Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga) (31 page)

Steve's jaw dropped, and for a moment he was speechless. He managed to get out, "I... ah... Ma'am, please thank him very much on my behalf. I... I don't know what to say! I hadn't expected this at all!"

"It's we who thank you, Spacer. We'll arrange an investiture as soon as you've regained your health and strength."

Captain Volschenk sat forward. "There's something else. You committed to serve aboard
Cabot
for two years in return for your training. However, she's now a prize of the Fleet, and will be sold at auction by the Prize Court in due course. I'm therefore releasing you from the balance of your commitment. You're free to enlist with the Fleet, if you still wish to do so."

"Thank you, Sir. I will, as soon as I'm fit; but first I want to see Bosun Cardle's brother and sister on New Brisbane. I owe him that."

"That's understandable," Abuan assured him. "I'll have the Sector Recruiting Office send one of their staff here to begin making arrangements. I'm sure you'll need a few months to regain your health and strength, so that will give you time to visit New Brisbane. It's very important that you be fully recovered before you attend Boot Camp. It's deliberately designed to be as tough as possible - within reason, of course - so as to weed out unsuitable candidates. A high level of physical fitness is essential."

"I understand, Ma'am. Thank you. Captain, may I ask a question, please?"

"Of course."

"It's about
Cabot
. You say she's a prize?"

"Yes. She was recaptured from pirates by Fleet personnel, which automatically puts her into the jurisdiction of the Prize Court - that's a branch of the Commonwealth Courts of Admiralty. She'll be auctioned off to the highest bidder in due course."

"But what about you, Sir? You're her owner as well as her skipper."

Volschenk smiled. "Not to worry. I've already lodged an insurance claim for her loss. I'll be paid her fair market value, less a few million credits still owed on her. I can use that money to bid on her at the Prize Court auction, and finance the balance of her repurchase price. Alternatively, if I don't win the auction, I can use the money to buy another ship. I'd like to get
Cabot
back, of course, because she's a very good ship indeed."

"I'm glad to hear that, Sir."

Lieutenant Abuan rose to her feet. "I'll make arrangements for a recruiter to see you as soon as possible, and keep in touch with you through the Recruiting Office."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

Volschenk stood in his turn. "It's good to see you're on the mend, Maxwell. I'll see you from time to time over the next few months, I'm sure. If you ever decide to re-enter merchant service, there'll always be a berth for you aboard my ship. Please keep in touch with me through the Merchant Spacers League."

"Aye aye, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

They pulled the door closed behind them as Steve settled back into his pillows. Across the room, the two Fleet spacers grinned at him.

"Nice going, Steve!" the older man, a Spacer First Class, observed. "The Fleet's not as tight-fisted with its awards as some services, but neither the Cross nor the Star are easy to earn in any grade. There can't be more than thirty or forty Silver-class awards made in any given year during peacetime. Spread over a couple of million Spacers and Marines on active service, that's a very low ratio."

"Thanks, Tom," he acknowledged, a little awkwardly. "I don't know what got into them to give me that! I just... well, I just did what I had to do. It was literally a case of do or die!"

"I've heard other Spacers and Marines say something like that," the younger Spacer Second Class assured him. "I guess you get a sort of 'tunnel vision' when you're doing something important. You can't see that it was something special. In your case, Lieutenant-Commander Esquivel and our other officers and NCO's must have thought you did pretty darn well, and said so loud and clear, or the Admiral wouldn't have approved the award. From what I saw, I reckon you earned it the hard way."

"Thanks, Mark. I can still hardly believe it!"

"Wait 'til the medal's bouncing on your chest. You'll believe it then!"

Chapter 21: May 28th, 2838 GSC

Senior Lieutenant Abuan was as good as her word. The following morning Steve had another visitor: a short, stocky man wearing three upward-pointing silver chevrons above a star on his upper left sleeve, plus a long silver stripe slanting up the outside of his lower left sleeve from front to rear.

"I'm Petty Officer Second Class Gilroy", he introduced himself. "I'm with the Fleet Recruiting Office here on Vesta. I've been assigned to move your application forward."

Steve nodded as he tried to sit up, wincing as his ribs pulled at him. "Thank you very much for coming. How am I supposed to address you, please?"

The Petty Officer grinned. "Politely, I hope!" The two Spacers across the ward snorted their amusement, and he flicked a glance at them before continuing, "The normal way to address a Petty Officer in the Fleet, whether Third, Second or First Class, is either 'Petty Officer' in more formal situations, or simply 'PO' in conversations like this. We tend to run the letters together, as in 'Peeyoh', rather than enunciate them separately."

"Got it, thanks, PO."

Gilroy took the chair that Lieutenant Abuan had used. As he sat down, he continued, "Based on what I've seen in news reports, I've got to say that for a civilian without any military training, you did extraordinarily well aboard
Cabot
. That, plus your activities last year - and the memo the Admiral sent us about them - means you've got a high priority with us."

Steve flushed a little. "Thanks, PO. Er... I think I can figure out the chevrons on your left sleeve. Your Spacer Corps PO2 rank is the same as a Marine Corps Sergeant, isn't it?"

"Yes, they're both grade E-5, just with different titles."

"That long silver stripe on your left forearm - what's it mean?"

The Petty Officer glanced downward. "That's what we call a 'service stripe'. We're awarded one for each completed four-year term of enlistment - I'll be putting up a second one next year. We wear them with our Number One and Number Two uniforms only."

"What's the difference between Number One and Number Two?"

"I'm wearing Number Two now. It's our normal uniform for formal work, when we may have to make or receive business calls. Number One is the same uniform, but with top-quality badges and full-size medals instead of ribbons. We wear it for major parades, official functions, and so on."

