Changer of Worlds

“I see.” The Captain gazed at her for a moment, then nodded at his steward. “Chief Ste

“Yes, Sir,” Honor said, trying unsuccessfully to hide her relief at the evidence that Nimitz’s presence was welcome, and not merely something to be tolerated. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Bachfisch replied, then smiled. “In the meantime, is there at least something we can offer him as an after di

“If Chief Ste

“Jackson?” The Captain glanced at the steward who smiled and nodded.

“I believe I can handle that, Sir.”

Chief Ste

It was a lesson worth learning, and she filed it away carefully as she smiled and reached up to take the plate of celery Chief Ste

“…and as you can see, we have the Alpha Three upgrade to the emergency local control positions for our energy mounts,” Chief MacArthur droned. The sturdy, plain-faced woman bore the hash marks of over twenty-five T-years’ service on her sleeve, and the combat ribbons on her chest proved she’d paid cash to learn her weapons skills. It was unfortunate that she’d never mastered the skills of the lecture hall to go with them. Even though Honor was deeply interested in what MacArthur had to tell her, she found it difficult to keep from yawning as the dust-dry instruction continued.

She and Audrey Bradlaugh, War Maiden’s other female middy, stood in the number four inboard wing passage, peering over MacArthur’s shoulder into the small, heavily armored compartment. It didn’t offer a lot of space for the men and women who would man it when the ship cleared for action, and every square centimeter of room it did have was crammed with monitors, readouts, keypads, and access panels. In between those more important bits and pieces were sandwiched the shock-mounted couches and umbilical attachment points for the mere humans of the weapon crew.

“When the buzzer goes, the crew has a maximum of fifteen minutes to don skinsuits and man stations,” MacArthur informed them, and Honor and Bradlaugh nodded as if no one had ever told them so before. “Actually, of course, fifteen minutes should give time to spare, although we sometimes run a bit over on shakedown cruises. On the other hand,” the petty officer glanced back at her audience, “the Captain isn’t what I’d call a patient man with people who screw up his training profiles, so I wouldn’t recommend dawdling.”

One eyelid flickered in what might have been called a wink on a less expressionless face, and despite herself, Honor gri

Nimitz shifted uneasily on her shoulder as he caught the sudden edge of darkness in her emotions, and she reached up to rest one hand lightly on his head. He pressed back against her palm, and she made a soft crooning sound.

“If Chief MacArthur is boring you, Ms. Harrington,” an unpleasant voice grated unexpectedly, “I’m sure we can find some extra duty to keep you occupied.”

Honor turned quickly, shoulders tightening in automatic response, and her expression was suddenly a better mask than Chief MacArthur’s as she faced Elvis Santino. It was obvious the OCTO had come quietly around the bend in the passage while she and Bradlaugh were listening to MacArthur, and she castigated herself for letting him sneak up on her. Now he stood glaring at her, hands once more on hips and lip curled, and she gazed back at him in silence.

Anything she said or did would be wrong, so she said nothing. Which, of course, was also the wrong thing to do.

“Well, Ms. Harrington? If you’re bored, just say so. I’m sure Chief MacArthur has better things to do with her time as well. Are you bored?”

“No, Sir.” She gave the only possible answer as neutrally as possible, and Santino smiled nastily.

“Indeed? I would’ve thought otherwise, given the way you’re humming and playing with your little pet.”

Once again, there was no possible response that would not give him another opening. She felt Bradlaugh’s unhappiness beside her, but Audrey said nothing, either. There wasn’t anything she could say, and she’d experienced sufficient of Santino’s nastiness herself. But MacArthur shifted her weight, and turned to face the lieutenant. Her non-expression was more pronounced than ever, and she cleared her throat.

“With all due respect, Sir,” she said, “the young ladies have been very attentive this afternoon.”

Santino turned his scowl on her.

“I don’t recall asking your opinion of their attentiveness, Chief MacArthur.” His voice was harsh, but MacArthur never turned a hair.

“I realize that, Sir. But again with all due respect, you just came around the corner. I’ve been working with Ms. Harrington and Ms. Bradlaugh for the last hour and a half. I just felt that I should make you aware of the fact that they’ve paid very close attention during that time.”

“I see.” For a moment, Honor thought the lieutenant was going to chew MacArthur out as well for having the audacity to interfere. But it seemed even Elvis Santino wasn’t quite stupid enough to risk making this sort of dispute with a noncom of MacArthur’s seniority and in his own shipboard department part of the official record. He rocked up and down on the balls of his feet for several seconds then returned his glare to Honor.

“No matter how much attention you’ve been paying, there’s no excuse for slacking off,” he told her. “I realize Regs permit you to carry that creature with you on duty, but I warn you not to abuse that privilege. And stop playing with it when you ought to be concentrating on what you’re here to learn! I trust I’ve made myself sufficiently clear?”