And from all he’d so far seen, Yearman had been an excellent choice. He didn’t appear to be an inspired strategist, but he had a firm grasp of the tactical realities, and he’d immediately set out to hammer his mismatched squadron into something like a coherent fighting force.

Nine days, unfortunately, wasn’t very long. Chernock suspected that an all-Navy task group could have gotten itself sorted out and drilled to an acceptable standard in that much time, but three of Yearman’s battlecruisers—Ivan IV, Cassander, and Modred—were commanded by StateSec officers, and so was Morrigan, one of his two Mars-class heavy cruisers. Those officers, and especially Citizen Captain Isler, Modred’s skipper, deeply resented being placed under effective Navy command, even at Chernock’s direct orders. Citizen Captain Sorrenson, Morrigan’s CO, was probably as resentful as Isler, if less inclined to show it, and it hadn’t helped that Yearman’s drills had made it painfully obvious that all four SS ships had been trained to a much lower standard than their Navy counterparts. The discovery of their operational inferiority had only honed the StateSec officers’ resentment… and probably inspired a certain carefully concealed contempt among Yearman’s fellow regulars.

Personally, Chernock was glad to have the training differential made clear. As far as he knew, this was the first joint Navy–State Security operation to be mounted, and he had taken careful note of his own service’s inadequacies. He already knew his post-mission report was going to be scathing, and he intended to send it directly to Citizen Secretary Saint-Just’s personal attention. If, in fact, it became necessary for SS units to deal with rebellious ships of the regular Navy, they were going to need either an enormous preponderance in firepower or far better training, and it was his duty to point that out to StateSec’s commander.

In the meantime, however, Yearman had to get his mismatched command team into some sort of fighting trim, and he had driven them mercilessly while the ground force was assembled in Danak. He’d made considerable progress, although Chernock knew he was still far from satisfied, and he’d gone on drilling them on the voyage to Cerberus. Unfortunately, that trip was only forty-five light-years long, and the Roughnecks were fast ships for transports. The entire voyage required only eight days base-time, which gave Yearman less than six and a half subjective to get them whipped into shape. After five days of nonstop exercises and tactical problems, even his regulars were heartily sick and tired of it, and the StateSec officers hovered on the brink of rebellion. Yet even Citizen Captain Isler must realize how much they had improved, and Chernock’s presence was enough to enforce at least a surface civility.

“I’ll keep this brief,” he said finally, his voice very level. “We represent a hastily assembled force many of whose personnel have never previously worked together. I realize that the intense efforts which have been made to overcome our lack of familiarity with one another’s methods have been hard, exhausting, and often irritating. I know there are short tempers around this table, and I understand the reasons for that. Nonetheless, I… will… not… tolerate any display of anger, any hesitation in obeying the orders of a senior officer—regardless of the uniform he or she wears—or any species of insubordination or rivalry. Does anyone require a clearer statement on this issue?”