“Yes, sir,” they said, in unison.
“You may believe that you are now officers,” I continued. Lieutenant Hatchet had given us a similar lecture. “You may believe that you are qualified to issue orders to crewmen, regardless of their time in service. That belief is a function of your own ignorance. You are shockingly unprepared for the life of a starship crewmen and we will have to train you as hard as we can. You have two choices. You can suck up what we teach you, apply yourself and learn as quickly as possible, or you can be put off this vessel. If you want to leave, say so now and save us all a lot of trouble in the future.”
There was a pause. No one took me up on the offer. “Good,” I said. “I will expect you to work hard to learn what we have to teach you. It may interest you to know that a third of Ensigns die on their first voyage — because they didn’t know basic facts and their ignorance killed them. If you listen, you will stay alive. You might even be promoted. Fuck up and, if you’re lucky, you’ll get yourself killed. If you’re unlucky, you’ll get someone else killed with you. You start out as the lowest of the low. If you learn, you will rise.”
I allowed my eyes to linger on Ensign Allan Barras for a long moment. “Ensign,” I said, coldly. “Why are you not wearing your dress uniform?”
He stumbled under my gaze. “I was informed that wearing a dress uniform was not required,” he said, finally. “I was…”
“Nonsense,” I said, allowing my tone to drop even colder. “UNPF Regulations specifically state that all newcomers to a starship — particularly one that is their new posting — are to wear their dress uniforms. You should have checked the data download we gave you with your orders, instead of listening to advice from someone who either decided to set you up for a fall, or simply didn’t know. The only acceptable excuse for not wearing a dress uniform is coming directly from another starship on transfer. You came directly from the Academy.”
I stared at him until he lowered his eyes. “One demerit for not wearing a dress uniform,” I said. I looked from Ensign to Ensign. “That goes for all of you. One demerit each for not wearing dress uniforms. Now… Ensign, why are you not wearing your Academy pin?”
I took five minutes over his uniform and ended up handing out three additional demerits. He’d worn jewellery — not for a religious purpose, which was permitted if frowned upon — and hadn’t taken care of his shoes. I finally turned to Ensign Yianni Gerasimos and studied her carefully. I could tell, by her shuffling, that she knew what I was going to say before I said it.”
“Tell me,” I said, pointing a long finger. “What is that?”
She flushed bright red. “My… ah, breasts, sir,” she said. She’d opened the buttons of her uniform to show an impressive cleavage. I could hear two of her fellows snickering very quietly and glared them into silence. “I thought…”
I cut her off. “You are required to be demure on duty at all times,” I said, coldly. “This is not a brothel or a clubhouse for boys and girls. This is a starship and a modicum of professional appearance is required at all times.” I held her with my eyes. “Or did you think that you could flash your tits at us and we would carry you on our backs? We don’t have the time or manpower for dead weight, Ensign.”
“Hang on,” Ensign Geoffrey Murchison said, angrily. “You can’t talk to her like that?”
“And how should I talk to her?” I demanded, fixing him with a gaze that could have killed. “A crewwoman on a starship is expected to meet certain standards. A person who is unable or unwilling to meet those standards has no place on the ship and will probably get someone killed. Did you do her homework for her? Did you carry her on your back at the Academy? One demerit for speaking out of turn. A second demerit for being rude to a senior officer.”
I turned back to Yianni. What sort of name was that? “It may interest you to know, Ensign, that one of the Ensigns on my last ship was raped by a passenger,” I informed her. “I suggest that you comport yourself more demurely in the future. One demerit for being improperly dressed and a second for not taking care of your uniform.”
I went through the others, one by one. Ensign Geoffrey Murchison only earned one demerit for his appearance. He’d go far if he learned to keep his tongue under control. The Academy hadn’t been allowed to punish insolence or do anything more than issue mild rebukes, but I had other options. He was young and clearly bright, but very unformed. I saw, for a long moment, just why Lieutenant Hatchet had stayed at her post for so long. The chance to shape a young mind was intoxicating.
And, compared to them, I felt very old.
“Twenty-seven demerits between you,” I said, finally. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience for any of us. I’d had to inspect them all, carefully. They’d had to stand at attention long enough to give them cramps. “Five on average, right? That isn’t too impressive, is it? What are we going to do with you?”
I allowed my gaze to pass over them again. “You are going to develop into proper officers here,” I said, coldly. “You will work off each and every one of your demerits and the experience will teach you one thing you lack — discipline. There are ships where discipline is a joke, but this isn’t one of them. You will develop into fine officers, or we will kill you trying to turn you into fine officers. Do you understand me?”
Their expressions were oddly amusing. “Good,” I said. “Now, stand at ease.” They relaxed. “In a moment, the Captain will welcome you onboard his ship. Afterwards, we will introduce you to the First Ensign and allow you ten minutes to settle into the wardroom — I suggest that some of you use that time to change into cleaner uniforms — you’ll be washing the other uniforms yourselves, just to remind you of how much time it takes to wash them. After that…”
I allowed myself an unpleasant grin, the kind of grin that moves towards a swimmer with a fin on top. “After that, Ensigns, we will begin your proper introduction to the vessel.”
“Attention on deck,” the Senior Chief said, as he entered. “Captain on the deck!”
I stood to attention as well and saluted the Captain — perfectly — as he entered. It looked coincidental, but I knew that the Captain would have been watching through the airlock’s cameras. I saw him cast his eyes over the Ensigns — who, at least, had managed to stand to attention properly — and wince slightly at Yianni’s shirt. The way she looked, she would have had more hopes of a career as a fashion model, rather than an Ensign. I remembered Ensign Gomez and winced myself. On Earth, a girl walking about like that in one of the malls would have been an open invitation to rape. I wondered, absently, just where she’d come from originally. I’d have bet good money it wasn’t from Earth.
“At ease,” the Captain said, finally. I listened as he ran through the same speech he’d given us, years ago. He hadn’t changed it in the slightest. It was odd how comforting I found that, even though the Ensigns had probably found it as intimidating, and yet inspiring, as we’d found it. I rather hoped so. They could afford to hate me — just as some of us had disliked Lieutenant Hatchet — but they couldn’t afford to hate the Captain. He was the father of the entire vessel.
“Attention,” I ordered finally, as the Captain departed the airlock. “Senior Chief?”
“Please follow me,” the Senior Chief said. Please or no please, it was an order and I was relieved to see that the Ensigns followed it unquestioningly. The Senior Chief took them on the long way around to their wardroom, showing them something of the ship’s layout — seemingly by accident. The Ensigns should have studied the unclassified diagrams of the ship that we’d provided in the data pack, but if they hadn’t…well, we were offering them a chance to learn. They stared around as they moved, trying to drink it all in. They’d learn, I decided, even if the experience wasn’t comfortable for them. I just hoped that none of them would ever end up kidnapping people for the UN.