Stand Against The Storm (The Maxwell Saga Book 4) (29 page)

“Thank you, Captain.”

Steve passed the cloth wrapping up the table to him, and Chun folded the knife into it. “I’ll put this in the ship’s safe,” he said, looking around the table, “and we’ll mount an armed guard over it at all times until we get to Qianjin. All of us – the entire crew, and you as well, Jiang – will take it to the Council chambers to hand it over.” Everyone bowed their heads towards him. “As for you, Senior Lieutenant, you aren’t a member of our Tong, but by default you became one of us on Eskishi. We owe you far more than we can ever put into words. I’m going to ask the Council to recognize that by establishing what I’ll call a fellowship, for want of a better word. We’ll call ourselves the ‘Comrades of the Knife’ in honor of this blade,” and he held up the jade knife. “If you’re ever in danger or in need of assistance, whatever it may be, send word to us on Qianjin. We’ll do all we can to help you. On behalf of all my comrades and shipmates, I make this promise on the honor of the Tong.” A murmur of approval and assent ran around the table.

Steve couldn’t help a gulp of astonishment. He knew how seriously the Tong took its honor. Every one of its members was pledged and sworn to give his or her life rather than betray it. He managed to say, “Thank you, Captain. I’m truly honored to be numbered among your fellowship like this.”

They accompanied Chun as he led them to the ship’s safe in an office next to the Captain’s suite, secured the knife in it, and summoned two armed spacers to stand guard over it. Thereafter they escorted Steve back to the docking bay.

“I wish you safe and prosperous voyages,” Chun told him as they shook hands. “Yours may not be prosperous in the same way ours are, of course, but I hope you find plenty of prize money – just not from Dragon Tong ships!” They all laughed.

“With your help, I’ll try to capture as many ships as possible from rival Tongs and Triads,” Steve assured him with a grin.

“That will be very satisfactory.”

They were still smiling and waving as the airlock closed behind him.

LCS
Cybele
emerged at the Cassius system boundary in a flare of electrogravitic energy from her final hyper-jump.

“Navigator to Command. We’ve arrived in our planned position, Ma’am,” Steve reported to Commander Doibro from the Navigation desk as he checked the astrogation computers. “Estimated time to orbit is seventeen-point-two hours.”

“Command to Navigator, thank you. Break. Command to Communications, send our arrival signal and load manifest.”

“Communications to Command, aye aye, Ma’am.”

Steve grinned to himself.
Cybele
was filled to overflowing with the equipment used by the Marine engineers on Eskishi over the past three months, plus some from the Marine Reaction Force battalion. As often happened on such deployments, there seemed to be more hardware to bring back than had been shipped in the first place. He wondered idly how many cases of Eskishi’s distilled-fruit liqueurs were stashed in various hidey-holes. The visiting forces had reportedly used their Lancastrian Commonwealth credits to buy as much as they could afford, hard currency offering them a significant negotiating advantage in the marketplace – so much so that the Governor had complained about a rapidly developing shortage. Furthermore, Spacers and Marines had a well-deserved reputation for being experts at sneaking such contraband past Customs officials.

Commander Doibro rose to her feet, stretching. “That was the last Eskishi round-trip, thank heavens! Now it’s an overhaul for the ship, and two weeks’ liberty for all of us while she’s in dockyard hands.” The entire OpCen team grinned in anticipation.

The crew swung into action, preparing equipment, containers and bulk cargo for offloading, updating lists of supplies needed from stores, reviewing defect lists for attention from the dockyard, and – last but by no means least – making their own preparations for their extended liberty period. There hadn’t been much opportunity for relaxation since they’d been recalled to the ship for their first emergency run to Eskishi, and they fully intended to make up for lost time. What’s more, with three months’ pay burning holes in their pockets, they could afford to; and being a Fleet Sector base, Cassius had many establishments ready, willing and eager to separate them from their money as painlessly as possible in return for a good time.

As well as being Navigator, Steve was also
Cybele’
s Small Craft Officer, thanks to his extensive experience with gigs, cutters and shuttles as a pilot and instructor. He was checking the ship’s two cargo shuttles, making sure they were ready to begin transshipping freight as soon as they arrived in orbit, when his comm unit buzzed.

“Senior Lieutenant Maxwell speaking.”

The Commander’s familiar voice came over the speaker. “Lieutenant, please report to me in my office immediately.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am,” he replied automatically, thinking,
She doesn’t sound happy about something. Have I screwed up somehow?

