Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga)

by Peter Grant

  "All these developments reflect most favorably upon the units involved, which have jointly established a standard of excellence against which the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet's future participation in similar operations will be judged. It's therefore my privilege to confer the Superior Unit Award upon the 257th Expeditionary Hospital for its outstanding performance and devotion to duty during the Radetski mission. I'm pleased to present the same award to LCAS Sebastian Cabot, in recognition of the exceptional performance of her ship's company in their support of the 257th Expeditionary Hospital's operations."

  The hospital staff, Cabot's crew and the assembled dignitaries applauded as first Captain Nash, then Captain Volschenk, in their capacities as Commanding Officers of, respectively, the hospital and the ship, came up on to the stage. Each stood at attention as the Flag-Lieutenant read the award citation for his unit; then he saluted the Admiral, shook his hand, and accepted a copy of the citation and a framed award certificate. Vid camera lights and flash units lit up the ceremony as journalists recorded it.

  The Admiral returned to the lectern, set aside his prepared notes and smiled at his audience. "I've never known a United Planets-related mission to attract such intense public interest as yours has on Vesta. We're used to Fleet participation in these missions being a low-key affair, with barely a mention in the news media unless something goes wrong. In this case, we've had journalists almost coming to blows over who was to travel with you to observe and report on your operations at first hand. Furthermore, thousands of citizens have contacted the Fleet to express their support and admiration for your hard work. They've put their money where their mouths are by supporting, first Operation Sweet Tooth, and now the permanent charity that's taking over its mission, the Radetski Childrens Fund. I'm very grateful to all of you for helping to bring about this very welcome improvement in public awareness of our efforts.

  "One of the nice things about being a Sector Admiral is the ability to reward outstanding unit performance by means of the SUA. It's the only one of our unit awards that can be conferred for non-combat operations, and one of only two that can be approved at Sector level, without having to go through the Board of Admiralty on Lancaster. I've not had the privilege of conferring it before, but today I've been able to do so twice! They do say there's nothing like overkill."

  His audience laughed. Steve, seated among them, heard Tomkins mutter beside him, "When the Admiral jokes, it's always funny - or else!" He suppressed a guffaw.

  Cardew continued, "The 257th Expeditionary Hospital is, of course, a temporary unit. It was activated for this mission only. It'll be officially deactivated tomorrow, to be reactivated in a future time of need. Its personnel will return to their parent units or be reassigned to new ones. Similarly, LCAS Cabot's charter will end after her return from the dockyard, where her medical pods and equipment are being removed and returned to storage. Thereafter she'll resume her normal status as a Lancastrian Commonwealth merchant vessel.

  "However, ladies and gentlemen, your achievements will not be forgotten. Future spacers and medical staff will be encouraged to live up to your example. Each of you will wear the distinguishing ribbon of the unit award you all helped to earn while assigned to the Radetski mission. It'll be a permanent remembrance of what's become an extraordinary experience for everyone involved. You can take great pride in all you've accomplished, together and as individuals. Thank you all very much.

  "And with that, I think I've taken up enough of your time. Refreshments are waiting in the foyer. Ladies and gentlemen, this award ceremony is concluded."

  ###

  Steve stood with Dale Tomkins against one wall, both carrying plates loaded dangerously high with finger foods from the buffet. The foyer was filled with people eating, drinking and talking, groups forming and re-forming, individuals drifting between them.

  "That was a great idea of yours, to suggest that the first orphanage be built in Irena's village," Steve said quietly to Tomkins. "What better community to host and staff it than one that's had to overcome prejudice like that?"

  Tomkins swallowed a mouthful of food. "It seemed a logical place for it. After all, it'll have kids from all sorts of different backgrounds. Some of them are sure to bring old hatreds with them, attitudes they learned from their families. I figured the best way to deal with them would be to provide a counter-example. To judge from what Irena told us, that whole village is a living example, all day, every day."

  "Yeah. Staff for other orphanages will go there to be trained, so they'll also be able to learn from what they see around them."

