“Yes, captain.” That was always safe, even though the rest of it made no sense at all.
“For political reasons, which you will no doubt hear discussed later, your rash intervention has turned out to benefit Fleet and the FSP. It is necessary that those outside this ship believe your actions were on my orders. Therefore, you are not to mention, ever, to anyone, at any time, in any place, that your actions in the shuttle were your own bright idea. You did what I told you to do - is that clear now?”
Slightly clearer, and from the tone in her voice he had better understand, with no more questions.
“I’ve also told Gori, and all previous comments in the files have been wiped.” Which meant it was serious… but also that he wasn’t going to have that around his neck forever. Dawning hope must have shown on his face, for hers softened slightly. “Timran, listen to me, and pay attention. You’ve got natural good luck, and it’s priceless… but don’t depend on it. It takes more than good luck to make admiral.”
“Yes, captain. Uh - if I may - are the people all right? The ones in the airsled?”
“Yes. They’re quite well, and you may even meet them someday. Just remember what I said.”
“Yes, captain.”
“And clean up before mess.” With that she was gone, a vision of grace and authority that haunted his life for years.
Chapter Sixteen
Sassinak returned to the bridge by way of Troop Deck, as she wanted to manage a casual encounter with the marine commander. She had already realized that the combination of events might alarm some of the crew, and inflame suspicion of heavyworlders.
She found Major Currald inspecting a rack of weapons; he gave her a somewhat abstracted nod. “Captain - if you’ve a moment, there’s something - “
“Certainly, Major.” He led the way to his office, and Sass noticed that he had seating for both heavyworlders and smaller frames. She chose neither, instead turning to look at the holos on the wall across from his desk. A team of futbal players in clean uniforms posed in neat rows, action shots of the same players splattered with mud, a much younger Currald rappelling down a cliff, two young marine officers (one of them Currald? She couldn’t tell) in camouflage facepaint and assault rifles. A promotion ceremony; Currald getting his “tracks.” Someone not Currald, the holo in a black frame.
“My best friend,” said Currald, as her eyes fixed on that one. She turned to face him; he was looking at the holo himself. “He was killed at Jerma, in the first wave, while I was still on a down shuttle. He’d named his son after me.” He cleared his throat, a bass rasp. “That wasn’t what I asked to speak to you about, captain. I hesitated to come up to Main Deck and bother you, but - “ He cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry to say I expect some trouble.”
Sass nodded. “So do I, and I wanted to tell you first what I’m going to do.” His face stiffened, the traditional heavyworlder response to any threat. “Major Currald, I know you’re a loyal officer; if you’d wanted to advance heavyworlder interests at my expense, you’d have done it long before. We’ve discussed politics before; you know where I stand. Your troops have earned my trust, earned it in battle, where it counts. Whoever that saboteur is, I’m convinced it’s not one of your people, and I’m not about to let anyone pressure me into thinking so.”
He was surprised; she was a little annoyed that he had not trusted her trust. “But I know a lot of the crew think - “
“A lot of the crewdon’t think,” she interrupted crisply. “They worry, or they react, but they don’t think. Kipling’s bunions! The heavyworlder mutiny here was forty- three years ago: before you were born, and I was only a toddler on Myriad. None of your marines are old enough to have had anything to do with that. Those greedyguts would-be colonists set out months ago - probably while we were chasing that first ship. But scared people put two and two together and get the Annual Revised Budget Request.” At that he actually grinned, and began to chuckle. Sass grinned back at him. “I trust you, Major, and I trust you to know if your troops are loyal. You’ll hear, I’m sure, that people have asked me to ‘do something’ - throw you all in the brig or something equally ridiculous - and I want you to know right now, before the rumors take off, that I’m not even thinking about that. Clear?”
“Very clear, captain. And thank you. I thought… I thought perhaps you’d feel you had to make some concession. And I’d talked to my troops, the heavyworlders, and we’d agreed to cooperate with any request.” Sass felt tears sting her eyes… and there were some who thought heavyworlders were always selfish, never able to think of the greater good. How many of them would have made such an offer, had they been innocent suspects? “You tell your troops. Major, that I am deeply moved by that offer - I respect you, and them, and appreciate your concern. But if no other good comes out of this, the rest of this crew is going to learn that we’reall Fleet: light, heavy, and in-between. And thank you.”
“Thankyou, captain.”
Sassinak found the expected delegation waiting outside the bridge when she got back to the main deck. Their spokesman, ‘Tenant Varhes, supervised the enlisted mess, she recalled. Their concern, he explained in a reedy tenor, was for the welfare of the ship. After all, a heavyworlder had already poisoned officers and crew…
“A mentally imbalanced person,” said Sassinak coldly, “who happened to also be a heavyworlder, poisoned officers - including the marine commander, who happens to be a heavyworlder - and crew, including some heavyworlders. Or have you forgotten that?”
“But if they should mutiny. The heavyworlders on this planet mutinied - “
“Over forty years ago, when your father was a toddler, and Major Currald hadn’t been born. Are you suggesting that heavyworlders have telepathic links to unborn heavyworlders?” That wasn’t logical, but neither were they, and she enjoyed the puzzlement on their faces as they worked their way through it. Before Varhes could start up again, she tried a tone of reasonableness, and saw it affect most of them. “Look here: the heavyworlders on this ship areFleet - not renegades, like those who mutinied here, or those who want to colonize a closed world. They’re our companions, they’ve fought beside us, saved our lives. They could have killed us many times over, if that’s what they had in mind. You think they’re involved in sabotage on the ship - I’m quite sure they’re not. But even so, we’re taking precautions against sabotage. If it should be a heavyworlder, that individual will be charged and tried and punished. But that doesn’t make the others guilty. Suppose it’s someone from Gian-IV - “ a hit at Varhes, whose home world it was, “would that make Varhes guilty?”
“But it’s not the same,” came a voice from the back of the group. “Everybody knows heavyworlders are planet pirates, and now we’ve found them in action - “
“Some planet pirates are heavyworlders, we suspect, and some are not - some are even Ryxi.” That got a nervous laugh. “Or consider the Seti.” A louder laugh. Sassinak let her voice harden. “But this is enough of this. I don’t want to hear any more unfounded charges against loyal members of Fleet, people who’ve put their lives on the line more than once. I’ve already told one ensign to review the regulations on conspiracy, and I commend them to each of you. We have real hostiles out there, people: real would-be planet pirates, who may have allies behind them. We can’t afford finger-pointing and petty prejudices among ourselves. Is that quite clear?” It was; the little group melted away, most of them shamefaced and clearly regretting their impetuous actions. Sass hoped they’d continue to feel that way.