“Fighter pilots tend to flock together,” Harper replied. “You should know that.” There was a knock at the door, and she reached across to tap the control. As they opened, Francis walked in, looked at the two of them, and shook his head.
“I'm glad to catch the two of you together,” he said. “I think we ought to have a few words.”
“Have a seat,” Salazar said. “You want something to eat?”
“No, I don't think I'll be staying that long,” Francis replied. He looked around the room, and asked, “Are you married? Your personnel record doesn't indicate that.”
Salazar glanced at Harper, and replied, “No.”
“Engaged?”
Harper said, “No. We haven't really talked about it.” She looked at Salazar, and added, “I don't think either of us have felt the need. Not yet, anyway.”
Nodding, Francis asked, “Then how did you end up in married officer's quarters?” He paused, then asked, “For that matter, why does this ship have married officer's quarters? It's the first capital ship I've known to have them, and I did a little checking. These were added to the specifications for the refit before you two left on leave.”
Harper glanced at Salazar, her face reddening, and replied, “Must have been a mistake, but they're here, and we've got to sleep somewhere.”
Rubbing his forehead, Salazar said, “Sir, I've been on duty for twenty-four hours, and I'll be going back on again in four. If this is a matter of room allocation, then I believe Chief Kowalski is still in charge of that department. I suggest...”
“Oh, I did,” Francis replied. “He told me that it would be impossible to change any of the assigned rooms, after suggesting that he might be able to help me out as a personal favor.” Raising an eyebrow, he added, “I tried to ignore his hints that a bribe might be in order.”
“Jim's harmless,” Salazar said.
“As Security Officer…”
“I know when to leave sleeping Chief Petty Officers lie. Kowalski would never do anything that would harm the ship or her crew, and if he's the one handling the gambling ring that I officially don't know about, or the three stills the chem lab already have operating, then I know that not only will he make sure that nobody goes too far, but that he'll make sure I'm kept informed if they do.”
“Are you condoning his actions, Lieutenant?”
“May I speak freely?”
“By all means.”
“I've looked over your service record, and this is your first deep-space cruise. The crew needs a safety valve, some way to blow off steam, something that distracts them from the monotony of their duty once in a while. I could go through all manner of psychological garbage for you, but in short, it keeps them sharp, keeps them going, gives them something to look forward to.” Reaching for his datapad, he continued, “Captain Marshall's mission plan gives us nine months out in unknown space, meaning that opportunities for shore leave will be nonexistent.”
“There is no excuse for violating regulations, Lieutenant, and I...”
“Won't do a thing, sir, because it falls outside your remit in two departments. Both as Security Officer and Second Officer, handling crew discipline is my responsibility, not yours. How you handle Operations is your business, sir, but the welfare of the crew is mine. Most of them have been through this before, and they know what to expect, and they know what they need, at an instinctive level if nothing else. This is necessary, sir, and if Kowalski is handling it, I can maintain an element of control, without cutting it off completely.”
Harper reached over to a wall monitor, tapping a command sequence, and said, “Three crewmen are already up on charges, sir, for minor offenses. One for petty insubordination, the others for a fistfight. Sparring practice down in the gym that got out of hand. Discipline is being maintained, but when you've sat center seat, you'll learn that sometimes you have to know what not to notice.”
Shaking his head, he replied, “The rules are there for a reason, Lieutenant.” Looking at Salazar, he continued, “It is only fair for me to tell you that I initially protested your appointment as Second Officer to the Captain. There are four senior officers on board, three in rank and one in seniority.”
“I had similar concerns, if it makes any difference,” Salazar replied. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Sir, we're going to have to work together, whether the two of us like it or not. I've had your job, so I know just how difficult it can be, especially with all the new systems installed during the refit, and the abbreviated training time.”
Pausing for a moment, Francis said, “I've read both of your records, at least the unclassified parts. To say that they are interesting reading would be an understatement. I've also read Midshipman Koslowski's paper on your combat strategies.”
Salazar blushed, and replied, “I haven't, not yet. I'm still psyching myself up for it.”
“I don't blame you,” he said. “I'm just an old-fashioned spaceman, Lieutenant, admittedly one who has ended up staying close to home for the bulk of his career. I spent months getting Zeus ready for launch before they transferred me here. Believe it or not, I considered this a step down. To go from a battleship to a battlecruiser...”
“The battlecruisers are the queens of the fleet, sir,” Harper interrupted. “The Combined Chiefs will never let the battleship squadron go more than a single jump from home, and never on a serious mission. They never should have built them in the first place, but now they have, they'll be stuck in Sol for decades.”
“Rightly so,” Salazar added. “We've got to have a counter to the dreadnoughts.” With a thin smile, he added, “Recent experience proves that out rather well. The UN is a lot more willing to put them in harm's way than we are, and I have a feeling that's going to work out to their detriment. They never built any ships of this type, and we've got more use out of the Thermopylae-class than any other design in the fleet.”
“You know they're talking about pulling them out of service within the decade,” Francis replied. As the other faces in the room darkened, he continued, “I saw some of the outlines for the replacement class, though I know the Progressives are talking about just building more Hercules-class cruisers.”
