By the one month mark, Nila was becoming weaker. She frequently had to stop her work to rest, and on particularly bad days she couldn’t even make herself leave her stateroom to cross to the bio lab.
The mood aboard Starhopper was somber. Nila obviously had at most only a few weeks to live. Ro-Lecton’s pace became frantic, and it was a constant struggle to get him to leave the bio lab at all. When he was found hunched asleep over a microviewer, Kas decided enough was enough. He called the little doctor to his cabin.
Ro-Lecton was angry at being forced to leave the bio lab. He was also badly worried, scared, and exhausted.
Kas shook his head. “Doctor, this won’t do. You are Nila’s best hope, and you’re hurting her chances by behaving like an idiot.”
The little man’s eyes blazed. “I can’t just let her die!”
“No, you can’t,” Kas replied. “But you can’t save her the way you’re going. Falling asleep over a microviewer! Ridiculous. That’s for interns, not a seasoned researcher like you.”
Ro-Lecton frowned. “But…”
“But nothing!” Kas flipped a switch. “Rom, would you come in, please?”
Ro-Lecton was looking worried, now. He obviously remembered the last time Kas had called Rom to his cabin.
“Now, Doctor,” Kas resumed, “Rom is going to escort you to your quarters. Then he’s going to give you an injection from the ship’s medical stores. Then you’re going to sleep for about twenty hours.
“When you wake up, you will eat, and then return to your lab. I want you to re-run every test you’ve run in the last forty-eight hours. But this time you’ll run them fresh and alert, instead of dull and exhausted.”
Ro-Lecton’s protests were heartfelt, but in his exhausted state they weren’t very emphatic. He put up only weak resistance as Rom marched him to his quarters and gave him the injection.
As luck would have it, the crew was at supper when a clean and freshly-depilated Ro-Lecton appeared. He seemed considerably refreshed, almost cheerful. “Commodore, I…” he began, then noticed the large viewscreen mounted on one bulkhead, displaying Nila’s image. Edro had set up the screen so that Nila’s table seemed a continuation of Starhopper ’s messroom table. Similar care had been taken with the image Nila received. If one didn’t closely examine his surroundings, it was easy to feel as though she were joining them.
Her evident presence jolted Ro-Lecton. “Nila!.. uh, Doctor Kor-Nashta!” He hesitated. “Uh, Good morning, Doctor. You’re looking a bit better.”
Nila’s pale, drawn features relaxed into a weary half-smile. “And you’re looking much better, sir. I’d heard the Commodore had been bullying you again. By the way it’s evening, ship time.”
“Err, yes.” Ro-Lecton struggled to regain his equilibrium. “Well, I’ll be right down. I’ve had some thoughts, and we have a lot of work to do.”
“Yes, he’ll be right down,” Kas interrupted. “As soon as he’s eaten.”
Ro-Lecton started to protest, then relaxed as Nila hurriedly replied, “Of course, Commodore. Is there anything we can do to get things rolling until you get here, Doctor?”
Ro-Lecton swung his head from Kas to Nila’s image. “Don’t think I don’t know that you two are conspiring,” he began. Then his scowl lightened and he sighed. “However I suppose I must tolerate it. Very well, Nil… uh, Doctor. Please have the staff assemble all my lab notes from the last ninety-six hours. There was something in there.. and there was something you said a few days ago about the old records.” Nila looked surprised. “Me? What did I say?”
Ro-Lecton’s frown was back. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. But when I woke up just now, I realized that something I was working on fit with something you said about the old records.”
“Enough!” Kas put in. “Rom, get the doctor a tray. Doctor, I’m going to stay right here and watch until you consume at least five hundred calories. And Doctor Kor-Nashta, please refrain from any more shop talk until the Doctor has eaten.”
Ro-Lecton dropped into a chair with a wounded expression but without another word. Rom slid a tray in front of him, and after a moment, the little man began wolfing down the food.
Nila smiled fondly at Ro-Lecton, who didn’t notice. “I’ll have everything ready for you when you get here, Doctor,” she said. She struggled weakly to her feet, and tottered out of the camera’s range to begin the preparations.
Ro-Lecton looked up from his empty tray and glared at Kas. “I assume I may finally get to the lab, Commodore,” he said in an angry tone.
Kas smiled innocently. “Of course, Doctor. And I hope your thoughts lead to a solution.”
Ro-Lecton grunted wordlessly and stamped out of the messroom. Over the next few days Nila reported what she called “real progress”. But time was rapidly running out. She could barely drag herself into the lab anymore. And more and more often she was turning off the viewscreen, no longer joining the crew for meals. She obviously had only days left.
