The surprise changed to shock. Rob watched the junior officers, knowing his next words would set the tone for his relationship with them. “I need to make a few things clear. The first, and most important to me, is that I had the honor and privilege of serving with a former Earth Fleet officer on the Squall three years ago. Before she died helping to lead a boarding operation of an enemy ship, Ensign Martell told me that any Earth Fleet officers I met would be the best at whatever they did. I consider it an honor and a privilege to serve with all of you.”
Rob paused to let that sink in, knowing his next statement wouldn’t be as well received. “You may or may not know that Commander Welk was attempting to break his contract with the government of Glenlyon, saying he was acting on behalf of the entire crew. Your contracts remain in effect. You are obligated to serve Glenlyon to the best of your ability and to follow lawful orders. Some of you, I know, have begun putting down roots here, becoming part of Glenlyon. You’ll be defending the place you think of as home. Others of you have clung to your former identities in Earth Fleet. You may not think of Glenlyon as home, but some of those you stand with do. Your shipmates. They’re counting on you. If you hesitate to give your all for the people on the world we’re orbiting, give your all for your shipmates.”
Another pause. “Over there by the hatch is Captain Mele Darcy, who will be in charge of Glenlyon’s new Marine force. She’s equivalent in rank to you lieutenants, but she works directly for me.”
Rob ran his gaze over the officers before him, who looked back with a mixture of wariness and concern, as well as at least a little defiance aimed at him as an outsider among them. “And here’s the last thing. I am the commanding officer of this ship, as well as the senior officer in Glenlyon’s Space Defense Forces. I don’t want any doubt regarding that. You’ll be expected to follow orders. From this moment on, we’re going to be focused on defending our home and avenging those who died on Claymore. The last time Scatha messed with Glenlyon, we kicked their butts out of this star system. We’re going to do that again. We’re going to make them pay for what they did to Claymore.”
That seemed to go over well.
“I know some of you from working with you on shipyard issues in the past,” Rob said. “I’m going to get on the general announcing system to tell the rest of the crew what I just told you, then I’m going to have meetings with each of you officers individually. Are there any questions?”
One lieutenant raised a hand. “Sir, has Earth been contacted about what’s going on out here?”
Rob shook his head. “We can’t contact them now, not until we figure out a way to get a message through the blockade of the star systems around us. We have to hope one of our friends like Kosatka hears and gets the word to the Old Colonies and Old Earth. If you’re thinking that Earth will help us, though, you know better than I do that Earth has decided to get out of the business of rescuing worlds in distress. Any help is going to come from the new colonies out here.”
He didn’t say that such hope was not a given.
“Dismissed,” Rob said, feeling relieved that things had gone much better than he had feared. The officers were still stunned, though, and hadn’t had time to think about how to react to his assuming command. He’d have to stay on them, impress on them that he was in charge, before they had a chance to consider challenging his authority.
But for now, he was the boss. Rob nodded to Mele to let her know she could take off. She returned a quick salute and headed back to the shuttle for her own trip into a lion’s den.
* * *
• • •
The flight down to the planet in the shuttle felt oddly routine to Mele Darcy, except for the outraged presence of Commander Welk in a seat at the front of the passenger compartment. Once the shuttle had set down, Welk bolted out. Her last sight of him showed Welk getting a ride toward the government buildings, where he doubtless planned to protest his sudden removal. Mele had a feeling that Welk would probably find that everyone he wanted to talk to was either in a meeting or out of the office for as long as he hung around.
For her part, Mele hopped on a bus toward the ground forces base that had grown up in the fields west of the city. She hadn’t been back to the area for three years and couldn’t help noticing the size of the new headquarters building.
Since the world of Glenlyon hadn’t had a Marine force until this morning, Mele Darcy didn’t have a Marine uniform. Figuring that showing up at Colonel Menziwa’s office in a ground forces uniform would be a mistake, Mele wore the black skin suit.
It proved suspiciously easy to get in to see the colonel. Having spent years as an enlisted Marine on Franklin, Mele wasn’t foolish enough to think her easy passage through layers of headquarters gatekeepers was for her convenience. Colonel Menziwa must want to see her. That very likely wasn’t so the ground forces commander could congratulate her and offer her a drink.
She stood at attention before Menziwa’s desk while the colonel leaned back in her chair and glowered at her. Menziwa had her black hair pulled back into a severely tight bun in which not a single hair dared to be out of place, her uniform showing the same strict and unforgiving approach to perfection. She studied Mele with a clear intention of finding some flaw in appearance to pounce on, but Mele had been careful not to leave any such openings for a dressing-down.
“Why aren’t you in uniform?” Menziwa finally demanded.
Mele kept her voice professionally neutral. “This is an authorized working uniform, Colonel.”
“Authorized by whom?”
Having been chewed on by sergeants as a private, Mele had the answer ready. “Glenlyon Defense Forces Uniform Regulations, Colonel. Section Two, paragraph five, subparagraph alpha.”
That only fazed Menziwa for a moment. “And why do you think it is appropriate to report to me wearing a working uniform?”