“That would be a mistake,” Salazar replied. “Hercules is a good ship, but it doesn't have the range or the firepower to take Alamo's place in the firing line. I guess I'm going to have to grit my teeth and vote Patriot again.” He paused, then said, “You didn't come here to discuss the next election.”
“No, I didn't,” he replied, looking Salazar over, a frown on his face. “I'm not sure what to make of you, Lieutenant. So far, I've seen you come close to starting a shooting war, and yet you're probably the hardest-working officer on the ship.” A thin smile cracked his face, and he said, “Dubois was in my office complaining about you an hour ago. Something about disturbing his maintenance schedule. And what McCormack said about you is unrepeatable.”
“As far as she is concerned, the feeling is mutual, but if she turns out to be a good squadron leader, I can live with her. Dubois is another problem.” Shaking his head, he continued, “He's inflexible. Schedules and routines are there to make our lives easier, not as an unbreakable prison. Sometimes reality creeps in, and you have to deal with it. And if someone is messing with the life support systems, that's got to be our top priority, and the administrative trivia can go to Hell.”
“Oh, I've spoken to him on that point, though I don't think it really hit home. He was making noises about talking to the Captain and making another formal protest.”
“Two in as many days?” Harper replied. “That's going to look good on his record. I hope Lombardo's ready for a quick promotion. Captain Marshall doesn't look kindly on space lawyers.”
“Suffice to say that I was hoping that the three of us could work together on a short-list of potential replacement officers to present to the Captain, once we settle into hendecaspace routin
e.”
“The three of us?” Salazar said.
“Lieutenant, I can see two paths our relationship could take. The first sees us butting heads constantly, arguing over every small detail, causing disruption to the ship and its crew. The second sees us working together for the good of the ship.” Pulling out a datapad, he added, “Captain Marshall has a good reputation, and he sees something in you. From your service record, I agree with him, and I'm not proud enough to claim that I don't think I might be able to learn from you, even if you are ten years my junior.”
Salazar smiled, and said, “Nor am I proud enough to state that the reverse is true. You might find this hard to believe, but I'm probably the least ambitious man on the ship, and I was relieved when the Captain told me that I was dropping back down to Security Officer.” With an exaggerated sigh, he added, “Now I've got to start climbing the paperwork mountain again.” Reaching out with his hand, he continued, “Perhaps we should start again. Lieutenant Pavel Salazar, sir, and I'm looking forward to working with you.”
“Senior Lieutenant Max Francis,” he replied, shaking his hand. “Likewise. And please, call me Max, especially in private. All my friends do.” With a blinking light, the food processor released a pair of plates, and the smell of heavy spice filled the air. “Too late to change my mind about that dinner? That actually looks appetizing.”
“Just wait until we run out of fresh food supplements,” Harper said, shaking her head. “This won't last. Trust me. Another of the same?”
“Please,” Francis said, dragging his chair nearer to the table. “I should have brought a bottle with me.”
“Don't worry,” Salazar said, reaching into a cupboard for a bottle of viscous purple liquid. “Chief Kowalski ensures that I keep a surprisingly good wine cellar.”
Chapter 16
The corridor approaching Engineering was surprisingly quiet, no technicians frantically rushing around, no harried crewmen scrambling to prepare the ship for combat. Marshall shook his head as he approached, pulling out his datapad and scrolling through the duty schedule. Too quiet, too simple, as though the ship was on a normal cruise rather than heading into a dangerous situation. He might not have been able to share everything he knew with the senior staff, but they knew they were heading into an unexplored system with a United Nations dreadnought for company. Enough reason to suggest that extra caution was required, certainly.
He stepped through the door into the Systems Officer's office, surprised to see nobody in attendance at the desk. Looking around the room, he shook his head, remembering how it had looked under its previous occupant, a mess of parts and components, work jackets slung on the wall, datapads scattered around. This was too clean, too neat, and obviously considerable effort had gone to keep it that way. Even for a ship just out of spacedock, everything was a little too perfect.
The door slid open, and Dubois walked in, pausing to salute Marshall before sitting behind his desk, laying a datapad in front of him, running his hands down the side to make sure it was perfectly lined up.
“Can I help you, Captain?”
Marshall paused for a moment, then said, “I hope so, Lieutenant, though in all honesty, I haven't seen much evidence of it up till now. What is the meaning of this complaint against Lieutenant Salazar?”
Shaking his head, Dubois replied, “The young man appears to consider that his needs override those of my department. Personnel and maintenance routines are carefully designed to ensure that complete coverage of the ship is ensured, and any unnecessary disruption to the routine can mean that something critical gets missed. I have always run a tight and orderly department, sir, and I have no intention of stopping now.”
“There is a saboteur on board, Lieutenant, and I think that overrides any problems you might have with the maintenance schedules. Problems, I might add, that you are here to resolve. I don't want an officer who leans on the regulations and procedures handed down to him by others. I need somebody who will transcend those constraints, for the good of the ship and her crew. And when someone is actively trying to destroy the ship, that takes absolute priority.”