He found the Executive Officer waiting in Commander Doibro’s office as well. He braced to attention, but before he could report his arrival in conventional form she waved her hand impatiently. “Thanks for coming straight up, Lieutenant. Sit down, please.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am.” Steve sat down next to Lieutenant-Commander Bell.

“You’d better read this.” She handed him a printed signal.

Steve read it, and his jaw dropped. “I – I don’t understand, Ma’am. My appointment to
Cybele
was for two years. It still has fifteen months to run.”

“That’s what I thought too, but the Powers That Be have clearly changed their minds. You’re detached from the ship with effect from the twentieth of this month. On that date you’ll report to the Sector Admiral’s office at ten, in Number One uniform with medals. Any idea what’s going on?

“No, Ma’am, none at all… unless it’s something to do with Commodore Wu.”

“Aha!
I’d forgotten about him in the press of other events. You may be right.”

“It may also have something to do with the Karabak communications frigate that’s in a parking orbit around Cassius, Ma’am,” Bell observed, sounding intrigued. “Governor Sirhan was talking about awards for the Marine battalion and engineers. That’s had long enough to work its way through the system by now and be approved.”

“Yes, but that wouldn’t necessitate detaching Lieutenant Maxwell from the ship,” she objected. “I don’t like this at all, Lieutenant. You’ve performed exceptionally well, and I hate to lose you.”

“It’s been an honor to serve under your command, Ma’am,” Steve replied very sincerely.

She sighed. “Oh, well, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and it won’t be the last. You’d better begin preparing all your responsibilities for handover. Exec, detail other officers to take over Lieutenant Maxwell’s various duties on a temporary basis until we see what sort of replacement they’re going to give us. You and I will also have to prepare his separation assessment and evaluation report.”

“Thank you for everything, Ma’am,” Steve said as he and the Exec rose to their feet.

“It’s been a pleasure to have you in my ship’s company, Lieutenant. I wish you every success in whatever awaits you.”

“You have a lot to do, so you’d better start at once,” Bell said as they left the office. “I’ll relieve you from your preparations for offloading, to free you up to hand over your other responsibilities. I’ll also signal the Transient Officers Quarters planetside to reserve a room for you from Thursday night until further notice, and storage for your gear. You’d better go down to the planet on the nineteenth, to make sure you’ll be on time for your appointment on the twentieth. It just won’t do to keep a Sector Admiral waiting!”

~ ~ ~

Steve was very conscious of the looks thrown at him by others in the foyer, elevator and corridors as a security NCO from the reception desk escorted him through Sector Fleet headquarters. Everyone around him was in Number Two working uniform or civilian dress. His immaculate Number Ones, with the jingling splash of color made by the row of medals on his chest and his parade shoes polished to mirror brightness, stood out among them.

The NCO showed him into an anteroom. A civilian secretary sat at a desk on one side of an inner double door, while on the other side a Senior Lieutenant occupied duplicate furniture. She looked up with a smile. “Senior Lieutenant Maxwell?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Jackie McShea, Vice-Admiral Perparim’s Flag Lieutenant. Welcome to Sector HQ, and congratulations on your recent achievements on Eskishi. I’ve been able to read some of the reports crossing the Admiral’s desk. Sounds like you had an interesting time there.”

“It got that way from time to time.”

“Please take a seat.” She indicated several visitors chairs arrayed against the wall on either side of the room. “The Sector Admiral will see you at ten sharp.”

“Thank you.”

Steve tried to control his anticipation as he sat down, resting his cap on his knees, resisting the urge to tap his feet nervously. No point in wondering what was about to happen – in a few minutes he’d find out.
Relax,
he told himself.
No-one’s shooting at you. That already makes it a good day.
He smiled as he recalled Gunnery Sergeant Dixon, his Platoon Instructor at Officer Candidate School. That had been one of her pithy sayings. He’d never forgotten them, and had passed them on to others from time to time. He supposed that was the way the Fleet worked – the way that any professional military organization worked, for that matter. Traditions, maxims and epithets were handed down from generation to generation.

He couldn’t help another grin as he imagined a Roman centurion back on Old Home Earth, thousands of years ago, bellowing at his recruits under training when they made a mistake. Had they, too, been obliged to run up a hill to fetch a leaf from a bush as punishment for their errors? And had the centurion bellowed at them,
“Wrong leaf!”
– in Latin, of course – and sent them back for another one, just as Steve had experienced during Boot Camp on Vesta years before?

