by Peter Grant
A pleasant contralto female voice said, "We know he needs to rest. We won't keep him long."
The nurse answered, "That's all right, Ma'am. It's not as if he's going anywhere else for a while!"
The other woman chuckled. Captain Volschenk appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a dark-featured female Spacer Corps officer. She wore triple silver bars on the epaulettes of her black uniform above a double row of ribbons on her left chest, balanced by a silver badge on the right. Steve noted that the two Fleet Spacers on the other side of the four-bed ward, survivors of the communications frigate destroyed by the pirates, who'd been injured during the fight to retake Cabot, straightened their arms and lay in a posture resembling attention as she came in.
"Good morning, Spacer Maxwell. I'm Senior Lieutenant Abuan, on the staff of Admiral Cardew, Flag Officer Commanding the Vesta Sector of the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet. I understand you met him last year in connection with the Radetski mission."
She noticed the spacers across the aisle, turned to face them and came to attention. "Thank you, Spacers. Carry on, please." She turned back to Steve as they allowed themselves to relax.
"Good morning, Ma'am." Steve tried to sit more upright, but winced as his injured ribs sent a flash of pain through his nerves. "I - unh! - excuse me, please, Ma'am. I hadn't expected an official visitor." He transferred his gaze to Captain Volschenk. "Good to see you again, Sir."
"And you, Maxwell. I owe you my personal thanks for all you've done. Without your help and that of the Bosun, who knows where we'd be now? Some of the pirates said they would have put all the prisoners, including us, in that cargo shuttle, along with a nuclear demolition charge for company! Still, that's over now. A lot's been happening since we arrived at Vesta. We're here to tell you about it. May we sit down?"
Steve flushed. "Of course, Sir!"
"Thank you."
The Captain took two straight-backed chairs from against the wall, pulled them up to the bed, seated the Senior Lieutenant, then sat down himself.
As Abuan settled herself, she said, "First of all, I'm here to thank you officially, on behalf of Admiral Cardew and the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet, for the assistance you rendered to our personnel who were imprisoned aboard Cabot."
"Thank you, Ma'am. How is Lieutenant-Commander Esquivel?"
"She's doing all right, according to the doctors. She'll need more surgery, then she'll be sent back to her home planet to be with her family during extended convalescent leave. Her court-martial for the loss of her communications frigate will be held next month, as soon as she's sufficiently recovered to attend, but nobody doubts she'll be acquitted."
Steve blinked. "Court-martial? I don't understand, Ma'am. What did she do wrong?"
"Nothing at all, as far as I'm aware. It's just that a Commanding Officer bears ultimate responsibility for his or her ship. If she's lost for any reason, there's always a court-martial to determine if they did everything possible to save her, or left anything undone. Based on the facts of this case as I've heard them, there doesn't appear to be a single thing Lieutenant-Commander Esquivel could have done to prevent or evade the attack on her ship, so I'm sure she'll be honorably acquitted."
"I see, Ma'am."
"You'll also be pleased to hear that Admiral Cardew has nominated Bosun Cardle for the posthumous award of the Lancastrian Cross of Valor, with Combat device. That's the Commonwealth's highest award for an act of heroism by a civilian."
"Er... yes, I am, Ma'am, but I don't understand. I thought medals for valor could only be awarded to military personnel."
"That depends on the medal. The founders of the Lancastrian Commonwealth followed the example of the pre-space-age British Empire on Old Home Earth. It had the usual military decorations for heroism: the Victoria Cross at the very top, then second, third and fourth-ranked awards for lesser degrees of valor. It also had equivalent medals for acts of heroism by civilians, in combat or otherwise, and for non-combat valor by service personnel. They ranged from the first-rank George Cross, equivalent to the VC, down through lower-ranked awards. Yes?"
Steve had half-raised his hand. "Please excuse me for interrupting, Ma'am, but what sort of civilian acts were considered 'heroic' compared to service personnel?"