  "That's going to be - hey, heads up! The Bosun and the First Mate are coming this way and looking at us."

  Steve looked around for somewhere to put down their plates, but the Bosun said as he approached, "Relax, both of you." He and Scarlatti carried plates of their own.

  "Thanks, Bosun. Good morning, Ma'am."

  "And the same to you, Maxwell." The First Mate was looking very pleased. "I wanted to tell you that the publicity we received through Operation Sweet Tooth has borne even more fruit. We've been trying to line up cargo contracts now that the charter's almost over. Thanks to the ship being so well known now, several freight companies are eager to use us. They seem to think the good publicity will rub off on them, so they're prepared to outbid each other for our services - which will do our bank account nothing but good!" All of them laughed. "It looks like we'll be booked solid on round trips from Vesta to nearby planets for the next few months, until our scheduled maintenance period at Bedford. With luck we'll have cargo to take there too, so even that trip will be paid for."

  "Thanks for telling us, Ma'am."

  "There's some more good news - but I'll let you tell him, Bosun."

  Cardle swallowed a mouthful of food. "Thank you, Ma'am. Maxwell, I know you intend to enlist in the Fleet under the Foreign Service Program; but if you change your mind, you've already done well enough to earn a permanent place with us. Plan to work planetside for at least a year after completing two years in space, for a change of pace and some fresh air; then you'll be welcome to return to Cabot. You can also apply for residence, and later for citizenship, on an individual planet of the Commonwealth. That'll be more complicated than the Fleet's FSP. There are more hurdles to cross, and it takes twice as long and costs more; but I'll sponsor your application to New Brisbane, if you wish."

  "I'll do the same to Lancaster, my home planet, if you prefer," Scarlatti offered. "There's no rush to make up your mind. You can think about it over the next few months."

  "Thank you both very much," Steve acknowledged, touched by their obvious approval. "I still plan to enlist, but if I don't make the cut, I'll certainly take up one of your offers."

  "Bosun, are we allowed to wear the unit award ribbon?" Tomkins asked. "I know I'm not allowed to wear my military awards when I'm in merchant spacer uniform, and the SUA's a military award too."

  "Yes, we are. You see, the SUA was awarded to Cabot while she had the status of a Fleet auxiliary ship. It wasn't time of war, so we weren't formally mobilized into the Fleet - we served aboard her as merchant spacers. Because we wore merchant service uniform during the period for which the award was made, we're entitled to wear its ribbon with that uniform. The Fleet personnel who were assigned to us during the charter can wear it with their military uniforms, because Cabot was officially a Fleet auxiliary at the time, not a civilian vessel."

  "Will I be able to wear it with military uniform if - when - I enlist?" Steve asked.

  "Yes, because service aboard an auxiliary automatically carries with it Fleet recognition of any awards earned during that period. You'll have to send copies of the award citation to your recruiter, plus proof that you were in Cabot's crew at the time. He'll record them in your Fleet file for permanent reference, to show you're entitled to wear the SUA ribbon."

  "I'm not a Commonwealth citizen - not yet, anyway. Does that make a difference?"

  "No. Irrespective of your citizenship, y
ou were in Commonwealth service at the time. In the same way, if you enlist in the Fleet under the Foreign Service Program, you'll be eligible to receive awards and wear them even before you qualify for citizenship."

  "I get it."

  "Heads up," Tomkins warned again. "Admiral Cardew, his flag-lieutenant and the Captain are coming this way."

  The First Mate and Bosun instinctively stiffened, glancing over their shoulders, then turning to face the new arrivals.

  "Relax, please, lady and gentlemen," Cardew said genially. "I asked Captain Volschenk to introduce me to the young man who started all this consternation and monkeyhouse in my back yard."

  "That's a good way to put it, Sir," Volschenk replied, grinning. He indicated Steve. "This is Spacer Third Class Maxwell, whose idea led to Operation Sweet Tooth."

  "Pleased to meet you, Maxwell," the Admiral said, holding out his hand. "You did very well, not only for your ship, but for this Sector of the Fleet as well. As I said during the award ceremony, we've gotten a great deal of useful publicity out of all this."

