Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga) (17 page)

BOOK: Adapt and Overcome (The Maxwell Saga)
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Steve nodded thoughtfully. “I guess we
rescued
Mauritania
from capture by pirates, which would have cost her insurers the same as a total loss for other reasons, so we’ll have a claim for proportional compensation.”

“You will indeed,” the Admiral agreed. “
There are also the ransoms that would have been demanded for the members of the Group of 100 aboard her – we all carry our own insurance against that sort of thing, of course. The insurers will be liable for a proportion of the ransoms they would have had to pay if you hadn’t intervened. The Prize Court on Lancaster will have to sort it all out and make a ruling.”

“With so many insurers involved, Sir, won’t that take an awful long time?”
Abha asked.


Under normal circumstances, yes, it might take a couple of years; but we can shorten the process if all claimants agree to negotiate a settlement with all the insurers, rather than holding out for the maximum possible award the court might make. That also minimizes the risk that the court’s award might be less than they’d like. Commodore O’Fallon has asked Methuen Investments to represent the SPS at the Prize Court. We have a registered Prize Agency among our operating companies - a very good one, too, if I say so myself. If your Marines will all agree to use our services too, we can move things right along. A settlement may be possible in as little as a few months.”

Brooks
’ eyes lit up. “What sort of percentage are we talking about, Sir?”

“Past awards have ranged from ten to fifty per cent of insured value. I’m afraid the very large sums involved in this case, and the relatively light damage to
Mauritania,
will probably reduce the award; but I think ten to fifteen per cent is entirely realistic and achievable.”

“Ten to fifteen per cent of how much, Sir?”
Abha asked, voice trembling a little. Steve suddenly remembered her ambition to study medicine, and realized she was on tenterhooks at the thought that the prize award might make it possible much sooner than she’d thought.

Methuen smiled. “Captain Packer informs me that
Mauritania’
s insured value, including all her equipment, fixtures and fittings but excluding cargo and consumables, is one-point-one billion Lancastrian Commonwealth credits.”

There was a stunned silence in the room. Steve felt as if he’d been sandbagged, and he could see that Brooks and Abha were in no better state. Eventually he asked, carefully, “Did I hear you correctly, Sir? Did you say one-point-one
billion?”

“I did. Don’t forget, she and her sister ship, while relatively small by merchant spaceship standards, are the most luxurious liners in interstellar service
. All those fittings and frills and fripperies add up to a great deal of money. For example, her works of art alone – paintings, sculptures and so on, most of them originals – are almost thirty per cent of her insured value.”

“I see, Sir. So ten per cent of that would be… a hundred and ten million credits?” He felt as if his mind was wading through molasses, it figured the percentage so slowly.

Colonel Houmayoun was grinning fit to beat the band. “Yes, and if the award’s fifteen per cent, it’ll be a hundred and sixty-five million. Add to that the twenty-five-million-credit reward on Johann de Bouff’s head, plus whatever the Prize Court orders the Group of 100’s members’ insurers to contribute in lieu of ransoms.”

Steve was dumbstruck as his mind tried to grasp the numbers involved.
The officers’ share will be fifteen per cent of the total prize money… that could be twenty million credits or more! And there’s only four of us, including Warrant Officer Labuschagne, to divide it!

“Even the most junior of your Marines
, Rolla’s NCO’s, and the System Patrol Service people who took part in the assault, is going to be very well off indeed,” the Colonel continued. His smile showed more clearly than words that he wasn’t in the least dissatisfied at not sharing in the award – but he’d be compensated in other ways, Steve suddenly realized. He’d arranged for the instructors to come to Rolla, and helped set up the shuttle swap deal. Without both elements, yesterday’s events could not have ended so happily, so they’d reflect very positively upon him. That would probably help to ensure Houmayoun’s first star as a Brigadier-General in the not too distant future.

“And the SPS will use its share of the prize money to buy ships, Sir?” he asked.

