No Honor in Death (14 page)

Pushkin shrugged.  "Individually, most of 'em are okay, but..."

"But, Mister Pushkin?"

"They haven't been a tight crew since I've been here."

"Let me guess, Commander Forenza's command techniques on the bridge were of the adversarial kind."

"Yes," Pushkin shrugged again, as if it didn't really matter.  Yet his eyes said otherwise.  The look pleased Siobhan, because it proved the First Officer hadn't completely given up, that some things still mattered to him.

"What would you consider the single most disruptive factor among the first watch bridge crew, the varsity team?"

Pushkin hesitated for a few moments as if deciding whether to trust Siobhan or continue their dealings with brooding silence, then spat out, "Shara."

Siobhan slowly nodded.  Brooding, but straightforward.  And he disliked the Sailing Master intensely.  "Lieutenant Shara was obviously on good terms with Commander Forenza.  How good?"

"Good enough to get away with crap no other Captain would tolerate," Pushkin replied, disgust and anger making his voice tremble ever so slightly.

"Captain's pet."

"Yeah."

"The others?"

"All right, I guess.  Devall's an arrogant bastard, but he does his job well for someone who hasn't had an enemy ship under his gun sights for over six months.  Kowalski?  Well, she's hard to place.  Knows her stuff, but pretty stand-offish.  Arrogant too.  Neither of the two like me."

Straightforward again.  Siobhan nodded.  "And the Petty Officers and ratings will take their cues from the officers.  Are the second watch crew, especially the quarter-masters any good?"

Pushkin grimaced.  "I wouldn't give them any difficult manoeuvring orders until they've had a lot more training."

"The same probably goes for most of the crew."

The First Officer laughed harshly.  "An understatement, sir."

"It's pretty obvious we don't dare head straight for the border, with the amount of repairs still outstanding, and the need to re-train the crew."  Siobhan was amused to read relief in Pushkin's eyes.  "No, Mister Pushkin, I'm not as suicidal or glory-seeking as Fleet gossip makes me out to be.  From Thetis Alpha we're going to jump half-way to the patrol area and spend a week or so drilling the crew in every conceivable manoeuvre. 
Then
we'll head out."

"Your orders leave you that latitude, sir?"

Bold question coming from you, Mister Pushkin, Siobhan thought.  "No.  But Admiral Kaleri won't find out until it's too late.  I'd rather take my lumps with her than with the Imperial Fleet."

Pushkin seemed uncertain at that, as if
he
feared Kaleri more than the Empire, but he did not reply.

"Coming back to my earlier line of thought, we, you and I, will have to turn this crew into something that can withstand anything the Imperials throw at us, because I intend to hunt in the manner for which the
Stingray
was designed.  In my book, that requires a very flexible kind of leadership, one that draws the maximum initiative from each crew member.  Getting angry, growling and reprimanding at every turn won't do.  Not with a crew that shows so many signs of being dysfunctional.  Piss the officers off, and they'll turn around and piss-off the crew.  But there are exceptions."  She smiled at him and turned on the intercom.

"Mister Shara, please join us in my ready room."

The astonished Sailing Master rose from the command chair and headed for the back of the bridge, her washed-out eyes sweeping the crew.  She felt fury rise in her throat on seeing Devall and Kowalski glance at her with guarded amusement.  They expected her to come out of Captain Dunmoore's room with a freshly chewed asshole.

"Mister Devall," she croaked, "you have the con."

The hatch slid aside at her approach and the thin navigator stepped into the room, stopping a regulation three paces in front of the Captain's desk.  But instead of snapping to attention and saluting, she stood legs apart, hands loosely joined in small of her back.  Her eyes stared at Dunmoore with defiance, after giving Pushkin a dismissive glance.

"Sir?"  She inquired, her tone almost insolent.

"Lieutenant Shara," Pushkin growled unexpectedly, "you bloody well know how to report to your Captain.  Kindly do it before I give you a quick refresher course.  With the tip of my boot."

Shara looked at him, an eyebrow rising lazily then, with deliberate slowness, she came to attention and saluted.

