Chapter 18: Naval Engagements

The arrival of the City of Bangkok was more than just an opportunity for hilarity at the name; for Samantha, it was a chance to check out her station in the new Planetary Control Centre, hidden deep under an otherwise anonymous Martello some distance from Camp Shackleton.

No sooner had the young Civil Service cadet taken her station than the controller reported six contacts. Pinging the IFF quickly revealed not only the anticipated CSS City of Bangkok, but also brand-new Patrician corvettes Key Largo and Montego Bay, Aurora-class transports Kon Tiki and Lucky Break, and a Stagecoach-class fast freighter, CSS Dray.

"Someone has a sense of humour," observed Colonel Deschenes.

"Sir?" enquired the duty officer, nervously.

In response, the Colonel pointed with his matte white pace stick to the names and hull numbers of the ships of this tiny but significant fleet approaching his colony. CSS Lucky Break boasted hull number AP013.

The communications techs were suddenly inundated with traffic from the six ships, but one voice cut through the clutter with clarity and command. "This is Admiral Vincent Van De Graaf, Commander of Fleet Operations for Sector 12. Would Colonel Michael Deschenes be available?"

"Admiral, this is Colonel Deschenes. Welcome to the colony of Thule."

"Thank you, Governor. We have things to discuss. Can I meet with your senior Civil Service officer and your facilities engineer, say over lunch?"

The Colonel made an appointment at the Officers' Club for 12:30 hours, and shortly afterwards left. Lieutenant Carruthers, on the other hand, stuck around. It turned out that the AIs on the vessels above were not terribly interested in discussing with a lowly Lieutenant matters that were not in his purview, but recognized the far-junior-ranked Optio Redburn as a Very Important Someone.

"Well?" Carruthers demanded of the teen.

"As we feared, but at least no worse. Apparently all but four are the households of the crews on the corvettes, both the ones we've been seeing scouting around the area and those two new ones. There are 192 pods with at least double that number of concubines and four times that number of kiddies, almost all the dependants being under four."

"Any strange creatures we should be wary of?" asked Carruthers, still gun-shy from the incident with the Pet Pods.

"Apparently not. Oh, wait – there is one."

"Just one?" asked the suddenly nervous engineer.

"Yes, a big grouchy old bear, standing about a foot from me, wears lieutenant's bars ... you might want to watch out for him, he could be trouble." She looked at him.

"Cute, Little One. Very cute."

"As long as you're still thinking that I'm cute when I'm screaming your name on my birthday." They both looked to the corner of the display, where the countdown clock now read: Four Weeks, Six Days.

Samantha, resplendent in dress grey, met Lieutenant Carruthers, similarly attired in his dress Marine uniform, on the front steps of the Officers' Club. The AI advised them that no, they weren't late, but that the Admiral was waiting for them in the Igloo Lounge, a small intimate dining room for lunch meetings with VIPs like the Admiral.

Admiral Van De Graaf was impressive: tall, slender, with just a touch of grey at his temples – undoubtedly chosen by design to look older and more commanding. His jet-black uniform was immaculate, and his mannerism was that of someone who could command a mountain to move with the fair expectation that it would – but preferred to let the mountain think it was bestowing a favour upon a close friend.

The concubine taking their order was redheaded, well-endowed and dressed in a pair of leather sandals. She started with their drinks: a Bronx for the Colonel, martinis for the Admiral and Lieutenant Carruthers, and an appletini mocktail for the only member of the party too young for alcohol during working hours. They made polite "how-was-your-trip" type conversation with the Admiral as the drinks were served, and for a few minutes while everyone tucked into replicator-style steak Diane, duchess potatoes and glazed carrots, conversation was sparse and concentrated mostly on the Admiral's questions about how the Marines were coming in their training.

Finally, the plates were cleared and the post-luncheon coffeepot placed in the centre of the table for all to help themselves. The serving concubine made herself scarce so that the Quality could discuss important matters of state in relative privacy.

After the door closed behind the nubile and highly decorative young woman, the Admiral turned to his three dining companions and quickly got down to business.

"I was unaware that the senior Civil Service officer was so young. An Optio? That's the equivalent of an Officer Cadet. That makes you what, thirteen?"

"Yes, Sir, Admiral, Sir. I arrived with the first draft of Marine recruits – my father is a sergeant now – and when we discovered upon arrival that no Civil Service officer had yet been assigned to Thule, I volunteered."

"So you're not covering for a full-rank officer who is on manoeuvres? You're on your own here?" The Admiral was impressed.

He was even more impressed with her reply. She could have taken full credit, but didn't. "It's been made much easier by the support of Colonel Deschenes, Sir, both in his position as Brigade Commander and in his position as Governor, and by the co-operation of every officer and NCO in the system. A Civil Service NCO will be visiting each pod and welcoming the newcomers, finding out what kind of sponsor they've got and if there are any problems I need to know about."

"The Civil Service doesn't have NCO's," the Admiral observed tartly.

"No, Sir," agreed Samantha smoothly. "However, the new recruits don't know that, and by the time they find out they've been bowing and scraping to their future sergeants' and corporals' straw bosses dressed in Civil Service grey uniforms, it's a little late to get outraged."

The Admiral snorted in delight. "Perfect! I can see how that works. Colonel, I'll order the Navy NCOs to make their lead concubines available to the Civil Service for such duties when necessary. If I'm not available, you as Planetary Governor can make the call." He turned to Carruthers. "And how is Scott Base coming along?"