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Even somebody like Usher wasn't completely oblivious to such things as "formalities" and "proper chain of command." His grin seemed to widen, though, as if he took great pleasure in tweaking them.
"Of course, you'll be getting the official word from Admiral Austell, not me. That's Midge Austell—she's says she knows you, Commodore. She should be coming over on the next pi
Sure enough, the green light of a good seal flashed on the bay end of the boarding tube once more, and a woman swung herself from the tube's zero-gee into the bay. Piled through from the tube, rather, practically shoving Admiral Austell aside as she did so.
The woman was not wearing a uniform; was small; dark-ski
"Stupid red tape," Yuri heard her mutter. "Make me wait for the next pi
Then, loudly: "Where's Victor?"
She didn't wait for an answer, though, because her eyes spotted the man she was looking for.
"Victor!"
"Gi
An instant later, they were embracing like long-lost siblings. Or . . . something. A close relationship, whatever it was.
"My wife," Usher a
Yuri remembered various keywords and passwords. Gi
Major Citizen happened to be standing right behind him. Diana leaned close and whispered into his ear: "You really don't want to know, Yuri. I mean, you really really really really don't want to know."
He nodded firmly.
Cachat and Usher's wife finally broke their embrace. Gi
"You look like shit," she pronounced. "What's the matter?"
Cachat seemed on the verge of tears. There was no trace left of the fanatic. Just a very young man, bruised by life.
"I'm tired, Gi
Yuri Radamacher had survived for ten years under the suspicious scrutiny of the Committee of Public Safety. It had been quite an odyssey, but it was over. He'd weathered all storms; escaped all reefs; even finally managed to make it safely to shore.
The experience, of course, had shaped his belief that there was precious little in the universe in the way of justice. But what happened next, confirmed his belief for all time.
Not even Oscar Saint-Just could have advanced such a completely, utterly, insanely unfair accusation.
"So that's it!" Gi
"Victor Cachat is the sweetest kid in the world! And you—" She was practically spitting like a cat. "You dirty rotten bastards! You were mean to him."
THE SERVICE OF THE SWORD
by David Weber
"Miss Owens is here, High Admiral."
High Admiral Wesley Matthews looked up at his yeoman's a
She also, he noticed, had excellent control of her expression. If he hadn't been looking for it carefully, he would never have noticed the flash of irritation in her gray-blue eyes at the way Chief Lewiston had a
Then again, he'd never greeted any Grayson midshipwoman in his office under any circumstances before today.
"Midshipwoman Abigail Hearns, reporting as ordered, Sir!" she said crisply, bracing sharply to attention with her visored cap clasped under her left elbow.
"Stand easy, Miss—er, Ms. Hearns," he said, and suppressed an urge to grimace as he started to make exactly the same mistake the yeoman had.
There might have been an ever so slight trace of amusement underneath her eyes' irritation this time as she obeyed his order. It was impossible to be certain, but Matthews wouldn't have been at all surprised. Abigail Hearns looked absurdly young to Grayson eyes, for she was a member of the very first Grayson generation to have received the prolong therapies. For that matter, at just over twenty-two T-years, she really was a mere babe in arms to someone the high admiral's age. But despite her youth, she possessed an air of maturity and assurance he was more accustomed to seeing in people twice her age. Which made sense, he supposed, given who and what she was.
He pointed at one of the chairs facing his desk.
"Sit," he said, and she obeyed with economic grace, setting her cap precisely in her lap and sitting with her feet close together and a spine so straight it never touched the chair back at all.
Matthews resumed his own seat and considered her thoughtfully across his desk. Intellectually, he was delighted to see her in the Navy's uniform; emotionally, he had his doubts about the entire business.
"I'm sorry to have taken you away from your leave," he said after a moment. "I know you haven't seen much of your parents over the last three years, and I know you're only home for a few days before reporting back. But there are a few points I feel we ought to discuss before you board ship for your midshipman's cruise."
She said nothing, only gazing at him with alert respect, and he tipped his chair back slightly.
"I realize that you're in a somewhat awkward position as Grayson's very first midshipwoman," he told her. "I'm sure you realized going in that you would be, just as you realized you were going to be under a microscope the entire time you were at Saganami Island. I'm pleased to say that your performance there was all anyone could have asked of you. Fourteenth in your class overall, and sixth in the tactical curriculum." He nodded approvingly. "I expected you to do well, Ms. Hearns. I'm gratified that you exceeded those expectations."
"Thank you, Sir," she said in a soft contralto when he paused.
"It's no more than the truth," he assured her. "On the other hand, that intense scrutiny isn't going to stop now just because your classroom studies are behind you." He regarded her levelly. "However much you may want to be just one more midshipwoman or one more junior officer, Ms. Hearns, it's not going to be that way. You do realize that, don't you?"
"I suppose, to a certain extent, that's inevitable, Sir," she replied. "But I assure you that I neither expect nor desire preferential treatment."
"I'm perfectly—one might almost say painfully—well aware of that," he said. "Unfortunately, I expect some people are going to insist on trying to show you preferential treatment, whatever you want. You are a steadholder's daughter, after all, and I'm afraid patronage and steadholder privilege are still very much a part of Grayson life. Some people are going to find your birth impossible to forget. And, frankly, other people aren't even going to try. Some of them, in fact, will be too busy trying to curry favor with your father to ever so much as consider whether or not he—or you—want them to."
Those gray-blue eyes flashed once more, but he continued in that same calm voice.
"Personally, I intend to do everything possible to disabuse them of the notion that you might. You've certainly demonstrated to my satisfaction that you genuinely don't want any special treatment, and I respect that."