"Sailing Master reporting to the Captain as ordered. 
Sir
!"

"Mister Shara," Siobhan smiled tightly, voice deceptively smooth and soft, something Pushkin had begun to recognize as a danger signal.  "Since I took command of this ship, I have found your attitude and behavior towards your superiors, peers and subordinates to be arrogant, insubordinate and totally unacceptable for a Commonwealth Navy officer and a Sailing Master on my ship.  I don't really give a damn what kind of relationship you had with Commander Forenza, or how many Admirals supped at your father's mansion when you were a cadet, but if you don't start acting like a goddamned officer, you will find yourself counting mess tins on a third-rate supply depot for the rest of the war."

"Sir. I resent your insinuations, and your insults to my character," Shara replied, cheeks reddening with anger.  "And I -"

"I don't really give a damn what you resent, Lieutenant Shara," Siobhan replied, her voice as calm as before, but with a hard core that hit the Sailing Master like a slap across the face.  "As long as you are on my ship, you will bloody well take whatever I say, and act accordingly.  Oh, and don't bother threatening me with a complaint to Admiral Kaleri.  By the time I'm through with you, a Disciplinary Board will overrule anything your family friends might try."

Siobhan saw her words hit home and smiled cruelly.  But inwardly, she knew that if Shara did complain to Kaleri, she could cause her a lot of trouble.  It would probably take an act of mutiny on the Sailing Master's part before she would be hauled in front of a Board.  Pushkin knew it too, and while his face showed pleasure at Siobhan's words, his eyes also showed worry at Shara's connections, and what they could mean to him if she complained.  However, Siobhan wasn't done yet.

"For starters, Mister Shara, you will begin to treat the Cox'n with the respect he deserves as the senior enlisted man.  He
is
the Chief of the Ship and as far as I'm concerned, he's one of the best damn Chiefs and ship handlers in the Fleet.  If you cannot bring yourself to respect his experience and ability, you will at least give the appearance of doing so."

As Siobhan paused to draw her breath, Shara attempted to protested again.

"Sir, I res-"

"
Silence
!  You will speak when I give you permission."  Siobhan's gloved hand hit the desk, cracking like a gunshot.  Shara took a step backwards as Siobhan's sudden outburst hit her like a gale-force wind.  "You may have been Commander Forenza's favourite while she was Captain of the
Stingray
.  Those days are over.  She is now facing disciplinary charges for failing in her duties.  You'd do well to remember that, or you will most assuredly join her.  Dismissed, Mister Shara."

Face red, body shaking with anger and humiliation, Shara saluted and spun on her heels.  As the door closed behind her, Siobhan heard the Sailing Master snarl at a rating.

"A very dangerous enemy, sir," Pushkin softly said.

Siobhan looked at him in surprise.  "Maybe, but she's also a very stupid woman, and that, we can deal with.  How much of Forenza's friend is she?  Or Kaleri's, for that matter?"

Again, Pushkin seemed hesitant before replying, as if still unsure about the wisdom of confiding in a Captain he'd know for only a few days.

"Too much for comfort," he finally said.  "Shara and Forenza were always meeting behind closed doors, plotting God knows what.  The Sailing Master knew more about ship's business and the Captain's intentions than I did.  Sometimes, I wondered who the
real
First Officer was."

Siobhan was beginning to understand why he carried such a chip on his shoulder.  It must have been hard to see his authority undermined at every turn by an officer of Shara's low calibre and rank.

"As for Admiral Kaleri," he continued, "Forenza got away with murder under her command, and if Shara is Forenza's asshole buddy..."

"
Les amis de mes amis sont mes amis
,"  Siobhan quoted in French.  The friends of my friends are my friends.

Pushkin looked up at her in surprise, then nodded.  "Aye, Captain.  That's right."

"So I can assume Admiral Kaleri will hear of everything that happens aboard the
Stingray
, filtered through Shara's malice."

"You can bet on it, sir."

