The Oncoming Storm (29 page)

“I tried,” the admiral said. “But no one replied.”

Davidson touched Kat’s arm lightly. “Someone did manage to get the word out,” he said, quietly. “You weren’t the first to call for help.”

Kat stared at the admiral for a long moment, fighting to control her temper. Morrison had wasted her time with a useless party, pushed her into the arms of his leech of a son, and then had the gall to cower in the panic room while his guests were menaced, threatened, and killed by armed insurgents. Only sheer luck had saved him from a disaster that would have ended his career, along with the occupation itself.

Could her father save her from execution if she shot the admiral? She was tempted to find out.

“I believe a starship has to be assigned to patrol the border,” she said. The previous cruiser was due back in a day or two. “I would like Lightning to be assigned to that role.”

The admiral opened his mouth but then apparently thought better of whatever he’d intended to say. Instead, he merely nodded.

“I will have routing orders cut for you,” he said. “And you have my thanks, Captain. You will be honored for this.”

Kat wanted to roll her eyes in disgust. Somehow, she resisted the temptation.

“I would be honored to discuss it when I return to Cadiz,” she said. She had no doubt the admiral would try to award her the highest honor he could bestow just to avoid calling attention to his failures. “But for the moment I need to return to my ship and see the doctor.”

Her voice hardened. “But thank you, Admiral, for a party I will never forget.”

She allowed herself to lean on Davidson’s armored arm as they walked towards the shuttle and straightened up as soon as they were out of sight. Her body ached, but it was tiredness rather than bruises or broken bones. She reached the shuttle’s hatch and then paused. A line of men and women with bound hands were making their way into a large transporter.

“The former servants,” Davidson explained grimly. “They will be interrogated to see what they knew about the whole affair.”

“And if they’re not insurgents by the time they go into the detention camps,” Kat muttered, “they will be when they’re released.”

She stepped through the hatch, cursing the admiral under her breath. He’d be looking for a scapegoat, someone to take the blame for the whole affair. Chances were some innocent bureaucrat would be made to take the fall, either through accusations of incompetence or threats of criminal investigation. But the true cause of the problem would be left in command, utterly unmolested. The admiral had set the tone for his entire command.

The shuttle’s drives powered up, then propelled the vehicle up through the atmosphere and out into space. Kat let out a sigh of relief as they passed through the edge of the atmosphere, silently promising herself never to set foot on Cadiz again. It was a promise, she knew, she might well be unable to keep.

“Put us alongside the emergency air lock,” Davidson ordered. “I want to go directly to Sickbay.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Midshipwoman Parkinson said.

Kat opened her mouth to object, but Davidson shook his head. She saw his stubborn expression and gave in. He thought she needed Sickbay and he would damn well take her to Sickbay.

“Pass me a uniform jacket and ship suit,” she ordered crossly. It was increasingly hard to maintain her dignity in the black dress. “I’m damned if I’m wearing this on the ship.”

Davidson, thankfully, didn’t argue.

“Some cuts and bruises,” Doctor Braham said briskly. “But no real damage.”

“Thank you,” Kat said. “Can I be dismissed now?”

“There is still the matter of your medical checkup,” Doctor Braham said. “By regulation, all senior officers are to undergo a full medical scan every three months. You haven’t been scanned once.”

“I was scanned on my previous posting,” Kat pointed out, although she knew she had already lost the argument. She should have found time while Lightning was in transit to have her scan. “There wasn’t anything wrong with me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the doctor said. “Lie back on the bed and take a deep breath.”

Kat sighed, but held her peace as the doctor ran a series of scanners over her body. Her implants kept flashing up alerts, each one noting that her body’s secrets were being exposed and dissected. It wasn’t a real problem, Kat knew, but it was still annoying. And as the doctor was the only person who could relieve the captain of command, it was rare for a captain to willingly turn herself in for a medical scan.

“Your genetic engineer was a master,” the doctor commented as she ran through the final set of scans. “Or was he one of those who believed he could create the superman?”