So, Kas was surprised when Ro-Lecton appeared at his cabin door. “I’m here to give you a progress report, Commodore,” he began.
Kas ushered him in immediately. “Please tell me you’ve made some. Progress, I mean.”
Ro-Lecton nodded. “I think so. That is, I hope so. That’s why I’m here. I was right, you know. I did see something; and combined with something Nila… uh, Doctor Kor-Nashta noticed in the old records, we had a lead. I’m ready to synthesize a serum. But I have a problem. I need a sterile environment to make it. Normally, I’d simply depressurize the lab for a few hours, then repressurize it and proceed. But Nila’s… Doctor Kor-Nashta’s presence makes that impossible, of course.”
Kas frowned. “Does creating this serum require the presence of the active plague, or whatever it is?”
The doctor nodded. “I’m afraid so. That means that I can’t make it aboard this ship. The big ship has the facilities, of course, but is in vacuum at absolute zero. You see my problem. And I’m running out of time, if I’m to have any hope of saving Nila’s… Doctor Kor-Nashta’s life.” Kas called Rom and Toj to his cabin, and they worked on a solution. It would take too long to insulate the lab on the Rekesh so that its temperature could be raised from the absolute cold of space to a temperature suitable for cultivating a serum, even if Kas agreed to permit that compartment to be pressurized. And even Ro-Lecton didn’t suggest bringing live plague aboard Starhopper.
Finally Rom said, “Well, we’ve already stripped a food synthesizer from the Rekesh ’s cutter. Doctor, how much room would you need?”
The man shrugged. “Not a lot. Two meters by two, perhaps. Just enough for a microviewer, a centrifuge and a small incubation unit.”
Rom nodded and turned to Kas. “Sir, suppose we just put the stuff into that cutter. Then we can power up life support, and the doctor, here, can make his bug, or serum or whatever he needs.”
Kas frowned. “But we’d be contaminating the cutter.”
Rom shrugged. “So we have to power it up and vector it into the sun afterward. The doctor will have his sterile environment.”
“Yes!” Ro-Lecton added, “And we wouldn’t be contaminating this.. cutter. I’m certain now that the plague is airborne. This ‘cutter’ is a small ship, yes?”
Kas nodded. “It’d be cramped. And I’m not certain that the Emperor would approve of us throwing his property into the sun. But…”
Toj snickered. “Unless the doctor comes up with something, we’re going to have to push a whole battle cruiser into the sun. I suspect the Emperor would consider it a good investment, if it leads to a serum.”
Kas chuckled. “You’re right, of course. All right. Toj, Rom, use the biggest shuttle aboard the Rekesh. Gather all the equipment Doctor Ro-Lecton needs and get it over there. Let’s get moving. Doctor Kor-Nashta’s life is at stake.”
Everyone aboard wanted to help; it was heartbreaking watching Nila slowly die. The shuttle was flown from Rekesh ’s hangar bay to Starhopper ’s hold. Even with the lasers partly withdrawn it didn’t fit within the hold, but they tethered it with its hatch slightly inside the cargo bay. Since life support was started as soon as the shuttle was powered up, it was ready in less than two hours.
Less than four hours after that, Ro-Lecton emerged from the shuttle with a small vial. He hurried straight to the bio lab with it, cursing every moment of the delay as he skinned out of the space suit and into an isolation suit.
Pride had made Nila struggle from her bunk to meet Ro-Lecton at the door of her stateroom. Everyone aboard Starhopper watched tensely as Nila was injected with the serum.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. The tension was palpable. The crew and medical staff were quiet, subdued. Conversation was limited to monosyllables as everyone was preoccupied, waiting to learn Nila’s fate.
After an hour, they learned that Nila was unconscious. The crew was worried, but the medical staff assured them that was an expected result, as her body marshaled its defenses to fight off the plague. No one was much reassured.
No one slept well, but it was next morning before the news came. Nila’s fever had broken. Ro-Lecton himself made the announcement.
“This doesn’t signal that she’ll recover,” he said, “but it’s a very hopeful sign. By tomorrow we should know more.” Groans of disappointment resounded throughout Starhopper.
But the improvement continued. By the third day Nila was demanding food. By the fifth, she was able to stand, weakly, and on the sixth, she once again joined the crew for dinner by viewscreen. Everyone examined her image worriedly. They were reassured. The dark hollows around her eyes were beginning to fill, as were her sallow cheeks. Her pallor was beginning to fade. Her meal consisted of a thin gruel, and she had to disconnect after only fifteen minutes, but it was enough. They had all seen that Nila was definitely recovering. The relief was as palpable as the earlier tension had been. Bowing to the inevitable, Kas declared the next day a holiday, and the messroom became the site of an impromptu celebration. A supply of medical alcohol appeared from somewhere — Kas didn’t dare ask — and the party grew raucous, especially after Nila appeared by viewscreen and joined the festivities for a few minutes.
