Communication
The shuttle landed on the deck of Witch Maiden, the hatches closing as the crew went through the now instant drill of resroing the compartment to use again. Rebecca saluted the sideboys, then looked to her Number One. "I read the report. Anything new?"
"We scanned the wreckage before it fell into the wormhole and was destroyed. We know it was a dispatch boat, but we don't even know who owned it, ma'am."
"Quintain and his crew?"
"They're stood down awaiting the determination of the inquiry." Hughes shrugged. "From what I can determine right now, it was a total balls up. He's been treating his crew like incompetents, and they've lived down to it. It was a long odds shot at that range without scanning the target, but they scored."
Rebecca nodded absently. "Have Lieutenant Huggins report to my office."
The hatch opened and she stepped into her office, walking across to the deck, and bringing up her computer. She brought up the investigation so far, nodding absently as Oscelli delivered a cup of tea. The annunciator sounded, and she allowed access. Huggins marched in, snapped to attention, and waited.
"Sit down, Becca." Rebecca said, leaning back. The young officer blushed. With the same first name as he captain, she had despaired of having anyone aboard call her anything but her rank or last name. How had the captain found out that her older brother had called her Reba as a child? "How goes the investigation so far?"
"Considering how little we know of the target craft, we're pretty much done, Captain. I screwed up big time." At the Captain's raised eyebrow, she sighed. "I knew Quintain was riding his crew pretty hard. Of course I've been riding him pretty hard. He just passed it on."
"I have been looking at what happened here. He Ignored the verbal orders, acted aggressively when he spotted the incoming unknown. When it began to turn rather than stop, he ordered his gunner to kill it-"
"No ma'am. He did order the gunner to fire, but it was clear to me that he meant it to be a warning shot. The hyper generator had to recycle before the dispatch boat could escape. They would have been separated by less than three quarters of a million kilometers by that time, considering the overtake Legate had already and assuming he went balls to the wall as he did. The three others on that flank, Shrew, Michael and Fubuki had matched his maneuver to close. The unknown could have hypered out, but we would have gotten a good enough read to possibly figure out who she belonged to. And Michael or Succubus could have possibly disabled her with her main armament rather than destroy her."
She sighed. "At that range a hit was a million to one shot, Captain." She shrugged. "But sometimes, those shots come through."
Rebecca held her head in her hands. "Did we at least get a locus on where they were trying to transit?"
"No, Ma'am. We know where they came into normal space, and their location in relation to the wormhole. That gives us an idea. But I spoke with Commander Hughes and Lieutenant O'Malley. It could be something like a third of the circumference, considering that no one in his right mind would anticipate being exactly on track after a hyper trip of any great distance. We don't even have the locus used by Harvest Joy in her attempt last year." At the Captain's look, she shook her head. "Doctors Kare and Wix didn't send the data back to Manticore, and we weren't in orbit long enough to get it from Torch."
"Just great." Rebecca leaned back. "Is there anything that is not in this report?"
"Lieutenant Quintain did put First Class Donahue on report for insolence. He was the gunner."
"All right, Becca. I'll view the log, and then talk to them. Suggestions about dealing with Quintain?"
"Ma'am." She paused. "Skipper, part of me wants to ram it down his throat. He's been a bad influence with the ratings of all of the crews. If you treat them like incompetent children, it isn't surprising if they act like it when crunch time comes. But his scores in the Academy were good. He was better than I was then. He could have had this command if he'd just tried harder. So I'd say read him the riot act, but leave him in position.
"But we'll have to replace Donahue. Not that he isn't good too. I'd suggest shifting another gunner in. We have some in the ship's crew that can handle it, and I don't want to see the rating being punished for obeying a hasty order."
Rebecca smiled. "You know, you could have flushed his career if you wanted. For that matter, we both could."
"Oh, I know that, Captain. But at Saganami Island they taught me that you can't guarantee having everyone in your command be perfect. A good commander works with what she has, not with what she wishes she had."
"That she does. Understood. I'll talk to him. Dismissed." She turned back to the report.
