***
The hum of the printer quit, and Calvin grabbed the next batch of documents sent to the Nighthawk by Intel Wing. They’d sent the information to him electronically, but, after his computer had decrypted them, he wasted no time printing hard copies. Technically he was not allowed to do this—but he just hated reading enormous documents on unsoftened screens. It bothered his eyes.
His desk had collected quite a pile of paperwork, and he didn’t relish the thought of reading through it all in the kind of meticulous detail required. Most people thought being an intelligence officer meant you had access to all kinds of private information and military secrets. And to a certain extent that was true, on a need-to-know basis. But mostly what he’d be downloading to his brain were personnel rosters, account information, transaction details, rap sheets, anything and everything that might be pertinent to a particular case. Most of which turned out to be useless peripheral junk. But for the sake of those few buried gems, every single scrap of information had to be considered; even the tiniest detail might be the difference between a solved case and a permanent mystery.
So, without any joy, Calvin returned to his desk and began scanning through the latest intel. This batch contained the service records of the engineering staff.
Jon Kwalski received a demerit for missing a shift on 10.05.1212.… That was six years ago; can’t they let it go? He also won a blue-water service award for completing a spacewalk repair in record time.… Blah, blah, blah …
A chirp interrupted his reading. He tapped the button on his desk. “Yes?”
“Captain to the bridge.”
“What is it?”
“The main hatch has sealed, and the commander is aboard.”
“Thank you, Shen.” He released the switch and locked the files in a desk drawer. He took only a second to smooth out the wrinkles of his uniform and clear his throat before marching to the bridge door. He wanted to make it clear to whoever his new XO was, some navy officer, that he was in charge. And he wasn’t going to be changing any of his active protocols to whatever they did in the navy.
The door slid aside, and he stepped onto the bridge and looked it over.
Sarah grinned from behind the helm, and Shen sat at operations. But the defense post was vacant.
“Where’s Miles?”
“Knowing him, still asleep on Praxis One,” said Sarah as she shrugged.
Calvin looked to Shen.
“He came aboard with the commander’s party. I’m sure he’s on his way.”
“All right.” Instead of taking his chair, Calvin moved to the back of the bridge where the main door was. “Patch me through to Director Edwards.”
“Yes, sir. Just gimme a second,” said Sarah.
A minute later the director’s face appeared on the screen. “What is it, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Have you freed my ship?”
“Affirmative. You’re ordered to disembark as soon as you’re ready.”
“Any new intel?”
“We’ve confirmed the Harbinger’s heading is Aleator System. But you’ll have to take it from there.”
“Thanks.” The transmission closed, and the screen went dark again. “Okay, Sarah, contact the control tower. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“With pleasure.” As she tapped away and spoke into her headset, requesting clearance, Calvin turned his eyes to the large window ahead, thinking how glad he’d be once he saw stars again instead of the gray docking-bay walls.
The elevator door opened, and he turned to face his new executive officer. Her blue-and-black uniform stood out like a sore thumb in an environment of black-and-silver, and her shapely form, radiant eyes, and bright hair were all too familiar. “You?” asked Calvin.
Summers Presley’s expression became a mixture of both confusion and offense.
He cleared his throat. “… should know you’re welcome aboard. So … welcome aboard.” He faked a smile but didn’t miss her raised eyebrow. “Your post is over here.” He motioned toward the command seats in the center.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
Her voice was pointedly neutral, but he could tell she was irritated. Perhaps she was no happier about this arrangement than he was.
“We’re good to go, sir,” said Sarah. “We have clearance to launch along standard vector through gate one.”
“Good, Sarah. Disengage the docking clamps, and, now that you’re here, Commander, we’re ready to …” Calvin spotted the empty defense post again and cut himself off. He looked back at Summers. “Where’s Miles?”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“Didn’t one of my officers come aboard with you?”
“No one higher than a warrant officer.”
He spun to face ops. “Shen, I thought you said Miles came aboard with the commander’s group.”
“Miles was supposed to.”
“Okay, Sarah. Cancel the launch, and reengage those clamps. Shen, find out what happened to Miles.” Calvin took his seat and ran a hand through his hair.
“I’ll get a demerit form,” said Summers from his side.
Calvin spun his chair. “A what?” He hadn’t heard the spoken term in so long it took him a second to remember what it was. “No, just … don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t going to fill out some demerit form.
“With all due respect, sir,” Presley said, “this calls for discipline.”
“It’s nothing. Look, I’m sure he’s got a good excuse, and he’s probably on his way.”
“Found him, sir,” Shen piped in.
“See.”
“He’s in a detention unit. It seems our unlucky friend amassed something of a gambling debt, and he’s forbidden to go off world until he pays it.”
“Dammit, Miles …” Calvin stood up. “Okay, send them an order from Intel Wing to release him from lockup.”
“No can do. He signed some kind of contract before playing those tables. Unless Intel Wing wants to foot the bill, it’d be a breach of interworld regs.”
“He sounds like trouble. I can get someone transferred over from the Fleet,” said Summers.