Despite fighting a monumental hangover Kas waylaid Ro-Lecton on his way to the bio lab the next morning.
“Well, Doctor,” he began, “Your serum appears to work. Is it a treatment or a preventative?”
Ro-Lecton shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It may be both. Please don’t expect a magic bullet within a day or two.”
Kas shook his head. “That’s just what I have to expect, Doctor. I need a vaccine so we can begin thawing crewmembers and working on the Rekesh. I’ve explained the urgency to you before. Well, it’s no less urgent now. We’ve been here for almost three months. During all that time people have been scouring unsettled systems for us. At any moment the buoy we concealed at the jump point may go off. And what if the one we know is not the only jump point in the system? Either way, we could find ourselves having to try to fight a battle cruiser with six people.”
Ro-Lecton frowned. “But Commodore, the success with Nila… Doctor Kor-Nashta was almost pure luck borne of desperation. We still don’t know the treatment is safe. There are tests, limited trials.. it could take months to get a vaccine ready.”
Kas shook his head again. “I’m afraid not, Doctor. Your tests and limited trials will have to be carried on simultaneously — on us. You have a week to make sure your serum won’t kill a healthy man or woman, Doctor. Then we begin inoculating our crew and yours, and begin awakening the sleepers.”
Ro-Lecton looked scandalized. “There’s no way I can be certain there won’t be violent reactions, side effects…”
Kas shrugged. “True. But you have a fifteen-person medical team to deal with those problems, Doctor. Up ‘til now, you’ve been laboratory research scientists. But your people are also qualified physicians and med techs. We can no longer afford to work on a research basis.”
“But the risks…” the Doctor protested, though in a weaker tone.
“This is a Fleet crew. We’re paid to take risks. One week, Doctor. Then I get the first injection.”
Ro-Lecton was clearly unhappy about it, but he finally assented.
Having tracked down all the weapons they could find, Kas’ crew was now scouring the Rekesh for stills and drug labs. They’d found and destroyed seven stills and two drug labs, but Kas knew there were probably at least that many more left to find. Nila’s recovery had raised morale considerably, but scouring the huge ship in suits was still exhausting work. Kas was tempted to wait until the week he’d given Ro-Lecton was up, then seal the Rekesh and reactivate life support. But, he reminded himself, Ro-Lecton couldn’t be positive the infective agent was airborne. Nor was the little doctor certain his serum was effective. At any rate, he decided to keep them searching in suits until they began awakening sleepers. Once the reviving began there would be time to bring the big ship back to life.
Ro-Lecton might disagree with Kas’ decision to begin inoculations, but on the appointed day an adequate supply of vaccine was on hand. The medical staff administered it to themselves and Starhopper ’s crew without protest.
Contrary to carefully-contrived appearance, the cold sleep cabinets had been laid out to permit the orderly revival of their occupants. Closest to the sick bay had been the medical people, of course. Then came the officers and petty officers, then the civilian techs, and finally the bulk of the crewpeople. While Gran, Tera, Lady Jane and Lar began reviving officers, Kas, Rom, Toj, and Edro began working to awaken the Vir Rekesh. With the central AI disabled or dead, this meant lighting off several fusactors and activating six distributed comps. Slowly, slowly, the big ship began coming back to life. Kas took advantage of the activation of the supply comps, and located uniforms for himself and Starhopper ’s crew. By the time there was atmosphere throughout the ship and a livable temperature was being maintained, all of the officers and senior petty officers had been revived.
Leadership aboard a Fleet ship was always problematic. Fleet officers might be members of planetary elites, but Fleet ratings were usually gutter-sweepings and street toughs — uneducated and largely uncivilized. Many were felons given a choice between confinement and enlistment in the Fleet.
The Fleet took them, and ran them through Fleet or Marine boot camps. There systematic brutality routinely broke their spirits and then rebuilt them as sailors or marines. They entered the Fleet machine as misfits — they came out Fleet.
But that didn’t mean they became robots. Any Fleet crew could be expected to take advantage of any opportunity to set up and run at least one still to produce alcoholic beverages, and fighting was almost inevitable. In this case, there were sure to be stills and perhaps even drug labs scattered all over the huge battle cruiser despite Fan-Jertril’s efforts. After all, he’d had other priorities — still- busting had been low on the list.
