Planet Pirates Omnibus Part 14

In fact, the trip back to Sector Headquarters was one of the most depressing of her life. She, like Huron, had itched to blow away some pirates and slavers . . . and yet she'd had to run along home, like an incompetent civilian. She found herself grumbling at Hollister - and it wasn't his fault.

Her new executive officer seemed even less capable after that short conversation with Huron . . . she knew she criticized him too sharply, but she couldn't help it. She kept seeing Huron's face, kept imagining how it would have been to have him there. For distraction, such as it was, she kept digging at the personnel records, looking over every single one which could possibly have had access to the right area of the s.h.i.+p when the missile was fired. After Kelly came Kelland, and from there she plowed through another dozen, all the way to Prosser. Prosser's ID in his records had an expression she didn't like, a thin-lipped, self-righteous sort of smirk, and she found herself glaring at it. Too much of this, and she'd come to hate every member of the crew. They couldn't all be guilty. Prosser didn't look that bad in person (she made a reason to check casually); it was just the general depression she felt. And she knew she'd face a Board of Inquiry, if not a court martial, back at Sector.

Sector Headquarters meant long sessions with administrative officers who wanted to know exactly how each bit of damage to the s.h.i.+p had occurred, exactly why she'd chosen to do each thing she'd done, why she hadn't done something else instead. As the senior engineers shook their heads and tut-tutted over the damage, critiquing Hollister's emergency repairs, Sa.s.sinak found herself increasingly tart with her inquisitors. She had, after all, come back with a whole s.h.i.+p and relatively few casualties, and rescued a s.h.i.+pload of youngsters, when she might have been blown into fragments if she'd followed a rigid interpretation of the Rules of Engagement. But the desk-bound investigators could not believe that a cruiser like the Zaid-Dayan Zaid-Dayan might be out-gunned by a "tacky little pirate s.h.i.+p" as one of them put it. Sa.s.sinak handed over the data cubes detailing the escort's profile, and they sniffed and put them aside. Was she sure that the data were accurate? might be out-gunned by a "tacky little pirate s.h.i.+p" as one of them put it. Sa.s.sinak handed over the data cubes detailing the escort's profile, and they sniffed and put them aside. Was she sure that the data were accurate?

Furthermore, there was the matter of practically inviting a hostile force to breach her s.h.i.+p and board. "Absolutely irresponsible!" sniffed one commander, whom Sa.s.sinak knew from the Directory hadn't been on a s.h.i.+p in years, and never on one in combat. "Could have been disastrous," said another. Only one of the Board, a one-legged commander who'd been marooned in coldsleep in a survival pod on his first voyage, asked the kinds of questions Sa.s.sinak herself would have asked. The chair of the Board of Inquiry, a two-star admiral, said nothing one way or the other, merely taking notes.

She came out of one session ready to feed them all to the recycling bins, and found Arly waiting for her.

"Now what?" asked Sa.s.s.

Arly took her arm. "You need a drink - I can tell. Let's go to Gino's before the evening rush."

"I feel trouble in the air," said Sa.s.s, giving her a hard look. "If you've got more bad news, just tell me."

"Not here - those paperhangers don't deserve to hear things first. Come on."

Sa.s.sinak followed her, frowning. Arly was rarely pushy, and as far as Sa.s.sinak knew avoided dockside bars. Whatever had come unstuck had bothered her, too. Gino's was the favorite casual place for senior s.h.i.+p officers that season. For a moment, Sa.s.sinak considered the change in her taste in bar decor. Ensigns liked tough exotic places that let them feel adventurous and mature; Jigs and 'Tenants were much the same, although some of them preferred a touch of elegance, a preference that increased with rank. Until, Sa.s.sinak had discovered, the senior Lieutenant Commanders and Commanders felt secure enough in their rank to choose more casual, even shabby, places to meet. Such as Gino's, which had the worn but scrubbed look of the traditional diner. Gino's also had live, human help to bring drinks and food to the tables, and rumor suggested a live, human cook in the kitchen.

Arly led her to a comer table in the back. Sa.s.sinak settled herself with a sigh, and prodded the service pad until its light came on. After they'd ordered, she gave Arly a sidelong look.

"Well?"