“No, no,” said Calvin sharply. The last thing he needed was another robot from the Fleet.
“Or I could take the White Shift myself. I used to be a defense officer,” she said.
“It’s all right. That won’t be necessary, Summers. I’m not giving up one of my best officers.”
“Commander.”
“What?” He looked at her, confused.
“My rank. It’s commander.”
Oh, right, he’d forgotten about that protocol. He’d have to let her know how he did things on his ship, but that was a battle for another time. Instead he ignored her and looked back at Shen. “How much is the debt?”
“Thirty thousand Q.”
Sarah whistled. “That’s more than he makes in a year.”
Calvin thought about it for a moment. “All right, all right. I’ll cover it. Let me wire the funds over to them.”
“What?” the bridge exploded with surprise.
“You’ll cover it?” asked Summers, her face was white with shock and massive disapproval.
The very idea that a commanding officer would cover for an undisciplined inferior and pay such a fortune to do so probably went against everything she understood about the universe. But she simply didn’t know how far back Miles and Calvin went, and she hadn’t yet learned that, as good as Miles was at losing money, he was even better at his job—second to none.
Calvin shrugged. “He’ll repay every Q.” But he knew Miles would never be able to. That, however, was unimportant to Calvin. He didn’t have an infinite flow of wealth, but he made more than he spent. And the money really wasn’t that valuable to him.
He moved to the ops station and logged into one of his bank accounts. After wiring over the money, Calvin received confirmation that Miles had been released and was on his way. “What do you think it’ll take? Half an hour?” Calvin wonder
ed.
“The detention center is on the fifteenth deck of the outpost, and, since he can skip most of the security check at the terminal, I’m thinking fifteen minutes,” said Shen.
“As soon as he’s aboard, get us out of here. And let me know the instant he’s on the bridge. In the meantime, I’ll be in my office doing a little reading.” Calvin decided he’d prefer to be milling over the data sheets than idle on the bridge. As he turned for the door, he caught sight of Summers, whose face looked like it was going to explode with frustration. But, being the dutiful officer that she was, she kept her cool. For now.
“Commander, maybe you’d better come with me,” said Calvin. He nodded toward the door, and she stood up and followed him into his office. He sat down at his desk, and she stood by the door; it closed behind her.
“Thirsty?” he asked, nodding toward a stack of water bottles.
“No thank you, sir.”
He stretched his arms then folded them behind his head. “We got off on the wrong foot earlier, Commander.” He fought the impulse to look her up and down. “In the terminal before the trial, I mean.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
“Good,” said Calvin, doubting her. “Then we should have no trouble starting over. There are a few things you should know now that you’re part of our family.” He had trouble judging her reaction. “Please, sit,” he said, motioning toward another chair opposite him.
“Thank you, sir, but I’d rather stand.”
“Very well,” he said. Was there something he was doing that made her annoyed? “The first thing you should know is that, aboard my ship, the most formal protocols go out the window.” He didn’t miss the flash of disapproval in her eyes. It made him want to smile, but he resisted. “I don’t care about them. They’re inefficient and boring. Here everyone is always open to speak his or her mind. That way we’re all on the same page. And I don’t hand out demerits. If someone does something small, then I don’t care. But, if they do something big, then they’re tossed out the airlock.”
“What?” Her shock broke through her armor of unreadability.
“That was a joke. But they would be thrown into the brig. And there they’d have to deal with Major Jenkins, the commander of the Special Forces unit aboard. And trust me, that’s not a blessing.” He chuckled, but she didn’t even crack a smile.
“Is that everything, sir?”
“No,” said Calvin. “I want you to speak freely. You’re unhappy, I can tell. Let it out. If you have some advice or criticism for me, well, I’m always up for hearing it.”
She was hesitant.
“Come on.”
“Are you sure?” she asked as she folded her arms.
“Let me have it.”
“Okay then …” She paused for an instant, but, when she spoke, her lips wouldn’t stop for anything. She ranted about how inappropriate it was for him to pay for Miles to be released from lockup, and how she had no confidence in an officer with such poor judgment that he would gamble himself into an inescapably deep hole. And how, by not disciplining him, Calvin was validating Miles’s actions. Setting a bad precedent for the rest of the crew. Breaking the cohesion of a good, trained, disciplined starship. And how waiting for Miles only increased Raidan’s head start.
Calvin listened quietly, actually considering everything she said. And, he thought, it made sense. But he didn’t agree with her conclusions. The important thing was that he knew how she felt, and that she would learn what his positions were, and that she would adapt.
“We’re officers of the military. That’s who we are. The least we can do is act that way!” she concluded.
She was cute while angry, and Calvin gave way to a broad smile.
“And wipe that stupid grin off your face, Lieutenant Commander,” she snapped, then suddenly closed her mouth and stood at attention, realizing she’d crossed a line.
But her anger didn’t bother Calvin. In fact he thought she’d finally reached the heart of the matter. It hurt her pride that she had to report to, and take orders from, someone a full rank below her and three years her junior. Especially when that person seemed to break all the rules and do everything he wasn’t supposed to. He wondered if she knew he was only a half-citizen as well. But Calvin didn’t feel threatened. Everything he had he’d earned, and he trusted himself even if she hadn’t learned to yet. “Are you finished, Summers?”
