“Every ten days, but we could move the meeting time if you wanted.”
“I’ll check,” Esmay said. “Now—I’ve got to finish my set.” He went away, and she worked until she felt she’d worked off not only the stiffness of study, but the unreasonable anger she’d felt at being compared to a gaming hero. By the time she’d cooled down again, she began to think whether she should have been quite so quick to agree . . . even if she hadn’t agreed to a specific time. Should she talk to a pack of ensigns about the Xavier affair? If she kept her own part to a minimum, and discussed the way Heris Serrano had held off a superior force, surely that could do no harm.
Chapter Nine
She was trying to think whom to consult, when she remembered that she needed to make an appointment to meet Admiral Dossignal. Now, while she was working her way through the basic level training cubes, would be an ideal time. She contacted Commander Atarin’s clerk, and an hour or so later the message came back that the admiral would see her at 1330. So at 1315, she presented herself at the admiral’s office suite, where Commander Atarin happened to be delivering a pile of cubes.
“How’s Hull and Architecture, Lieutenant?”
“Very interesting, sir. Major Pitak has me taking some courses, since I had no background.”
“Good; she’s very thorough. Has she given you the ship test yet?”
“That came first, sir.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows rose and fell. “Well, you must have passed, or I’d have heard about it. Good for you. How are you getting along in the junior mess? Settling in all right?”
“Fine, sir,” Esmay said.
“This ship’s so big, none of us can get to know everyone. Sometimes people coming in from smaller craft find that very unsettling. If you have any special interests, you might take a look at the recreational group roster. We encourage people to have acquaintances outside their own work sections—even commands.”
“Well, sir, the juniors’ tactics discussion group did ask me to speak on the Xavier action.”
“Oh? Well, that’s not exactly what I had in mind, but it’s a start. And they showed some initiative in asking . . . who was it?”
“Ensign Dettin, sir.”
“Mmm . . . I don’t know Dettin. But I’m sure they’ve all heard something about Xavier, and are curious to know more. I might drop in . . .” Was that a threat, or a warning, or mere interest? “Ah—the admiral’s ready.”
Admiral Dossignal was a tall man with craggy features and big-knuckled hands that fiddled with things on his desk. Despite this, he seemed more relaxed than Captain Hakin, and considerably more welcoming.
“I’ve read the notations your Board made in your file, Lieutenant Suiza . . . and though I can understand their concern about your decisions, I do not share them. I have complete confidence in your loyalty to the Familias Regnant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No thanks necessary, Lieutenant. Although we need to smoke out the other traitors we surely have—Garrivay and his cohorts cannot be all of them—we must have trust, or we have no cohesion.” He paused, but Esmay found nothing to say. When he resumed, it was in a different tone, less somber. “I understand you and Major Pitak are getting on well . . . and Commander Seveche?”
“I’ve only met him, sir,” Esmay said. The head of Hull and Architecture had spoken to her only briefly; he had seemed even busier than Major Pitak when she saw him.
“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but I must say it’s unusual to have a lieutenant assigned here without having gone through one of the advanced technical schools first. You may find it necessary to take some courses . . .”
“I’m already signed up for one, sir.”
“Good. By your record, you’re a quick learner, but heavy maintenance is a lifetime’s study.” He glanced back at his desk display. “I see you’ve had recent home planet leave. How did your family react to all the publicity?”
Esmay tried to think of a tactful way to phrase it. “They . . . went overboard, sir.”
“Ah? Oh, I suppose you mean the medal?”
Of course it was already in her file; she knew that. “Yes, sir.”
“But that was the government, not your family . . . You have . . . a father, stepmother, half-brothers?”
“Yes, sir. Also aunts, uncles, cousins . . . it’s a large clan, sir.”
“Did they approve of your joining us?” The warm brown eyes sharpened.
“Not . . . entirely, sir. Not at first. Now they do.”
“We have no other officers from your planet, you see. The last was some thirty years ago.”
“Meluch Zalosi, yes, sir.” A Zalosi of the Coarchy, which no longer existed, but had been, at one time, a political force. The Zalosi, though, were servants of the Coarchs. Meluch, the gossip went, had been the illegitimate child of the Tributine Coarch and a Zalosi guard, farmed out to a distant Zalosi relative. He had proven to carry the distinctive feathery brows of the Coarch’s line—a dominant trait—and when he qualified for the Fleet entrance exams it had seemed the best solution to everyone. Meluch himself had not been asked; he was a Zalosi, to go where the Coarchy directed.
“I wondered,” Admiral Dossignal went on, breaking into her musings, “why so few? Altiplano is, I understand, an agricultural world. We usually get quite a few recruits from ag worlds.”
“It’s not the usual sort of ag world, sir.” Esmay paused, wondering how much to explain. The admiral would have ample data available if he really wanted it.
“And why is that?” he asked. Perhaps he simply wanted her analysis, rather than the raw data.
“No free-birthers,” Esmay said succinctly. All the other reasons came back to that: with population growth under control, there were no idle hands to ship offplanet. Immigrants had to agree before they were accepted; if they already had reproduced, they had to agree to pre-emptive sterilization.
“But your family—how many sibs do you have?”
“Two, sir. But they’re my father’s second wife’s, on her permits.” She did not mention what he could probably guess, that the birth limits were enforced more strictly on other families. Her father could have sired more children, but he had transferred his remaining permits to Sanni, who wanted them.
“I . . . see. And their attitude towards rejuvenation?”
She hesitated. “I . . . know only my father’s view, and my uncle’s. They expressed concern about the effect on population stability, although the competitive value of ever-increasing experience would have a positive effect.”
“Mmm. So the senior military personnel on Altiplano have not been rejuved?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you sense any resentment of the Familias on that basis?”
Esmay felt uncomfortable, but answered with the truth as she saw it. “No, sir, none. Altiplano’s an independent; the admiral is no doubt aware that we have no sponsor with a Seat in Council, and Council policy affects us only inasmuch as it affects commercial law.”
“There’s been some unrest, especially since the revelation about that mess on Patchcock,” the admiral said. “There’s now a strong political faction opposed to rejuvenation on the grounds that the rich old will exploit the poor unable to afford rejuvenation.”
“I don’t think anyone on Altiplano feels exploited by the Familias,” Esmay said. “Occasionally by each other . . .” More than occasionally, but she didn’t see how her limited knowledge of Altiplanan local politics would make the situation clear. She didn’t say the first thought that popped into her head, which was that any force trying to exploit Altiplano would have its work cut out for it.
“I’m glad to hear it,” the admiral said. “I’ll be seeing you from time to time—officers of the 14th get together regularly . . . Commander Atarin will let you know the next event.”