  "Er... thank you, Sir." Steve hesitantly took the Admiral's hand, grateful that he'd transferred his plate to his left hand earlier. He wondered if he should salute, but noted that the Bosun and Tomkins, both veterans of military service, were simply standing straight, not quite at attention, but still respectful. He tried awkwardly to do likewise.

  Captain Volschenk introduced Scarlatti, Cardle and Tomkins as well. "Spacer Maxwell has begun the process of enlisting through the Foreign Service Program, Sir," Tomkins added as he shook the Admiral's hand.

  "Oh?" Cardew looked at Steve with renewed interest. "We can always use recruits with a good merchant service track record. How far along is your application?"

  "My initial application's been accepted, Sir. I've passed the psychological and emotional profile tests, and the security truth-tester examination. The Recruiting Office is waiting for the results of a background check inquiry to the authorities on Earth. As soon as they receive them, provided they're also in order, they tell me I'll have to enter a competitive selection process with other approved applicants."

  "Yes, there's always intense competition for a place in the FSP intake. Last year, if I recall correctly, there were thirty-seven applicants for each place! However, your idea has been of considerable benefit to us, so I think it's incumbent upon us to return the favor." He glanced over his shoulder. "Flags?"

  "Yes, Sir?" The Flag-Lieutenant had been standing unobtrusively, one pace to the right of and behind his boss. He stepped forward.

  "Draft a memo to the Recruiting Office for my signature."

  The Lieutenant took a pen-like object from an inside pocket and touched a stud near one end. "Recording, Sir."

  "Get Spacer Maxwell's details from his ship, including his recruiting file number. In recognition of his contribution to the Fleet during his merchant service aboard LCAS Sebastian Cabot, he's to be exempted from the competitive selection process for the Foreign Service Program. Provided that his application is otherwise in order, he's to be accepted into the FSP and offered a place - when will you be available, Maxwell?"

  "The ship will release me in January 2839, Sir."

  "Very well. He's to be offered a place in the first available entry program in or after January 2839, or earlier if his ship releases him before then. Furthermore, he's to be recruited on the same terms as Commonwealth citizens, bypassing FSP restrictions. His then-current Merchant Service rank, experience, qualifications, awards and salary are to be taken into account in determining his level of appointment and desired specialization. All that's on my authority as Sector Admiral."

  "Recorded, Sir."

  "Thank you, Flags. There you are, Maxwell. That should ease your path, provided you enlist here on Vesta - my writ doesn't run in other Sectors, I'm afraid! I don't think we need to evaluate you against other candidates. You've already demonstrated your ability."

  "Thank you, Sir." Steve knew he was flushed with excitement, but he didn't care. "I'll do my best to justify your confidence in me. I plan to qualify as a small craft pilot next year, Sir. Will I be able to continue that specialization in Fleet service?"

  "We never have enough pilots, so it's likely you will. I daresay your ship needs pilots as much as we do, though. They'll be sorry to lose you."

  "We will indeed, Sir," Volschenk confirmed, "but we approve of Maxwell's decision. With so many veterans in our ship's company - including all of us in this group except Maxwell - we like to steer promising candidates in the Fleet's direction. It benefits all of us in the long run."

  "Thank you for doing that. Ships like yours are among our most valuable sources of recruits. We know that if they recommend someone, he or she is likely to make a very good Fleet spacer."

  "I'm sure Maxwell will fall into that category, Sir."

  Part Three: Hard Going

  Chapter 16: May 3rd, 2838 GSC

  Steve was halfway through a mouthful of bacon, eggs and toast when he saw the Bosun enter the restaurant. He waved to attract his attention while chewing faster to empty his mouth.

  "Morning, Bosun," he managed to get out in a minor spray of toast crumbs as Cardle approached. "Have a good vacation?"

  "Morning, Maxwell. Yes, I did." The Bosun sat down, nodding towards Steve's left chest, and smiled. "I see you passed the course. No surprise there, of course!"