“Yes
,” the Admiral replied. “I’ve offered to negotiate on its behalf with the Board of Admiralty. There are still some
Songbird
class heavy patrol craft in the Reserve Fleet. Thanks to changes in the Fleet’s operating doctrine and structure we no longer use that class, so they’re listed for disposal. I think a word in the right ears at Admiralty House will allow Rolla to buy up to a dozen of them at their nominal, depreciated book value – probably a couple of million apiece. Ten to fifteen million more will buy an old depot ship to provide base facilities for them. The balance will pay for the Fleet dockyard to de-mothball and overhaul all of them, update their software and systems, outfit the depot ship to handle their ongoing maintenance, and buy a stock of spare parts. They use the same type of missiles as Rolla’s corvettes, which will simplify things for the planet’s Ordnance people. The
Songbirds
have at least twenty to thirty years of useful life left in them, more if they’re upgraded. They’re just what Rolla needs.”

Steve nodded, still trying to control his amazement over the potential size of the prize award. “I think that’s an excellent plan, Sir. I know the
Songbirds –
I served a tour aboard LCS
Grasswren
on the Radetski peacekeeping mission back in ’42. They’re ideal ships for a system patrol service.”

“You did? That’s excellent news! It makes another idea even more practicable.”

“It certainly does!” The Colonel sat forward eagerly. “Something else we discussed tonight was accelerating the recruitment and training of personnel for the PSDF’s second armored battalion, and for the SPS, to crew their new ships. The Minister’s asked me to arrange for the Marine training mission to be extended for an additional six months, through the first half of next year. We can’t do that directly, of course, because according to Fleet Regulations a temporary detachment can only last for six months at most. However, I think I can arrange to return you all to Lancaster for a couple of weeks leave at the end of the year, followed by a second six-month TDY to Rolla. I’m sure Marine Corps HQ will approve such an arrangement under the circumstances. D’you think any of your team would have a problem with that, Captain?”

Brooks shook his head. “I doubt it, Sir. In fact, I think they’ll enjoy it. They like it here. If a few of them have prior commitments, I’m sure we can find replacements for them
, and those we lost yesterday.”

“Good. The Minister was particularly insistent that we use as many of the same instructors as possible, because you’ve all established enormous credibility in the eyes of the entire planet through your actions yesterday. He’d like to capitalize on that.” He transferred his gaze to Steve. “That applies to you, too, Lieutenant, although you’ll no longer
work with the instructor unit.”

Steve had suddenly realized that the new arrangement would mean that he and Abha would be apart for an additional six months – almost a year, in total. He’d begun to be depressed at the thought, but suddenly felt more hopeful.

“What do you mean, Sir?”

“You
were originally scheduled to be here until the end of next month, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Admiral Methuen will return to Lancaster next week. He’ll visit Admiralty House as soon as he gets back. If he plays his cards right, we expect Rolla’s purchase of the
Songbirds
and a depot ship from the Reserve Fleet will be approved very quickly. The SPS wants to receive one patrol craft as soon as possible. If it’s given top priority for overhaul, it can be ready by the end of the year. They’d like a Fleet Commanding Officer and key NCO’s aboard her for the first six months, to supervise the training of their first patrol craft crews – and Commodore O’Fallon’s asked for you by name. Heavy patrol craft are normally commanded by Senior Lieutenants, so you already have the rank for the job. You’ve never served as a department head or Executive Officer, as you normally would before getting your first command, but your performance yesterday suggests you’ll be able to cope.”

“Yes,” the Admiral agreed, “and your prior experience aboard a
Songbird
class ship means you’ll have a lot less to learn about them.”

Steve felt a rush of excitement. He hadn’t dared hope for command for at least another couple of years, and even then it had seemed a vanishingly small possibility so early in his career. The only warships Senior Lieutenants were eligible to command
during peacetime were intra-system patrol vessels, which could not hyper-jump, but secured the star system at which they were based. The Fleet had twelve eight-ship squadrons of
Serpent
class patrol craft in service, for a total of just ninety-six command slots; but there were many thousands of O-3 grade officers eager to fill them. Therefore, any Senior Lieutenant commanding a patrol craft automatically stood out among his peers. If Steve were selected for command, even of an older, smaller
Songbird
class patrol craft, it would do his career nothing but good. Furthermore, to have an allied armed force ask for his services by name was a significant professional compliment. It would not escape the Fleet’s notice.