"Almost anything brave you can think of: defusing an explosive device, saving lives at grave risk to one's own, serving as a spy, tackling an armed and dangerous criminal, and so on. The Commonwealth's founders liked the idea, and decided to copy it. We have two medal series awarded specifically for valor, each in four grades. The Lancastrian Star is awarded only to Commonwealth Fleet personnel and those of member planets' armed forces, for heroism in combat. It runs from the Star of Valor at the very top, down through Gold, Silver and Bronze grades. The Lancastrian Cross in the same four grades is awarded to Commonwealth personnel for non-combat heroism, or to others - including civilians - for either combat or non-combat heroism. If it’s awarded for a combat-related incident, the letter 'C' is displayed on the ribbon - we call that the 'Combat device'."
Captain Volschenk added, "The Star and the Cross carry the same weight as far as the Fleet is concerned. The award of one counts the same number of points for advancement or selection as the other in the same grade."
"I see," Steve answered slowly. "You said Bosun Cardle had been 'nominated' for the award, Ma'am. Does that mean he may not get it?"
"Not exactly," she reassured him. "A Sector Admiral can approve awards up to Silver level. Anything higher has to be ratified by the Board of Admiralty on Lancaster. Final approval for top-level valor medals is reserved to the Awards Committee of the Commonwealth Senate. If the Board ratifies Admiral Cardew's nomination, they'll forward it to the Committee; or they may decide to award Bosun Cardle the Cross in Gold, our second-highest award for valor by civilians, which they can confer on their own authority. That's a very high honor in itself, of course. Only about half a dozen Gold-level awards are made across all two-million-odd Fleet personnel during most years in peacetime, and sometimes a single Valor-level award - frequently none at all. Awards at that level take a long time to process, but we should know the outcome within six months if all goes well."
A wave of mingled pride and sadness for the Bosun swept over Steve. He could feel moisture welling up in his eyes, and blinked rapidly to control it. ""Ma'am, if anyone ever earned such an award, he did. He was the finest man I've ever known. I hope he gets it."
Volschenk nodded. "I think the only way he won't qualify for the Cross of Valor is if some technical or bureaucratic hitch gets in the way. I'm sure he'll get at least the Cross in Gold. His conduct certainly warrants that."
"I guess his brother or sister will receive the medal in his name, Sir?"
"I would assume so."
"Before he died, he asked me to send a message to them if he didn't make it, and to visit them if possible. Where can I get their contact details, please, Sir?"
"I have them. I'm sure they'd like to hear more from you about his last days. It won't take away their grief, but I hope it'll help them understand and share the pride we all feel in him. I want them to have his personal belongings, so when you're fit to travel, I'll send them with you as my personal representative. The ship's management company will arrange for your passage to New Brisbane, so you won't be out of pocket. You'll be kept on our books as Spacer Second Class while you're doing that, so you'll continue to accrue seniority in rank; and your piracy insurance will pay your salary for some months, of course."
"Th - thank you, Sir."
Abuan said, "Bosun Cardle isn't the only person who'll be honored by the Fleet. Lieutenant-Commander Esquivel and her crew will receive recognition for their joint and several efforts. They've informed us that without your assistance, as well as Bosun Cardle's, they couldn't have recaptured Cabot from the pirates. Your intervention certainly saved their lives - the captured pirates have confirmed they were to be murdered. We've also studied the statement you made towards the end of your voyage he
re, describing how you and the Bosun planned and prepared for the attack.
"It's Admiral Cardew's opinion that your contribution was indispensable and highly praiseworthy, particularly given your junior rank and relative lack of experience. Your conduct during combat also does you great credit, taking out multiple opponents equipped with modern weapons while armed with only a stabbing spear. In recognition of your performance, he's going to award you the Lancastrian Cross in Silver with Combat device."
Steve's jaw dropped, and for a moment he was speechless. He managed to get out, "I... ah... Ma'am, please thank him very much on my behalf. I... I don't know what to say! I hadn't expected this at all!"
"It's we who thank you, Spacer. We'll arrange an investiture as soon as you've regained your health and strength."
Captain Volschenk sat forward. "There's something else. You committed to serve aboard Cabot for two years in return for your training. However, she's now a prize of the Fleet, and will be sold at auction by the Prize Court in due course. I'm therefore releasing you from the balance of your commitment. You're free to enlist with the Fleet, if you still wish to do so."