“Marine service uniforms are in the process of being—”
“I didn’t ask for excuses!”
Having confirmed that her expectations regarding Menziwa were true, and realizing that any further attempt to apologize or explain would result in more tongue-lashing, Mele stood silently, knowing that would force Menziwa to take the initiative in the conversation.
After waiting unsuccessfully for close to a minute for Mele to offer her another opening, Menziwa started in. “Let me make two things clear, Darcy. The first is that I consider the creation of a Marine force to be a mistake. I’ve advised against it from the beginning. Any fighting that needs to be done can be handled by my ground forces. There won’t be any Marine uniforms. You will show up for duty tomorrow in a regulation ground forces service uniform.”
Colonel Menziwa leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Darcy as if she were a target to be destroyed. “The second thing is that the only two words I ever want to hear from you are yes and colonel. Is that understood? Now, you will write up your proposal for standing up and training a small force for the purpose of being dedicated to fleet support. You will send that proposal up the chain of command to me, where it will be evaluated, and returned to you for further work as many times as necessary. Are there any questions?”
Mele managed to keep a straight face as she replied. “Yes, Colonel.”
Menziwa had already been turning toward another task, but recentered her attention on Mele, her eyes narrowed with annoyance. “What is it?”
“Is the colonel under the impression that I am part of her forces and under her command?”
“You’re skating close to insubordination, Darcy.”
“I merely wish to ensure that the colonel understands that my chain of command runs through Commander Geary,” Mele said. “I’m not part of the ground forces. The Marines, including me, are space fleet assets. Any requests from you regarding my tasking must be sent to Commander Geary, who will also approve the design for the Marine working and dress uniforms.”
Menzi
wa gave Mele a cold stare, then moved her fingers rapidly over her desk display, looking up documents, her expression growing unhappier with each search. Eventually, she returned her gaze to Mele. “That is your current status,” the colonel said. “I’ll be working to correct that. I want it clearly understood that Commander Geary’s rank is lower than mine. You, and he, would be well advised to keep that in mind.”
“With all due respect,” Mele said, knowing that phrase would itself further annoy Menziwa. Everyone who had ever served knew that “with all due respect” was an outwardly respectful way for a junior to say “you’re being an idiot” to a superior. “Commander Geary’s status as Commodore in command of all of Glenlyon’s space fleet assets is coequal with the colonel’s.” While Menziwa was trying to come up with a response, Mele pressed her advantage. “I was told the ground forces have already been tasked to provide volunteers for the Marines. When I requested the list of volunteers I was informed that I’d have to ask you personally.”
The colonel glared at her, reaching to tap a command on her display. “The list of volunteers has been sent to Commander Geary. Now get out.”
“Yes, Colonel.” Mele brought her arm up in a rigorously regulation salute, holding it until Menziwa was forced to rise and return it.
Her walk out of the ground forces headquarters building felt like a withdrawal through hostile territory. Looking about her, Mele was surprised to see how large and elaborate the headquarters were given that Glenlyon only had a single regiment of ground troops. The headquarters alone seemed to employ almost a regiment’s worth of men and women.
Menziwa and most of her soldiers had come from the Old Colony of Amaterasu, not Earth. Mele remembered bloated headquarters staffs on Franklin and wondered if that problem had spread like a plague virus from Old Earth to the Old Colonies and now was starting to infect the new colonies.
Glenlyon’s main spaceport had expanded in the last three years, but there still wasn’t anything like a military base there, just a small section of the main terminal building given over to supporting military personnel passing through. With an hour before the next shuttle lifted, Mele checked in at the automated support desk and took a seat in the waiting room, which was large enough to make her feel small but too small to handle large numbers of personnel. She was the only one using the room. The chairs were cheap, the sort of stackable metal and plastic contraptions that had been used for centuries where seating was needed but no one wanted to spend any unnecessary sums on making the seating comfortable. The walls were bare of anything except a single posted notice, neatly framed, warning that consumption of food and beverages in the room was Strictly Prohibited. Set directly beneath it, the room’s trash receptacle held several used carry-out food containers and empty drink bulbs.
In its own way, that waiting room summed up many of Glenlyon’s defense problems. Not enough resources and money given to the task, not enough people, spending just enough to get by, and settling for strong words without the means or will to back them up.
As she waited, a ground forces corporal came dashing in. “Excuse me, ma’am. You’re Captain Darcy?”
“That’s right,” Mele said. “What’s the problem?” Still wound up from the encounter with Menziwa, she took a moment to look over the corporal and size him up. Medium height, stocky, he had a reassuring stolidity about him.
“I’m one of your volunteers, Captain. Derek Moon.”
“Are you?” Mele evaluated him again, wondering what was wrong with him. She fully expected Menziwa to try to off-load every problem child in her unit as “volunteers” for the Marines. “When are you being transferred?”
Moon held up his comm pad. “Transfer orders were completed this afternoon so I tried to catch up with you. I’m yours, Captain.”
“How long until you’re ready to move up to the orbital station?”