"An IFTL message. For you." Arly handed her the hardcopy slip. Sa.s.sinak knew instantly, before she opened it, what it had to be. An IFTL for a captain in refitting? That could only be an official death notice, and she knew only one person who might. . . she unfolded the slip, and glanced at it, trying to read it without really looking at it, as if this magic might protect her from the pain. Official language left the facts bald and clear: Huron was dead, killed "in the line of duty" while a.s.saulting the pirate base. She blinked back the tears that came to her eyes and gave Arly another look.

"You knew." It wasn't a question.

"I... guessed. An IFTL message, after all... why else?"

"Well. He's dead, I suppose you guessed that, too. d.a.m.n fool!" Rage and grief choked her, contending hopelessly in her heart and mind. If only he hadn't - if only she had - if only some miserable pirate had had a shaky hand . . .

"I'm sorry, Sa.s.s. Commander." Arly stumbled over her name. uncertain. Sa.s.sinak dragged herself back to the present.

"He was ... a good man." It was not enough; it was the worst trite stupid remark, but it was also true. He had been a good man, and being a good man had gotten himself killed, probably unnecessarily, probably very bravely, and she would never see him again. Never feel him again. Sa.s.sinak s.h.i.+vered, swallowed, and reached for the drink that had just been delivered. She sipped, swallowed, sipped again. "He wanted to go," she said, as much to herself as to Arly.

"He was headed for that before you ever got the Zaid-Dayan Zaid-Dayan," said Arly, surprisingly. Sa.s.sinak stared at her, surprised, to be surprised. Arly gulped half her own drink and went on. "I know you ... he ... you two were close. Commander, and that's fine, but you never did know him before. I served with him six years, and he was good . . . you're right. He was also wild - a lot wilder before you came aboard, but still wild."

"Huron?" It was all she could think of to say, to keep Arly talking so that she could slowly come to grips with her own feelings.

Arly nodded. "It's not in his record, because he was careful, too, in his own way, but he used to get in fights - people would say things, you know, about colonials, and he'd react. Political stuff, a lot of it. He wouldn't ever have gotten his own s.h.i.+p - he told me that, one time, when he'd been in a row. He'd said too many things about the big families, in the wrong places, for someone with no more backing than he had."

"But he was a good exec ..." She had trouble thinking of Huron as a hothead causing trouble.

"Oh, he was. He liked you, too, and that helped, although he was pretty upset when you didn't go in and fight for that colony."

"Yeah ... he was." Sa.s.sinak let herself remember their painful arguments, his chilly withdrawal.

"I - I thought you ought to know," said Arly, tracing some design with her finger on the tabletop. "He really did like you, and he'd have wanted you to know . . . it's nothing you did, to make him insist on going in. He'd have managed, some way, to get into more and more rows until he died. No captain could have been bold enough for him."

Despite Arly's well-meant talk, Sa.s.sinak found that her grief lasted longer than anyone would approve. She had lost other lovers, casual relations.h.i.+ps that had blossomed and withered leaving only a faint perfume . . . and when the lover disappeared, or died, a year or so later, she had felt grief . . . but not like this grief. She could not shake it off; she could not just go on as if Huron had been another casual affair.

She was not even sure why Huron had meant so much. He had been no more handsome or skilled in love, no more intelligent or sensitive than many men she'd shared her time with. When more details of the raid came in, she found that Arly's guess had been right: Huron had insisted on joining the landing party, had thrown himself into danger in blatant disregard of basic precautions, and been blown away, instantly and messily, in the a.s.sault on the pirate's headquarters complex. Sa.s.sinak overheard what her own crew were too thoughtful to tell her: the troops he'd gone in with considered him half-crazy or a gloryhound, they weren't sure which. But the more official reports were that he'd distinguished himself with "extreme bravery" and his posthumous rating was "outstanding." Still, this evidence of his instability didn't make her feel any better. She should have been able to influence him, in their months together, should have seen something like this coming and headed it off - it was such a waste of talent. She argued with herself, in the long nights, and carefully did not take a consoling drink.

