Impulse (7 page)

It was a good twelve feet up to the ceilings, something that would have been regarded as a tremendous waste of space aboard a QRN ship. The walls were full of wooden bookcases stuffed with leather-bound editions. What wall space wasn't taken up by bookcases was filled with portraits, again of the Grand Duke and his wife, along with a hunting party scene and a portrait of an unidentified lady, possibly Mrs. Zander, I surmised. A large cabinet full of naval souvenirs and brass sailing relics, complete with a large supply of liquor, took up nearly one whole wall.

An intricate and oversized map desk flanked by Carinthian and Union Navy flags filled the back third of the room. In front of me in the center of the room was a sitting area with a formal sofa, coffee table and two leather chairs on either side, all facing a simulated fireplace burning with a soft orange glow. The sitting space was pulled together by an exotic Persian rug full of muted greens, reds, and yellows, the colors of the Carinthian flag. I stood at the front of the room near the doors and snapped to attention, feeling as if I could have been naked, I felt so out of place.

The man seated in the center of the sofa put down his coffee cup on the table and stood slowly and with purpose, acknowledging me with a nod and then waving me forward in a welcoming manner.

“Come in, my boy. And at ease,” said Captain Lucius Zander, all five and a half feet of him. He was wiry and slight, with exceptionally long blond-white hair. By looks I placed him in his mid-fifties, but I couldn't be sure. His gravel-sharp voice made him sound as if he were twice that age.

I stepped forward, tucking my navy cap under my arm as I came. Zander reached out to shake my hand and then clasped it with both of his when he took it. “Good to meet you, Lieutenant Commander Cochrane. Good to meet you,” he said. His eyes were a steel gray and I could see from his demeanor how he had ascended to captaincy of his world's most important vessel. He may have been slight in stature but with that voice and those eyes I believed he could have withered grape vines in summer if he so chose.

Zander motioned me to one of the leather chairs and I sat down.

“I'm just finishing my morning coffee, Commander Cochrane, would you like some?” he asked.

“No, thank you, Captain,” I said instinctively, and instantly regretted it. It was always impolite to refuse an offer of comfort from a superior officer, at least in the QRN. It made it seem as though you felt you were too good to be one of those types who liked to play on a captain's favor. My regret came from the fact that it was nearly midnight according to my QRN clock, not prime time for coffee, but here on
Impulse
it seemed as if the morning watch was just beginning. I glanced up at an ornate wood wall clock; it said 0645. After a moment Zander took another drink and then started right in with the formalities.

“I just wanted to offer my sincerest condolences on the loss of your countrymen. Your Admiral Wesley has informed me that you had a particular attachment to one of the young lieutenants aboard the First Contact shuttle. Lieutenant Decker was a fine officer, and a fine young lady, and I enjoyed having her aboard
Impulse
,” said Zander, quietly and sincerely.

“Thank you, sir,” I said. Natalie's death was the last thing I wanted to talk about. Every reminder of her struck a chord of pain in me, pain I was trying to get past to embrace my new duties. Perhaps proper grieving would come later.

Then Zander focused those eyes on me, took in a deep breath and said, “What happened at Levant was a tragedy, one I intend to set right. This crew has been through a lot. We all lost someone we cared about that day.”

I didn't really know how to respond to that. They had all lost someone, a friend, a shipmate perhaps, but I had lost the girl who was my first love. I blurted out another “thank you, sir,” for the offered condolences, then hoped the conversation would go anywhere away from this subject. Fortunately, it did.

“Well then, no doubt you have a great deal of unpacking to do, Mr. Cochrane,” said Zander. “I want you to know that I won't be expecting you on bridge duty today until noon. We depart tomorrow for our return trip to Levant and you can report for full duty then. But I do run a tight ship. I expect my officers on the bridge most days by 0700. We take thirty minutes for lunch at noon and the day shift ends at five. I expect all my senior officers for dinner nightly at 1900 in the officer's lounge. The rest of your time is your own, except for Sundays when you are excused from morning duty to attend Church Worship, if you go in for that sort of thing.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, feeling weary already. The captain looked up at me.

“Yes, you understand, or yes, you attend Worship?” he asked.

“Yes to both, sir,” I said back.

“Good,” he said forcefully, “I like a man with morals. It's no fun putting your life on the line with atheists in space.”

I nodded at this, again unsure how to respond. The fact was I wasn't really sure I wasn't an atheist. I just hadn't had much time to contemplate it, and I'd grown up going to Worship on Sundays.

“One other matter,” said Zander. “I'd like you to meet with Tralfane, our Historian, before your first duty. What with the two of you working the 'scope together, I think it would be best if you got off on the right foot.”

“He was on my list, sir,” I said. Zander nodded.

