Read Online Lt. Leary, Commanding by David Drake - Free Book Online
Authors: David Drake
Tags: Science-Fiction
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a laugh so loud that it trailed off into coughing. He slapped his desk again and said, "As all Cinnabar knows, lad, you matched her against a cruiser that was miles beyond her class. Oh, I know, you had luck to pull it off. I didn't make it to this office without knowing what luck was, I assure you. But you had balls enough to try, and that's the first requirement for a good officer."
"Admiral, please . . . " Whately said. He'd breezed in initially with the authority of Lady Anston. If that wasn't sufficient, he was likely to be ground to dust between her and the admiral.
"Yes, yes," Anston said, rising from his chair again. "I just wanted to meet Leary here. Leary, Klemsch will take care of you while I go pretend I see more in a line of bronze statues than so many bearings gone bad."
He walked Daniel into the outer office. Whately already had the door open and was hovering by it, a wraith of the self-important fellow who'd bustled in minutes before.
Daniel didn't understand what had just happened— any of the things that had just happened—but there didn't seem to be any advantage in commenting on the fact to Mr. Klemsch. He therefore said as the door closed behind Anston, "I'm requesting a twelve-hour draft of sixty ratings while I test the Princess Cecile before turning her over as ready for service."
The forty Sissies—former Aggies from the communications vessel Aglaia , aboard to handle the refit—were all experienced spacers. With them as a core, the corvette would be able to function even if the rest of the crew were ten-thumbed landsmen . . . which would very probably be the case.
Klemsch typed at a sheet of boron monocrystal marked with symbols. Daniel didn't recall seeing a physical keyboard like that in service anywhere within the RCN: the volume within a warship was too short to dedicate any of it to uses that could be accomplished by holograms. Klemsch's eccentricity would subtly disquiet any spacer who dealt with him, Daniel included.
But Daniel's passion for natural history disposed him to view the mechanisms at work within and among living entities. He recognized why the keyboard bothered him—and grinned broadly. It wasn't as though anything so minor as that was going to affect him in the present circumstances.
"The admiral has passed the Princess Cecile for service," Klemsch said as he typed. "You're to work her up in the course of your service cruise."
The printer whirred, extruding and clipping off a sheet of flimsy. Klemsch handed the document to Daniel.
"This appoints you captain of the Princess Cecile ," the clerk said. His expression was perfectly deadpan, but it covered a sardonic grin as surely as flesh did his cheekbones. "You'll have to pardon the informality, but the stress of events prevents me from having it done with the proper seals and ribbons. You're to arrange for a full crew on long-term recruitment."
He cleared his throat. "Your orders give you authority to accept volunteers from any RCN vessel on Cinnabar, whether or not the volunteer's present commander acquiesces."
"Good God!" Daniel said; the phrase was getting to be a habit today, and this time he'd blurted it aloud.
He wasn't an unduly boastful man, but he'd brought the Aglaia 's crew back from a disaster and filled their pockets with prize money. Spacers preferred to serve beneath lucky officers than able ones, though Daniel hoped the Aggies and everyone they talked to thought Lt. Leary was pretty damned able as well. If he was allowed to recruit under those terms, he'd get the pick of the RCN.
By God! He'd get back the crew that fought the Princess Cecile on Kostroma, barring those few spacers posted to vessels which had lifted during the corvette's refit!
"Ah," Daniel said. "I'm very grateful for these orders, Mr. Klemsch, very grateful. But can you tell me what the, ah, reason for them might be?"
The clerk looked up coldly. "Do I care to speculate as to Admiral Anston's motives, you mean, Lieutenant? No, I
"Admiral, please . . . " Whately said. He'd breezed in initially with the authority of Lady Anston. If that wasn't sufficient, he was likely to be ground to dust between her and the admiral.
"Yes, yes," Anston said, rising from his chair again. "I just wanted to meet Leary here. Leary, Klemsch will take care of you while I go pretend I see more in a line of bronze statues than so many bearings gone bad."
He walked Daniel into the outer office. Whately already had the door open and was hovering by it, a wraith of the self-important fellow who'd bustled in minutes before.
Daniel didn't understand what had just happened— any of the things that had just happened—but there didn't seem to be any advantage in commenting on the fact to Mr. Klemsch. He therefore said as the door closed behind Anston, "I'm requesting a twelve-hour draft of sixty ratings while I test the Princess Cecile before turning her over as ready for service."
The forty Sissies—former Aggies from the communications vessel Aglaia , aboard to handle the refit—were all experienced spacers. With them as a core, the corvette would be able to function even if the rest of the crew were ten-thumbed landsmen . . . which would very probably be the case.
Klemsch typed at a sheet of boron monocrystal marked with symbols. Daniel didn't recall seeing a physical keyboard like that in service anywhere within the RCN: the volume within a warship was too short to dedicate any of it to uses that could be accomplished by holograms. Klemsch's eccentricity would subtly disquiet any spacer who dealt with him, Daniel included.
But Daniel's passion for natural history disposed him to view the mechanisms at work within and among living entities. He recognized why the keyboard bothered him—and grinned broadly. It wasn't as though anything so minor as that was going to affect him in the present circumstances.
"The admiral has passed the Princess Cecile for service," Klemsch said as he typed. "You're to work her up in the course of your service cruise."
The printer whirred, extruding and clipping off a sheet of flimsy. Klemsch handed the document to Daniel.
"This appoints you captain of the Princess Cecile ," the clerk said. His expression was perfectly deadpan, but it covered a sardonic grin as surely as flesh did his cheekbones. "You'll have to pardon the informality, but the stress of events prevents me from having it done with the proper seals and ribbons. You're to arrange for a full crew on long-term recruitment."
He cleared his throat. "Your orders give you authority to accept volunteers from any RCN vessel on Cinnabar, whether or not the volunteer's present commander acquiesces."
"Good God!" Daniel said; the phrase was getting to be a habit today, and this time he'd blurted it aloud.
He wasn't an unduly boastful man, but he'd brought the Aglaia 's crew back from a disaster and filled their pockets with prize money. Spacers preferred to serve beneath lucky officers than able ones, though Daniel hoped the Aggies and everyone they talked to thought Lt. Leary was pretty damned able as well. If he was allowed to recruit under those terms, he'd get the pick of the RCN.
By God! He'd get back the crew that fought the Princess Cecile on Kostroma, barring those few spacers posted to vessels which had lifted during the corvette's refit!
"Ah," Daniel said. "I'm very grateful for these orders, Mr. Klemsch, very grateful. But can you tell me what the, ah, reason for them might be?"
The clerk looked up coldly. "Do I care to speculate as to Admiral Anston's motives, you mean, Lieutenant? No, I
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