“I haven’t authorized any changes in the duty roster, Major,” I said mildly. “Report to your post.” I was riding the habit of discipline now, as far as it would carry me. I hoped that disobedience to a direct order, solidly based on regulations, was a little too big a jump for Kramer at the moment. Tomorrow it might be different. But it was essential that I break up the scene he was staging.
He wilted. “I’ll see you at 1700 in the chart room, Kramer,” I said as he turned away. Mannion and Kirschenbaum looked at each other, then finished their near-coffee hurriedly and left. I hoped their version of the incident would help deflate Kramer’s standing among the malcontents.
I left the wardroom and took the lift up to the bridge and checked with Clay and his survey team.
“I think I’ve spotted a slight perturbation in Delta 3, Captain,” Clay said. “I’m not sure, we’re still pretty far out.”
“All right, Clay,” I said. “Stay with it.”
Clay was one of my more dependable men, dedicated to his work. Unfortunately, he was no man of action. He would have little influence in a show-down.
I was at the Schmidt when I heard the lift open. I turned; Kramer, Fine, Taylor, and a half a dozen enlisted crew chiefs crowded out, bunched together. They were all wearing needlers. At least they’d learned that much, I thought.
Kramer moved forward. “We feel that the question of the men’s welfare has to be dealt with right away, Captain,” he said smoothly.
I looked at him coldly, glanced at the rest of his crew. I said nothing.