“I think my father didn’t allow any experimentation,” Kat said. There were a hundred research institutions seeking newer ways to enhance the human mind as well as the body, but none of them had succeeded in improving the basic level of intelligence. Direct computer interfaces helped more than genetic rewriting. “At least he didn’t allow it on any of us.”

“Probably wise of him,” Doctor Braham noted. She stepped backwards, then sent a silent command to the scanners, which withdrew. “You’re as fit and healthy as could reasonably be expected, under the circumstances. I’ll see you in another three months.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Kat said as she sat up and reached for her uniform jacket. “How are you coping with the crew?”

“No serious problems, apart from a couple of cases of excessive intoxication after shore leave,” the doctor informed her. “No matter the sheer number of bars on the surface, there’s always someone who goes to an unlicensed place and drinks something strong enough to pickle their brain cells. But I think the crew could do with shore leave somewhere safer.”

Kat nodded. Piker’s Peak had stressed the importance of an active shore leave—and they hadn’t just meant Intercourse and Intoxication. The XO should be organizing activities for the crew, everything from skydiving to power boating or simply enjoying the sun on a sandy beach. But there were no such facilities on Cadiz. Even if they had located a beach far from a local settlement, Kat wouldn’t have trusted it. The insurgents might have seen it as an opportunity to winnow down her crew.

She pulled her jacket over her chest, then stood. “We’re due to rotate back to the core in a few months,” she said, with the private thought that the war might well have started by then. “There will be time for more active shore leave later.”

“It could explain some of the situation here,” the doctor offered. “Crews without the prospect of a meaningful shore leave . . .”

Kat snorted. She’d never been an ordinary spacer, but she had appreciated the chance to get off the ship for a few days, even as a midshipwoman. A few days at the spaceport would have satisfied her, although it wouldn’t have satisfied Davidson or any of the more active crewmen. But there were no real facilities on Cadiz outside the spaceport itself and there was nothing she could do about it. A complaint to the admiral would probably get her nowhere.

She nodded to the doctor, then walked out of the small compartment. Davidson was outside, pacing the deck like an expectant father. Kat had to suppress a smile at the mental image. She nodded to him as he came to attention. If she knew him—and she did—he was probably planning to escort her back to her cabin. The thought both pleased and annoyed her. Part of her wanted the company, but part of her resented anyone thinking she needed help.

“I’m fine,” she said as she turned to lead the way through the hatch. “And your men?”

“They’re fine,” Davidson said. His blue eyes watched her with undisguised concern. “But we trained for this sort of shit.”

Kat said nothing as they walked through the corridors and finally reached her cabin. She hesitated, then opened the hatch and beckoned him into the barren room. Davidson looked surprised at the lack of decor, but Kat had never felt the urge to collect artwork or show off her wealth to her officers. The only decoration she had allowed herself was a painting of HMS Thunderous an officer had done, years ago. Kat had liked it enough to keep for herself.

She felt her body sag as soon as the hatch hissed closed. Davidson caught her and helped her over to the sofa, then sat next to her as she started to shake. Kat looked down at her hand, watching in dismay as it betrayed her, then up at him. His eyes were worried, yet unsurprised. He’d expected her to go into shock, she realized. She wanted to scream at him for not warning her, although what could he have said?

“It’s all right,” he said. One of his arms enveloped her and Kat relaxed into his embrace. “It’s a natural reaction.”

“Oh,” Kat muttered. It was hard to think straight. Now that the whole incident was over and she was safe, her imagination was providing hundreds of ideas about what could have gone wrong. She could have been taken as a hostage. There were stories about kidnapped officials who had been held for months before they were released—or killed, their bodies found by patrolling soldiers. “What’s happening to me?”

“You weren’t trained as an infantryman,” Davidson pointed out. He didn’t sound accusatory, for which Kat was grateful. “Now that the crisis has passed, your body is reacting.”

“Damn it,” Kat muttered. She hated showing weakness. Even as a young officer, she’d done everything in her power to avoid showing even the slightest hint of fear. It could have destroyed her career. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Davidson assured her. His hand was stroking her back, lightly. “Just relax and let it pass.”