"Captain?" She looked up. Huggins had stood, but hadn't left the compartment. She motioned for the question. "How did you know to call me Becca?"
Rebecca smiled. "My brother was six when I was born. He could say Rebecca, but for some reason, he didn't like it. So he called me Becca. I know you had older siblings, so I assumed they probably did the same. I have found that when you talk in the familiar with your crew, it helps to find out what they like to be called, rather than just calling them something you think is more comfortable."
"But how did you know it was something I liked being called?" Huggins was exasperated. "Skipper, I know that isn't in my file."
Rebecca gave her a sly smile. "We captains have ways of finding things out, Lieutenant. When they give us our command, they also infuse us with godlike powers." At the young woman's look, the captain snorted. "And if you believe that, I have a bridge on Manticore I can sell you. You'll work it out soon enough, Becca." She motioned as if to say 'shoo', turning back to the computer.
Reprimand
Quintain marched down the companionway to the captain's office, snapping to attention before the marine sentry. "Lieutenant Quintain reporting to the captain." The Sentry touched the annunciator, announcing him. Then the hatch snapped open. The lieutenant marched through, snapping to attention before the desk.
For a long moment, nothing happened. The captain merely sat there, looking at him. Irene was in her lap, and her hands petted the animal absently. "Sit down, lieutenant." She waited as he did, then leaned forward, Irene diving off her lap to clear the decks. The captain turned her monitor enough that he could see the report no doubt filed by the squadron commander. The bitch was probably chortling over how she finally had the means of screwing him big time.
"This is a two part lesson, lieutenant. The first is what you did right. The next is what you did wrong, and how to tell them apart." She looked at the report, then transferred a data log into a holo projector. It showed the red furnace of the wormhole, with the line of LACs approaching it. "I have listened to the orders given by your squadron commander, and your briefing of your crews. While your tone with them was condescending, they were clear and precise. Your formation and assigned patrol areas were good, the placement of the recon drones assigned to you by Witch Maiden adequate. All mostly good.
"But here is where you went wrong." The dispatch boat hypered in. She froze the recording. "I know as any officer does you can't always be in position when the enemy arrives. You were out of position, and they were close enough that you were in range that even stealth wasn't going to cover you. That was not your failure. It happens. It is what you did then. Your orders were to signal any intruder before closing. You instead went full throttle toward them.
"That was more aggressive than your orders allowed, but I've never met an LAC commander that wasn't all teeth and claws. You did signal them to heave to, but there is a six second time lag if they wanted to reply. Less than three seconds after your hail, they maneuvered to escape. You and I both know there would be at least thirty seconds more before they could hyper back out. But did you notice where the new heading was taking them?" She allowed the holo to proceed, and added something he hadn't considered. The turn had made the new course pass into the resonance zone of the wormhole.
Any wormhole terminus associated with a star formed a conical volume in hyper, with the wormhole at its apex and a base centered on the star and twice as wide as its hyper limit, in which hyper-space astrogation became less than totally was the one volume of space between Torch and the wormhole in which it was virtually impossible to translate between normal-space and hyper-space.
"By the time their generator has spooled back up, they would have been inside the Zone, and would not have been able to hyper out safely. Oh a warship might have tried, or turned to escape back out of it, hoping they're armor would stop you from killing them before they did. But no dispatch boat skipper would have tried beyond reversing their course. Mistake one.
"You then ordered your gunner to fire. When he tried to report the enemy position, you repeated the order. It was just bad luck for everyone involved that you hit the boat and killed it. Mistake two. Neither of these was serious beyond the people you killed." She turned off the holo, leaning back. "But you made one major mistake. Do you know what it is?"
Quintain merely stared at her. Why hadn't they told him about the resonance zone?
She took pity on him. "Mister Quintain, you have constantly treated everyone junior to you as people too stupid to seal their boots without orders. Your crew has dealt with this from the start, and every rating and junior officer assigned to the squadron has dealt with it since you came aboard." She leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk. "I know you are the officer, and they are 'merely' ratings, or Warrant officers or even midshipmen. But if you have to get behind and push them to do their jobs constantly, it's usually your problem, not theirs. So your crew has been following your orders blindly, and that is why all of the simulations you have been part of were considered failures.
