“You’re fair-minded, for someone who’s been burnt twice now on the basis of rumor, Lieutenant. It does you credit. What do the rest of you think?”
Esmay listened to the rest, trying to discern from their conversation what kind of commanders they would be if the convoy saw trouble. Collingwood, with a sidelong glance at Esmay, said, “Where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire, sir. I mean, I know rumor isn’t always true, but on something this important, it probably is. If the Benignity’s behind the mutiny, they don’t even have to like the mutineers; they could just be supporting it from a distance.”
“But we don’t want to be conspiracy theorists,” said Bondi. “I mean, what if they started looking for everyone who’d ever served under Lepescu or any of the people now leading the mutiny, and then for everyone who ever had a friend or relative from the Benignity, for two generations back or so? My grandfather stowed away and came to Familias Space as a boy: how do you know he wasn’t some deep agent or something, instead of just a scared teenager who wanted a better life somewhere else?”
“So that’s where you got your weird ideas, Pete?” asked Collingwood, putting on a thick accent.
“It’s not funny—!” Bondi said; his face flushed.
“Gentlemen.” Livadhi intervened smoothly. “I hardly think Fleet’s going to start another witch hunt. Reasonable caution, yes, but Lieutenant Bondi has a fine record, which I’m sure will overwhelm any trifling concern about his grandfather—it certainly does with me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Bondi said. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“No, it’s a reasonable question. And it’s not something to joke about, especially not now.”
“No, sir. My apologies, sir, and Pete—I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to torque you at a time like this. Misplaced sense of humor.”
“It’s all right.” But to Esmay the apology seemed a bit glib, and Bondi’s color was still higher than usual.
“Let me show you the ship,” Livadhi said. “You can meet the personnel you’ll be communicating with—and for those of you who haven’t had cruiser duty, here’s a chance to familiarize yourselves—”
Livadhi started at the bottom, perhaps to give tempers and tensions time to dissipate as they clattered down the many ladders. Esmay admired this way of handling a difficult interaction; riding down in the officers’ lift they would have been immobile and staring at one another’s backs or the grill. Environmental first, then up to Engineering, where almost the first person they saw was Petris Kenvinnard, who recognized Esmay.
“Lieutenant Suiza—good to see you again.”
“You know Suiza?” Livadhi asked.
“Yes, sir; we’ve met before. She’s one of my—Heris’s—favorite young officers.”
“With reason, no doubt,” Livadhi murmured. “Lieutenant, you’ve had cruiser duty; if you’d like to stop and chat with Mr. Kenvinnard—”
“Don’t let me slow you down, Lieutenant. But I heard you’d gotten Rascal—congratulations. Tell Rudy—Master Chief Humberly—I said hello.”
“Thanks,” Esmay said. “And I will.” She went on, cheered more than she would have liked to admit to know Heris Serrano’s good opinion of her from someone else. Heris had stood up for her at the family gathering, but this was proof of a longer-standing opinion.
When they came to the great generators that powered the beam weapons, and Livadhi rattled off the specs, Esmay realized again just how big an upgrade Rascal had. Vigilance still had more firepower, but the gap had narrowed appreciably. She trailed behind, trying to calculate exactly the size of the remaining gap.
“Lieutenant Suiza!” That was Methlin Meharry, another of Heris Serrano’s “old” crew. “I hear you shook ’em up, the Serranos.”
“Rumor flies,” Esmay said. “I hope it’s settled now.”
“Nothing’s ever settled for good,” Meharry said, falling in step beside her. “Did you hear about my baby brother?”
“I didn’t know you had a baby brother.” Esmay would have expected Meharry to have been hatched from some piece of ordnance, except for the impossibility. She could imagine a string of identical Meharrys, but not one that could be called “baby” in any form.
“He was stationed at the high security brig, on Copper Mountain. Same one where Lepescu stuck me an’ the others.” She shook her head. “Idiot fool. I s’pose he wanted to see if he could understand his big sister better. Anyway, he figured out that bitch Bacarion was up to no good, and he killed her, and escaped—and nobody escapes that place, I still don’t know how he did it, he’s gonna have to tell me all the details—an’ then he told them about the mutiny. Too late; it was starting, but he tried. Little scamp.”
“He’s your brother,” was all Esmay could think to say.
“Yah. He is. Meharry all the way through.” She grinned. “I am really, really proud of that kid, but I better not let him find out, or he’ll get sassy with me.” She nodded, then, to the end of the passage, where the others had disappeared around a corner. “Better catch up, Lieutenant. Don’t forget to say hello to Koutsoudas if he’s on the bridge.”
Esmay lengthened her stride, but was delayed again by Oblo Vissisuan, coming down the ladder.
“Hoped I’d catch you, Lieutenant, just to say congratulations on your new command and your marriage.”
“Thanks,” Esmay said.
“That’s a really tidy weapons upgrade you’ve got on Rascal,” he went on. “I went over and took a look when she got in. And by the stats, she handles well, too.”
“She does,” Esmay said.
“Though nothing like Vigilance,” Oblo added. “I hear you got your supply problems straightened out—you know, Lieutenant, if you ever have a problem, maybe I could give you a hand. Nothin’ against your supply officer, but Heris—Commander Serrano—she says I have a real talent—”
Esmay had heard Oblo’s talent for obtaining the unobtainable described as something else, but she knew it was valuable. “Thank you—I think we’re fine now, but if I run into trouble—”
“You just give me a call. Any friend of our—of Commander Serrano’s—is a friend of ours. And a member of the family, I guess I should say.”
“I don’t suppose you know why Barin’s on Copper Mountain, do you? I found him on the database.”
“They didn’t tell you about that? Hell, Lieutenant, he damn near died in the explosion—no! It’s all right, he’s out of the hospital; he’ll be fine when he gets his strength back. I got that from a friend on the admiral’s staff. I’d’ve thought they’d tell you, you bein’ his wife and all.”
Esmay could have clobbered him for scaring her like that—her heart had seemed to stop for an instant—but clobbering Oblo would be like clobbering a draft horse. It wouldn’t hurt him, and he might hit back.
“I’d better catch up,” she said instead, and fled up the ladder, working off her fear and anger with every step.
She caught up with the others; no one commented on her absence, and she hoped it hadn’t been noticed. They moved on in stately procession through section after section, and finally came to the bridge. Here, docked at the Station, only a skeleton crew manned the bridge. Esmay looked around, but did not see Koutsoudas.
When she got back to Rascal, she called up whatever she could find about Barin’s ship and its combat. Nothing useful, except that it was listed as out of action. Not destroyed, just out of action.