Kat glowered at him, but did her best to follow his advice. He was right, of course; she’d never had any real ground combat training. The Royal Navy had discussed boarding and counterboarding actions, but no one had seriously expected the enemy to try to board a starship in the midst of combat. They’d be more likely to force the ship to surrender and then send in the Marines. Or whatever the Theocracy used in place of Marines. No one had thought Kat and her fellow cadets would ever go into battle on the ground.

“I didn’t have the shakes after I fired a starship’s weapons in anger,” she muttered resentfully. “Why do I have them now?”

“Ground combat feels different,” Davidson said. He let go of her and stood, then walked over to the coffeemaker positioned against the bulkhead. “Tea?”

“Something warm,” Kat said. She wanted him back holding her and to hell with discipline or her reputation. “Anything.”

Davidson poured her a mug of tea, then walked back and held it under her nose until she managed to force her hand to take it and hold it to her lips. It tasted remarkably good, even though she knew naval tea and coffee came from the lowest bidder. But then, she was alive and her enemies weren’t . . . She giggled despite the situation, almost slopping hot tea on her legs. At least she’d managed to get rid of the damned dress. She would have hated to wear that while the doctor was poking and prodding at her.

“That’s a normal reaction,” Davidson said. He shrugged, then sat down next to her. “Did I ever tell you about the balls-up at boot camp?”

Kat shook her head, feeling her hair caressing her face.

“We were meant to crawl under a hail of incoming fire,” Davidson said. “The drill instructors had rigged up a set of machine guns to fire over our heads. It was absolutely terrifying, but we told ourselves that it was perfectly safe. Somehow, despite the deafening racket, we managed to crawl through the trench until we were midway to our destination. We were just starting to get used to it when the machine guns went out of control and bullets started hitting the ground right next to us.”

“Shit,” Kat said.

“That’s precisely what I did,” Davidson admitted. He smiled at her expression. “We all froze, then crawled for the end of the trench as fast as we could, despite the mud and . . . other stuff in our path. And we all had the shakes afterwards.”

He paused. “We learned later that the whole thing was just another test and there was no real danger, but it was mortally convincing,” he added. “I never had the shakes again after that day.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kat said. She took another sip of her tea and then wrapped her arm round him. “But I don’t think I’ll be applying for boot camp anytime soon.”

“You probably wouldn’t have made it,” Davidson told her bluntly. “Boot camp is nothing like as genteel as Piker’s Peak.”

He was probably right, Kat knew. Even apart from ground combat training, Piker’s Peak was focused on turning out officers and gentlemen rather than groundpounders who could run fifty miles and then attack the enemy without a pause. Kat’s training had touched on a great many issues; Davidson’s had focused on killing the enemy and breaking things. There were times when she envied the handful of aristocrats who had gone into boot camp. None of them were ever accused of having used connections to put themselves ahead of the rest.

No mercy, she recalled. It was the motto of the Marine Boot Camp. There were no allowances for weakness or family name. Those who graduated were the best of the best; those who were discharged for medical reasons were honored for having tried, even if they hadn’t made it. And those who quit bore no shame.

She finished her tea, then stared down at her empty cup. Too much had happened in one day for her to think properly. She knew she should consider the admiral’s actions, and the actions of his son, and perhaps even report them to her father. But the raid on the mansion had pushed such petty concerns out of her mind.

“I’m buggered if I’m leaving the ship again,” she said flatly. “It isn’t safe down there.”

“Good idea,” Davidson said with suspicious enthusiasm. “You’ll be the number one target of the insurgents right now.”

Kat eyed him. “Oh?”

“I reviewed the planetary datanet while the doctor was examining you,” he said. “The admiral’s PR department has already credited you with escaping the terrorists and defeating them, practically singlehandedly. Apparently, you’re some kind of super starship captain, a mistress of martial arts as well as a tactical genius . . .”

Kat put her head in her hands. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”