Meanwhile the s.h.i.+p's repairs neared completion. The environmental system had had to be completely dismantled and refitted, filling the two lower decks with a terrible stench for several days. Apparently the sulfur bacteria had overgrown the backflow sludge, and coupled with the fungal contamination from the down-stream scrubbers created a disgusting mix of smells. Worse than that, the insides of the main lines had become slightly pitted, providing a vast surface for the contaminants to grow on. So every meter of piping had to be replaced, as well as all valves, pumps, scrubbers, and filters.

Hollister still could not tell whether the problems were inherent in the new layout, or had resulted from deliberate sabotage. Attempts to model the failures on computer, and backtrack to a cause, led to six or seven different possible routes to trouble. Two of them would have involved a single component failure very early in the voyage - highly unlikely to be tampering, in Hollister's opinion. The others required multiple failures, and one clearly favored sabotage, with eight or ten minor mis-adjustments in remote compartments. But which of these was the real sequence of events, no one could now determine. In trying to correct the problems once they developed, Hollister and his most trusted technicians had handled virtually every exposed millimeter of the system.

Sa.s.sinak grimaced at Hollister's presentation. "So you can't tell me anything solid?"

"No, captain. I think myself sabotage was involved - things could have gone a lot worse, as the simulations show, and someone wanted to save his or her own life - but I can't prove it. Worse than that, I can't prevent it happening next time, either. If I request entirely new personnel, who's to say they're all loyal? And it needn't be an engineering specialist, although that's a good guess. Everyone knows some of the basics of environmental systems: they have to, in case of disaster. An agent could have been provided specialist knowledge, if it comes to that - Fleet's environmental systems use the same standard components as everyone else's."

"What about the other repairs?" Hollister nodded, and brought her up to date on those. The structural damage had required more dismantling of the portside than Sa.s.sinak expected; Hollister explained that was nearly always true. But repairs on that were complete, and on the portside pods as well. To his personal satisfaction, mounting the newest issue of pods there meant replacing half the starboard pods to match them ... he had been worried, he confided, that their prolonged FTL flight on unbalanced pods, with the starboard pods taking the strain, might have caused hidden damage in them. None of the stealth gear had taken damage, and all the computer sections out of service had been replaced. It was just the environmental systems holding them up, and he calculated it would be another two weeks before it was done.

Sa.s.sinak began to wonder if the Zaid-Dayan Zaid-Dayan would still be in refitting when Verstan's battle group returned with Huron's body. By now everyone had seen reports of the successful a.s.sault on the pirate base, holos of shattered domes and blasted prefab buildings. Sa.s.sinak stared at them, wondering if the base where she'd lived for her years as a slave had looked anything like this. At least her action had saved those children from being imprisoned in those domes. She visited the hospital once or twice, chatting with youngsters who were now orphans, as she had been. They were less damaged psychologically, if "less" meant anything. Looking at some of them, mute anguished survivors of inexplicable disaster, she almost cursed herself for not intervening before the colony was raided. But some had already bounced back, and some had relatives already coming to take them into known families. would still be in refitting when Verstan's battle group returned with Huron's body. By now everyone had seen reports of the successful a.s.sault on the pirate base, holos of shattered domes and blasted prefab buildings. Sa.s.sinak stared at them, wondering if the base where she'd lived for her years as a slave had looked anything like this. At least her action had saved those children from being imprisoned in those domes. She visited the hospital once or twice, chatting with youngsters who were now orphans, as she had been. They were less damaged psychologically, if "less" meant anything. Looking at some of them, mute anguished survivors of inexplicable disaster, she almost cursed herself for not intervening before the colony was raided. But some had already bounced back, and some had relatives already coming to take them into known families.

The Board of Inquiry wound down, and turned in a preliminary report - subject to further a.n.a.lysis, the chair explained to her. She was commended for saving the children from the colony, and mildly scolded for not having saved the colony itself - although a dissenting comment argued that any such attempt would have been an unnecessary and reckless risk to her s.h.i.+p. She was commended for the outcome of the battle, but not for the methods she'd chosen. Entirely too risky, and not a good example for other commanders - but effective, and perhaps justified by circ.u.mstances. The structural damage to the Zaid-Dayan Zaid-Dayan certainly resulted from her decision to allow the enemy too close, but the environmental system damage might well have been sabotage, or certainly resulted from her decision to allow the enemy too close, but the environmental system damage might well have been sabotage, or simply bad engineering in the first place. They approved of her handling of the suspected poisoner: "a deft manipulation of a politically explosive situation." Sa.s.sinak thought of the girl, now in the hands of the psychiatric ward of the Sector military hospital - could she ever be rehabilitated? Could she ever find a way to respect herself? Fleet wouldn't take another chance on her, that was certain. On the whole, the Board chair said, recapturing her full attention, they found that she had acted in the best interests of the service, although they could not give an unqualified approval.

