Sydney Chambers: First Officer

Twenty-eight Months Before

Transit completed, Captain. We’re in Cyg-A space.

Acknowledged, Mr. Systern. Captain Jonathan Moley held himself in tight check, waiting for what seemed to be the inevitable pirate attack when a freighter such as the Spirit of Shenandoah entered the environs of 16 Cygni-A, one of two type-G stars in the 16 Cygni trinary. Pirate activity had soared in both A and B over the previous couple of years but the A system was by far the most dangerous. Keep on your toes. They usually hit —

Captain, I’ve got a contact! It’s ... Systern broke off as he scrambled to verify his readings. It’s definitely pirates.

Moley shuddered at the words, his eyes closed and his fists clenched against his command chair. After drawing and releasing two deep breaths the captain asked, his voice mostly steady, Time to intercept, Mr. Systern?

Looks like four minutes, Captain. They’re real close.

Moley drew another steadying breath before responding. Standard protocol, he said at last. Lock us down and ...

The ship shuddered slightly from what could only be a launch. The captain broke off his usual order and jabbed frantically at the all-ship call button. What the hell was that?

It was a few seconds before a sheepish voice answered back. Collins here, sir. I, ah … well, I launched a … a tracker. Sir.

Moley felt a fist of fear smash full force into his belly. All hands, he said into the all-ship, his voice tight. We’ve launched against a pirate vessel. As of this moment, consider yourselves dead. Get your useless butts into lock-down, anyway. Never mind the ship and the systems, people, just move! Everyone into the hole in sixty seconds or less if you want any chance at all!

Sir — Systern began.

You heard me, mister, the captain snapped. Leave everything as is and get your ass to the hole. At this point I don’t give a damn about the cargo or the ship, I just want a chance to see my granddaughter again.

Both men turned and sprinted as fast as they could for the hole, a special compartment that had been added to all Cygni freight vessels since piracy had begun to grow rampant. Usually, the crew would secure the ship’s systems before heading for the bolt hole; once the pirates had taken what they wanted the crew would re-emerge to complete their interrupted voyage.

Except no one had ever survived firing on a pirate vessel, not even launching something as innocuous as a tracker.

It was the stroke of fifty-nine seconds when Moley entered the lockdown, the last one to do so. He slapped the control that would seal the room and activate its separate three-day oxygen supply; three seconds after that the Spirit shuddered from a pirate laser blast smashing through her engine compartment, turning that entire section of the vessel to slag.

CHAPTER TWO

Twenty-seven months before

1

Commander Sydney Chambers, reporting for duty.

Captain Horace Steubing ignored the officer braced at attention in his command office aboard the TSM Tecumseh, continuing instead to study a data pad containing that officer’s credentials along with her orders to report to Steubing as Tecumseh’s new first officer. The credentials were impressive for one so young, with less than a decade of TSM service under her belt: Commendations, successful tours, and rapid progressions following on a record of sterling academic achievement at TSM Academy. Steubing ignored the details, for the most part. His concern with his new first officer was not how well she performed, nor how she might fit in with the crew. Steubing’s main interest was how easily she could be kept out of the profitable loop that he and his other top officers had perfected during their years together on Tecumseh. The sudden and premature death of Steubing’s former first officer, Alex Manion, had rattled all of them. Not even one of the survivors had bothered to consider this new person for inclusion in their little enterprise, though … not an officer who was so young and so obviously idealistic, and definitely not an officer with such close ties to the admiralty.

It was an open secret that Admiral Lord Stephen Alexander was Sydney Chambers’ long-time mentor. While Lord Alexander was no longer the admiral to whom Steubing reported — that position was currently held by Admiral Lady Alexander, the commander of Frontier Fleet, to which Tecumseh had migrated several years before — Sydney’s pedigree in that regard was entirely too dangerous for comfort.

At ease, Commander, Steubing finally allowed, belatedly and half-heartedly returning the salute that Sydney had been holding since coming to attention minutes before. "Welcome to the Tecumseh."

Thank you, sir. I —

I have a few questions, Commander Chambers.

The new exec snapped her mouth shut, swallowing anything she had been about to say. Yes, sir.

This is your first tour as an executive officer, I see.

Since graduating, yes, sir.

Steubing formed his mouth into a smile that a dispassionate observer might better describe as a smirk. I don’t give much weight to Middie cruises, Commander. I do note that you’re rather young for the posting. Don’t you agree?

Sir, Sydney said, and drew a breath before continuing. My promotion to commander did come somewhat sooner than I had anticipated.

Sooner than pretty well anyone expected, Steubing interjected. Sooner than damn near any officer before you.

