finished the form, and passed it back. "Thanks a lot, sir."

"Just go back to your good works, Dollaryde." The rating saluted, and left.

Kyle started to input the data. The hatch opened and Lieutenant Cathcart came in. "Was that Dollaryde?"

"Yes, sir."

The lieutenant picked up the pad. "Don't bother with this, Kyle. I'll take care of it."

"But I'm almost finished, sir."

"I'll get the skipper to sign off on it first."

"Yes, sir." Kyle deleted the entry he was making. "We are moving into the new orbit soon, and I thought-"

"Ensign, I've been doing this for several years. We'll get it in time if you stop mucking up my system by making what will amount to double entries."

"Yes, sir."

Blindsided

Captain Duvalier marched up to the entry gate to Mount Royal Palace flanked by Huggins. The guard, a Member of the Queen's Own with a patch for the Gryphon High Plains regiment touched her communications stud, then saluted as they were passed.

"You've been here before." Rebecca told her as they mounted the steps. "So have I for that matter, but that was as a young girl with my father when we had an audience with the Queen's father, King Roger. Besides, it's easy to remember. We just walk side by side to the assigned balk line. Since we'll be at the same one, probably line three, we just salute."

"Line three?"

"The closer you are to the queen, the more important you are. Those of us who have titles are taught to stop a set distance from the throne, and there are other lines set back from that, called the balk lines by us. The higher your social rank, the closer. We're just officers getting a decoration, so we stop futher away than it would be if say I was reporting alone without an award. I'd stop at the second balk line and kneel.

"What would you do if you had to report to the Protector?"

"I have no idea." Huggins replied. "There are only two medals you recieve directly from his hand, and they are as rare as hen's teeth."

The conversation had carried them down the way they had been directed, and the stopped outside the Blue Hall. "Well, here goes nothing." Rebecca commented in a prison whisper. Then announced them to the major domo.

That worthy looked at his pad. "Second balk line, Captain."

"Second? Are you sure?"

"Always, Baroness." The doors opened, showing the massive room beyond. They started off marching forward through the cleared path through the courtiers.

"The second balk line?" Huggins prison whispered as they strode forward. "What do we do there?"

"You're asking me? I've never been past the fourth!" Rebecca hissed back.

"But you know what to do at the third!"

"that's because my father told me!"

Each balk line was about two meters from each other, and Rebecca concentrated on that distance. Three meters from the dias they stopped before the empty throne. Before they could even think to wonder why, a voice called out. "Elizabeth Adrienne Samantha Annette Winton, Queen and Empress." A door in the wall opened, and the Queen, escorted by Michael Mayhew, brother of the Protector of Grayson walked across the floor to mount the dias. As she was announced, everyone but Huggins and the other non Manticoran representatives knelt. Lucky for Huggins, there were example to follow, and she bowed deeply. The queen sat, her treecat Ariel climbing to the back of the throne. "Recover!" The notables stood again.

"Your Majesty, may I present Captain Rebecca Duvalier, 1st Baroness Duvalier, commanding HMS Witch Maiden, and her companion, Lieutenant Rebecca Huggins, Grayson Space Navy, commander of Composite Squadron 1175, assigned to Witch Maiden." The same voice called out.

The Queen stood, then came down the steps toward them. "We have heard of the bravery of you and your crew, captain, and of you LAC commanders, lieutenant. You have done both of our nations proud by your examples." A man came from the side, carrying a tray with several boxes. "Lieutenant, it is with pride and sorrow that I ask you to accept these medals for your fallen comrades." The queen handed the younger woman five boxes, "The order of Gallantry, posthumous. We have also awarded the Meritorious Unit Citation to all members present at Capwell for their sterling service in our names."

Huggins saluted, then took the boxes.

"I suggest you put those in you pocket, Lieutenant. We're not done here." The queen said aloud. A number of people laughed gently at that. "But what do we give to the commander of those brave people? That is for my ally, the Protectorate of Grayson to determine." She motioned to Mayhew who had walked down beside her.

"What can a grateful nation do for those who have by their example led such people?" Mayhew asked in a well trained baritone. "First, there is this." He read the citation, reaching back for another box. "It is a notable occasion because while the Sword and Shield of Grayson has been awarded many times in this war, this is the first ever to be given to a woman." He opened the case, removing the Red and blue ribbon that held a sword upthrust on a shield. He slid it over her bowed head, then clasped her hand.

"But in the battle of Capwell, you risked your own life and those of your crew to stop an enemy dispatch boat from escaping. It showed rare courage and according to my brother, a sense of style that should not go unrewarded. What you will now recieve from my hand at the Proector's command has been awarded only two hundred and ten times in all of our history." He looked at the crowd. "The award was begun by Benjamin the Great, and he ordered then that only Junior officers and enlisted men of the Army and later the Navy could receive it. In all that time, it has been awarded to a living recipient only seventeen times.

"The last award of it to a Grayson was to a Lieutenant commanding a frigate during the last Grayson-Masada war of almost half a century ago for facing off against a destroyer to protect a damaged cruiser and dying in the attempt. The last time it was awarded, it was for the first and only time given to an officer of command rank.

"After the second battle of Yeltsin, when the Captain Harrington stood against the enemy battlecruiser in our defense, the Keys voted to award it to her in addition to her Steadholder's key. However, at her behest, the Protector instead asked them to award it to Jason Alvarez for his sacrifice in defense of our shattered fleet during first Yeltsin.

