The Terran Privateer Read Online Free

but she did believe in inappropriate ones—and Kurzman knew anything about his Captain’s past or personal life qualified.
    The sensors reported that the landing bay was safe and the blast shield retracted. Two men had exited the shuttle and were walking toward her, and she knew both of them.
    She’d worked for Elon Casimir for three years now, ever since it had been made very clear to Commander Annette Bond that even though she had been entirely correct to push for the prosecution of Captain John Bowman for his crimes, doing so had ended her UESF career.
    Admiral Jean Villeneuve had already been Chief of Operations there. He’d sat as the judge at the trial that had condemned Captain Bowman to death for no less than fifteen counts of aggravated rape of enlisted spacers under his command.
    Charges that, if the Captains under Villeneuve had had their way, would never have been laid. Annette Bond had pushed, argued, presented evidence, and sworn affidavits for six months to force the trial, and then cajoled, supported, and mothered the young women in question to get them to actually testify.
    Bowman had been convicted and sent to the needle for destroying their lives.
    In exchange, Annette had been quietly informed that no Captain in the Force would take her as their executive officer again, and that there were no open staff slots. The Captains wouldn’t work with her, wouldn’t talk to her. She had no future in the Force, so when she was offered early retirement, she took it.
    Villeneuve hadn’t been involved in that—but he also hadn’t stepped in to stop it. It took every ounce of her self-control not to glare at the old man as he calmly walked across the deck to meet her.
    “Boss,” she greeted Casimir, then gave the other man a sharp glance. “Admiral.”
    “Captain Bond,” Casimir replied, taking her hand warmly and smiling. She gave him a fractional crack of a smile, and the young executive shook his head at her in a familiar amusement.
    Villeneuve offered his hand.
    “Captain,” he said softly.
    She looked back at him and didn’t take his hand, leaving him hanging in the chilled air of the landing bay until Casimir cleared his throat sharply. With a glare at her boss, Annette finally shook the Admiral’s hand.
    “Do you have a meeting room set up?” Casimir asked. “The Admiral and I have come to an agreement in principle, and I’d like to fill you in.”
    “Of course,” she confirmed crisply. “Follow me.”
    Like the rest of her nonessential features, Tornado ’s conference facilities were lacking much of anything. They existed , which put them ahead of many items that remained empty voids in the hull. The table was the exact same cheap folding plastic as currently filled the cruiser’s single mess, with chairs from the matching set.
    It was hardly what Casimir was used to, but she’d made sure he knew what he was getting into when they’d discussed it the previous day. His response had been to note that he’d held board meetings on asteroid mining stations.
    “Captain, Admiral, please sit,” he told them as he stepped up to the head of the cheap table. He took a seat himself, laced his hands together and faced the two officers.
    “Captain Bond, you should be aware that as of midnight tonight, Tornado will become a United Earth Space Force vessel,” Casimir said bluntly. “All of the personnel seconded from the UESF will revert to active duty at that time.”
    “I see, sir,” Annette said coldly, suddenly feeling as if the ground had been yanked out from underneath her. She’d had a month aboard Tornado , getting her out of construction, all of the gear loaded into her modular construction, and ready for this demonstration. She should have known she’d be working herself out of a job. “I’ll inform the rest of the crew to start packing their things.”
    “We want to keep the crew, Captain Bond,” Villeneuve interjected. “I have the authority in my own right to close the