“They’ll question most of it again, so repeat what you said in sharper tones,” she added. “Don’t worry, you have a fortnight. Just keep bombarding them until they give in. If they don’t give in, tell the Captain the day before we depart. He’ll tear them a new asshole.”
“Thanks,” I said, seriously.
“You’re welcome,” Kitty said. “Now, do you want a tour of the ship or not?”
Chapter Eleven
The UN claims to maintain an independent media reporting factual information from the entire human sphere. Nothing could be further from the truth. The UN censors the media through a series of laws designed to surprises hate speech, unpleasant language and anything that anyone might find offensive. The net result is that journalists in the UN-controlled media are effectively shrills for the regime, telling the masses that they have never had it so good, while branding enemies of the state as everything from paedophiles to crooks. The colonists, in particular, come in for heavy media bashing, accused of everything from stealing Earth’s resources to refusing to return Earth’s property. Independent journalists simply don’t last very long in the system.
If there was one thing that Captain Harriman and Captain Shalenko had in common, it was a shared desire to see that their starships were always in the best condition possible, regardless of the circumstances. The Devastator’s Engineer found that there were no objections to obtaining the most expensive spare parts ever, while the starship’s crew and senior officers found themselves working endlessly on keeping the starship in good shape. I had heard of starships where essential maintenance was deferred endlessly, risking hundreds of lives, but the Devastator wasn’t one of them. Captain Shalenko wouldn’t have allowed it.
Life as a Lieutenant was very different to life as an Ensign, but it had its compensations. Apart from the cabin and the joyous opportunity to be alone for a while, it had additional duties and responsibilities. I had never been more than a little responsible on my old ship and I had always known that I was under supervision. That wasn’t true on the Devastator. I was expected to take charge of myself and ask for help if I needed it, not watched by senior officers terrified that I would make a serious mistake and crash the ship into an asteroid. It wasn’t likely to happen, but from what the Senior Chief had told me, it was quite possible for a new Ensign to make every mistake in the book. We were kept under very close supervision.
And I also grew to hate the logistics personnel back on Orbit Nine, or scattered around the Solar System. The speed of light delay imposed on radio traffic kept me from screaming at them, but they seemed to take an unholy delight in slowing my requests for supplies, or new equipment. They never seemed to run out of excuses for refusing our requests and when we finally managed to convince them to send us the items, we often discovered that it was late. The Engineer discovered that a shipment of spare parts was shoddy and chewed me out for it, leaving me to pass on his displeasure to the bureaucrats. Apparently the spare parts had passed the checking process back on the industrial asteroid, but when the Engineer had checked them, they hadn’t passed even a simple check. He hadn’t been happy and had had to counter-sign more requests and demands for immediate delivery.
It didn’t help that other starships were cannoning up as well. The Captain hadn’t said anything else about a possible invasion, but it was becoming increasingly clear that the UNPF Headquarters was forming up a task force for operations outside the solar system. Nineteen starships, the most formidable force gathered for quite some time, were being assembled near Orbit Nine, each one trying to get their inventories filled before they departed. It might have moved quicker if I’d sent the Marines to shoot a few bureaucrats, but Kitty had told me that there were always more where they came from. The UNPF could have built an orbital tower reaching all the way to Mars with the paperwork. After barely a week of dealing with the bureaucrats, I was ready to slam my fist through the terminal and choke the life out of them. They just didn’t understand.
“Of course they don’t understand,” Kitty said, when I complained to her. She might have had a few months on me, seniority-wise, but we had become friends. I liked to think that we might become something more — there was no regulation against dating someone in the same rank and grade as yourself — but so far it hadn’t happened. “Show me the bureaucrat who served on a starship, even for a day, and I’ll buy you a five-course meal at Finnegan’s Wake.”
I snorted. “No bet,” I said. I already knew what I would find. “That animal doesn’t exist.”
“Quite,” Kitty agreed. She sat up suddenly and smiled. “There are still five days until we depart, John, so if you can’t get anything in three more days, report to the Captain.”
I scowled. I didn’t want to report to the Captain and admit that I had failed, even though I had managed to get my hands on most of the wanted list. I’d taken to checking everything carefully with the help of a pair of Ensigns — it seemed impossible that I had ever been that young — just in case of something else going wrong, but so far I’d found nothing. Somehow, it wasn’t reassuring. The Engineer had shown me just how many things could look normal…and then break down at just the wrong moment. If the wormhole generator broke down…well, it was a long flight to the nearest inhabited planet at sublight speed.
But I might have no choice. “I understand,” I said. I felt utterly snowed under by logistics alone. “Does it get any easier when the ship’s away from Earth?”
My terminal buzzed. “Lieutenant Walker, report to the Political Officer at once,” it squawked. “I repeat, Lieutenant Walker, report to the Political Officer at once.”
“At a guess, I’d say no,” Kitty said, dryly. I laughed, nervously. I hadn’t met the Political Officer yet and didn’t know what she was like. “Don’t worry, you will get used to it.”
Political Officer Ellen Nakamura was a strange blend of Japanese and European features. She was blond, with a tall willowy body, yet her face was more typically Japanese with faintly slanted eyes. She would have been beautiful if she hadn’t looked, constantly, as if she smelt something vaguely unpleasant in the air. Unlike Jason Montgomerie, she looked terrifyingly efficient and dangerous; she even wore a pistol at her belt. I was less impressed by that than I might have been without the Marine training sessions, but even so…it was a sign of grace and favour. Only the Captain was allowed to carry a pistol on his ship normally.
“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant,” she said, somehow managing to convey the impression that she was smelling me in the air. Her eyes flickered once over my body and then focused in on my face. It was disconcerting. I had never met a woman who didn’t blink before. “I have not had the time to meet with you before and I do trust that I am not keeping you from anything important.”
“No, thank you,” I said, carefully. She was keeping me from writing yet another abusive message to the Supply Department, but I knew better than to say that. Ellen was clearly a very different kettle of fish to anyone else. Besides, I wasn’t expected on watch for another three hours and really should have been trying to catch a nap.
“Good, good,” Ellen said. Her voice was vaguely seductive, but her body language was all wrong, as if she were a blunt instrument measuring its target. “I have heard great things about you, John. I do hope that the tales haven’t grown in the telling.”
I said nothing. I was vaguely aware that Captain Harriman and Jason Montgomerie had written glowing testimonials about my abilities, but that was something that every candidate for promotion had to have. It wasn’t enough to be average: I had to constantly set the standard for everyone else…and walk on water besides. If they had tried to promote all six of us at once, the Promotions Board would have probably gotten very confused when they read the sworn statements.