Siobhan shrugged.  "Then let her hear.  At this point, I couldn't care less about a Sailing Master spying on me for the benefit of my Battle-Group commander.  If I'm to fall, then I will, one way or another.  And it wouldn't be the first time."

Pushkin's eyes widened in surprise at Siobhan's cold honesty, and he mentally raised his opinion of her by several orders of magnitude.  Maybe, he would also be able to trust her.  But after Forenza...

"Tell me, Mister Pushkin," Siobhan suddenly asked, "when you said, a moment ago, that Forenza got away with murder, were you speaking figuratively, or were you being literal."

As if a curtain had been dropped, Pushkin's expression became guarded again and the fragile rapport that she'd developed over the last few minutes dissolved.  Siobhan cursed herself mentally, but kept her expression bland and unconcerned.

"Figurative, Captain," he replied, his voice gruff, his eyes refusing to meet hers.  "Will that be all, sir?"

Siobhan repressed a sigh of frustration.  "For now, Mister Pushkin.  After we've fuelled, we'll discuss the remedial training plan."

The First Officer stood, snapped to attention and saluted.  Then, he turned and left Siobhan to her thoughts.  He, like Luttrell, knew more than they would admit, and refused to speak about it.  Fear, perhaps?  But of what or who?  And why?

"Captain, we're on final approach to Thetis Alpha."

"I'll be right there, Mister Pushkin."  Siobhan closed her personal log and rose, adjusting her uniform.  The final approach to a refuelling station, and the refuelling itself, were among the most delicate manoeuvres a starship could do.  It didn't take much to ignite the anti-matter and blow both station and ship into another dimension.  A Captain's worst nightmare was an enemy raider appearing just as the ship was taking on fuel.

Siobhan glanced at the split screen, one half showing a real-time view of the station, high in orbit around the greenish-blue gas giant that provided the raw matter for the fuel, the other half showing the usual tactical schematic display of their approach.

"One hundred thousand kilometres and closing," Pushkin announced as she sat down.

Siobhan nodded, then inspiration struck.  "Take her in, Mister Pushkin."  She stood up and stepped away from her chair.  He looked at her in astonishment, as did Shara, Devall and Kowalski.  Only the Cox'n showed no reaction.  He knew Dunmoore's ways.

"Aye, sir,"  the First Officer replied a few heartbeats later.  He slipped into Siobhan's seat, shoulders squared, while she moved over to his vacant station.  "Cox'n, stand-by braking thrusters.  Prepare to cut sub-light drive on my mark."  His voice was deep and confident.  Shara, for once, kept her eyes firmly on the screen, lips tightened into a thin line of disapproval.

"Take her three points to port, raise the angle of attack by two points."  The real-time view of Thetis Alpha shifted minutely as the
Stingray
's course changed to parallel the line of refuelling buoys.  This far out, the change was very small, but over the remaining distance, it would suffice.  Siobhan smiled with approval. Pushkin was careful, and able to think out his manoeuvres far ahead.  Too many officers made greater course changes at a distance, only to correct them closer in.  As Siobhan knew, Guthren had a light touch on the helm, and he executed Puskin's orders with deft precision.

"Cut sub-light."

Siobhan would have kept the ion drives on for a bit longer, but refrained from commenting.  If Pushkin wanted to coast in and conserve power, that was fair enough.  The few minutes difference didn't matter.

Thetis Alpha shimmered brightly against the dark turquoise of the planet Thetis.  At this distance, they could see the many storms stirring up the thick soupy atmosphere, storms which could tear a warship apart, were its Captain foolish enough to brave the crushing gravity well.  The unmanned fuel tankers that sucked up the atmospheric gases for transport to Thetis Alpha's refinery were the only ships able to get close enough without damage.  And even they stayed at a respectable distance, using a specially adapted tractor beams to fill their immense holds.

"Braking thrusters on for ten seconds on my mark."

"Standing-by," Guthren replied, all business as his thick fingers danced over the helm console.

The First Officer knew he was being tested by Siobhan, and scrutinized by the remainder of the bridge crew.  Yet he showed no nervousness.  Only understandable tension.