for crazy stunts. Crazy by the extreme standards of pilots. Another one exiled when he should be in the thick of things.
“Go ahead, Gaucho ,” she said.
“Did you mean the whole wing would crash launch, sir? Everybody?” he asked. He had a pleasant tenor voice with an odd accent.
“Assault shuttles also have guns on them. The wing will be graded on time, not efficiency.”
That triggered another round of murmurs rippling around the room.
Bitter Kitten spoke up from the back. “Why guns only, commander?”
Jessica smiled warmly back at her. Bitter Kitten knew some of what was coming, but had obviously kept a few tidbits to herself. That was useful to know.
“Because I intend to operate well at sea for extended periods. That means we don’t get to run home for more missiles if we shoot them all off at the first fleeing pirate we encounter. I want to know that you can kill things at knife–fighting ranges if we have to. It’s going to be dangerous out there.”
She let the smile fade and surveyed the room with a hard eye. “Any other questions?”
The silence hung. It was not the stillness of acquiescence. More likely shock. It would wear off. Or not.
“Then I will leave you with Senior Centurion Vlahovic for the rest of your briefing.”
She marched back to the open side door and exited. Once outside, she closed the door and smiled at Marcelle, who had listening silently outside.
“So what do you think, Marcelle?” she asked quietly.
“Lambs to the slaughter, boss.”
“Us or them?”
Marcelle smiled broadly. “I don’t know anybody who’s dumb enough to bet against you.”
Jessica let a breath out to try to relax. Command meant being right, being decisive, and being indestructible. It was only going to get harder from here.
Chapter X
Date of the Republic October 6, 392 Jumpspace approaching Simeon
Jessica walked onto the bridge and surveyed the scene. The tension fairly cracked.
That was good. She wanted them at a higher pitch than normal for what she had planned.
In one hand, another stack of hand–written linen envelopes. Being able to write those ahead of time required one to plan for a number of contingencies.
It was just one of the things she had learned from the man who would go on to be First Lord. How to fight wars.
Amateurs studied tactics. Professionals studied strategy. Conquerors studied logistics.
Tamara Strnad was already settled into the Central Station. She turned a questioning eye on Jessica, but Jessica shook her head. Up until now, it had been a test to see how well the crew could handle suddenly having to take charge.
They had done rather well. That was the test of Jež as the man who had been responsible for training them and keeping them on task. She had expected him to pass.
Now it was going to get messy. This was where the fun would start.
Or the failure.
Jessica walked next to Tamara and gave her a warm smile. She leaned in close as she handed the woman the next stack of envelopes and whispered, “Final exam, Centurion. Good luck.”
Tamara nodded back at her and looked down at the stack. The top one had the words Open three minutes before you exit Jumpspace scrawled neatly on the outside in Jessica’s careful hand.
Jessica moved to a training station off to one side of the long, skinny bridge, opposite from the one Jež had commandeered, and examined the crew. Today just might make or break them.
“Astrogation systems,” Tamara called out, “please put a countdown timer on the main screen for emergence from Jumpspace.”
“Roger that, sir,” Zupan called back, her hands dancing across the virtual keyboard in a fantastically–complex piano sonata. Numbers appeared on the screen, slowly ticking down.
“Flight Deck,” Tamara continued. Jessica could detect a hint of stress in the words, but she was handling it well, especially given the curveballs she was being thrown. “Five minutes to first hop. Wake up your pilots and make sure they’re
“Go ahead, Gaucho ,” she said.
“Did you mean the whole wing would crash launch, sir? Everybody?” he asked. He had a pleasant tenor voice with an odd accent.
“Assault shuttles also have guns on them. The wing will be graded on time, not efficiency.”
That triggered another round of murmurs rippling around the room.
Bitter Kitten spoke up from the back. “Why guns only, commander?”
Jessica smiled warmly back at her. Bitter Kitten knew some of what was coming, but had obviously kept a few tidbits to herself. That was useful to know.
“Because I intend to operate well at sea for extended periods. That means we don’t get to run home for more missiles if we shoot them all off at the first fleeing pirate we encounter. I want to know that you can kill things at knife–fighting ranges if we have to. It’s going to be dangerous out there.”
She let the smile fade and surveyed the room with a hard eye. “Any other questions?”
The silence hung. It was not the stillness of acquiescence. More likely shock. It would wear off. Or not.
“Then I will leave you with Senior Centurion Vlahovic for the rest of your briefing.”
She marched back to the open side door and exited. Once outside, she closed the door and smiled at Marcelle, who had listening silently outside.
“So what do you think, Marcelle?” she asked quietly.
“Lambs to the slaughter, boss.”
“Us or them?”
Marcelle smiled broadly. “I don’t know anybody who’s dumb enough to bet against you.”
Jessica let a breath out to try to relax. Command meant being right, being decisive, and being indestructible. It was only going to get harder from here.
Chapter X
Date of the Republic October 6, 392 Jumpspace approaching Simeon
Jessica walked onto the bridge and surveyed the scene. The tension fairly cracked.
That was good. She wanted them at a higher pitch than normal for what she had planned.
In one hand, another stack of hand–written linen envelopes. Being able to write those ahead of time required one to plan for a number of contingencies.
It was just one of the things she had learned from the man who would go on to be First Lord. How to fight wars.
Amateurs studied tactics. Professionals studied strategy. Conquerors studied logistics.
Tamara Strnad was already settled into the Central Station. She turned a questioning eye on Jessica, but Jessica shook her head. Up until now, it had been a test to see how well the crew could handle suddenly having to take charge.
They had done rather well. That was the test of Jež as the man who had been responsible for training them and keeping them on task. She had expected him to pass.
Now it was going to get messy. This was where the fun would start.
Or the failure.
Jessica walked next to Tamara and gave her a warm smile. She leaned in close as she handed the woman the next stack of envelopes and whispered, “Final exam, Centurion. Good luck.”
Tamara nodded back at her and looked down at the stack. The top one had the words Open three minutes before you exit Jumpspace scrawled neatly on the outside in Jessica’s careful hand.
Jessica moved to a training station off to one side of the long, skinny bridge, opposite from the one Jež had commandeered, and examined the crew. Today just might make or break them.
“Astrogation systems,” Tamara called out, “please put a countdown timer on the main screen for emergence from Jumpspace.”
“Roger that, sir,” Zupan called back, her hands dancing across the virtual keyboard in a fantastically–complex piano sonata. Numbers appeared on the screen, slowly ticking down.
“Flight Deck,” Tamara continued. Jessica could detect a hint of stress in the words, but she was handling it well, especially given the curveballs she was being thrown. “Five minutes to first hop. Wake up your pilots and make sure they’re
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