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Captain Siobhan Dunmoore tapped the arm of her command chair and released control of Salamanca’s main computer back to its crew. Then, she called up the public address system.
“This is RED One Leader, endex. I repeat, this is RED One Leader, endex. The ship will resume cruising stations as per the captain’s orders. RED One will assemble in the flag conference room in ten minutes. Dunmoore, out.”
Pushkin slowly stood and stretched, then rotated his shoulders with a sigh of relief.
“You really pushed the no-win this time, Skipper. I almost believed it myself. Judging by the faces in the CIC and on the bridge, many of them were as well. It’ll be a bit before the adrenaline levels around here drop.”
She imitated her deputy team leader and operations officer, then made a face.
“Piotr Rydzewski was getting a little full of himself during the last few tactical evaluations. He displayed the same bad habit during simulations at the War College. I can’t recall who, but someone told me he seriously discussed sabotaging the no-win scenarios with his classmates when I used them to cure him and a few others of their overconfidence.”
“And did he?”
Dunmoore shook her head.
“No one managed during my time there, though my informants tell me one or two tried. Not Piotr, though. I think he may have decided it wasn’t worth the risk.”
“What would you have done if you’d caught a student changing the code?”
“Assigned one or two extra command essays on top of extra no-win simulations.” Dunmoore nodded at the door connecting the flag CIC with the conference room. “Do you think the coffee urn survived Salamanca’s brush with oblivion?”
“If the galley hasn’t ejected it into space as retaliation for our turning the ship into a chaotic mess. Although if pastries magically materialized, I’d be careful lest they contain a substance that might send us running to the heads with comical expressions on our faces.”
Dunmoore let out a quick snort. “They wouldn’t dare.”
Pushkin gave her a wink. “Then I’ll let you take the first few bites.”
Upon entering the conference room, Dunmoore and Pushkin found not only a coffee urn on a sideboard, merrily chugging, but a platter of sandwiches, vegetables, and fruit — a belated lunch now that Salamanca was no longer at battle stations.
They were both enjoying a cup when the members of Readiness Evaluation Division Team One filtered in. Four experienced lieutenant commanders, each assisted by an equally experienced chief petty officer second class, they were subject matter experts in their fields — combat systems, propulsion engineering, systems engineering, navigation and communications, and security. Last to arrive was Chief Petty Officer First Class Kurt Guthren, RED One’s security specialist and Dunmoore’s unofficial coxswain.
The team members had more than just subject matter expertise in common. None of them expected any further promotions and were likely in their final assignments before retiring. It meant they couldn’t be pressured into going easy on ships under readiness evaluation, or ignoring faults, no matter how minor.
Dunmoore and her fellow RED team leaders, veteran captains who’d commanded starships during the Shrehari War, remembered only too well the losses incurred because ships and crews weren’t fully prepared for the worst situations, especially during the war’s early years. The same held true for all of the Readiness Evaluation Division’s officers and chief petty officers. RED teams weren’t particularly welcome aboard warships, but most understood they performed a vital function.
Once they were seated around the table with food and drink before them, Chief Guthren said, “Hearing the ‘all hands abandon ship’ order never gets old, Captain.”
Pushkin chuckled. “Mainly because it means the next word on the public address system is endex, right?”
Guthren grinned at him. “In part. But also because you can witness the crew’s unfiltered reaction at knowing they failed. The first officer was a true study in repressed anger.”
“Alright.” Dunmoore held up a hand. “Let’s discuss your observations and what each of you will tell the relevant department heads during their respective hot washes.”
One by one, the lieutenant commanders, aided by their chiefs, laid out their findings and recommendations, adding them to Salamanca’s detailed readiness report. It would be read with great interest by the flag officers commanding the cruiser’s assigned battle group and fleet, the rear admiral commanding the Readiness Evaluation Division, and ultimately the Navy’s Chief of Operations.
Failure to meet the exacting standards in one or more areas meant further work-up training and a new evaluation cycle. Rarely, though it had happened during Dunmoore’s tenure with the division, a ship experienced issues grave enough that captains were relieved of duty. But not this time.
“So we’re agreed?” Dunmoore let her eyes roam around the table once Chief Guthren, the last to report, fell silent. “Salamanca is in every respect ready?”
The team members nodded in turn as her eyes briefly rested on them.
“Thank you.” Dunmoore stood. “I’ll debrief Captain Rydzewski while you speak with the department heads. Once that’s done, you may consider yourselves off duty until we dock.”
Dunmoore found Salamanca’s commanding officer in his day cabin. He looked at her ruefully as she settled in a chair across from him.
“That was nasty even for you, Siobhan.”
“Remember when I took you down a peg at the College?”
He nodded. “I guess I did it again, right?”
“Yes. You’re blessed with a superb crew, Piotr, and the finest ship in the Fleet. Failure was never an option, and everyone aboard knew it. That’s why success after success in our evaluations made you a little overconfident. But as you know, I have the ideal remedy. Remember it whenever you feel a little full of yourself.”
