Kas nodded. “I assumed that, sir. There will be no problem.”
Tu-Ker grinned again. “I was sure there wouldn’t be. Now, I understand your ships might need reprovisioning. We’ve brought supplies for you.”
The conversation moved to the practicalities of ship operations.
Chapter 17
With Tu-Ker’s battle group protecting them, morale aboard Rekesh and Starhopper soared. The fresh supplies they brought helped even more.
Nevertheless, as jump after jump came and went and time dragged, it became increasingly difficult to maintain that initial high morale. Minor irritations became major confrontations. Fights became more and more frequent. As quickly as it had risen, morale plummeted.
Once more Kas was grateful for the presence of Lady Jane. As a civilian, she was outside the military chain of command, and her friendly good humor made her as welcome in the crew’s mess as the wardroom. Kas learned of several instances in which she had stopped trouble before it started. After several weeks of increasing violence, she appointed herself unofficial morale officer, and enlisted the help of Lordsgrace Worshipful, the Commissary Officer. Together, they devised a series of games and contests featuring minor prizes looted from Rekesh ’s cavernous supply stores. Kas first learned of it because he had to authorize issuing some of the Fleet supplies for the prizes, but he became an enthusiastic promoter, and soon ship-wide team competitions were underway.
Unsurprisingly, it worked. The air of tension eased noticeably.
Another positive factor was that the personnel were coming to form a bond. They were becoming a crew instead of a collection of strangers. In a strange way their isolation, the fact that they knew they were confined to their ships, helped mold them into a cohesive group. They knew they had done nothing wrong, and they knew there was no threat of plague, and they were both derisive and resentful of the limitations inflicted on them by the politicians. Pride in being Fleet surged, and even the civilians became unofficial ‘members’.
Kas made no effort to curb this “us-against-them” attitude. It was proving very valuable in maintaining morale. He was careful, however, to leak enough information to make certain that the Empire’s civilian politicians, and not the Fleet, were identified as the “them” involved.
Still, time was heavy on their hands and Kas’ officers had to resume searching for stills — new ones. Kas was forced to order more floggings, and had one petty officer put into cold sleep to await a court martial upon their return to the Empire.
Tu-Ker did what he could; Rekesh and Starhopper enjoyed all the latest holovids and any other luxuries he could think of, and he even sent over wardroom supplies with specific, if unofficial, instructions that they be used to feed the crew instead of the officers.
Nevertheless, the time did pass. They began counting down to the end of the mission in weeks instead of months, then days.
As they entered the final jump, Kas’ relief was tempered by a rise in his own anxiety. Was this where his career would end? How long would he be imprisoned aboard Rekesh? The newsies Tu-Ker had brought led him to suspect he was destined to be a sacrificial lamb for the imperial senate. He was being savagely attacked almost daily, his name and reputation ruthlessly vilified. After reading the newsies he was beginning to think the worst thing that could happen to him would be to be released on nearly any Empire planet. He would probably be lynched.
Once again, Lady Jane helped. She relieved his depression and fear with jokes and tenderness. She joked that perhaps Fleet Intelligence could provide him with a new identity, and promised to smuggle him to the Alliance. By the time they had finished projecting wilder and wilder scenarios of his possible future, they were both roaring with laughter.
However, Kas knew his situation was no joke. His career and his life were on the line.
Tu-Ker was also supportive, but he did not minimize the gravity of the situation.
“When we arrive,” he mentioned as he briefed Kas, “We’ll be greeted by the largest battle fleet ever assembled.” He shrugged. “Sheol, when was the last time two battle cruisers and four destroyers were dispatched on convoy duty?”
Kas frowned. “Never, to my knowledge.”
The admiral nodded. “Exactly. But the assembled fleet is so huge that my little group was hardly missed. They’ve even brought out the old Atropos!”
Kas started in surprise. “The dreadnought? It must have taken months to get her spaceworthy!”
Tu-Ker grinned sourly. “It did. But when Ta-Lank and a bunch of other senators formed a committee and demanded to be there when you arrived, the Emperor decided a dreadnought was the only ship large enough to accommodate all of them and all of their staffs.” He snorted in disgust.
“I think Pankin himself might be coming out,” he continued. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t think there’s been anything like it!”
Kas was stunned. “The Grand Admiral? Here?” He paused to collect his thoughts. “I’m in really big trouble, aren’t I, sir?”
Tu-Ker nodded soberly. “I’m afraid so. But it’s not just you. It is everyone aboard your ships. And maybe everyone in the entire Fleet. Practically everyone in the Empire thinks you are the greatest threat since the Horsehead Rebellion five hundred years ago. And they may be right.”
He waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t mean that ridiculous pirate or plague nonsense either. But what happens if that damned senate committee demands you be destroyed? Would the fleet fire on someone they know was just doing their job? Would Pankin order it? And what happens if he or they refuse? And what would the Emperor do? You could touch off a civil war that’d make the Horsehead Rebellion look like a border skirmish!”
His expression became thoughtful for a moment. Then, “You have a reputation for thinking fast on your feet. I hope it is true. For all our sakes.”
As soon as they emerged, Kas was ordered to cancel all vectors relative to the system’s sun. Then he and his crew watched incredulously as no less than eight battle cruisers quickly formed a globe around his ships. All but two of the Empire’s entire fleet of battle cruisers was now in this empty outlying system. Sixteen destroyers and a virtual cloud of auxiliaries supported them.
Finally, hovering just inside the battle cruisers’ englobement hung the huge Atropos. A sphere a kilometer in diameter, she dwarfed her accompanying battle cruisers. She bristled with hundreds of laser, particle beam, and projectile emplacements. Tu-Ker had been right. This was the largest battle fleet ever assembled. And they were here for him! He forced down a surge of fear.
As soon as his ships were stationary relative to their “escort,” Kas fled to his office to report to the Admiral in command, Fleet Admiral Rev Pankin.
The face that appeared was not Pankin’s, though. It belonged to Captain Froud, the Grand Admiral’s Chief of Staff, and it wore a sympathetic and slightly embarrassed expression.
“Good day, Commodore. The Grand Admiral is expecting your call, of course. For security reasons he requests that you report via laser com.”
“Of course, Captain,” Kas replied stiffly. “I’ll establish laser com immediately.”
Froud paused. “Please use a minimum-diameter beam, sir.” Kas nodded. Froud did not have to add that it was very likely that the senators would try to eavesdrop on even a laser com transmission. As they were on the same ship as the Grand Admiral, that would be difficult but not impossible. A minimum-diameter beam would be less than a centimeter across, and would require careful tending to stay focused on one of Atropos ’ antennae. It was the closest thing possible to an untappable com.
As soon as the connection was established, an obviously embarrassed Pankin appeared. “Good day, Commodore. Are you impressed by your welcoming committee?”