“Good. Our previous 'scopeman never really had a good working relationship with him, and it cost us dearly at Levant.” Then Zander looked away again. I could tell from the way he spoke that he took
Impulse
's failure personally.

“I should also like to meet with your exec at the earliest opportunity,” I offered. “Just to get more familiar with
Impulse
's key personnel and my duties.” Zander glanced at his watch.

“The new exec should be here any minute,” he said.

“New exec, sir?” he nodded.

“We lost our XO at Levant, Commander. His replacement is an officer I have been grooming for several years. Capable, competent, and no-nonsense. You will be learning from one of my best,” he said.

Just then I heard a knock at the door.

“Ah,” said Zander, standing. “That would be her.”

“Her?” I asked. He nodded.

“The commander and I have served together for quite a while, since she was an ensign, and it's her old job you'll be taking,” he said. I stood automatically to greet my direct superior as the door opened. I was surprised that I already knew her.

“Lieutenant Commander Peter Cochrane, may I introduce my new Executive Officer, Commander Dobrina Kierkopf,” said Zander.

I extended my hand in greeting and she took it. “Commander Cochrane,” she said, shaking my hand. “So good to meet you.” Her tone gave away nothing to indicate that we had met before.

I returned her handshake and tipped my head slightly in greeting.

“And so good to meet you as well, Commander Kierkopf,” I replied, being equally coy. We all sat down, Zander and Dobrina on the sofa, I in the increasingly uncomfortable leather chair. The next few minutes were taken up with casual conversation about duties and protocol, though nothing was said of my uniform choice. Zander seemed satisfied at this exchange and then glanced at his watch at five minutes to seven, by the wall clock.

“More to come, Commander, but for now I have to make my appearance on the bridge or those rogues will start slacking. As I said, feel free to take until noon to report, and Commander Kierkopf here can continue to fill you in on the run of the ship.” Then he stood and Dobrina and I followed suit.

“Thank you, sir,” I said. “It's an honor to serve with you.”

“Nonsense, my boy, the honor is mine. Here's to hoping we can resolve this Levant blockade and get back to doing what the Lightship fleet was designed to do, opening up new worlds once again.” We exchanged handshakes and then he was off to the bridge, followed by his attending ensign. That left Dobrina and me alone. I stood for a second, hands on my hips, looking at the now-shut door and bobbing my head ever so slightly. I had been played by her again, and I didn't like it. I crossed my arms and turned back to Commander Dobrina Kierkopf.

“How—” I started, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand as she sat down on the sofa.

“How did I come to be here? Or how did I get aboard before you?” she said between bites of a croissant and sips of coffee.

“Yes! Both . . . I'm not sure. I just know I don't like it.”

“You're not supposed to,” she said. “You've got a lot to learn, Lieutenant Commander Cochrane, and I intend to be your teacher.” That pissed me off.

“I don't need a teacher, I need a compatriot. You and Poulsen came to Candle to spy on me,” I said, getting angrier at the thought of it. “I knew I recognized him from the bar.”

“Nonsense,” she replied. “I was assigned to
Impulse
by your Admiral Wesley, and I had to meet with him before he would approve me as Zander's XO. The trip to High Station was already planned.”

“He sent you to check me out though, didn't he?”

She shrugged. “You're a very valuable asset to the USN and they don't want to lose you on your first mission.”

“So you're my babysitter,” I said. She stood to go.

“If you like. It doesn't really matter. I'm here and that's just the way of it. Now come on, let's get you to your cabin and get you properly dressed for duty aboard a Carinthian Lightship.”

“This is a Union Lightship, madam,” I said, just to be cross with her.

“Commanded by Carinthians. You'd be smart to remember that.” Then she started for the door.

“Wait,” I said, “I need to know—” she interrupted me.

“How I beat you here?” she finished. “It's very simple, young man.” She paused, then said, “I just took a faster shuttle.”

Again, I was mad, but I hit back fast. “Of course you did. Your travel here came without too much discomfort, I hope?” I asked, alluding to our fencing match and her wounded bottom.

“I am a bit sore,” she admitted. “But I've had worse.”

“Of course you have.”

“Now, can we get on with things?” she said.

“Lead the way,” I said. And with that, a new cycle of learning on the job began.

Aboard H.M.S Impulse

A
n hour later I was in my cabin, arguing with Claus Poulsen.

“But you have to wear it, sir. Captain Zander won't stand for anything but the regs being followed,” he insisted, rather excitedly. Poulsen stood on the far side of my bed, which was big enough for two and had an elaborate wooden headboard. Commander Dobrina Kierkopf sat at the foot of the bed, admiring my unworn green Carinthian commander's uniform.

“You would be well advised to listen to him, Cochrane,” she said. I turned away from my closet, where I had been busy hanging my clothes and filling my racks with my personal belongings. The stateroom I had been assigned was of course much larger and more elaborate than Poulsen had let on, but I decided he probably didn't know any better. He'd never seen a QRN ship and probably never would.