“I will.”
“That being said, congratulations. You passed with flying colors. My report will declare you ready for duty in every respect. You’ll receive a copy when I send it up our respective chains of command. Since nothing is perfect, there are a few areas where improvements will help tighten things, but overall, you command an efficient, well-run ship, my friend, and I wish you joy of her. Give your people a Bravo Zulu from me and RED One. We’re the toughest of the bunch and take the most important assignments.”
“Wilco.” He studied her for a few seconds. “If you don’t mind me asking since this was my first readiness evaluation as skipper, do you always end the sequence with a nasty no-win like that? I haven’t heard much on the grapevine about your habits.”
“It depends on the captain and crew. I always end an evaluation cruise with something that will push them beyond their limits after passing everything else. The no-win doesn’t come up often, so consider it a compliment. And in case you’re wondering, they’re never the same scenarios. The next one I run will differ from yours, and the captain under evaluation won’t know whether it’s just another test or my version of the final exam.”
Rydzewski sat back and nodded.
“I’ll take it in the spirit you intended. Did you ever face a no-win, or is that question still as taboo as it was at the War College?”
“A few. I lost the corvette Shenzen at Antae Carina in ‘63 to a Shrehari task force, making me one of the few surviving wartime captains who gave the command to abandon ship. Then there was the time I fought Brakal in the Cimmeria system during my first cruise as Stingray’s captain. We shouldn’t have survived, except my chief engineer and one of her ratings sacrificed their lives to restart our sublight drives.” Dunmoore shook her head. “So many dead. And that’s why I put you and your crew through the wringer.”
“Understood. I may not have enjoyed the experience, but we’ve come out of it stronger and more confident.” He raised a hand before she could speak. “And no more overconfidence. Promised. Another question, if I may?”
“Sure.”
“Where do you sit during what you call the final exam in a ship without a flag CIC?”
She smiled.
“Wherever I can access every part of the ship’s systems while being invisible to the captain and first officer. If there’s an auxiliary bridge, I’ll kick the chief engineer out. If not, sometimes I take over the captain’s day cabin for that final evolution. I’m a big believer in the Navy’s interpretation of the observer effect, remember? The mere presence of an observer changes the behavior of those being observed.”
“Yet your people were watching us.”
“True, but they can blend in with your crew and make themselves inconspicuous. Another post captain like me, not so much.”
Rydzewski let out a rueful chuckle.
“Especially one with the name Siobhan Dunmoore. What happens to you and your team now?”
“You drop us off at Starbase 30 from where we’ll take a ship either home to Caledonia or to our next tasking. I’ll know once I pick up my orders from the base commander.”
Rydzewski cocked an eyebrow. “Caledonia and not Earth?”
“The RED teams are dispersed around the Commonwealth. It reduces travel time. Besides, Caledonia has enough shipyards to keep us busy with new crews. But when the Navy plans to put something like the first of the Series Ten Reconquistas through its paces, HQ assigns RED One. My team is what you might call primus inter pares, the first among equals.”
“With you as its leader, that doesn’t surprise me. Am I right in remembering Commander Pushkin and Chief Guthren served under your orders in Stingray?”
“As the first officer and coxswain, respectively. Chief Guthren followed me to Iolanthe while Gregor was promoted and took Jan Sobieski, which ended up becoming one of my frigates when I was Task Force Luckner’s commander. In fact, I used her as my flagship for the attack on the Shrehari home system. So, you could say he, Chief Guthren, and I lived through a lot together, which is why I finagled their appointment to RED One.”
Dunmoore caught the expression in Rydzewski’s eyes and knew he was diplomatically avoiding any mention that Pushkin and Guthren were probably in their last years of service anyway, just like she was. Her ultimate turn in front of the commodores’ promotion board was coming up, and if they didn’t place her file above the cut-off line, she’d be facing retirement as well.
The captains’ boards had published their results before RED One joined Salamanca, and Pushkin already knew his name wasn’t on the list. It had been his last turn as well, meaning this was likely his terminal assignment before separation from the Navy.
Exemplary wartime service as a starship captain didn’t count for much anymore, now that the memories were fading and officers too junior for command during the war occupied the most coveted senior positions, those leading to a flag officer’s stars. It wasn’t fair, but as Dunmoore knew, it happened after every conflict.
Not for the first time, she wondered whether the three of them should set up their own private military corporation once they marched into retirement at what were still relatively young ages. Dunmoore, Pushkin, and Guthren, Spacers of Fortune — it had a certain ring. A depressing one, certainly, but such was life.
“Always good to have old comrades you can rely on as part of any team.” He gave her an uncertain smile.
“The friends we make and, more importantly, keep are the only certainty in this life.” Dunmoore stood. “I won’t take up any more of your time. You have a million things to set right after we threw Salamanca into a tailspin. As of now, RED One personnel are mere passengers who’ll do their best to stay out of everyone’s way. But, thankfully, the trip to Starbase 30 won’t take long.”
“No. We should see you ashore in two days.”