"Even with that, when it came to a real life situation, they tried to help you. Your crew tried twice to let you know what was occuring. The sensor rating knew the target would enter the resonance zone in nine seconds, but didn't tell you after your snapping at the helm. The gunner tried to tell you that your order to close on that specific course could cause you to hit the boat, and you had not specified if it was a warning shot or if you wanted to kill the target. You again cut him short. So instead of setting up to fire a warning shot, he hoped to luck and fired on the direct bearing. That caused the unnecessary deaths of at least eight people who we will never know were even enemies. You can't request information from a corpse unless you're a forensic pathologist.
"You're supposed to be a leader. Men follow a leader, and instead of being that leader, you've been acting like a slave overseer whipping them to work harder. You can see it in the crews of the other LACs; even Midshipman Kramer gets better responses because she listens to her crew. I'm not saying you aren't to give orders, or that you have to slavishly ask their opinions in every situation. But even with your treatment of them, your crew tried to mitigate the disaster to come, and you ignored them." She leaned back. "Any comments, lieutenant?"
"I didn't think about that, captain."
She nodded. "Very good. Now, assuming I don't just send you home as a complete incompetent, what would you do from here?"
He felt like his mouth was full of ashes. "I'd have my crew run simulations of the event, and find out what would happen if I had been less hasty." He didn't want to say it, but it had to be said. "I'd also have to start treating them like intelligent beings rather than plug and play modules."
"Very good." The captain stood, walking around the desk to lean on it, her arms crossed. "Lieutenant Huggins pointed to your records at Harmon Base. You were in the top nineteen of the class there, while she was in the top seven. Your scores have been consistently as good if not better than hers, and the same things I have enumerated kept you out of the top ten, according to your records. What you still don't have that she does is actual combat experience, and you've shown that here. I asked her what she would suggest in your case." His head snapped up in horror. "Don't worry. She could have had removed from flight lead, demoted, even sent home as an incompetent.
"Instead, she's keeping you in your present position as her exec. Not out of any misplaced mercy, but because she thinks that just maybe you can learn from this debacle. As captain, I accepted her judgement in that regard. Don't make us look stupid by acting like an ass from this point forward, because you have no further chances remaining." She stood, walking back to her chair. "We'll be assigning a new gunner's mate, so your boat is stood down until he's up to speed."
"New gunner?"
"Yes." She looked at him blandly. "With the way you treated Mr. Donahue, and putting him on report for 'talking back', we both felt he should be replaced."
Quintain looked at her silently for a long moment. "With all due respect, Captain, can I ask that he be retained aboard?" She looked at him without an expression. "It's my fault that he acted as he did, Captain. He's one of the best gunners I have ever seen, and I couldn't guarantee getting a replacement half as good."
She nodded. "One more thing, Lieutenant." She cocked her head. "Have you ever praised anyone in your crew before?"
"Not to their faces, Captain."
"Then I suggest you start, Mike. Dismissed."
A new Direction
"Legate crew report to briefing one." The loudspeaker said. Nine ratings merely sighed as they racked tools or set aside the work they had been doing. They arrived in the room to find their taskmaster standing there, looking at a running holo of the disaster at the wormhole.
"Take your seats, please." Most paused. Please had been the one word Quintain had not used to them since he came aboard. They sat, waiting.
"The squadron commander and Captain have finished their evaluation of this incident, and I will tell you shortly that determination. We are going to discuss it without having others not of the boat present." Quintain turned around. "The first thing I have to say, is that as of this moment, all said in this compartment is off the record, and I expect you to all speak freely. Under regulations, I am not allowed to act in a punitive manner if what you say is the truth. Is that clear?" All he got was silence. "People, we can never figure out what went wrong unless we freely admit our mistakes."
Your mistakes as incompetents, they corrected.
He turned back to the holo. "The dispatch boat appeared at a distance of just about a million kilometers. Helm, you questioned my order. Why?"
"No excuse, sir."
