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Chapter 16


“By your dishonor, my honor is taken…”


Legacy Mandate by Emperor Yung I


Lieutenant Tilly Pennysmith smoothed her perfect uniform in place with a nervous hand. She would not get her hopes up yet again, no matter how desperate Tanager’s crewing situation must be. She had suffered too many disappointments to indulge in anything like optimism now.

“Captain’ll see you now, Lieutenant,” the Marine corporal said, jerking his head toward the hatch.

Tilly almost dreaded that first look from the captain’s eyes, or worse, the enthusiastic greeting followed by the dawning chill as he examined her CV, or simply put two and two on the same column together for the first time, suddenly seeing an unwelcome four.

Within her many doubts and fears, Lieutenant Pennysmith never anticipated the pair of contrasting expressions aimed at her. Captain Sinclair-Maru she recognized on sight—she had studied his image for years—while the slender chief sprawled in a chair close beside was a stranger. But each displayed a fixed expression, at odds, as if they were caught in mid-argument as she entered the compartment.

“Captain,” she said, pleased at the even quality of her voice, revealing none of the nervousness, “you’ve posted for bridge officers.”

She noted the lines creasing his brow as he answered. “So I have, Lieutenant.”

“I’m seeking a berth, Captain,” she said, hearing just a touch of the desperation filling her soul leaking into her voice. “If you’ve my particulars, you’ll see my work in Nav, Ops, and Weps.”

“I see them.”

His flat response threatened to overcome her armor of calm. “I’d be pleased to join your bridge, if you’ll have me, Captain.” She thought her tone even, her face expressionless, but they surely heard the roar of her heart.

For a long moment the captain regarded her in silence, the only activity in the room coming from the gentle motion of the blond chief as she idly swung one boot-sheathed leg.

“Why my ship, Lieutenant?” the captain said at last.

Lieutenant Pennysmith stared right back at him and said, “I thought I might have a chance—a ghost of a chance—with Tanager, Captain. God knows I haven’t a chance on any other combat command.”

The chief sat up at these words, staring at her with a half smile, but she said nothing.

“So, you really who know I am, Lieutenant?” the captain said.

“Yes, sir, I do,” Pennysmith replied. “And…I take it that you are clear who I am, then?”

“Oh yes, Lieutenant, very clear.”

“I’d be glad of the commission, Captain,” she said. “You’ll find me to be very diligent.”

“Have your kit stowed in eight hours, Lieutenant, and you’re on the list.”

Lieutenant Pennysmith took her first full breath in what seemed like days, but the chief shot a perplexed look at the captain. “No implants? A bridge officer with no implants.”

“Yes, Maru, as you see, the lieutenant has risen to her elevated position with nothing but HUD lenses.”

The chief pulled a face, looking back to the lieutenant, but Captain Sinclair-Maru merely said, “Very well, Pennysmith, don’t be tardy or you’ll find an empty airlock.”

Lieutenant Pennysmith bowed, schooling her face to complete stillness, and she turned to leave. The hatch slid shut behind her as she finally allowed a pinched smile, blinking away her tears.

Inside the office, in the aftermath of her departure, Inga Maru said, “What the devil was that all about?”

Saef shook his head, perplexed. “That was a surprise.”

“I didn’t think a Fleet officer could make it without implants, but you already knew about that. What else was going on there?”

Saef nodded. “There are a few that use HUD lenses for one reason or other. She uses HUD lenses because she is a cultist.”

“A cultist?” Inga’s eyes narrowed, flickering as she consulted data on her UI. “Pennysmith…the same cultists you smashed back in the System Guard?”

“The same.”

“Her brother led that bunch?”

“Father, I understand,” Saef said. “Like us, the whole family’s from Battersea.”

“And the father died, didn’t he?”

Saef nodded, musing. “By my hand. Yes. And I received a commendation for that action.” He hesitated. “Just about the only thing I regret from my Guard years.”

“So she came here to play upon your guilt? And now you’ve a sop for your regret?”

“No and no, Maru. She’s here because she’s tried every other combat command, just as she said.”

“And you signed the throwback because…HUD lenses are charming? Cultists smell nice?”

“She’s more than competent. She didn’t purchase her commission. Can you imagine making lieutenant with no implants, and the stink of the cult on you?”

“No, I can’t,” Inga said. “But I can see why no captain would sign a cultist.”

Saef frowned. “They were a good enough bunch. They didn’t deserve what we did to them.”

“The Family disagrees.”

“The Family is wrong,” Saef said.

Inga looked sharply over at him, their eyes locked, and they held the look for a moment before the next candidate arrived.

Their hurried efforts to crew Tanager bore more fruit than Saef had expected. Most of the senior noncom and rating positions he feared ever filling drew remarkably qualified candidates, while officers remained scant. Unlike most captains, though, Saef placed much greater importance on senior ratings and noncoms. In such a small vessel, Saef felt confident administrative demands could be met with a minimum of officers. Whatever the source of his luck, Saef breathed a sigh of relief as the hours ticked down to launch, and his crew quarters filled.