Under the circ.u.mstances, that was the best she could hope for. Admiral Vannoy, Sector Commandant, would make his own decision about how this Board report would affect her future. She had worked with him several years before, and expected better from him than from the Board. He liked officers with initiative and boldness. Sure enough, when he called her in, he waved the report at her, then slapped it on his desk.

"The vultures gathered, eh?"

Sa.s.sinak c.o.c.ked her head a little. "I think they were fair," she said.

"Within their limits, I hear under your words. So they were - some Boards would have landed on you a lot harder for coming in with damage like that. And for having a Fleet distress beacon telling the universe that a Fleet cruiser had b.u.mped its nose on something painful. Bad for our reputation. But I'm satisfied: you got back a load of kids - frightened out of their wits, some of them hurt, but still alive and free. And you defeated one of their little surprise packages - which, by the way, have caused more than one cruiser to come to grief. You're the first survivor to come out with a good profile of them and the specifics of their faked IFF signals: that's worth all the rest, to my mind. And then you managed to stick tight, undiscovered, and pick up quite a bit of useful information. Now we know how well the stealth technologies work in real life. All in all, I'm pleased, Commander, as you probably expected. After all - you know my prejudices. We're going to put you back out on the same kind of patrol, in another part of the sector, and hope you catch another odd fish."

"Sir, there is one thing - "

"Yes?"

"I'd like to have more options free in case of another encounter."

"Such as?"

"Last time my orders specified that surveillance was my primary mission - and on that basis, I did nothing when the colony was attacked. My crew and I both had problems with that . . . and I'd like to be free to act if we should face another such situation."

The admiral's eyes fell. "Commander, you have an excellent record, but isn't it possible that in this case your own experience is affecting your judgment? We've tried direct, immediate confrontation before, and repeatedly the perpetrators, or some of them, have been able to escape, and strike again. Tracking them to their source must be more important - "

"In the long term, yes, sir. But for the people who die, who are orphaned or enslaved - have you been to the hospital, sir, and talked to any of the kids Huron brought in?"

"Well, no ... no, I haven't."

"All they want to know is why Fleet couldn't prevent the attack - why their parents died - and what's going to happen to them now. And it's not just my own feeling, sir. Lieutenant Commander Huron, my exec, was very upset about my decision not to intervene - and, as you know, he insisted on joining the attack force, and then the landing party, and he died. Other officers and crew have expressed the same feelings - "

"Openly? To you?" Sa.s.sinak could tell he did not entirely approve of such openness.

She nodded. "Some of them. Others in conversations I overheard. They don't like to think of themselves - of Fleet - as standing by idly, in safety, while helpless civilians get killed and captured."

"I see. Hmm. I still feel. Commander, that surveillance must be your primary mission, but under the circ.u.mstances . . . and considering your crew's most recent experience . . . yes, if you find it absolutely necessary to engage a hostile force, to save innocent lives . . . yes. And I'll amend your orders to make that discretion explicit." He looked closely at her. "But I'm not going to take kindly to any shoot-'em-up action you get into that's not absolutely necessary, is that clear? You've d.a.m.n near bankrupted our sector repair budget for the next eighteen standard months, with that bucket of bent bolts you brought into the yard, so take better care of it. And call for help if you need it - don't wait until you're shot to pieces."

"Yes, sir!" She left his office with a lighter heart. No, she would not get into an unnecessary fight - but she wouldn't have to go through the misery of standing by while others suffered, either.

In the meantime, she would be busy checking in additional crew. Some were those who had been a.s.signed to the prize vessel, but had not gone back out with the battle group. Others were newly a.s.signed to replace casualties or transfers out.

BOOK FOUR.

Chapter Fourteen.

