Changer of Worlds

Nimitz sat very straight and still on Honor Harrington’s shoulder as she came to a halt before the Marine sentry outside the Captain’s day cabin. The private gazed at her for a long, steady moment, then reached back to key the admittance signal.

“Yes?” The voice belonged to Abner Layson, not Thomas Bachfisch.

“Ms. Harrington to see the Captain, Sir!” the Marine replied crisply.

“Enter,” another voice said, and the Marine stepped aside as the hatch opened. Honor nodded her thanks as she stepped past him, and for just a moment he allowed his professional nonexpression to vanish into a wink of encouragement before the hatch closed behind her once more.

Honor crossed the cabin and came to attention. Commander Layson sat behind the captain’s desk, but Captain Bachfisch was also present. War Maiden’s CO was propped as comfortably as possible on an out-sized couch along the cabin’s longest bulkhead. He looked awful, battered and bruised and with his left arm and right leg both immobilized. Under almost any other circumstances, he would still have been locked up in sickbay while Lieutenant Chiem stood over him with a pulser to keep him there if necessary. But there was no room in sickbay for anyone with non-life-threatening injuries. Basanta Lakhia was in sickbay. Nassios Makira wasn’t; he’d been in After Engineering when the hit came in, and the damage control parties hadn’t even found his body.

Honor stood there, facing the executive officer and her captain, and the eighteen percent of War Maiden’s company who had died stood silently at her shoulder, waiting.

“Stand easy, Ms. Harrington,” the captain said quietly, and she let her spine relax ever so slightly. Bachfisch gazed at her for a long, quiet moment, and she returned his gaze as calmly as she could.

“I’ve reviewed the bridge tapes of the engagement,” Bachfisch said at last, and nodded sideways at Layson. “So have the Exec and Commander Hirake. Is there anything you’d like to add to them, Ms. Harrington?”

“No, Sir,” she said, and in that moment she looked more absurdly youthful even than usual as a faint flush of embarrassment stained her cheekbones, and the treecat on her shoulder cocked his head as he studied her two superiors intently.

“Nothing at all?” Bachfisch cocked his head in a gesture that was almost a mirror image of Nimitz’s, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t suppose anything else is really needed. The tapes caught it all, I believe.”

He fell silent for another moment, then gestured at Commander Layson with his good hand.

“Commander Layson and I asked you to come see us because of what’s on those tapes, Ms. Harrington,” the captain said quietly. “Obviously, War Maiden has no choice but to cut her deployment short and return to the Star Kingdom for repairs. Normally, that would require you to transfer to another ship for the completion of your middy cruise, which would unfortunately put you at least six T-months or even a T-year behind your classmates for seniority purposes. In this instance, however, Commander Layson and I have decided to endorse your Form S-One-Sixty to indicate successful completion of your cruise. The same endorsement will appear in the records of Midshipwoman Bradlaugh and Midshipman Lakhia. We will also so endorse Midshipman Makira’s file and recommend his posthumous promotion to lieutenant (junior-grade).”

He paused once more, and Honor cleared her throat.

“Thank you, Sir. Especially for Nassios. I think I can speak for all of us in that.”

“I’m sure you can,” Bachfisch said. He rubbed his nose for just a moment, then surprised her with a crooked grin.

“I have no idea what’s going to happen to my own career when we return to Manticore,” he told her. “A lot will no doubt depend on the findings of the Board of Inquiry, but I think we can safely assume that at least a few critics are bound to emerge. And not without some justification.”

It was all Honor could do not to blink in surprise at the unexpected frankness of that admission, but he went on calmly.

“I got too confident, Ms. Harrington,” he said. “Too sure that what I was looking at was a typical Silesian pirate. Oh,” he waved his good hand in a small, brushing-away gesture, “it’s fair enough to say that we very seldom run into anyone out here, pirate or privateer, with that much firepower and that well-trained a crew. But it’s a captain’s job to expect the unexpected, and I didn’t. I trust that you will remember that lesson when you someday command a King’s ship yourself.”

He paused once more, his expression clearly inviting a response, and Honor managed not to clear her throat again.

“I’ll certainly try to remember, Sir,” she said.

“I’m sure you will. And from your performance here in Melchor, I have every confidence that you’ll succeed,” Bachfisch said quietly. Then he gave himself a small shake.

“In the meantime, however, we have some practical housekeeping details to take care of. As you know, our casualties were heavy. Lieutenant Livanos will take over in Engineering, and Ensign Masters will take over Communications. We’re fortunate that everyone in Auxiliary Control survived, but we’re going to be very short of watch-standing qualified officers for the return to Manticore. In light of our situation, I have decided to confirm you as Assistant Tac Officer, with the acting rank of lieutenant (junior-grade) and the promotion on my own authority to the permanent rank of ensign.” Honor’s eyes widened, and he smiled more naturally. “Under the circumstances, I believe I can safely predict that regardless of the outcome of my own Board, this is one promotion which BuPers will definitely confirm.”

“Sir, I—I don’t know what to say, except, thank you,” she said after a moment, and he chuckled.

“It’s the very least I can do to thank you for saving my ship—and my people—Ms. Harrington. I wish I had the authority to promote you all the way to J. G., but I doubt that BuPers would sign off on that even under these circumstances. So all you’ll really get is a five or six-month seniority advantage over your classmates.”

“And,” Commander Layson put in quietly, “I feel sure that the Service will take note of how and why you were promoted. No one who doesn’t know you could have expected you to perform as you did, Ms. Harrington. Those of us who have come to know you, however, would have expected no less.”

Honor’s face blazed like a forest fire, and she sensed Nimitz’s approval of the emotions of her superiors in the treecat’s body language and the proprietary way his true hand rested on her beret.

“I expect that we’ve embarrassed you enough for one afternoon, Ms. Harrington.” Bachfisch’s voice mingled amusement, approval, and sympathy, and Honor felt her eyes snap back to him. “I will expect you and Commander Hirake to join me for di

“Of course, Sir!” Honor blurted.

“Good. And I’ll have Chief Ste

Nimitz bleeked in amused enthusiasm from her shoulder, and she felt her own mouth curve in her first genuine smile since A