"I'll say it for you. I was acting too agressively." The crew perked up at that. "However I have been such a pain in the ass, you did what I told you to do. Correct?" When the man nodded, Quintain clucked his tongue. "I said it, not you, Swanson. I was being my usual pain in the ass. Am I correct?"
Feeling like he was laying his head on a chopping block, Swanson licked his lips. "Uh, yes, sir."
"So, we have at least one honest man in the group." The holo moved as the LAC spun about, now charging toward the intruder. "Now the captain has pointed out this." He added the resonance zone. "Within less than ten seconds, the dispatch boat would have been inside the resonance zone, and with only the few dozen KPS she had coming over the wall, she would have been almost in it before our hail reached them. Yet you said nothing, Wilson." He looked at the sensor rating. "I assume that since every time you have reported when I didn't ask for it, I berated you. Answer aloud, Wilson, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He now tapped, and a line went from the LAC to the dispatch boat. "Mister Donahue, you noticed where we were aimed, and we both know it would be long odds to hit a maneuvering ship at that range. You questioned my order, because I had not been clear enough. You wanted to make sure of my intentions. When I then repeated the order, you merely obeyed like a mindless robot, which pissed me off. You were upset because it is one thing to intentionally fire into a ship, and another if it is an accident, so you said what you did, and I put you on report. Is that a fair summation?"
"Yes, sir." Unlike the others, Donahue spoke loudly and clear.
The holo vanished. "It was determined by the squadron commander and captain that I acted hastily, did not listen to my crew, and you, after almost two months of dealing with me, simply did what I told you to do.
"In other words, the mistakes were caused by me." He looked at them. "I have always thought that being an officer meant making sure things got done right. I still think that. But to do it right, I have to depend on all of you to do your jobs, and that is what I have not been doing. So." He clapped his hands sharply.
"Attention to orders! When we are in the boat on operations, I want you to tell me if I am wrong. If I start to cut you off, call me, I don't know-"
"Asshole?" Quintain glared at Donahue, then shook his head.
"Something a little less... insulting?"
"Bossman?" Swanson asked.
"All right. If I hear one of you call me Bossman, I'll know I'm being an ass. Now what if I'm doing it right?"
"If you're right, we can just call you sir." Donahue said. "We usually do anyway. But one thing we've never called you is Skipper."
"Then when you call me skipper, I'll be the commander you need." Quintain looked at them. "All right, man the boat. We're going to do this again and this time, we're going to do it right!" The crew stood, then went out of the compartment.
Quintain followed, then paused as Lieutenant Huggins stood to. She looked at him cooly. "Now do it right this time."
"Yes, ma'am."
New decisions
Witch Maiden moved placidly in her orbit as Rebecca awaited the arrival of her peers. It had been a hectic two weeks; turning over the CLACs had gone better than she thought. None of the citizens of Torch had reacted negatively to the ship's names, and the people that would be manning them were already into the training cycle.
The three witches, along with local LACs had scattered the Republican missile pods in a skein that would protect the Station (rename Ellis, after the Island used for decades of Immirgants to the Old United States) and the planet, then bid farwell to their crewmen from Haven, in some cases with tears and hugs as if they were saying goodbye to their own family. The scene between Phillipe Duval and Ensign Konagawa caused cheers and whistling.
But both the new mining facility and wormhole worried Rebecca. Finally she deployed the last of her own pods under control of the LACs still assigned to watch the wormhole. A small freighter that had been captured by their navy had been converted to a tender, and everyone had chuckled when four of the Sabers were displayed as mobile refueling stations. Their missiles were replaced with tanks of consumables; air, water, food, and more importantly tanks to stow human waste that were offloaded from the ships on station and transported to the mother ship for later transport to the planet. With these, the patrols could be extended for as long as necessary.
One thing that she had thought odd had been the heavy cruisers she had expected, Spartacus and Lara had not been here when she had arrived. The Torches had been cagy about that until they suddenly came over the hyper wall escorting a convoy of ten merchantmen; most of them the fleet train of the Protector's Own, less than a day after her squadron's arrival. Only then had the secrecy been removed. In a raid that would go down in history with John Brown's actions at Harper's Ferry and Pottawatomie Creek, the Torches had raided a station owned by Mesa and freed not thousands, but over a million slaves.