“I’m ready now, Captain. My gear is already packed and tagged for pickup.”
There had to be something wrong with him. “You seem to be really enthusiastic about volunteering,” Mele said.
Corporal Moon grinned. “You’ll have to forgive me, Captain. I never thought I’d have a chance to be a Marine again.”
“Again?” Mele asked, her hopes rising. “What’s your history, Corporal? How long have you been with Menziwa’s unit?”
“About two years,” Moon said. “They were at about half strength when they got hired from Amaterasu after the unit was downsized there.”
“You’re from Amaterasu?”
“No, Captain. I was only there a couple of months. Before that, Earth. Earth Fleet. Third Marines.”
Mele felt her eyebrows go up as she looked at him. “Earth Fleet Marines? Service record,” she ordered, holding her comm pad up.
Moon tapped his pad and Mele saw his service record appear on hers. As she quickly scanned the information, her eyes fixed on two words. “Gunnery Sergeant?”
“For about six hours,” Corporal Moon said. “The promotion authorization came through in the morning, and that afternoon the latest downsizing orders canceling the promotions and identifying personnel and units considered surplus came in. I went from Gunnery Sergeant to surplus before the day was out.”
“You’re a gunny?” Mele wanted to pinch herself to be sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“I . . . yes, Captain. If you need one.”
“I don’t think there’s ever been any officer in the history of Marines who didn’t need a good Gunnery Sergeant. Why’d Colonel Menziwa let you go?”
Moon shrugged. “Two reasons, I guess. One is that my company commander is more than decent. I told him I wanted to volunteer so he made it happen. The other is that a background as a Marine doesn’t always impress ground forces.”
“Tell me about it.” Mele checked her comm pad, seeing that Rob Geary had already forwarded to her Menziwa’s list of volunteers. One problem was immediately obvious. There were only sixteen names, not the promised twenty. One was indeed Corporal Moon. She wondered about the other fifteen. “Look at these names for me.”
Moon read, a frown forming. “You’ve got . . . seven . . . no, eight dirtballs here.”
“That’s all?”
A knowing smile replaced Moon’s frown. “The captain was thinking the colonel would unload every dirtball she had on you? This isn’t all of them, but those eight are the worst.”
“Are any of them salvageable?”
“No, ma’am. Not in my opinion. Of the remaining eight, one is me, and the other seven are decent. Not top grade, but you should be able to make Marines out of them.”
“If you’re a gunny,” Mele said, “you’re going to be the one making Marines out of them.”
“I’m a corporal,” Moon pointed out.
“You were. I need a gunny, and it looks like you’ll do. Congratulations. Try to hang on to it for more than six hours this time.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Moon said, grinning like a kid who had just discovered that Santa was real.
“Here’s your first job, Gunny,” Mele said. “I need names. Good ground forces soldiers as replacements for the bad eight and four more capable, warm bodies to make up the twenty.”
Moon nodded, his expression gone serious and professional. “I can get you those names. I talked to people yesterday when the word went around. I know easily a dozen good performers who said they were going to volunteer and aren’t on this list. I’m guessing they were left off because Colonel Menziwa didn’t want to part with them. I can call each of them and find out for sure.”
“You do that, Gunny.”
“But I have to warn you that Colonel Menziwa is not going to want to let any of them go.”
“You let me worry about that,” Mele said. “Just get me those names.”
* * *
• • •
The captain’s cabin on a destroyer was relatively spaci
ous compared to those of the other officers, but that didn’t mean there was much room to spare. Fortunately, Rob Geary didn’t have much in the way of uniforms and other personal items to move into it. The most important thing, a holo of Ninja and Little Ninja, took up only a small corner of the pull-down desk.
“How bad is it?” she’d asked during a brief call.
“It’s . . . different,” Rob said. “On Squall, I had a bunch of people who were trying to learn their jobs as they did them but because of that were willing to try anything. On Saber, I’ve got a crew of extremely experienced people who are afraid to try anything.”
Ninja shook her head. “You’d better tell your system security people to try something. Their firewalls have a few holes in them, and someone’s been poking around trying to find their way in.”
“Someone besides you, you mean.”
“Yeah. I’ll send you a file with some fixes that you can pass on to your extremely experienced people.”
“Ninja—”
She’d smiled. “I know. Be careful. Talk to you later.”
Rob had sent the firewall fixes on to Warrant Officer Kamaka, who like anyone else working IT at Glenlyon knew Ninja’s reputation and didn’t need to be told to take her fixes seriously. He needed to interview more officers, and he needed to talk to the senior enlisted leadership aboard Saber. He needed to do about a hundred more things. And Mele Darcy had just dropped another need-to-do on him.
Since that last was the need-to-do he wanted to do least, Rob figured he ought to get it over with.
With Saber in near orbit, there wasn’t any noticeable delay in communications. His call went through swiftly, but then had to be shunted through several layers of headquarters staff before Rob was finally connected to the ground forces commander.
He nodded toward the image of Colonel Menziwa. “Good afternoon, Colonel.”
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