"Commander Sa.s.sinak ..." The voice was vaguely familiar; Sa.s.sinak pulled her attention out of an engineering report and glanced up. Incredulous joy engulfed her.

"Ford!" She could hardly believe it, and then wondered why she hadn't already known. Surely the name would have been on the roster of incoming officers - "Lieutenant Commander Hakrar broke a leg and two ribs in a waterboat race . . . and they offered it to me, so - " His broad grin was the same as ever, but now he subdued it. "Lieutenant Commander Fordeliton reporting for duty, captain." He held out his order chip, and she took it, feeding it into the reader. Her side screen came up with a list.

"There're just a few ch.o.r.es waiting for you, as you can see - "

"Mmm. Maybe I should have stopped for a drink before I reported aboard." He leaned over to take a look at the screen, and feigned shock. "Good grief, Commander, hasn't anyone done any work on this s.h.i.+p since you docked?"

Sa.s.sinak found herself grinning. "Did you see the holos of the damage we came in with?"

"No - but I heard rumors of a Board of Inquiry. Bad fight?"

"Fairly stiff. I'll tell you later. For now - " She looked him up and down. The same dark bronze face, the same lean body that could slouch carelessly in a dockside bar or dance elegantly at a diplomatic reception, the same tone of voice, wordlessly offering support without challenge. If she had had her pick of all the possible executive officers, he would have been the one. And yet - she wasn't ready for anything more, not yet. Would he understand? "Just get yourself settled, and we'll have a briefing at 1500. Need any help?"

"No, Commander, thank you. I met your Weapons Officer on the way to the dock, and she's helped me find my way around."

Sa.s.sinak leaned back, after he'd gone, and let herself remember that crazy trip as prize crew on a captured illicit trader, something more than ten years before. She'd been exec on a patrol-cla.s.s vessel, Lily of Serai Lily of Serai, and they'd caught a trader carrying illegal and unmarked cargo. So her captain had put her and five others aboard, as a prize crew to bring the trader to Sector HQ; she'd had command, and Fordeliton, then a Jig, had been her exec. She'd hardly known him before, but it was the kind of trip that made solid relations.h.i.+ps. For the trader crew had tried to take the s.h.i.+p back, and they'd killed two of the marines - and almost killed Ford, but she had led the other two in a desperate hand-to-hand fight through the main deck corridors. If Huron had seen that, she told herself, he'd never have doubted her will to fight. In the end they'd won - though they'd had to s.p.a.ce most of the trader's original crew - and she had brought the s.h.i.+p in whole. When Ford recovered from his injuries, they'd become lovers - and in the years since, whenever they chanced to meet, they had enjoyed each other's company. Nothing intense, nothing painful - but she could count on his quiet, generous support. Another incoming officer brought her much less content. Fleet Security, apparently impressed by her conviction that she had yet another agent on board, decided to a.s.sign a Security officer to the s.h.i.+p. Sa.s.sinak frowned over his dossier: a Lieutenant Commander (in Security, a very high rank) from Bretagne. All she'd wanted was a deeper scrutiny of her personnel records, and instead she got this . . . she looked at his holo. Slim, dark hair and eyes, somehow conveying even in that official pose a certain dapper quality.

In person, when he reported for duty, he lived up to his holo: suave, courteous, almost elegant. His voice had the little lilt she remembered from Bretagne natives, and he used it to compliment her on her s.h.i.+p, her office decor, her reputation. Sa.s.sinak considered biting his head off, but it was never wise to alienate Security. She gave him courtesy for courtesy, alluding to her first s.h.i.+p service under a Bretagnan captain, and he became even sleeker, if possible. When he'd gone to his quarters, Sa.s.sinak took a long breath and blew it out. Security! Why couldn't they do the job right in the first place, and prevent hostiles from getting into Fleet, instead of sending people like this to hara.s.s honest officers and interfere with their work?

But Dupaynil turned out better than his first impression, He got along well with the other officers, and had a strong technical background that made him useful in both Engineering and Weaponry, His witty conversation, which skirted but never quite slid into malicious gossip about the prominent and wealthy among whom he'd worked, livened their meals. And he was more than a quick wit, Sa.s.sinak found out, when they discussed the matter of planet piracy and slave trading.