But the men in cold sleep aboard Starhopper wouldn’t be in a life-or-death situation. They’d climbed into cold-sleep cabinets at the shipyard on Prime, and would awaken to be shuttled almost immediately to the huge ship. There was no dedication to the mission, no involvement in its earlier phases. They would be unfamiliar with and unknown to their officers and petty officers. They would be, in other words, a typical Fleet crew. Given the Fleet’s habit of selling commissions, discipline was always rather a hit-or-miss affair. Some officers took their leadership training seriously, and enforced discipline rigorously. Some carried it too far and became martinets. But most simply left discipline to the senior petty officers.
Those petty officers, of course, were usually well aware of the caliber of their officers. Some responded by ignoring their officers, and enforcing discipline in their own way, often brutally. A small minority, becoming angry with officers that refused to lead, simply went limp, and allowed their troops to do as they pleased. These few usually found out that while the Fleet might tolerate incompetent officers, it would not tolerate incompetent or ineffective senior petty officers. If their compatriots didn’t set them straight in an unofficial — if brutal — way, they usually found themselves coming to the attention of ever-more-senior officers until they either responded or were cashiered.
It this case no one knew anyone. Kas had no idea which officers, if any, were competent. How many were prejudiced against outerworlders? He’d been promised that they were all technically competent. But that didn’t mean that they would be effective officers and leaders. How many would be petty tyrants? How many ditherers running to him with every decision? How many foppish dilettantes?
The greatest threat to Kas’ mission was not the Alliance or the Glory or any external force. It wasn’t even the plague. If Ro-Lecton had failed, Kas would simply have pushed the Rekesh into an orbit terminating in the system’s sun. No, the biggest challenge was the combination of a Fleet crew and the weapons, drug labs and stills aboard the derelict.
As soon as the last of the petty officers had been awakened, Kas called them and the officers together for a briefing.
“We didn’t have time for a detailed briefing on Prime,” he began, “so I’ll do it now.
“In case you’ve forgotten or didn’t know, I’m Kas Preslin. Yes, that Preslin, the one who had the, uh, rather spirited discussion with Admiral Lu-Jenks. Since it was common gossip throughout the Fleet, I imagine most of you know the story.
“The obvious next question is why I’m out here wearing a star instead of cashiered or hanged.” He shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that it was Fleet Grand Admiral Pankin’s decision.” He smiled slightly. “Now I don’t disagree with his decision, of course. But some of you might. To you I say ‘that’s too bad’. I’m here, you’re here, and you’re under my command. Any officer that I find is not behaving in the best traditions of the Fleet, and doing their best for this mission, will find himself popped back into cold sleep. Petty officers will find themselves broken to common spaceman, and wearing lash stripes.
“If I find that you’re actively hampering the success of this mission, I won’t bother with cold sleep. I’ll space you. Consider yourselves warned and pass the warning along to your ratings.
“Now,” he continued, “Each of you and each of the ratings assigned to this mission were hand-picked by Grand Admiral Pankin’s Chief of Staff. That means that technically, you and they are the cream of the Fleet, the best. I’m proud to have you with me on this mission.
“But we all know there’s more to a crew than technical expertise. An outstanding gunner, for instance, can be a disciplinary disaster off-duty. So don’t assume your people are some sort of elite. You will have to be very watchful. There are some special circumstances on this mission that make vigilance especially important.”
He went on to repeat the story of the Vir Rekesh. There was dead silence in the crowded messroom as he recounted the mutinies, the fighting, the despair, and the heroism of the battle cruiser’s crew. “You have all been vaccinated against the plague,” he continued. “But there’s no inoculation against disciplinary failure and mutiny. We cannot conceal the signs of fighting aboard the Rekesh, and mutiny is contagious. All of you, officers and petty officers alike, will be expected to keep a close eye on those around you and under you. Report suspicions, so they can be investigated. Don’t wait for evidence; that evidence might turn out to be a homemade knife stabbing into your back some off-watch. You heard me mention two mutinies, and a lot of fighting. Starhopper ’s crew has spent the last two months in suits, scouring the Rekesh for weapons and disposing of every one we found. We got rid of hundreds of them, but no one is prepared to bet we’ve found them all.
“Then there are the stills and drug labs. You’re going to see the remains of the biggest, longest party in the history of the Fleet. It went on for weeks, and covered most of the ship.