Sydney forced herself not to blink at her new captain’s tone. Those things are both true, yes, sir, she said, speaking carefully so as not to step onto any metaphorical landmines. I was given to understand that the sudden vacancy on this vessel caused a bit of a problem for the personnel office. Personnel believed, though, that I had shown some talent in those areas most relevant to the position of first officer. It was therefore Personnel’s request that I assist them in resolving their problem. My understanding, sir, is that, while Personnel considered my age to be an unusual factor, their hope was that someone of your long experience would serve as an excellent teacher for an individual in my position.

Personnel, Steubing spat, clearly not liking the taste of the word. "They don’t really give a crap who they send where, as long as slots get filled. Tecumseh is more discriminating about its cadre."

He narrowed his eyes at the young officer in front of him. You believe that I should teach you to be the first officer of this ship, do you?

 "Sir, I have been assured that is what Personnel believes. My beliefs in the matter are irrelevant, at this point."

Damn straight. Steubing stared at Sydney for a long moment, silent, brown eyes blank beneath a carefully groomed head of coal-black hair, his sculptured features unreadable. "So tell me, Commander, why should I believe you’re any more trainable than a hound dog? Why should I spend my time and energy doing that?"

Sydney fought hard against the urge to gulp before she answered. Well, sir, I would venture to suggest that offering me guidance in the particulars of serving as executive officer of a vessel of this size would allow you the opportunity to extend your well-known propensity for an efficiently-run ship unto a new generation of officers. I might also suggest, sir, that — at least in the short term — teaching me to do things your way will smooth my transition into the position that Commander Manion filled so ably for the past five years.

Sydney paused a moment before adding, "Sir, I am fully conversant with the duties and responsibilities of an exec according to the book. I am also quite aware that ‘the book’ and the reality of actual service are frequently at odds. You are someone who has not only served as a first officer, you have also commanded first officers. That experience would be priceless to me."

The captain sat back in his chair, allowing his features to slowly turn from blank to thoughtful. Not bad, Commander Chambers, he commented after a moment, his voice droll. That was a nice suck-up.

Sir, sucking up wasn’t my intention —

Of course it was, Commander, the captain overrode her protest. In your position, I’d do the same thing. I can’t help but notice, though, that you didn’t hit me with the one fact more compelling than any other.

Sydney snapped her mouth shut as she felt a chill run down her spine, managing only by sheer dent of will to retain her outward calm. Sir?

I’m stuck with you, whether I like it or not.

Steubing quirked his mouth into the semblance of a smile and allowed a small portion of it to reach his eyes. Perhaps, in fairness, it might be better to say that we are stuck with each other, Commander, for better or for worse. When his new officer didn’t seem to relax, the captain forced a full smile onto his face and even chuckled softly.

Lighten up, Commander. I have yet to kill a junior officer in cold blood, not even by accident ... and you have sufficient rank to make working you to death more than a little awkward to explain to Command. So, we will work together and we will get along. That, Commander Chambers, is both a promise ... and an order.

Sydney finally allowed herself to relax slightly. Thank you, sir.

That being said, Steubing continued, "you will find that ‘the book’ with which you are so conversant definitely does not cover much of the reality of being First Officer of the Tecumseh. For one thing, I tend to be independent in extremis regarding decisions involving my ship and the people on my ship. What that means is, I expect you to manage the duty roster. I expect you to handle matters with enlisted crew and with anyone below lieutenant, on your own, just as ‘the book’ describes. Do not expect to be consulted about matters involving any other personnel; you will definitely not be asked about anything to do with ship functions or command decisions. I’m not interested in your opinions, I won’t ask for them and I don’t expect them to be offered. Clear?"

The chill was back in Sydney’s spine. Yes, sir.

Steubing’s eyes sparkled as they remained fixed on his new officer, but there wasn’t the smallest touch of humor behind the effect.

Oh, buck up, Commander, the captain grumbled, "I gave the same speech to Al Manion when he first reported to me, and to the man who came before him as well. That’s just the way I run this ship. It has nothing to do with you as a person or your lack of experience as a commander.

Plus, Steubing added, for the first time sounding slightly conciliatory, "if you do your work well and learn fast, then you never know. I just might ask for your opinion somewhere down the road. Don’t hold your breath, of course, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. I’m not a fool; I’ve read your record. I understand that, in the fullness of time, you will likely have something to offer that might merit my consideration.

"For now, go get yourself settled. You’ll find the crew roster and the current duty lists on the terminal in your quarters. The current duty list is good through end of week, so you’ve got a couple of days before you need to post your first attempt. I expect you at my table in the officers’ mess tonight, seventeen hundred sharp, so I can formally introduce you to the rest of the command staff. After tonight you’re on your own as to where you sit or if you even eat in the mess. Beginning tomorrow you’ll take second watch on the bridge — that’s sixteen hundred to midnight; we run traditional tours on the Tecumseh, not like some of the fancy ships where your record indicates you’ve served.