"Thank you, Sir. I will, as soon as I'm fit; but first I want to see Bosun Cardle's brother and sister on New Brisbane. I owe him that."
"That's understandable," Abuan assured him. "I'll have the Sector Recruiting Office send one of their staff here to begin making arrangements. I'm sure you'll need a few months to regain your health and strength, so that will give you time to visit New Brisbane. It's very important that you be fully recovered before you attend Boot Camp. It's deliberately designed to be as tough as possible - within reason, of course - so as to weed out unsuitable candidates. A high level of physical fitness is essential."
"I understand, Ma'am. Thank you. Captain, may I ask a question, please?"
"Of course."
"It's about Cabot. You say she's a prize?"
"Yes. She was recaptured from pirates by Fleet personnel, which automatically puts her into the jurisdiction of the Prize Court - that's a branch of the Commonwealth Courts of Admiralty. She'll be auctioned off to the highest bidder in due course."
"But what about you, Sir? You're her owner as well as her skipper."
Volschenk smiled. "Not to worry. I've already lodged an insurance claim for her loss. I'll be paid her fair market value, less a few million credits still owed on her. I can use that money to bid on her at the Prize Court auction, and finance the balance of her repurchase price. Alternatively, if I don't win the auction, I can use the money to buy another ship. I'd like to get Cabot back, of course, because she's a very good ship indeed."
"I'm glad to hear that, Sir."
Lieutenant Abuan rose to her feet. "I'll make arrangements for a recruiter to see you as soon as possible, and keep in touch with you through the Recruiting Office."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
Volschenk stood in his turn. "It's good to see you're on the mend, Maxwell. I'll see you from time to time over the next few months, I'm sure. If you ever decide to re-enter merchant service, there'll always be a berth for you aboard my ship. Please keep in touch with me through the Merchant Spacers League."
"Aye aye, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
They pulled the door closed behind them as Steve settled back into his pillows. Across the room, the two Fleet spacers grinned at him.
"Nice going, Steve!" the older man, a Spacer First Class, observed. "The Fleet's not as tight-fisted with its awards as some services, but neither the Cross nor the Star are easy to earn in any grade. There can't be more than thirty or forty Silver-class awards made in any given year during peacetime. Spread over a couple of million Spacers and Marines on active service, that's a very low ratio."
"Thanks, Tom," he acknowledged, a little awkwardly. "I don't know what got into them to give me that! I just... well, I just did what I had to do. It was literally a case of do or die!"
"I've heard other Spacers and Marines say something like that," the younger Spacer Second Class assured him. "I guess you get a sort of 'tunnel vision' when you're doing something important. You can't see that it was something special. In your case, Lieutenant-Commander Esquivel and our other officers and NCO's must have thought you did pretty darn well, and said so loud and clear, or the Admiral wouldn't have approved the award. From what I saw, I reckon you earned it the hard way."
"Thanks, Mark. I can still hardly believe it!"
"Wait 'til the medal's bouncing on your chest. You'll believe it then!"
Chapter 21: May 28th, 2838 GSC
Senior Lieutenant Abuan was as good as her word. The following morning Steve had another visitor: a short, stocky man wearing three upward-pointing silver chevrons above a star on his upper left sleeve, plus a long silver stripe slanting up the outside of his lower left sleeve from front to rear.
"I'm Petty Officer Second Class Gilroy", he introduced himself. "I'm with the Fleet Recruiting Office here on Vesta. I've been assigned to move your application forward."
Steve nodded as he tried to sit up, wincing as his ribs pulled at him. "Thank you very much for coming. How am I supposed to address you, please?"
The Petty Officer grinned. "Politely, I hope!" The two Spacers across the ward snorted their amusement, and he flicked a glance at them before continuing, "The normal way to address a Petty Officer in the Fleet, whether Third, Second or First Class, is either 'Petty Officer' in more formal situations, or simply 'PO' in conversations like this. We tend to run the letters together, as in 'Peeyoh', rather than enunciate them separately."
