The War Machine: Crisis of Empire III by Roger MacBride Allen, David Drake Read Free Book Online Page A

explanation for anything—and sweating bullets because Spencer asked for none.
    Fabulous tapestries, gorgeous paintings, sculpture that could only be described as prurient, period furniture that would have been at home in a palace—or perhaps a fancy bordello. Worse, perhaps, were the blank spots where it was obvious a painting, a fixture, an ornament was missing. Red-flocked wallpaper hung in ribbons from the bulkheads where it had been torn out to get at some particularly expensive piece.
    Tallen breathed a sigh of relief when they turned the corner into the duty offices. Here, at least, some semblance of normal military appearance remained. “My office is just this way, Sir,” he said, the relief in his voice obvious. Quite automatically, he led Spencer straight to what Tallen regarded as “his” work place—and too late realized that the brass plate on the door said captain.
    Spencer turned and smiled at Tallen. “Your office, Commander?”
    “Ah, in the interim, Sir. All the datanodes and operational files are here—It seemed more practical in the absence—”
    “I understand,” Spencer said gently, and swung open the door. It was obvious at first glance that Tallen had been occupying this office for quite some time. His commission, proudly framed, hung on the wall. The closet door was ajar, and it was clear that the uniforms inside were meant to fit a burly man, and not the former female captain. A photo of Tallen and his parents sat on the desk.
    “It’s been a long interim, hasn’t it?” Spencer asked innocently.
    Damn and double goddam. How the hell could he explain that Kerad hadn’t set foot in the duty offices during her whole tour of duty, that Tallen had been forced to move in here, where all the ops files were?
    Spencer gestured Tallen inside and shut the hatch. “What else am I going to find on this ship, Deyi?”
    Tallen stiffened and stood at full attention. “Would the Captain wish to examine the rest of his command?” Deyi asked, dreading the ordeal he was inviting. The Duncan was in sad shape, and no one knew it better than Deyi.
    “No, thank you, Commander.” Spencer sat in the visitor’s chair and indicated that Deyi should take the chair behind the desk. “I think I’ve seen enough. It looks like you have your hands full without disrupting everything for some candy-ass inspection. You’ve got most of Duncan’s Marines aboard the Banquo, don’t you?”
    Tallen swallowed nervously. This captain seemed to have done his homework. “Yes, Sir.”
    “And no doubt you’re short-handed in other ways. Probably you have the whole commissary section doing ship’s inventory, counting to see how many of the spoons Kerad and her entourage took with her.”
    How the hell had he known that? “Sir?”
    “Kerad’s brother was in the Guard, Commander,” Captain Spencer said. “Assigned to my section for a while. I know the family tendencies. My guess is that his kid sister and her toadies left carrying everything that wasn’t bolted down—and a few things that were, by the look of officer’s country. And you’ve been busy trying to deal with more pressing matters than repairing the wallpaper. Like quelling a mutiny.
    “Relax, Tallen. I know none of this fiasco is your fault—even if it is technically your responsibility. I’ll lay odds that I could find discrepancies in every section of this ship that could get you court martialed for dereliction of duty if I looked right now. Fortunately, I haven’t seen a thing so far. It just so happens I wanted to see if I had the ship’s layout memorized and walked to this office with my eyes shut.”
    Tallen opened his mouth as if to speak, but then thought better of it.
    “So I’ll make a deal with you,” Spencer went on. “We are to boost and head for Daltgeld within forty hours. Concentrate between now and then on making sure the task force is ready for the jump. Once we’re on station orbiting Daltgeld, we can worry about