Now, get out of here, Commander. You’re dismissed until mess call.

Sydney offered a formal salute. Yes, sir, she nearly snapped, then turned and exited the captain’s office as gracefully as she could. As Steubing watched her go he felt his jaw clench in anger at the drones in personnel who had cut Sydney’s orders — and at the incessant Confederacy-wide budget cuts that had likely been the driving force behind those orders.

Kee-rist in a straitjacket, the captain thought to himself. Not only a rookie, but a spick-and-span clean one with a stick up her ass and ties to the Admiralty. What a fine kettle of fish we’re going to face every time we have to make a pickup or delivery.

He toggled his intercom to summon Tom Spencer, his second officer and surviving partner in the Tecumseh’s decidedly unsanctioned side business, for a strategy session.

2

... they had essentially no oxygen left when we got to them, Manager. Bart Jurgens, director of Arega Shipping Lines Ltd., continued to glare at Walter Rudolph, manager of Outpost Station and senior representative of the Terran Confederacy to 16 Cygni. "Not to mention they were all more than a little bit hungry. We stock water in those lockdowns, Manager, but not much in the way of food — most pirate strikes last only an hour or so. These people were stuck in there for days. The ship itself was holed in three places; it’s a complete loss. The salvage value of the metal will barely cover the cost of towing it in. Of course, the cargo was completely gone.

While I admit that this is by far the worst case that we’ve had in recent months, I can’t emphasize enough that it’s only the tip of the iceberg. It’s a rare cargo that goes through untouched anymore. We can’t take it any longer. Not only are we losing cargos, we came close to losing lives on this one. We’ve definitely started to lose crews — spacers are refusing to fly the rigs until something is done.

Walter Rudolph settled back in his chair, sighing lightly as he cast his eyes about his office. The number of Cygni industrialists gathered there was unprecedented — leaders of shipping, mining, and manufacturing, from all four inhabited worlds of Cygni’s three stars. Moreover, all of them were clamoring for action.

The problem, to Rudolph’s mind, was that none of them realized just how little he could do.

So what is it you want from me, gentlemen, ladies?

Ships! The voice from the back of the gathering was quickly followed by several calls of Here, here, and Right! The man standing directly in front of Rudolph’s desk, though, shook his head.

No, we can build our own ships, Jurgens said, turning to look at his fellow scions of industry. I told you we have to ask for the moon here, people. He turned back to face Rudolph one more. We need the one thing that this system can’t supply for itself, Manager Rudolph. The one thing the Confederacy has sole authority over. We need the military. We need the navy here to patrol our spaceways.

Rudolph was silent a moment. You want me to request a TSM flythrough?

No, you’re not quite understanding, came a woman voice. "We can’t settle for anything that temporary — the bastards will just crawl back out of the woodwork when the fleet leaves again. What we need is a naval presence. Ships stationed here permanently. As many as they can send." Rudolph looked past Jurgens to find Rachel Heinz of A2 Mining Enterprises taking a step toward him.

Heinz’s words were greeted with nods and a strong rumble of agreement. The manager let the noise die down before looking back at Bart Jurgens, who had arranged for the meeting and was the unofficial spokesperson for the group.

Is that what you’re asking for?

Jurgens nodded. Yeah, Rachel said it right. Manager, it doesn’t seem like too much to ask, he said, frustration resounding in his words. We pay our taxes. We pay more than our share of duties on shipping both in and out of Cygni. Every other member system gets Confederacy and TSM support. Why don’t we?

Could have something to do with the fact that we’re out here in the boondocks, Rudolph said. God lost his pants when he last visited 16 Cygni and was too embarrassed to ask the TSM to come and look for ’em.

Are you saying —

No, of course not. Rudolph cut Heinz’s sputter off before she could get wound up. "But you have to remember that Cygni is not a full member state of the Confederacy, not yet. That’s a big hurdle in something like this. You people have stuffed the ballot box every time full membership’s come up for consideration, voting it down like a curse. You say that you love your freedom and your independence. Well, pirates love their freedom and independence, too. If you keep yours, you’ve got to expect them to want to keep theirs. Someday you’re going to have to bite the bullet and understand that one leads to the other.

"Oh, I’ll send on the request, of course. I can try to sell it as stopping the pirates before they spread to other systems that are full members. I wouldn’t set my hopes too high, though, if I were you, folks. TSM is not going to send in the whole fleet, not even a small part of it. Speaking of which, what kind of help are you saying I should ask for? A ship for each star?