"Got it, thanks, PO."
Gilroy took the chair that Lieutenant Abuan had used. As he sat down, he continued, "Based on what I've seen in news reports, I've got to say that for a civilian without any military training, you did extraordinarily well aboard Cabot. That, plus your activities last year - and the memo the Admiral sent us about them - means you've got a high priority with us."
Steve flushed a little. "Thanks, PO. Er... I think I can figure out the chevrons on your left sleeve. Your Spacer Corps PO2 rank is the same as a Marine Corps Sergeant, isn't it?"
"Yes, they're both grade E-5, just with different titles."
"That long silver stripe on your left forearm - what's it mean?"
The Petty Officer glanced downward. "That's what we call a 'service stripe'. We're awarded one for each completed four-year term of enlistment - I'll be putting up a second one next year. We wear them with our Number One and Number Two uniforms only."
"What's the difference between Number One and Number Two?"
"I'm wearing Number Two now. It's our normal uniform for formal work, when we may have to make or receive business calls. Number One is the same uniform, but with top-quality badges and full-size medals instead of ribbons. We wear it for major parades, official functions, and so on."
"I get it. Senior Lieutenant Abuan wasn't wearing any service stripes. Surely she must have more than four years' service?"
"Yes, but only enlisted personnel wear them. Commissioned and warrant officers don't serve fixed terms of enlistment like we do. Their service continues until they retire, or resign their commissions or warrants, or are discharged for cause."
Steve shook his head. "I've got a lot to learn, I guess."
"Sure you do; but the quickest way is by asking. That's why I'm here."
"I'll take advantage of that, thanks. Do you mind if I get out of bed and walk around while talking to you? My ribs are aching badly, and I need to stretch."
"Sure! Let me help you get out of bed without straining anything."
The Petty Officer offered his arm. Steve leaned on it as he gingerly slid his feet from under the covers, lowered them to the floor, and stood up, hissing between his teeth as his broken ribs tugged at him. He took a couple of deep breaths.
"Thanks, PO. That's better."
"Are you able to walk a short distance? If so, we can go to the outdoor seating area. It's a lovely day out there."
"Thanks, I'd like that. Let
me put on a dressing-gown and flip-flops."
As they left the room and walked slowly down the corridor, Steve asked, "Senior Lieutenant Abuan mentioned the Prize Court. How does prize money work?"
"It's a bit complicated, but I'll give you the condensed version. Any ship taken as a prize by the Fleet is sold at auction by the Prize Court, which is part of the Courts of Admiralty. It keeps ten per cent of the proceeds as its fee, to pay for its operations - it's self-funding, like many of the Commonwealth's institutions. Half of the balance goes to the Fleet, as the service that captured the prize. The remaining half - forty-five per cent of the gross sale price, in other words - is divided among the personnel responsible for her capture. One-third goes to commissioned and warrant officers, and two-thirds to NCO's and enlisted personnel. Cabot will yield pretty good prize money shares because there weren't many Fleet personnel involved."
"Well, your Spacers certainly earned their shares the hard way!"
"So I hear. A lot of us, including me, enlisted because of the chance of a windfall in prize money. With piracy being such a big problem all across the settled galaxy, and the number of small conflicts that blaze up here and there, it happens more often than you might think. If you're lucky enough to be involved, you can come away with a useful nest-egg. Some skippers seem to be real magnets for prize money. No-one knows why that should be, but there's a lot of competition to serve with them, for obvious reasons!"
"What if you're not involved?"
"Then you'll earn a decent salary during your enlistment - better than Merchant Service rates of pay, because we don't have private trading opportunities and have to compensate for that. You'll also learn discipline and skills that'll come in handy for the rest of your life. I haven't done well out of prize money - not yet, anyway! - but I've no regrets. In fact, I re-enlisted for a second term, and I'll probably sign up for a third when this one's done."
They reached a sliding glass door. Gilroy opened it, and motioned to Steve to precede him through it into the bright sunshine outside. He sniffed the fresh air appreciatively, enjoying the birds singing in the trees.
