34
Kris took a moment to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Once again, she’d expected one thing and was being handed another. Colonel Cortez was right; she needed a new mind-set. She reached for the top flimsy. It named a certain Edmond Drago and activated his reserve commission . . . as a lieutenant.
“I thought you were a captain the last time your reserve commission was activated?” Kris said.
“I was. But the last time we were at Wardhaven, with you promoted to lieutenant commander, I rearranged all our reserve commissions. My crew now are all lieutenants . . . or junior.”
Kris glanced up at Captain Drago. Or Lieutenant Dragoto-be. “Why the cut in pay?”
“None of us thought we should outrank you, Commodore.”
“Outrank me.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re the captain of Wasp as soon as you sign those papers.”
Kris put the papers down on the table beside her. “Sit down, Captain. What’s going on here?”
“As I said, Kris, we’re going into a fight. Call us old-fashioned, me and my crew, but if we’re going to fight the king’s fight, we ought to wear the king’s colors. It’s been that way for several thousand years. This idea of taking the king’s coin and doing it as a civilian contractor just doesn’t have the right taste to it for me. Others may disagree. That’s their right. Me and mine, no, Your Highness. If we’re to fight, give us our blue and gold.”
“It’s not like these hostiles will follow the rules of war,” Kris said. “I don’t think it will matter all that much to them whether they capture you in uniform or in your underwear.”
“Given my choice, I’d rather not be captured at all by these murderers,” Drago said. “However, as I said. We’re old-fashioned. This isn’t one of your not-quite-a-real-war things that you’ve taken us to. They were fun little parties. Fine way to pass the time of day when things were dull. This is the real thing. A knock-down, drag-out brawl.
“We talked it over among ourselves. For this, we follow the flag, and we want our proper uniforms.”
Kris nodded, leafing through the forms. One after another, lieutenant, lieutenant, lieutenant.
Kris laid them out flat and rested her hand on them. “Captain, I can’t tell you that I don’t want to command the Wasp. This weird lash-up we’ve made of the chain of command has never been satisfying.”
Kris paused to shake her head. “However, I’ve got a problem with this. In the right here and now.”
“Just one problem?” Captain Drago said, raising an expressive eyebrow.
“Somewhere I heard that you train the way you’ll fight. Then you fight the way you trained. Did I get the expression right, Colonel?”
“I can give it to you in the original Greek,” the colonel said. “It goes back quite a ways. Good idea, too.”
The present skipper of the Wasp nodded. “I’ve heard it, too.”
“If I take the captain’s seat, who takes my chair at Weapons?” Kris asked.
“The lieutenant here,” the skipper said, nodding at Penny.
Penny shook her head. “No way I and Mimzy can handle weapons as well as Kris and Nelly. Sorry. You order us. We’ll try. But we’d be kidding ourselves that I could do in a pinch as well as those two.”
Kris let that hang in the air for a few moments, then reached for the form activating Drago’s commission.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Kris said. “You’ve arranged that I can’t commission you or any of your crew as anything but lieutenant. I’ll do that,” Kris said, signing the order. “Wear the uniform proudly.”
“And at a much lower pay,” Drago whispered under his breath.
“But, here’s the way we fight the Wasp.” Kris went on. “You have the captain’s chair. I have the Weapons station. We’ve got a pretty good record of getting things done that way. I don’t see us having any problems doing things that way in the coming fight. Do you?”
“I think we’re all used to doing it that way. I don’t foresee any problems we can’t handle.”
“Good,” Kris said, and got busy signing papers. One brought her up short. “Cookie is an officer! The cook is at least a lieutenant?” She looked at Drago.
“A very good officer, ma’am. I learned more about being a junior officer under his command than I thought was possible.”
“What rank did he retire at?”
“You’ll have to ask him. He swore me to secrecy when I took him on board.”
“He’s a great cook,” Abby said, “whatever he did for the Navy.”
“That he is, folks,” Drago agreed. “It was always a hobby of his. He promised me when he signed on that he’d do better than best for us, and he has.”
“Cookie’s an officer,” Kris muttered as she signed the papers putting him back in a lieutenant’s uniform. She seriously doubted it would fit him. He was a wondrous cook, and he did enjoy what he baked.
“And if anything happens to me, and he offers you a suggestion, Commodore, I’d take it under careful advisement.”
“I think I will,” Kris said, signing form after form. No surprise, most of her enlisted personnel were senior chiefs. Done, she handed the stack back to the newly minted Lieutenant Drago.
“Tell me, Edmond. What rank were you when you signed on to run this zoo?”
The skipper of the Wasp grinned. “I’d just been selected for rear admiral. Had my orders, too. A desk. Ugh. A stranger took me out for a drink and offered me a chance to chauffeur a Longknife cub around the galaxy. You’d have to be crazy not to grab for that kind of a billet.”
“You’d have to be crazy to take it,” Abby and Jack said at the same time.
“That, too,” Drago agreed. “Anyway, there’s never been a dull moment, and there doesn’t look to be any on the horizon. Now, Your Highness, if you don’t mind, I have a ship to prepare for one hell of a fight.”
“Whether it’s yours or mine, yes,” Kris said.
“It may be mine in the fight, but it will be yours in the history books,” he said with a well-practiced salute. With a snappy about-face, he headed back to his bridge.