Sandy went about her duty, overseeing training, assuring logistics, handling the administrative details that rose to her level.
On the planet below, she stayed in contact with Ada as she worked a new warrant through the Colonial senate that would merge both previous warrants into a single one more in keeping with the one King Raymond had given Sandy to start with. The Colonials seemed to understand the error of the last pair of warrants. Still, getting anything through any legislative body seemed to require the suffering of the damned.
On the moon, she reviewed production reports that Pipra always had Abby bring by at least once a week. Each week, Abby reported on the last week’s production runs and gave a forecast for the next week’s work. Each week, Abby started with a review of the forecast before walking Sandy through what goals they’d hit and why they had missed or exceeded the plan.
Sandy got the feeling that Pipra and Abby were working hard. Hard not only at producing what was wanted, but at assuring Sandy that they had everything under control.
Admittedly, the admiral began to trust these two civilians a bit more than she did most people not in uniform. Still, she knew that she held them on probation as much as they viewed her the same way.
Professor Labao and his scientists continued to come up with plans they revised, finalized, then reworked again. It seemed like every one of them wanted half the resources of the expedition. Sandy let Professor Labao handle all these tempests in teacups. When the time came to actually make things happen, Sandy was prepared to cut through these self-imposed Gordian Knots with a laser.
Sandy did wonder where the division of battlecruisers was that she’d dispatched to catville to pick up Jacques and maybe Amanda. It was a week past its fastest turnaround time, but Sandy refused to worry.
She was proven correct when the four battlecruisers finally returned a week later. Amanda dispatched an apology immediately to Sandy. I WASN’T ABOUT TO LET JACQUES HEAD OFF WITHOUT ME, BUT I ALSO COULDN’T JUST DROP EVERYTHING AND RUN. WE BOTH TIED UP THE LOOSE ENDS AND NOW WE’RE YOURS.
Sandy called them in as soon as the Implacable docked.
“How are our feline friends?” she asked.
“The same as when you left them,” Jacques answered for both. “Governments form and fall with amazing briskness. I expected that to be a problem, however, in most cases the new government doesn’t change the policy towards us star folks. There seems to be a fairly strong agreement that we’re good and they want what we have.”
“You don’t think there is any chance of them causing us trouble?”
Both Jacques and Amanda shook their head. “Actually, there is less saber rattling among the cats than anyone says they can remember,” Jacques said. “We may be forcing them into cooperation, but they seem to be finding it worthwhile nonetheless. We also brought back some thousand cats to work here, as well as a cat admiral who would like to serve as an envoy to you. We need to introduce her as soon as we can.”
Amber nodded, not excited by the prospect of more petting in her future.
“Are you having any problems with the cats that came back with you?” Amanda asked.
“Actually, no problems at all. Admiral Benson and Pipra report the ones we have taken right to work in the fabs and yards. Everything is totally different from anything they’ve ever seen, but they catch on quick. I think they sent us some of their brightest.”
“Yeah. How have the birds taken to them?”
“I’ve got a report here somewhere,” Sandy said, waving at her desk covered with readers. “Somewhere on the station is a Fight Club. Cats and Ostriches seem to like taking each other on.”
“Any casualties?” Amanda asked.
“Nothing but a few broken bones.”
“Who’s winning?” Jacques asked.
“Strangely enough, the Ostriches,” Sandy told them. “Apparently, the cats were used to using stealth to sneak up on their prey. In a fight ring, that’s not an option. If the bird can catch them on the pounce, the cat’s usually thrown all the way out of the ring. If the cat gets past the bird’s first kick, things usually go the cat’s way, even if we do make them wear mouth guard to protect their teeth . . . and keep them from biting.”
“We have got to see that before we leave,” Jacques told Amanda.
The look on his wife’s face showed strong suspicion that this would not be one of their best nights out.
Sandy gave them copies of everything she had from Professor Labao, including the various iterations of the plan. The two social scientists thumbed through the stacks. Jacques had one of Nelly’s kids. He’d named her Marie Curie and called her Marie most often than not. She quickly absorbed the mass of data and helped them spot some of the more egregious abuses in scheduling resources.
“We’ll check in with the professor and then get back to you,” Amanda said. “Kris kept us on her staff both to do what we did best and to kind of buffer her from the worst of the boffins. I suspect you’re asking us to do the same.”
“Yes,” Sandy said, and sent them on their way. Over the next couple of days, they began to both bring order within the scientific team that would go with Sandy to the alien planet and explain what was going on to her in words a non-boffin could understand.
Somewhere in there, Penny brought Admiral Perswah around to meet her. She was alert, quiet, and reserved, about what Sandy would have expected from an alien tossed in the midst of a strange and active command. They shook paws and Sandy promised that the cat could shadow Penny through her day.
Sandy had scheduled a delay in her departure not only to allow Amanda and Jacques to get back but to sweat out the return of her scattered battlecruiser. The wait for the two scientists was well worth it. The delay for her warships stretched on.
Still, she refused to fear for them. As it turned out, she was correct.