“We will be running, and maybe even fighting a battle cruiser with only three hundred officers and crew, less than a tenth of her full complement. We will also be saddled with a bunch of civilian techs that will be repairing her enroute. Her central AI has been shut down. Her astrogational comps have been destroyed. We’ve brought spares, and the civilians will be installing them. Then, of course, there are the doctors and med techs that came up with the cure for the plague. In other words, you’re going to have civilians underfoot. And no, I won’t make them go back into cold sleep when they’ve finished their work. We may need them or their expertise. In an emergency, some of them might even be able to serve as crew.”
Kas turned to the petty officers. “You petty officers have a tough job ahead of you. When you go aboard the Rekesh you’re going to see a total mess. There are passages literally covered in dried blood. With life support restored, there will be bits of flesh rotting. The stench will be bad until we get her cleaned up. But that’s not the worst.
“There’s a cargo net in her hangar bay that’s full of some three thousand bodies. Some of them are pretty horrible and all are in various stages of decomposition. The Rekesh ’s hangar deck will be left open to space for the trip home to prevent further decay. But that’s not the worst, either.
“No, the worst is the combination of weapons, drugs, and booze. I want you to let your people know that anyone caught with a weapon will be given a drumhead court-martial and executed. Anyone caught drunk or stoned will be given lashes — lots of them. We can’t tolerate even a single lapse of discipline.”
He shrugged. “But we can’t tolerate losing crew people, either. Even if most of the civilians volunteer to serve as temporary crew, we’ll be trying to run the Rekesh very short-handed.
“Every man or woman I’m forced to execute is one less to help us fight if we’re attacked. Every one I’m forced to flog is unable to function for days. We simply can’t afford it.
“So, I’m depending on you officers and petty officers to keep that from happening. I expect you officers to give your petty officers quite a bit of latitude when it comes to unofficial discipline. Ignore cuts, bruises and black eyes unless you feel they’re becoming too frequent. Give your petty officers room to work.” An enthusiastic rumble began among the petty officers, though a number of the officers were frowning.
Kas raised a hand. “Don’t get too excited, you petty officers,” he continued. “Yes, you’ll have as much support as possible. But I expect the officers to be watching, and monitoring. Bullying and brutality will not be tolerated. At the first sign that any of you is a bully or a brute, I’ll break you to common spaceman. Then you can see how you like it!”
He sighed. “This is a very unusual mission, and an unusual situation. We might have to fight the Rekesh at any moment, without the ability to jump out of this system. More than half the governments in man-settled space are scouring uninhabited and out-of-the-way systems looking for us. We have very little time.
“All right,” he concluded. “We’ll probably take a week or so to get things sorted out before we begin awakening the rest of the crew. I’ve already moved into the flag cabin aboard the Rekesh. You petty officers would be well advised to spend that week looking for stills, drug labs and weapons.” He smiled grimly. “You know, check the places us officers would be too dumb to look. All right, a boarding tube has been rigged so you won’t have to suit up to get over to the Rekesh. Once you get aboard her you’ll be issued uniforms. You’ll have to let the issuing officer know the insignia you’ll need. As you know, we were unable to bring any service records with us.” He smiled again, less grimly this time. “That does not mean you can convince me that all of you are Master Chiefs! Some of the officers will know some of you, and most will have seen your records before we left. Be advised — when in doubt, I’ll just assume that any of you is qualified for common spaceman. Is that clear?
“All right,” he continued, “I’d like the officers to remain, but you petty officers are dismissed.”
There followed a period of benign chaos as the petty officers filed out, and the officers talked, whispered and gestured among themselves.
Kas regarded the twenty-two officers remaining after the NCOs left.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen. I see only three familiar faces among you. That’s unfortunate, but we’ll live with it.
“What you may consider even more unfortunate is that we have no written records for any of us. Oh, I’m sure that those three will be able to fill you in on what a sonofabitch I am. But I will have no one to fill me in on each of you.” He shrugged. “You may consider that good news or bad news, I don’t know. But it means that each of you is starting with a clean slate.
“Now. Grand Admiral Pankin gave me somewhat more of a free hand than is usual. I may be selecting a Fleet Captain from among you to command the Rekesh, and possibly a Captain for Starhopper. Yes, I did say ‘may’, and I did say ‘selecting’. Seniority will not be the deciding factor. And be advised, Starhopper ’s exec is command qualified.
“I’m sure that I’ve just shocked some of you. Sorry about that. But I intend to deliver the Rekesh safely to Prime, and will do whatever I consider necessary to complete that mission. I will be talking with each of you individually over the next few days, forming opinions of you, as you will form opinions of me. I sincerely hope that both sets of opinions are favorable.” He dismissed the officers, and then watched as they milled about for a few moments before shuffling out. It was hard to gauge reactions, but there seemed to be little overt dissatisfaction. With a sigh, he began preparing for his first individual interview.