“I presume I’ll have to pass the command course first, Sir?” he asked.

“Yes, you will. If the Board of Admiralty agrees to appoint you in command of Rolla’s first
Songbird,
you’ll have to return to Lancaster at once. You’ll need to brush up your knowledge of patrol craft before the Crusher begins. It’s going to be a tough course for you. The other candidates will almost certainly have more time in grade than you will – some much more. They’ll have been department heads or XO’s, and some may be of higher rank. Your relative inexperience compared to them may – no, let’s be honest, it
will
– put you at a disadvantage. Are you up for the challenge?”

Steve couldn’t help a sudden, nervous thought of,
What if I fail? My career would be over!
He ruthlessly suppressed it with an instant mental riposte.
You’ll just have to make sure you
don’t
fail, won’t you? Grab the opportunity with both hands, dammit! Who knows if it’ll ever come your way again?

He looked Admiral Methuen squarely in the eye. “Sir, one of the Benedictine brothers at the orphanage where I was raised was fond of a toast by James Graham, the first Marquis of Montrose. It
went: ‘He either fears his fate too much, or his desserts are small, who dares not put it to the touch, to win or lose it all.’ I guess he’d say that about the Crusher, too. If the Fleet decides I’m ready to tackle that course, I’ll ‘put it to the touch’, Sir.”

Methuen grinned approvingly at him. “That’s the spirit! Based on your performance yesterday morning, I daresay you’ll be able to cope.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Even as he spoke, Steve wondered what might have happened to his career if he’d hesitated. Admiral Methuen, the hard-charging victor of the Battle of Corunna more than two decades before, had been well-known during his career for demanding that his subordinates demonstrate the same ability, drive and performance that he displayed himself. He’d put his weight behind the careers of those who did… and firmly blocked those who did not. Even in retirement, his influence was strong enough to potentially mean a great deal for an officer’s career. If Steve had shown any hesitation or reluctance, his goodwill might have been suddenly conspicuous by its absence.

“The Crusher lasts twelve weeks,” Methuen continued. “If we can get you onto the next course in September, you can be qualified by early December. The training detachment will get back to Lancaster shortly thereafter for a few weeks’ leave. You can take some leave yourself – you’ll need it by then! – while your ship is being prepared for transport, then return to Rolla with the detachment. You’ll spend the next six months here, training patrol craft crews. When the other
Songbirds
and the depot ship arrive, you’ll hand over your vessel to a Rolla officer and return to Lancaster.”

“I understand, Sir.”

“Very well – that’s one issue dealt with. The other is whether your parent unit will agree to your absence for more than a year. I can’t imagine they’ll be happy about that. Where are you permanently assigned at present?”

“I’m with the Accident Investigation Unit on Lancaster, Sir.”

“That helps. It’s part of BuShips, and Admiral Brunel and I go back a long way together. I’ll have a word with him, and see whether he can find a replacement for you at AIU. You’ll still have several months of your normal two-year planetside assignment to complete when you get back, of course. We’ll have to see what can be done about that – for all of you, in fact.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The Admiral’s face sobered. “There’s also a negative side to this incident, one I need to warn you about very sincerely. The publicity over this affair will make you household names, at least for a while, whether you like it or not. That, and the official recognition I’m sure you’re going to receive, is bound to make some of your colleagues jealous. Even worse, the amount of prize money involved is likely to bring out of the woodwork all sorts of ‘friends’ you never knew you had. They’ll all be holding out their hands, wanting you to share your good fortune with them. If you don’t – and needless to say, you shouldn’t! – they’re going to accuse you of being greedy, tight-fisted and snobbish, thinking yourselves ‘too good for them’. You’d better warn your Marines about that, too.”

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