The Armageddon Inheritance

There were a lot of “Fleet Captains” on it, though Dahak’s new protocol demanded that they be addressed in Colin’s presence either as “Commander” or simply by the department they headed, since he was the only “Senior Fleet Captain” and there could be but one captain aboard a warship. The Imperium had used any officer’s full rank and branch, which Colin and his Terra-born found too cumbersome, but Dahak had obstinately resisted Colin’s suggestion that he might be called “Commodore” to ease the problem.

Colin let his eyes sweep over them as he sat and they followed suit. Jiltanith was at his right, as befitted his second-in-command and the officer charged with the organization and day-to-day management of Dahak’s operation. Hector MacMahan sat at his left, as impeccable in the space-black of the Imperial Marines as he had ever been in the uniform of the United States. Beyond them, rows of officers, each department head flanked by his or her senior assistants, ran down the sides of the table to meet at its foot, where he faced Vlad Chernikov, the man who had inherited the shipboard authority which had once been Anu’s.

“Thank you all for coming,” Colin said. “As you know, we’ll be leaving supralight to approach the Sheskar System in approximately twenty-one hours. With luck, that means we’ll soon re-establish contact with the Imperium, but we can’t count on that. We’re going into a totally unknown situation, and I want final readiness estimates from all of my senior department heads—and for all of you to hear them—before we do.”

Heads nodded, and he turned to Jiltanith.

“Would you care to begin with a general overview, XO?” he asked.

“Certes, Captain,” Jiltanith said, and turned confident eyes to her fellows. “Our Dahak hath been a teacher most astute—aye, and a taskmaster of the sternest!” That won a mutter of laughter, for Dahak had driven his new crew so hard ten percent of even his capacity had been committed full-time to their training and neural-feed education. “While ’tis true I would be better pleased with some small time more of practice, yet have our folk learned their duties well, and I say with confidence our officers and crew will do all mortal man may do if called.”

“Thank you,” Colin said. It was scarcely a detailed report, but he hadn’t asked for that, and he turned to Hector MacMahan.

“Ground Forces?”

“The ground forces are better organized than we could reasonably expect,” the hawk-faced Marine replied, “if not yet quite as well as I’d like.

“We have four separate nationalities in our major formations, and we’ll need a few more months to really shake down properly. For the moment, we’ve adopted Imperial organization and ranks but confined them to our original unit structures. Our USFC and SAS people are our recon/special forces component; the Second Marines have been designated as our assault component; the German First Armored will operate our ground combat vehicles; and the Sendai Division and the Nineteenth Guards Parachute Division are our main ground force.

“There’s been a bit of rivalry over who got the choicest assignment, but it hasn’t gotten physical … not very often, anyway.” He shrugged. “These are all elite formations, and until we can integrate them fully, a continued sense of identity is inevitable, but they’ve settled in and mastered their new weapons quite well. I’m confident we can handle anything we have to handle.”

“Thank you,” Colin said again. He turned to General Georgi Treshnikov, late of the Russian Air Force and now commander of the three hundred Imperial fighters Dahak had retained for self-defense. “Parasite Command?”

“As Hector, we are ready,” Treshnikov said. “We have even more nationalities, but less difficulty in integration, for we did not embark complete national formations to crew our fighters.”

“Thank you. Intelligence, Commander Ninhursag?”

“We’ve done all we can with the non-data Dahak has been able to give us, Captain. You’ve all seen our reports.” The stocky, pleasantly plain Imperial who had been Nergal’s spy within Anu’s camp shrugged. “Until we have some hard facts to plug into our analyses, we’re only marking time.”

“I understand. Biosciences?”

“Bioscience is weary but ready, Captain,” Fleet Captain (B) Coha

“Thank you. Maintenance?”

“We’re looking good, Captain.” Fleet Captain (M) Geran was another of Nergal’s “children,” but, aside from his eyes, he looked more like a Terran, with dark auburn hair, unusually light skin for an Imperial, and a mobile mouth that smiled easily. “Dahak’s repair systems did a bang-up job, and he slapped anything he wasn’t using into stasis. I’d like more practice on damage control, but—” He raised his right hand, palm upward, and Colin nodded.

“Understood. Hopefully you’ll have lots of time to go on practicing. We’ll try to keep it that way. Tactical?”

“We’re in good shape, sir,” Tamman said. “Battle Comp’s doing well with simulators and training problems. Our Terra-born aren’t as comfortable with their neural feeds as I’d like yet, but that’s only a matter of practice.”

“Logistics?”

“Buttoned up, sir,” Fleet Commander (L) Caitrin O’Rourke said confidently. “We’ve got facilities for three times the people we’ve actually got aboard, and all park and hydroponic areas have been fully reactivated, so provisions and life support are no sweat. Magazines are at better than ninety-eight percent—closer to ninety-nine—and we’re in excellent shape for spares.”

“Engineering?”

“Engineering looks good, sir,” Chernikov replied. “Our Imperials and Terra-born have shaken down extremely well together. I am confident.”

“Good. Very good.” Colin leaned back and smiled at his officers, glad none of them had tried to gloss over any small concerns they still had. Not that he’d expected them to.

“In that case, I think we can conclude, unless there are any questions?” As he’d expected, there were none. In a very real sense, this meeting had been almost ceremonial, a chance for them to show their confidence to one another.

“Very well.” He rose and nodded to them all. “We shall adjourn.” He started for the door, and a mellow voice spoke again.

“Attention on deck,” it repeated, and Colin swallowed a resigned sigh as his solemn-faced officers stood once more.

“Carry on, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, and stepped out the hatch.

“Supralight shutdown in two minutes,” Dahak remarked calmly.

Colin took great pains to project a matching calm, but his own relaxation was all too artificial, and he saw the same strain, hidden with greater or lesser success, in all of his bridge officers. Dahak was at battle stations, and a matching team under Jiltanith ma

A score of officers were physically present at their consoles on the starlit command deck. In an emergency, Colin could have run the ship without any of them, something which would have been impossible with the semi-aware Comp Cent of yore. But even though Dahak was now capable of assessing intent and exercising discretion, there were limits to the details Colin’s human brain could handle. Each of his highly-trained officers took his or her own portion of the burden off of him, and he was devoutly thankful for their presence.