"You haven't been at Headquarters for several years," he said. "I'm sure you remember that speculation about certain families had begun even ten years ago ..."

"Yes, of course."

"Our problem has been not in finding out who, but in proving how - with persons of such rank, we cannot simply accuse them of complicity. And they've been very, very clever in covering their tracks, and making their accounts clean for inspection. That s.h.i.+p you captured, for instance - "

"I was thinking Paraden," said Sa.s.s.

"Precisely. But you noted, I'm sure, that although there were apparent links to Paraden family enterprises, there was no direct, traceable proof..."

"No. I'd hoped the traces on those transports coming into the pirate base would be helpful."

"Oh, they were. Commodore Verstan forwarded all available data - and we're now sure of some kind of complicity between the Paradens and at least one group of political activists from Diplo."

"That's what I don't understand," said Sa.s.s. "The Paradens I've met were all prejudiced against any of the human variants - I'd think they'd be the last people to consort with heavyworlders."

"The Paraden family stronghold maintains a body of heavyworlder troops. That's not widely known, but we have - had, I should say - an agent that had infiltrated them just so far. It would be within their philosophy to use the heavyworlders that way - and to gain exclusive access to chosen worlds."

"That young woman who went crazy and tried to poison us all was born on Diplo. But I thought she was too irrational to be anyone's agent - "

"You're undoubtedly right. No, if you have a saboteur on your s.h.i.+p. Commander, it's someone more subtle than that. And quite possibly not a heavyworlder. There's a growing sentiment that Fleet demands too much and delivers too little protection . . . that it's used to keep colony planets subdued, or to prevent the opening of suitable worlds for colonies. Exploration has s.h.i.+fted a lot of blame to Fleet, over the past decade or so - and that concerns us, too. Why are we blamed when Exploration chooses to cla.s.sify a world as unsuited for colonization? Why is Fleet responsible when the alien vote in the FSP puts a system off-limits for humans? Because we enforce the edicts, apparently . . . but who is emphasizing that, and why?"

"And you have no idea if any of this crew is such an agent?"

Dupaynil shook his head. "No - the records all seem clear, and that's what you'd expect from a professional. They're not going to do anything stupid, like use a faked name or background. We can check too easily on that sort of thing these days - the Genetic Index gives us the references for each planet-of-origin. If I said I was from Grantly-IV, for instance, you could look it up in the Index and find out that I should be blue-eyed and a foot taller."

"But surely most planets have a variety of genomes - "

"A variety, yes, but not the entire range of human possibilities. Much of the time it doesn't tell us precisely where someone is from - although with tissue samples for a.n.a.lysis it does much better - but it certainly tells me what questions to ask, and what to look for. Anyone from Bretagne, my home world, has experienced double moonlight, and knows about the Imperial Rose Gardens. You're from Myriad - you lived in its one city - and so I know you experienced a seacoast with mountains inland, and you must have seen at least one gorbnari."

Sa.s.sinak had an instant memory of the gorbnari, the wide-winged flyers of Myriad, who preyed on its native sealife. Not birds, not fishes - exactly - but gorbnari swooping down for krissi.

"So if I asked you," Dupaynil went on, "whether gorbnari were gray or brown, you'd know - "

"That they were pale yellow on top and white underneath, with a red crest on the males ... I see what you mean."

"Since the Myriad colony was wiped out, and not replanted, the references to native wildlife are pretty vague. In fact, the only comment on gorbnari gives their color as 'mid-to-light brown, lighter below' because it's taken from the first scouts.h.i.+p report - and that s.h.i.+p sampled on the other continent, where they are that color."

"So you're going to mingle with the crew, and check that sort of thing, stuff that doesn't come up in the records at all?"

"Right. And of course, I'll fill you in on whatever I find."

Dupaynil was the last incoming crewman - when Sa.s.sinak thought about it, the perfect arrangement, since anyone transferring out so late would be noticed. The orders came through for them to leave, and soon they were on their way to their a.s.signed position. Sa.s.sinak wasn't sure whether to be glad or sorry that she had no chance to attend Huron's funeral. Soon she was far too busy to brood about it.