Over the next week more showed up, each with their own escorts. Except for eight other mechant vessels, a frigate and the LACs they had carried like cargo, all of them had returned. But there was sadness too when TRMS Kennedy arrived with the last of the merchant ships almost ten days after the others. They had reported that four hundred and fifty brave souls had given up their berths so others could be saved, and had been lost in the defense of over two thousand that had not been rescued.
She allowed her thoughts to return to the present as the sirens sounded, and the hatch before her opened. Two cutters had landed, Wand, from Witch Queen, and Garter from Witch Bride. She walked over to the space between their ramps as they dropped down. Two side parties were in position as the people aboard the cutters came down. The loudspeaker sounded. "Witch Bride arriving. Witch Bride aboard." As the ensigngreeted Schaefer it sounded again. "Witch Queen arriving. Witch Queen aboard." Schaefer walked over, shaking hands as McCoy was also welcomed. They waited until all of the officers that had come with them officially came aboard. Then they were directed to the lifts as the captains went up together.
"Miriam, Con, good to see you in person again."
"So we're getting our orders now?" Connor asked.
"Yes. Pretty much what we had worked out before we left Manticore. We have four Solarian sectors we're keeping an eye on. We'll go in as singletons under the Solarian transponders. I'll explain in the briefing."
"What about customs?" Schaefer asked.
"We're talking the League here, Miriam." Rebecca reminded her gently. "And OFS protectorates at that. Our 'shipping line' has been in operation for almost thirty years, and knows what palms needs greasing. Also one of those sectors is the Maya sector, and they are getting some of our take, so there are no problems there."
The lift opened, and they walked down to CIC. The compartment wasn't large, but there was the largest holotank on the ship, and that was why they used it. She introduced her exec and greeted the man and woman in those positions from her squadron mates. Then, with drinks served and the rest of the crew cleared out, she brought up the holotank. There were four sectors highlighted. Maya which was closest, was outlined in green. Three others that surrounded the green area on three sides were in amber. She pointed to each.
"Witchita, capitol Rondelay. Carstairs, capitol Carstairs' Star, planet Freemont. Warsaw, capitol Shadwell. Not the worst offenders when it comes to the OFS 'Baksheesh' mentality, but still two of them, Witchita and Warsaw are in bed with Mesa big time. One of the chief slave processing facilities is actually in orbit of Shadwell, according to Operation Amistad."
"Operation what? Phillip Cole asked. He was tall and thin, a Manticoran from White Haven, he was McCoy's exec. Rebecca looked at the captains.
"What I am about to tell you is classified top secret, captain's eyes only. I am telling you all now that if anyone contacts you and uses one of the code names who is not a captain, an executive officer, or member of the nation the code names are assigned to, you will inform you commanding officer immediately. You will not divulge what I am going to tell you to anyone without direct instructions from your commanding officer. Is that clear?" She looked to each junior officer until they nodded.
She explained the provenance of Operation Brown, and the subsidiary operations, Armistad for the League, and Tubman for Mesa itself. "Our closest contact for Amistad is probably in Smoking Frog, though there might be contacts in the other sectors. As for Tubman," she grinned. "The Torches are tied in through every ship that happens to have any ex-slaves aboard, and mail packets on any that don't have slaves aboard."
"Can we give the information we get from these operatives to the governor of the Mayan sector?" Sonya Patrick, Schaefer's exec asked.
"That will be left to captain's discretion." Rebecca told them. "Con, I want you to load up on pharmeceuticals that are going to Warsaw. When you get there, be sure to use your recon drones to get a full readout of the slave station in Shadwell. Miriam, you will take your cargo to Carstairs..."
New Brew
One part of the routine established when Dollaryde first began brewing while serving in the Navy had been that every vat had to have a sample drawn off before filling the kegs, which was examined by medical to assure it's quality. The Manticoran navy had always had that rule when any brewing or distilling was done aboard a ship, even if illicit. Too often someone who didn't take proper care would add something to give the drink more of a kick, or not take proper care in sanitizing their equipment, so that instead of something to drink that satisfied, you had crewmen reporting with food poisoning.