My stateroom had a separate sleeping area with the closet, bed, and a small chest of drawers built in to the wall. The working area had a workstation complete with a desk, a monitor, chairs, and a sofa facing the bed. I also had a private bath with sink, shower, and separate privy. Luxurious by Quantar standards, standard issue by Carinthian. Though I wouldn't have asked for such accommodations, I wouldn't turn them down either. Rank hath its privileges.

I turned back to Poulsen and Kierkopf.

“I won't wear it,” I said, “not as long as you two and Zander and all the rest insist on wearing your planetary colors. It would be wrong,” I said. “And besides that, there's the issue of honoring my world and the sailors we lost.”

“Those sailors knew how to follow protocol,” said Kierkopf. I looked at her sharply.

“I doubt my countrymen paraded around the decks of
Impulse
in Carinthian green, Commander,” I snapped at her.

I dropped the shirt I was folding onto the bed and looked to each of them in turn. “This is supposed to be the
Unified
Space Navy. If none of you wear USN whites, I won't either, and I won't wear the green. It's as simple as that,” I said, then returned to my unpacking.

Commander Kierkopf stood and crossed her arms in front of her. “You're a stubborn young man,” she said.

“It's a family trait,” I replied. She took in a deep breath.

“Cochrane, I'm trying to help you out here,” she said. “Zander will have you on his status report every day as a malcontent. His reports carry weight with the navy brass. You'll find your next promotion a lot more difficult to come by with him opposing you,” she said. I stopped again and faced my two new compatriots.

“It's odds on my next promotion won't come on this vessel anyway,” I said. “I don't think Zander is close to retiring and I doubt you'll be going anywhere soon, Commander, so what difference will it make? Navy brass will at least want us to
appear
to work together. Zander's insistence that we all wear Carinthian green on board goes against that unity, and I would not be honoring my family, my world, or the USN if I gave in.”

“But we all wear the USN patches on our sleeves and chest. There's no planetary insignia or family crest anywhere,” insisted Poulsen. I looked at him again. I could see he took this issue seriously, but I wanted him to know that I did as well.

“Fine then,” I said. I took my QRN-issue navy jacket from the closet and handed it to Poulsen, then picked up the Carinthian green jacket off the bed. “Have the USN patches and crest removed from the green jacket and attach them to my QRN jacket. Just make sure it's back here in time for my bridge duty, and please return my family crest to me here.”

“But, sir!” Poulsen protested as I shoved the jackets into his hands.

“That's my final word, Poulsen, and that's an order. Now get!” I pointed to the door.

Poulsen took the two jackets in one hand and snapped to attention, but I could see he wasn't happy. “Aye, sir,” he said, and then was gone through the cabin doors.

Commander Kierkopf eyed me with what I took as a mix of admiration and pity.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” she said. I laughed.

“Oh, I don't. I've no idea actually. But I know who I am and why I was put here, and I intend to stand up for my kinsmen and my flag and my country if I have to. I just didn't think I would be put in this position by my captain.”

“Zander's a tough man to work for,” she said.

“So I've heard.”

She smiled and stepped around to my side of the bed, placing her duty beret back on her head as she prepared to leave. It was a pleasant smile that lit up her face, if only for a brief moment. She was no beauty, but I could see what any man might see in her. She was lithe and athletic, with a very feminine body that provided a sharp contrast to her masculine demeanor, which I supposed was necessary in the navy. “I admire your dedication, Cochrane,” she said. “I just hope it doesn't get you into too much trouble.”

I nodded in agreement. “Me too.”

“I'll let you finish,” she said, turning to go, “but I'll be back later to discuss your first day on duty.”

“I assume as third I'll have my share of long hours covering for both you and Zander.”

She smiled again. “Oh, you will. Better take the time to get settled now.”

I nodded as she went to the door, then something else came to mind. “Commander, before you leave, there is one more thing I'd like to discuss,” I said. She stopped before opening the cabin door.

“Yes?” she said. I hesitated.

“You were in the Academy class of '74. So was my brother Derrick. I was wondering if you knew him.” Her smile cracked just slightly at this, barely but noticeably nonetheless.

“That's nothing that I'm willing to discuss,” she said, cutting me off. Then she went swiftly through the door, shutting it firmly behind her. I had an answer to my question, and I wasn't sure I liked it.

I called a late breakfast meeting of the QRN commissioned staff at 1030 hours. Commander Kierkopf had provided a small, separate space in the officers' dining room for me and my six Quantar Royal Navy reports. Marine Corporal John Marker sat next to me at the head of the table and across from
Impulse's
new chief helmsman, Lt. George Layton. Lieutenants Cort Drury from Propulsion, Brice Devlin from Engineering, Evangeline Goolagong, my intelligence officer, and of course Wesley's niece, Jenny Hogan of Astrogation, completed the team. Hogan looked incredibly young to me, but her navy bio said she was twenty and she had met the required minimum rating for early qualification, so Wesley had graduated her, and assigned me to watch over her, which I intended to do.

