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sweat-beaded brow. “I’ll be glad to see the back of this sonofabitch. Tell you what, sir,” he added, “maybe Lieutenant Kallewi can lend us a few marines. There are plenty of them.”
    “They’re too busy on the mats killing each other at the moment, Chief, but if you’re stuck, just ask.”
    “I will, sir, though it goes against the grain, asking marines for help.”
    Michael grinned. Generally, spacers and marines rubbed along okay, but the relationship could be prickly at times. “Ask anyway, Chief. Now, Petty Officers Lim and Morozov. All well with the power and habitat departments?”
    “My part of ship’s sweet as a nut, sir,” Lim replied, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “Can’t speak for habitat, though.”
    “It’s fine, and well you know it, Petty Officer Lim,” Morozov said with a grin. “Well, this week, anyway.”
    Michael returned the smile. Morozov had a point.
Redwood
’s conversion from heavy cruiser to dreadnought had involved ripping out every piece of equipment not required for her new role, a task carried out in some cases with more enthusiasm than good sense. Morozov had been forced to spend hours keeping
Redwood
’s recycling systems online thanks to the yard’s carelessness.
    “Thanks for the update, team,” Michael said. “I will now exercise the privileges of rank and decline the opportunity to lend you guys a hand”—a muffled chorus of
hrrmpph
s greeted this statement—“and if anyone wants to moan about that, I’ll be in the CIC, where I will be happy to hear what you have to say.”
    “Don’t worry about it, sir,” Fodor said. “We need the exercise.”
    “No comment, Chief. See you later.”
    Returning forward, Michael had one more stop to make. Sedova had reported a defect on one of
Alley Kat
’s fusion plants, and although Mother had briefed him in detail on what the lander’s problem was, he wanted to hear it for himself. Returning to the hangar deck, he ignored the marines, their mock riot now back in full swing, and made his way across to the looming bulk of the heavy assault lander, its brutal, functional shape a stark reminder of its enormous power. Once inside the lander’s brilliantly lit cargo bay, he found Sedova talking to her loadmaster.
    “Petty Officer Trivedi,” he said. “Mind if I borrow your skipper for a moment?”
    “No problems, sir,” Trivedi said. “I’ll be on the flight deck if you need me.”
    “Kat,” he said when Petty Officer Trivedi had left. “How’s things?”
    “Good, sir,” Sedova said. “Florian thinks she’s found the problem with
Alley Kat
’s starboard fusion plant.”
    “Fixable?”
    “It is. One of the controllers is unstable. We have spares, so it’s only a matter of swapping it out.”
    “Pleased to hear it. Don’t like our backup ride home ending up defective on us.”
    Sedova grimaced. “Nor me, sir. I know Fleet’s pushed for ships, but not sending a casualty recovery ship along to provide backup seems to me to be … well, not a good thing,” she said.
    Michael nodded his agreement even though Sedova’s words contained more than a touch of implied criticism. “I agree, and my report on Balawal-34 will have a lot to say on that subject. I know we have to use
Alley Kat
for ground assaults, butI also know we shouldn’t, not if she’s our only one and only pinchspace-capable lander. I’ve spoken to Admiral Jaruzelska, and she agrees, so I’m hopeful we can get us another Block 6 lander. If Fleet won’t task a casualty recovery ship in support of our operations and we lose
Alley Kat
, we must have another way home.”
    “Pleased to hear you say that, sir. The admiral … I know she’s still Commander, Dreadnought Force, but does that mean anything? I mean, there are only three dreadnoughts left. Not much of a force.”
    “No, it’s not. As for the admiral, she has clout, probably more than she’s ever had, thanks to the Devastation Reef operation. Winning that one was a