"I get it. Senior Lieutenant Abuan wasn't wearing any service stripes. Surely she must have more than four years' service?"

"Yes, but only enlisted personnel wear them. Commissioned and warrant officers don't serve fixed terms of enlistment like we do. Their service continues until they retire, or resign their commissions or warrants, or are discharged for cause."

Steve shook his head. "I've got a lot to learn, I guess."

"Sure you do; but the quickest way is by asking. That's why I'm here."

"I'll take advantage of that, thanks. Do you mind if I get out of bed and walk around while talking to you? My ribs are aching badly, and I need to stretch."

"Sure! Let me help you get out of bed without straining anything."

The Petty Officer offered his arm. Steve leaned on it as he gingerly slid his feet from under the covers, lowered them to the floor, and stood up, hissing between his teeth as his broken ribs tugged at him. He took a couple of deep breaths.

"Thanks, PO. That's better."

"Are you able to walk a short distance? If so, we can go to the outdoor seating area. It's a lovely day out there."

"Thanks, I'd like that. Let me put on a dressing-gown and flip-flops."

As they left the room and walked slowly down the corridor, Steve asked, "Senior Lieutenant Abuan mentioned the Prize Court. How does prize money work?"

"It's a bit complicated, but I'll give you the condensed version. Any ship taken as a prize by the Fleet is sold at auction by the Prize Court, which is part of the Courts of Admiralty. It keeps ten per cent of the proceeds as its fee, to pay for its operations - it's self-funding, like many of the Commonwealth's institutions. Half of the balance goes to the Fleet, as the service that captured the prize. The remaining half - forty-five per cent of the gross sale price, in other words - is divided among the personnel responsible for her capture. One-third goes to commissioned and warrant officers, and two-thirds to NCO's and enlisted personnel.
Cabot
will yield pretty good prize money shares because there weren't many Fleet personnel involved."

"Well, your Spacers certainly earned their shares the hard way!"

"So I hear. A lot of us, including me, enlisted because of the chance of a windfall in prize money. With piracy being such a big problem all across the settled galaxy, and the number of small conflicts that blaze up here and there, it happens more often than you might think. If you're lucky enough to be involved, you can come away with a useful nest-egg. Some skippers seem to be real magnets for prize money. No-one knows why that should be, but there's a lot of competition to serve with them, for obvious reasons!"

"What if you're not involved?"

"Then you'll earn a decent salary during your enlistment - better than Merchant Service rates of pay, because we don't have private trading opportunities and have to compensate for that. You'll also learn discipline and skills that'll come in handy for the rest of your life. I haven't done well out of prize money - not yet, anyway! - but I've no regrets. In fact, I re-enlisted for a second term, and I'll probably sign up for a third when this one's done."

They reached a sliding glass door. Gilroy opened it, and motioned to Steve to precede him through it into the bright sunshine outside. He sniffed the fresh air appreciatively, enjoying the birds singing in the trees.

"Thanks. How do they calculate each person's share of the prize money?"

"Everyone gets two point ratings, one for their rank, one for their length of service. There are also special point allocations, but let's ignore them for now. Both point ratings are added together to produce an individual prize point score. With me so far?"

"Yeah."

"OK. The scores for everyone in each share - officers or enlisted - are totaled. Each share is divided by its point total to produce a money value per point, which is then multiplied by each person's score to calculate their individual share. For example, if the enlisted share of a given prize is one million credits, and eligible spacers and NCO's have a total of two thousand points between them, you divide a million by two thousand. That means each point will be worth five hundred credits. Someone with, say, six prize points will therefore receive three thousand credits in prize money."

"I get it. So officers get more prize money on an individual basis, because there are fewer of them to divide their share, right?"

"Sure, but there's a downside for them, too. Officers carry much more responsibility than enlisted personnel. They may even face court-martial if things go pear-shaped. Prize money takes that into account. The greater the responsibility, the greater the award."

"I've got to admit, that seems fair."

The recruiter indicated a bench beneath a tree. "Let's sit over there." They sat down in the shade as he continued, "I presume that, since you're already a merchant spacer, you want to enlist in the Fleet's Spacer Corps?"

"Yes. I know you have the Marine and Service Corps as well, but I think I'd better stick to where I can best use my qualifications and experience."

Gilmore grinned. "Since that's my Corps too, I'm not about to try to argue you out of it!" They chuckled softly together.

"Does the Fleet recognize my merchant spacer service in any way?"

"In your case, yes, thanks to the Admiral's memo last year. You see, the Foreign Service Program is always heavily oversubscribed, because lots of people want to earn Commonwealth citizenship. Because of that, we don't provide recruitment incentives to attract candidates - in fact, we make the process more difficult so as to winnow the wheat from the chaff, if you see what I mean. The FSP offers fewer options for specialization than regular recruitment, and entrants can't use prior qualifications or experience to negotiate a higher starting rank or salary. They all start at the bottom of the ladder as Spacers Third Class, grade E-1. However, thanks to Admiral Cardew's memo, those restrictions don't apply to you. We'll give you the same incentives as if you were a Commonwealth citizen applying through normal channels."

"Thanks very much."

"How long have you been a Spacer Second Class?"

"Only a month. I was promoted with effect from the first of May."

"Oh! I didn't know that. We normally only offer matching rank if you've held it for a minimum of six months, but - hey, wait a minute! You're going to need several months to heal and get fit again, aren't you?"

"So they tell me. I also want to visit Bosun Cardle's kin on New Brisbane. He asked me to see them if anything happened to him."