The noncommissioned officers, a warrant officer, two chiefs, and three specialist starmen, all of them the “experienced spacers” Wesley had promised me, had already been assigned and were busy with their new duties.

We'd been at lunch for nearly half an hour just getting to know each other better and going over our assignments. We had barely an hour left before they were due on duty, so I decided to wrap things up. I looked down the table at the faces before me, all of them except Hogan at least a year senior to me, Marker a good three.

“This is the only time we'll meet like this,” I said.

“What? Why?” asked Layton. Layton was a likeable fellow, but he wasn't above challenging a superior within the boundaries of his duty. It was a quality I liked about him.

“Because, Mr. Layton, we should associate with the regular crew, not isolate ourselves,” I said. “Commander Kierkopf only gave me this time so we could get to know each other better. I consider that task accomplished.”

“I think you're right, Commander,” said Marker. “Our officers should be seen about the ship, doing their duty, not hiding out together in a clique. I'm in a little bit of a different situation. I should be training with my new team full-time. It's the marine way.”

I nodded in agreement. Marker was fit beyond belief, and in physical comparison I felt like a child sitting next to him. If he wanted to train with his marines full-time I wasn't going to stop him.

I looked down the table at the rest of them and started to ask for final reports before calling the meeting to a close. “Evangeline, any new intelligence that you can share?” She smiled, her beautiful white teeth flashing against deep brown skin.

“There's been some longwave chatter and newsnet postings, mostly from merchants operating on the edge of old Imperial space,” she said.

“What kind of chatter?” I asked. She shrugged.

“Rumors, mostly. Some snippets about ‘ghost ships' shadowing merchant vessels, usually when they jump into or out of the Union systems. Like they're being watched. One even swore he saw an Imperial dreadnought. It just seems the closer we get to the old battle lines from the civil war the more these reports crop up.”

“That's a concern,” I said. No doubt the closer we got to Imperial treaty space the more likely we would run into some kind of unidentified traffic. I wondered how many of the rumored “ghosts” were actually Imperial ships, or worse, pirates. I tried to smile confidently. “Well Levant was well on our side of the line, so hopefully things will go smoother there than the last time
Impulse
ventured in.”

“Not worried about rogue hyperdimensional displacement waves, sir?” asked Marker.

“Always, John,” I replied. “But that can't stop us from doing our jobs.” There were nods all around and then I made my final point. “We all have to remember that although Quantar and Carinthia were on separate sides during the civil war that broke up the Corporate Empire, we're both part of the Union now along with Earth. As we explore new systems and rediscover others, old wounds from the conflict are likely to crop up. We have to deal with that, and we have to present a unified front, no matter what our personal feelings on the matter.” Again there were nods. I asked Jenny Hogan, Drury, and Devlin to quickly give their reports and then we all broke up for our duty stations. On their way out I signaled Marker and Layton, my closest associates, to stay behind for a moment, then shut the door to make sure we had privacy, retaking my seat at the head of the table.

“Mr. Marker, please make sure the marines under your command are ready for Levant. I don't know what to expect, but I think Zander does, and it's not good,” I said.

“Trouble ahead, sir?” he asked.

“Likely,” I replied.

“What's the real story?” chimed in Layton. I debated not telling them about my orders from Wesley, then decided I had to give them some kind of warning.

“There may be some complications ahead, gentlemen, and I'm going to be needing your help,” I said.

“What kind of complications?” asked Layton, pressing for more information.

“The kind none of us want,” I said, then poured myself the last of the orange juice as I let that sink in. I looked at them both, and spoke in as serious a tone as I could muster. “I need you both to make a commitment to me personally that if you receive private orders from me during this mission, you will follow them unquestioningly. Do I have that?”

They exchanged looks of concern.

“Yes, sir,” said Marker. Layton hesitated.

“It would help to know under what kind of circumstances we might be receiving these private orders, sir,” he said.

“I can't tell you that, George,” I said, “for your own good.” Layton eyed me, reading my face, then looked to Marker, whose glare at him was intense, then nodded.

“I will, sir,” he said. I reached out and shook both men's hands.

“Thank you,” I said.

A tap at the door interrupted us and Commander Kierkopf came into the room.

“I was just leaving, Commander,” said Layton, making a quick exit. Marker followed silently with barely a nod to
Impulse
's exec. Passing behind her, he stopped at the door to turn and wink back at me before he left. I couldn't help smiling. Commander Kierkopf turned quickly but Marker was already gone.