For one thing, she had to supervise the continuing education of five newly "hatched" ensigns, fresh from the Academy, and eager to prove themselves capable young officers. Fordeliton handled their a.s.signment slots, but she had an interview with each one, and chaired the regular evaluation sessions. It was a very mixed group. Claas, one of the largest heavyworlder women Sa.s.sinak had ever seen, came with a special recommendation from Sa.s.s's old friend Seglawin at the Academy. ("I can trust you," she'd written, "to perceive the sensitivity and generosity of this ensign - she's bright, of course, and reasonably aggressive, but still too easily hurt. Toughen her, if you can, without sending her straight into the Separationists.") Sa.s.sinak looked up - and up - at the broad face with its heavy brow and cheekbones, and mentally shook her head. If this girl was still oversensitive, after four years in the Academy, she had small chance of curing it.

Timran, stocky and just above the minimum height, had a low rank in the graduating cla.s.s, and an air of suppressed glee. Clearly he was thrilled (surprised, even?) to have made it through commissioning, and equally delighted to have such a good a.s.signment - and such a commanding officer. Sa.s.sinak was used to male appreciation, but his wide - eyed admiration almost embarra.s.sed her. She wondered if she'd really been that callow herself. His only redeeming characteristic, according to the file, was "luck." As his pilot instructor said, "Under normal circ.u.mstances, this cadet is adequate at best, and too often careless or rash. But in emergencies, everything seems to come together, and he will do five wrong things that add up to the best combination. If he continues to show this flair in active duty, he may be worth training as a scouts.h.i.+p pilot, or a junior gunnery officer."

Gori, on the other hand, was a quiet, studious, almost prim young man who had ranked high in academics and sports, but only average in initiative. "The born supply officer," his report said. "Meticulous, precise, will do exactly what he is told, but does not react well in chaotic situations. He should do well in a large crew, and ultimately onstation in a noncombat capacity. Note that this is not lack of courage; he does not panic in danger - but he does not exceed his orders even when this is desirable."

Kayli and Perran were more "average," in that their abilities seemed to be all on one level. Physically they were something else. Kayli was a stunning diminutive brunette, who could have had a new partner every night if she'd wanted it. What she wanted, apparently, was Gori. Sa.s.sinak was not surprised to find that they were already engaged, and planned to marry at the end of their first cruise. What did surprise her was Kayli's continuing disinterest in the other men - very few people were exclusive in their relations.h.i.+ps. But despite all suggestions, Kayli spent her off-duty time with Gori, much of it in the junior officer's mess with books spread all over the table. Perran, not at all as overtly attractive as Kayli, turned out to be the vamp of the group. She had an insatiable interest in electronics . . . and men. Ford's description of her stalk of the senior communications tech gave Sa.s.sinak her first relaxed laugh in weeks.

As the trip progressed, Claas seemed content enough, if quiet, and Sa.s.sinak noted that she seemed to spend some free time with Perran. It seemed like an odd combination, but Sa.s.sinak knew better than to interfere with what worked. Timran got into one sc.r.a.pe after another, always apologetic but undaunted as he discovered the inexorable laws of nature all over again. Sa.s.sinak wondered if he'd ever grow up - it didn't seem likely at this point. Only her experience with other such youngsters, who surprisingly grew into competent adults if given the chance and a few years, rea.s.sured her. Gori and Kayli occupied each other, and Perran, having caught her first man, soon started looking for another. Sa.s.sinak felt a twinge of sympathy for the unlucky quarry; Perran was none too gentle in her disposal of the former lover.

Dupaynil turned up evidence of several anomalies in the crew. He said quite frankly that most of them were probably innocent errors - data entered wrong in the computer, or misunderstandings of one sort or another. But sorting them out meant hours of painstaking work, correlating all the data and holding more interviews to recheck vital facts.

"I had no idea that the personnel files were this sloppy," grumbled Sa.s.s. "Surely most of these must mean something." They were back to Prosser, and Sa.s.sinak was careful to say nothing about her earlier reaction to his holo in the files. His eyes weren't quite as close together as she'd thought earlier. Dupaynil pa.s.sed over the file with a shrug - nothing wrong with it at all.

"Have you ever really looked at your own file?" asked Dupaynil with a sly smile.