"Now, again for the first time; a woman joins their ranks". He gestured behind him even as Huggins gasped. "Kneel."

As she dropped, a servant slipped in with a pillow to protect her knee. Mayhew turned around with a sheathed Grayson pattern sword, and drew it with a flourish. He tapped her on the right shoulder, then the left, then the right. "By order of the Protector of Grayson, I name you an Armsman of Benjamin the Great." He sheathed the sword. "Arise, Armsman Huggins."

She stood. He smiled sheathing the sword. "It is customary that to carry live steel, you must be a swordmaster, or steadholder. My brother pointed out to me that while an Armsman of Benjamin the Great must by custom be so armed in dress uniform, that you do not qualify. So he had instructed you to attain Swordmaster rank as quickly as you may." Then with a grin, he handed the blade to Huggins. "Your sword, Armsman." She took it numbly, then shook his proffered hand. The audience applauded.

"Well not to be outdone, I have decided on a similar honor. Rebecca's eyes widened as the servant picked up the pillow, and set it down in front of her! "Kneel, Captain." Rebecca fell to her knee. The queen took a sword offered by an aide. ""For you actions saving the lives of Manticoran civilians in Copperplate, for your halting of the attempted mutiny at Termagant station with minimal casualties, and for your actions in Capwell where you handed the Sollies the most lopsided defeat in history, I award you with the rank of Knight Companion of the order of King Roger." She tapped the woman on both shoulder as Mayhew had done with Huggins. "Arise, Dame Rebecca Duvalier, Captain and Baroness."

Rebecca stood. While the award was the least of the ranks of the Order of King Roger, it still was a singular honor with a small yearly stipend that would continue even if she retired. The audience again applauded, and she reached out to take the Queen's hand.

"And of course your grateful monarch's thanks." Elizabeth commented wryly.

Blindsided yet again.

The trip back to the ship was almost a sad dream. After the way the morning had begun, she had quite honestly expected it to be a very bad day. She had wanted to cry herself as at the end of the award ceremony, Huggins had been required to call up the families of her own honored dead to hand them the boxes that were all that remained of their lives.

Two of them Emily O'Neal, and Phillip Seacourt had no remaining family. O'Neal's parents had been yard dogs assigned to HMSS Vulcan with their remaining children. Hers was accepted by a Captain assigned to the new station building where Vulcan once had been. Seacourt had been an orphan. The director of the orphanage had been there to accept it for that nonexistant family.

The cutter settled in, and Rebecca came out followed by the others. Hughes was waiting for her in the cargo bay. "What now, Number One, someone else attacked the Havenites? Or maybe a riot?"

"Now that you mention it, Captain..."

It had taken only minutes for the Exec to fill her in. Then she went to sickbay where nine Havenites and sixteen of her own lay. Doctor Ramsey filled her in, and especially about four of those injured; they were to be sent down to Bassingford for treatment beyond what the ship could offer.

At 1600, she sent for the Bosun, at 1700, for the Master At Arms.

When Christian arrived, he had a pad in hand and a satisfied expression on his face. He found the captain standing, facing away, her hands clenched behind her back. "Reporting as ordered, Captain. I have a list-"

"Shut up, mister." She said. She turned, her face flushed with fury. "I know what you're going to say. You have a list of defaulters from that incident in the pub. Probably a list of charges for them including, what the Bosun has told me, an Article 25 violation. Let me give you a little word to the wise; having someone throw another man into you is not an article 25 violation. What I want to know first is who the hell gave you the authority to being a Field Grade riot stunner aboard my ship."

"As the captain-"

"Spare me the self serving bullshit! On whose authority did you deploy a weapon designed for open field use aboard my ship!"

"On my own, captain. When I noticed that there wasn't one aboard, I ordered one sent up. They worked very well in my last posting-"

"My god man! You were in charge of a shift at a prison for Christ's sake!" She kept her hands clasped because if she had released them, she knew she would have beaten the man into the deck. "There are reasons why you don't deploy them on a ship! First, they can be set for short range, measured I am told in ten meter increments. Also the sonic shock wave propogates more rapidly through metal, meaning your dealing with this 'riot' injured people in the surrounding compartments as well.

"So to deal with what I would call a mere 'disagreement', you deployed a weapon used to shut down a riot in a city block in a ten by twenty-five meter compartment! You might as well have tossed in a couple of boarding grenades instead! That would have reduced the injuries!"

"They worked-"

"You might have used them in Chelsmford by my ship is not, A PRISON!" She roared. She turned to the bulkhead again because even the sight of him was making her more furious. "According to the Bosun, one of our own ratings, Cargo 1st Calen started an argument with one of the peep ratings. That lead to a minor altercation which involved less than seven people, including the three officers who were in the compartment trying to break it up. You proceeded to pump hydrogen into this small blaze and that overreaction led to seventy-five casualties from the effects of the stunner, ranging from nausea and vertigo but including four who have had middle ear damage inflicted severe enough to render them deaf! At least your actions were egalitarian; one Grayson Middie, one Sidemore LAC comander, Calen himself and one Republican ensign."

She turned. "Pack your bags. You are to clear my deck by 2100 hours or by god I will eject you without a suit! Dismissed!"

"But captain-"

"Get the hell off my ship!"