With a frown, Dubois replied, “The high-handed nature of Lieutenant Salazar's investigation did not befit his status as a junior officer. I contemplated charging him with insubordination. I must question your judgment in appointing him as Second Officer over the head of Senior Lieutenant Francis. I intend to make a formal report to that effect when we return to Mars.”
“That's something you seem to be very good at, Lieutenant. Filing reports. As to Lieutenant Salazar's investigation, it was being conducted at my order and with my authority.”
“He found nothing, sir, and his staff continue to disrupt our routines with their constant requirements. If we overlook part of the maintenance routine, sir, we won't need a saboteur to destroy the ship. There are a couple of million things that can go wrong on a starship, Captain, and any one of them could prove disastrous. You're trading a theoretical risk for a real one.”
Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “This is your first deep-space tour, isn't it?”
“I fail to see how that is germane, sir. I have served on seven starships over the course of my career, and when I was Systems Officer on Thermopylae, I had nothing but support from my commanding officer.” Frowning, the engineer continued, “I might suggest, sir, that you consider that your focus should be on other areas of the ship.”
“As Captain, my focus is where I feel it needs to be, and right now, Lieutenant, it is your department that I am most worried about. You realize that there is a good chance that we will be going into battle in the next three days, upon our arrival at our target star?”
“As a theoretical possibility, sir, but I hardly believe that the United Nations will violate the peace treaty in such a way. Naturally, I have already switched to a revised schedule to prepare the ship for combat stations, and the work crews are prioritizing offensive and defensive systems.” Looking down at his datapad, he continued, “Which really only strengthens my case that this is not the time to hunt down chimeric saboteurs in the bowels of the ship. We've got a lot of work to do, Captain, and Lieutenant Salazar and Midshipman Clarke aren't helping. And on the subject...”
“Yes, let's talk about Midshipman Clarke,” Marshall said. “I assigned him as your assistant.”
“And I deemed that his place was on the hangar deck, working under Sub-Lieutenant Lombardo. Another officer about whom I wish to talk. He is showing a woeful disregard of normal...”
“He's one of the best engineers I've ever seen, and given that all of his shuttles and fighters are ready for action, I cannot understand for a moment why you would consider him a problem. Frankly, I wish you were running this department with the same efficiency. As for Clarke, I assigned him as your assistant as a training exercise for him, and I expect you to do you part in the education of the trainee officers.”
“This department is too critical to allow untrained personnel to interfere with operations.”
Before Marshall could reply, a red light flashed on the status monitor on the wall, and both officers rose to their feet, walking over to the panel as Dubois worked the controls, focusing on the affected system.
“Power node. Section thirty-nine. Just one deck up from here. I'll dispatch a team on the double to close out the system.”
Shaking his head, Marshall replied, “The nearest work crew is nine decks distant. We'll go ourselves and save some time.” Looking across at the engineer, he added, “Unless you don't want to get that nice uniform of yours dirty?”
Stepping over to a locker, Dubois pulled out a toolkit, and said, “This way, then.”
The two of them walked back out into the corridor, Dubois tugging open a recalcitrant access port and climbing inside, carefully scaling the ladder to the crawlspace above. Marshall followed, taking a flashlight from the maintenance locker, shining it into the gloom
inside. There was a faint chemical smell in the air, the effect of recent paintwork, one more reminder that this ship had only just completed a full overhaul. Everything felt new, much of it replacing irreparably damaged systems from the last battle with the Xandari, eighteen months ago.
“There's someone in here, Captain,” Dubois said, racing ahead of him, and Marshall hurried after him, hearing the sounds of a struggle up ahead. “Stay where you are!”
“What the hell?” Clarke replied.
“Midshipman?” Marshall said, finally reaching the grappling pair. “Both of you, stand down, at once. That's an order.”
“I found him sabotaging the systems, sir,” Dubois said, tugging at a dangling cable. “I demand that he be arrested at once, and interrogated to find out what else he's done.”
“Captain, I've been conducting a sweep of the primary combat systems at Lieutenant Salazar's order,” Clarke replied, “and I found this cable cut. If we tried to switch over to emergency power in a battle, we'd have a burnout that could destroy half a dozen of the local nodes. I was just rendering it safe before calling it in.”
Shaking his head, Dubois said, “And yet again, Lieutenant Salazar's interference almost leads to disaster.” Looking up at the components, he said, “You've a long way to go before this is made safe, Midshipman, and I think you've done additional damage in the attempt.”
“I only found it a moment ago, sir, and I was just opening up the access ports to find out how deep the damage is.” Turning to Marshall, Clarke added, “Sir, we need to get damage control teams to work on the other nodes at once.”
“I agree,” Marshall said.
“Sir, most of our teams are currently stripping down the missile guidance system. We won't be able to get to the nodes for hours, and there are a hundred and five to check. With all due respect, you don't know the scale of the job you're ordering me to do. Combat priorities suggest...”
Battlecruiser Alamo: Into the Maelstrom Page 15