With just two hours to scheduled departure, Saef sipped water and eased the tension in his shoulders as Loki poured load data to his UI in a near-constant stream. Inga conferred with the Marine corporal briefly and returned. “There’s just one more coming down the Strand right now, otherwise we should be done here.”

Saef nodded. “Good. Glad it’s nearly over.”

Inga looked up, eyes flickering. “Here she comes now…officer.”

Saef straightened his shoulders as the door opened. He felt the collision of surprise and precognitive satisfaction as Commander Susan Roush entered. Her pale, severe face looked even more so above a dark cloak that enveloped her uniform. For a moment he thought of Claude Carstairs’s assertion on the return of cloaks to the world of fashion, before he realized that her cloak covered the most apparent cues of her reduced rank. Her walk through the Strand must have touched her most anguished wounds.

Before Saef could open his mouth, Susan Roush said, “You wanted to talk. I’m here, so let’s talk.” She glanced at Inga, and Inga smiled crookedly at her. She looked back to Saef. “We may wish to speak alone. I will not be polite.”

“I think my reputation will survive it,” Saef said. “Please, sit.”

Commander Roush took a seat in a swirl of her cloak, her back ramrod straight, and Inga slid into her own seat, folding her arms and slouching back.

“Well?” Commander Roush said. “I know the tugs will be shifting this hulk in a few hours…you wanted something from me?”

Saef stared into her unflinching eyes for a moment. “Yes, Commander Roush”—Saef saw the hint of a wince at his use of her new, shamefully reduced rank—“I want something from you.”

“Before you say anything more, Captain,” she slashed out, “let me be clear that I consider the reversal of our ranks to be a travesty. A joke. I captained my first warship when you still got your meals through a tit!”

Although she looked only a few years older than Saef, he knew the date of her first command, and knew that rejuv hid her years.

“Thank you for making your position clear, madam,” Saef said.

“Damned straight, Captain,” she said in a somewhat less acerbic voice. “Still have a question for me?”

“Yes,” Saef said, folding his hands on the desktop. “I want you on this cruise.”

Saef and Inga both saw the series of emotions fly across her face like a strobe: shock, something like hunger, and pain. Her expression paled even more, her lips tightened, and her words came in a much quieter voice. “Un-understand, Captain, I will never thank you for this. If this is some charity or gallantry, I will hate you for it.” Her hard eyes clawed at him. “No matter what it is, I will resent you always.”

“So, you’ll join my bridge?” Saef asked, unmoved.

Her hands stirred, clenched white-knuckled. “Even as young as you are, you know I’ll never get another warship. Never. So yes, damn you.”

“Good,” Saef said.

“Don’t congratulate yourself, Captain. I’ll be a terrible subordinate, I’ll resent the hell out of all of your commands, I’ll have no patience for your fumbling about.”

“Thank you once again for your honesty. I think we’ll rub along tolerably well.”

She shook her head. “I’ll turn your officers against you.”

“No, you won’t,” Saef said. “I won’t tolerate it.”

She pursed her lips. “So there’s that Sinclair-Maru spine, eh? Just what do you think you’re getting with me, anyway?”

“I believe you are the most competent Fleet officer on the list, Roush.”

“I fucking hate flattery,” she snapped, unmoved. “You understand one leper does not somehow smell prettier to the Admiralty by adding another leper into the mix, don’t you?”

“Yes, Roush,” Saef said. “But I also understand lepers don’t spend a lot of thought plotting out their sparkling future careers.”

Her eyebrows rose marginally and she eased back in her chair. “Oh, indeed. Do you think you’re buying my loyalty? Allow me to disabuse you of that notion.”

Saef smiled. “I’m sure your loyalty is only to the Emperor and the Admiralty, of course.”

She looked down, and then back into his eyes. “I think you understand me. In that regard at least.”

“I think I do.”

“As I hear it, this is a nothing cruise. You won’t need officers ready to torch their careers over months of staring at fuck-all.”

Saef said nothing.

After a protracted moment Roush said, “I see.” She furrowed her brow. “How will we endure each other on this cruise? I make no promise of being easy, and won’t accept micromanaging from you. As you say, my career is already burnt to a cinder, so your bad review means little to me.”

“I’ll want you to run the second watch, and we will run only two action watches on the bridge and a dogwatch, except for our workup time on our way out-system.”

“You want to run three watches under your nose for workup?”

“No,” Saef said, “I’ll pick my bridge crew, you get what’s left, and we’ll make a skeleton dogwatch. I’ll do my workup with my watch, you do yours with your watch, and we’ll use the skeleton watch for simulator runs.”

“Smells like someone has fancy ideas,” Roush said, but her expression had brightened as he spoke, realizing the degree of autonomy he was granting her. “Works for me.”

“Good, Roush. Can you get your kit on board in an hour?”

“No, I can’t, but I’ll just go buy the essentials from the exchange and be back aboard with time to spare.”

Saef stood and extended his hand. Roush came to her feet and looked at his hand. “What the hell are you doing all this for? On Commodore Zanka’s worthless rabbit hunt?”

“When we are well under way we’ll talk about this.”

“It’s like that, then?” Roush said, finally shaking Saef’s hand.

“Yes, Roush, it’s like that.”


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Framed