“Yes,” she said calmly, letting out a sigh of relief. “Except for one more thing. You really need to call me commander, not Summers. That’s a very important protocol.”
Calvin resisted a chuckle and reclined in his chair. “Didn’t that feel good?”
“What?”
“Letting it off your chest.”
“A little, I suppose. But it was a mistake.”
“But it felt good?”
“A little.”
“Good. I don’t need any officers walking around with pent-up anger like ticking time bombs.” He spoke gently. “I want you to know you can speak to me freely at any time. In fact I hope you do. It’s important for me to know what my crew’s feelings are.” He paused to let that sink in. “As for your concerns … I’m sorry that the transition from a disciplined navy attack cruiser to an Intel Wing stealth frigate is hard because of my command style. But you’ll have to adapt to it. While I may do things a little … differently, in this squadron I’m allowed that luxury so long as I get the job done.” He was only half telling the truth; he too was subject to protocols and regulations, but he’d mostly convinced himself otherwise.
“Yes, sir.” She was quieter now, but he still saw subtle defiance in her eyes.
“Another protocol is to follow the orders of your commanding officer and to do so absolutely. And I order you to call people by their given names instead of their ranks. If you don’t know their names, you will make it your duty to learn them at your earliest convenience.”
“What?” She was stunned.
“So now you have conflicting orders. Follow the protocol to maintain ship formality or follow the protocol to obey your commanding officer. Which commandment you break is up to you.”
She looked irritated again, but she hid it quickly. “Well, as you say, sir, protocols aren’t very important to you. That means I don’t really have to follow your orders.”
Was there a sense of humor inside her after all? Calvin smirked. “That’s better. Now if you want a short break to see to your quarters and arrangements, that’s fine. But I expect you back on the bridge in an hour.”
“That isn’t necessary. I am prepared to carry out my entire shift.”
“Oh, okay, good. Well then, you’re free to go.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She left, and the door closed behind her.
Calvin let out a small moan. What am I going to do with her? The last thing he needed was a protocol zealot, especially if she found out he wasn’t entitled to nearly as many liberties as he took. And if she knew he had to make reports to Fleet Command, she might send a few of her own and get him in trouble. For all he knew, that was the main purpose in giving her this assignment: to keep him in line.
“Blah …” he said, unable to get himself to pull out the documents for study. Instead he turned and played a game of chess against the computer. And lost. As usual. “Cheater.” He glared down at it.
“Would you like to play again?” the computer asked.
“No. Shut up.” He turned it off just as Shen’s voice crackled over his speaker.
“We’ve pulled free from Praxis One, and we’re in open space. Also Miles is on his way to the bridge.”
“Good,” said Calvin, and he headed for the door.
He and Miles entered the bridge at the same time from opposite sides.
“Hey, man, I’m really sorry. I owe you big, Cal. Real big.” Miles’s voice boomed as he hurried to his post.
Calvin couldn’t help but laugh. Seeing Miles’s red face
was almost worth the small fortune. “It’s fine. It’s fine.” Calvin made a calming motion with his hands.
“I’ll pay you back, I swear!” He got to his station but didn’t sit down.
Sarah spun her chair to face him. “So what happened to that twenty thousand Q you were going to win, hotshot?”
“Hey,” said Miles. “No sass from you.”
“The word is you lost thirty thousand Q. That’s like buying four cars, brand new.”
“No, no, no. It was much less than that. End of discussion.”
Calvin smirked. “It was 29,905 Q. I just paid it.”
“Well … the game was rigged anyway.” Miles looked flustered.
Shen spoke up. “The controller told me that you lost it on eight consecutive hands, increasing the bet with each one.”
“Yeah, eight hands, and all of them rigged. Isn’t that unfair? I mean it’s bad enough to rig one hand, but eight? Give a guy a break.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sarah rolled her eyes and spun back to her station. “Miles, you never change.”
Just then Miles noticed Summers Presley, who’d been silently disapproving of the whole thing. He pointed to her. “Who the hell is she?”
Calvin shrugged. “I dunno. I think she’s a stowaway.”
Summers cleared her throat. “I’m Commander Presley, your executive officer. Now take your station,” she said, sounding unimpressed. Miles looked dazed, so she snapped, “On the double, mister!”
His eyes darted to Calvin, who nodded. Miles took his seat, looking disgruntled. “Aye, Commander.”
“All right,” said Calvin. “Now that everyone’s acquainted, let’s get out of here. Sarah, plot a course to Aleator and standby for a jump of 80 percent potential.”
“Ready, sir.”
“Now.”
Sarah fired up the engines, and the view from the windows became black.
“Accelerating, we’ll reach 80 percent in just over two minutes—standard heading. ETA, six hours.”
“Perfect. Now that that’s done, I’ll be in my quarters. Summers, you have the deck.”
The Phoenix Conspiracy Page 9