  Steve glanced down at the silver wings of a small craft pilot, which he'd worn since graduating the previous month. He was still feeling proud of them. "Yes. I completed it in seven weeks, thanks to Dale's rearranging the schedule so I could work late in the simulators every evening."

  "Good for him - and you! What did you do for the remaining five weeks? Where did you get that tan?"

  "I spent a week flying second pilot for Dale, so he could give more time to his students, then I went planetside for a month to a reef resort near the equator. It was pricey, but thanks to my Radetski profit-share I could afford it. It's the first real, extended vacation I've ever taken. I had a great time! Beaches that stretched as far as the eye could see, lovely warm blue water, brilliant sunshine, fantastic food, and warm, willing vacationers every evening. I took a gill unit diving course the first week. Once I'd qualified as a sport diver, I teamed up with a few others to hire a dive boat most days. We explored the reef and fished with spearguns. A restaurant would buy our catch if it was good, which helped keep costs down. It was summer holiday season, so there were lots of college students there. There'd usually be some girls on the boat with us. They seemed to find a spacer rather exotic compared to their fellow students."

  "And I bet you were careful not to disillusion them, right? I'm surprised you came back. The temptation to stay must have been overwhelming!"

  "Well, there was this rather spectacular blonde whose daddy owned a brewery - "

  "Oh, shut up! You've become a regular spacer all right - you're full of it!"

  Grinning, Steve complied while the Bosun scanned the menu, then beckoned a waiter. "Three eggs over easy, three soft-cooked rashers of bacon, fried tomato, three slices of wheat toast with butter and marmalade, a large orange juice and plenty of hot, strong coffee."

  "Coming right up, Sir." The waiter scurried away.

  Cardle stretched, then relaxed. "I had a great time on New Brisbane. Caught up with my brother and sister and their families, visited all my old haunts, and spent a week instructing at the Merchant Spacer Academy. They were running a course for Bosun's Mates, and seemed to think their students were insufficiently terrorized. I was happy to oblige."

  "I must say, I never found you a terror while I was under instruction."

  "I never needed to terrorize you. You work harder and smarter than most, and learn faster. That's why the skipper signed off on your promotion to Spacer Second Class before he left, to take effect at the beginning of this month. I see you've already put up the insignia."

  Steve reddened a little, glancing down at the two stars now adorning his left slee
ve. "It was a surprise when Dale gave me the certificate. I was pleased the Captain promoted him at the same time."

  "You'd both earned it. He'd completed everything else needed for Bosun's Mate First Class, and we knew he'd have added the required instructional experience by then. In your case, you completed the regulation minimum of one year as a Spacer Third Class in April, and we all knew you'd pass the pilot's course - someone with your savvy wasn't about to fail! Qualifying as a second pilot warrants a promotion, and adds a pretty decent professional skill supplement to your salary, too - you'll make almost twice as much as before. There was no reason to make either of you wait until the ship came out of the dockyard."

  "I'm very grateful, but I was still a bit surprised. Most Third Classes spend at least six months longer in that rate."

  "That's because they don't work as hard as you. You earned it the old-fashioned way."

  The waiter returned with a heavily-laden tray, sparing Steve the ordeal of acknowledging the Bosun's compliment. He took up his knife and fork again as the Bosun unfolded his napkin, and they set to work to enjoy their breakfasts.

  They were sipping their postprandial coffee when Tomkins made his appearance. He looked rather green and hung-over, and weaved his way unsteadily to their table.

  "Morning, Tomkins," the Bosun greeted him cheerfully. "A heaping plate of bacon and eggs will soon set you right!"

  Tomkins shook his head, then winced as the movement aggravated his hangover. He put his hand over his eyes for a moment. "No! That'd just about finish off what's left of me!" He looked at the waiter hovering nearby. "Black coffee, please, plus whatever you've got for an upset stomach and a hangover." As the man hurried away he turned back to his shipmates. "My final class held their graduation party last night. I don't want any food until I'm sure I won't bring it straight back up again!"