Even if you were bootlegging there would almost always be a medical rating willing to run the tests for you. After all, they liked to drink as much as anyone else. But if poisoned people turned up, the fact that medical had not checked it was a serious nail in your coffin. For small home brewers such as the Regs did allow, it was merely a safety precaution. So Francis was sure something had gone wrong yet again when Doctor Ramsey called him to sickbay.
"Ah, Dollaryde, just a moment." There were few in sickbay at the moment, mainly small injuries that only needed salves or bandaging. The doctor finished making a notation, then ushered the young man into his office. "The ingredients for your latest. It was all local produce, yes?"
"Yes, sir, except for the hops. Barley and wheat grown here, the hops were from Erewhon." He shrugged. "The local bacteria loves hops. Every time they plant some, it literally devours the plant."
"And the sugar?"
"None produced locally. They have the same problem with sugar cane and sugar beets, so white sugar is imported. They use a local honey for sweeteners here because sugar can get expensive. I liked the taste, so I used it."
"Ah." Ramsey handed him the pad. Over years at one station or another of going through this process, Francis could read everything usually considered important in the chemical analysis. He scanned down it, then paused at one line.
"Doc, that can't be right."
"Ah, but it is!" Ramsey grinned at the man.
"That isn't beer, it reads like I was making wine!" Francis tapped the line. "Alcohol content, 19 percent? That's more than most Sakes!"
"True. And since part of my family makes Sake for sale back home, I wasn't sure myself. So once I was sure there wasn't anything dangerous in it, I tried it." One reason the medical staff aboard liked this duty, was they got to try each of Dollaryde's new batches themselves first. The doctor opened a small refrigeration unit, drawing out a one liter flask, and poured an inch into a glass.
The rating took the glass, examining it with a careful eye. The color was a deep amber, almost brown. The head was right. He sniffed, and the bouquet was good. He sipped, his eyes widening. "Christ on crutches. That's..."
"Excellent." Ramsey offered.
"Oh my, yes." Dollaryde finished off the drink. "My best yet."
Rebecca worked at her desk. Witch Maiden had loaded her cargo for Rondelay, and would depart orbit in less than three hours, and departure was always hectic. The annunciator sounded and she tapped the button. "Dollaryde to see you, captain."
"Send him in." The hatch snapped open, and the young man marched in. "Ah, our favorite brewer. No problems, I hope?"
"Ma'am, I didn't get beer this time."
She sighed. "What went wrong this time, Francis?"
"Nothing, ma'am." He brought out a liter flask. "If we could get a glass-" he broke off as Os appeared like a Djin from a lamp with a pair of small glasses. Dollaryde poured, then handed one to the captain, then the other to the steward. "My latest."
With trepidation, Rebecca sipped the beverage. Then her eyes widened. Os was standing there like a Somellier, rolling the drink around in his mouth. "That's... Oh tell me you're going to send this recipe this back home!"
"I'll need to import the honey for that brewery." He replied. "The hops too probably. Erewhon grows a genetically engineered breed of Sapphire hops. I don't know if it will grow on Gryphon."
"They'll grow or we'll import soil from Erewhon for them!" She drained the glass. "Heaven in a bottle!" She held out the glass, and Dollaryde poured again. "Don't be so stingy, rating!"
"Just being careful, ma'am. It came out stronger than most wine."
The captain sipped again. "Have you told Boomer about it?"
"He's going to serve it in wine glasses rather than pints. Though I don't think the crew will complain."
"A good man." Rebecca finished the glass, then set it down. "What are you going to name this one?"
"I heard about the losses Torch suffered on their raid, and about Ravika Sukaragi of Thandi's Own. I was thinking, since we're here, a half barrel should go to the locals, and we name it Inkululeko barleywine in honor of her last words."
"Agreed. When we come back, I expect you to negotiate for that honey and hops. I'm not having Gryphon left out when this hits the market."
"Yes, ma'am."