His reverie was interrupted as a green light blinked on the Flag Lieutenant’s desk. She rose to her feet. “The Sector Admiral will see you now.” He stood and followed her as she crossed to the double doors, opened one side, and said, “Senior Lieutenant Maxwell is here, Ma’am.”

He heard a woman’s voice. “Thank you, Flags. Send him in, please.”

“Aye aye, Ma’am.” She stood back, motioning him through the door.

He studied the Admiral as he marched across the thick pile carpet towards her desk and she rose to greet him. She looked to be in her mid to late fifties, short and stocky, with a strong, determined face. Her gray eyes bored into him.

He drew himself to attention before her desk. “Senior Lieutenant Maxwell reports to the Sector Admiral as ordered, Ma’am!”

“Good morning, Senior Lieutenant.” She came to attention for a moment, then relaxed. “Sit down, please.” She did likewise as he glanced behind him, found the nearest chair, and sat down in it.

“I must congratulate you on your accomplishments in the Eskishi system,” she began. “You’ve more than earned recognition for your performance there, but because you’re going to be working for BuIntel for the foreseeable future, we can’t give that the usual publicity. You’ll be undertaking confidential missions, on some of which you may be using other identities, so we don’t want your name and face splashed all over the news media.”

Steve couldn’t restrain a smile. It sounded as if Commodore Wu had come through for him. “I understand, Ma’am.”

“Good. At ten-fifteen we’ll be joined by Commodore Wu and the Eksalansari of Karabak, plus my Flag-Lieutenant and a photographer. Until then, tell me more about your experiences. I’d like to hear about them at first hand, instead of only reading about them in dry official reports.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Steve gathered his thoughts, then began with his arrival at Eskishi and his detachment from Cybele to assist the Engineers planetside. As he described events as they occurred, he couldn’t help but remember Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear and feel a renewed tinge of sadness at his death. It must have showed on his face, because the Admiral took note.

“You still miss your colleague, don’t you?” she asked almost gently.

“I do, Ma’am. He was a fine man and an outstanding Marine.”

“It sounds like it. You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve endorsed your nomination of him for the Lancastrian Star of Valor and forwarded it to the Board of Admiralty. If they do the same, it’ll go to the Awards Committee of the Senate. Final approval for our highest award for gallantry in action rests with them.”

“I’m grateful to you, Ma’am. I hope he gets it.”

“It’s extraordinarily difficult to earn that award, for good reason, but under the circumstances I think he stands a good chance. At the very least he should get the Star in Gold – which brings me to your situation. You know that Major Emory and Lieutenant-Colonel Battista nominated you for that award, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You won’t be getting it, but I think you’ll be more than happy with what we do for you instead. There are three reasons. First, a Gold- or Valor-level award is very hard to justify, deliberately so, and relatively few of those nominated for one actually receive it. In order to maximize the chance of Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear receiving one, I felt it best not to submit a second nomination at that level for the same operation. Second, I can approve awards up to Silver level locally, without having to refer them to the Board of Admiralty. Finally, the Fleet has multiple ways to reward performance. For example, instead of a medal at the appropriate level, it might confer a lesser medal plus a promotion or seniority award. You follow me?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Steve had been momentarily disappointed to hear that his nomination wouldn’t be going any further, but now he was intrigued. This sounded very promising.

“Commodore Wu has plans for you, and alternate forms of recognition will make it easier for him to put them into effect. Speaking of the Commodore,” and she glanced at a red light flickering on her desk, “I expect this will be him.” She pressed her intercom button. “Yes, Flags?”

“Commodore Wu and the Eksalansari are here, Ma’am.”

“Thank you. Bring them in, please.”

Steve came to his feet as the Admiral rose, and turned to face the door. The Eksalansari came in first, wearing a civilian suit, followed by the Commodore, the Flag-Lieutenant and a photographer bearing a sophisticated camera and an assistant bearing stand-mounted lights. They moved to one side and began to set up their equipment as Steve shook hands with the new arrivals.

“The Eksalansari is here as the Sultan’s official representative,” Vice-Admiral Perparim informed him. “He’s discussing closer ties with us from a military perspective, and he’ll be presenting the Marines who served on Eskishi with a Karabak unit award, and some individual Marines with various grades of Karabak’s Military Star, at a parade tomorrow. Normally you’d have been honored there as well – and you’ll share in the unit award, of course, as you were attached to the Marines for part of the period in question – but as I said, we need to preserve your anonymity; hence this private award ceremony.”