too-big eyes filled— for my pain? Pauli wondered—and she ran away to hide her face against Rafe Adams’ leg.
"Just a moment, Marshal,” called Borodin, his voice rigidly controlled.
"Yes?” Becker's voice iced.
"Your ... cohorts. The other marshals on board Amherst. Send them with Banez too."
"I had planned to assign several of them here, to assist you."
"Dammit,” roared Borodin, “you've assisted me out of a job, and one of the best pilots I've ever helped train out of a future. I don't need them, man. I don't want them interfering. If they stay here, God knows what sort of sealed, imbecilic orders they will produce to tie my hands with. God may know; I don't want to deal with it."
"Captain,” said Becker, his thin face twisting with what Pauli realized was genuine distress, “we can talk about this when you are less—"
"We are talking about it now! Either I am in command, or I am not. If I am not, let me know that now; and I'll resign my commission right now and ask to be repatriated, either at home or here on Cynthia. If I am truly in charge here, then I tell you frankly, I will not have your precious marshals threatening to pull new sealed orders out of their sleeves every time I make a command decision. Now, which is it?"
"You are in command, sir,” said Becker. Unwillingly he grinned. “And there will be a few of my colleagues who will thank God that you have taken such a hard line. No marshals: you're on your own. Will that content you?” Abruptly his voice went from ironic to imperious.
"It must,” said Captain Borodin.
The marshal nodded and turned away. His footsteps crunched away toward the ship, the ship that was no longer Pauli's or the captain's.
Well, have you the guts to face him? Sarcasm lashed her forward to meet the captain's eyes.
"I tried,” he told her. And then, to her horror, “I should say I'm sorry. But you, at least, will have a chance to live."
If she didn't walk away now, she'd break. “I know you tried, sir,” she tried to sound confident. “So it's TDY again, isn't it? Just this time, it's not all that temporary."
In the days remaining before Commander, now Captain, Banez took Amherst away, they helped unload the supplies that must suffice until the colony became independent. Food concentrates for several years. With luck, they would be growing their own crops before the concentrates ran out. Without luck ... colonies had starved before, even on the same world as their founding nation. A limited number of hydro canisters and chemical tanks. They'd all have to turn dirt farmer! Pauli shook her head, appalled, and stared venomously at Becker, who had lugged his own share of the burdens. He straightened up, rubbing hands that had blistered very satisfactorily. She hoped they turned infected on him.
Undamaged genes ... racial survival, my ass! she grumbled silently. Piece by piece, the settlement took shape.
The evening that the Amherst departed, Rafe finally walked over to talk with her. Couldn't he see that she had managed to avoid him since planetfall, that she wanted it that way? Probably he could. Perhaps that was why he had brought the captain with him.
"Pauli, can I talk with you?"
"You're talking,” she said. Rafe would probably like it here. That was part of what made her so angry at him. Despite his commission, he was a xenobiologist, and xenos were practically civilians themselves. Like the anthro officer Ro Economus, whom Becker had also marooned here. She'd signed up for the service late. But that wasn't all that explained why, at age thirty, she was still an ensign. Even grounded, however, Rafe and Economus could still do the work they'd joined the service for while she ... Pauli avoided looking at Rafe: tanned, the weathering carefully maintained under ship's UVs, reddish hair, rangy strength. He was lantern-jawed, pleasantly homely. So all right, pilot wisdom decreed that the pilot who got involved with anyone but a pilot was a fool. Rafe had
"Just a moment, Marshal,” called Borodin, his voice rigidly controlled.
"Yes?” Becker's voice iced.
"Your ... cohorts. The other marshals on board Amherst. Send them with Banez too."
"I had planned to assign several of them here, to assist you."
"Dammit,” roared Borodin, “you've assisted me out of a job, and one of the best pilots I've ever helped train out of a future. I don't need them, man. I don't want them interfering. If they stay here, God knows what sort of sealed, imbecilic orders they will produce to tie my hands with. God may know; I don't want to deal with it."
"Captain,” said Becker, his thin face twisting with what Pauli realized was genuine distress, “we can talk about this when you are less—"
"We are talking about it now! Either I am in command, or I am not. If I am not, let me know that now; and I'll resign my commission right now and ask to be repatriated, either at home or here on Cynthia. If I am truly in charge here, then I tell you frankly, I will not have your precious marshals threatening to pull new sealed orders out of their sleeves every time I make a command decision. Now, which is it?"
"You are in command, sir,” said Becker. Unwillingly he grinned. “And there will be a few of my colleagues who will thank God that you have taken such a hard line. No marshals: you're on your own. Will that content you?” Abruptly his voice went from ironic to imperious.
"It must,” said Captain Borodin.
The marshal nodded and turned away. His footsteps crunched away toward the ship, the ship that was no longer Pauli's or the captain's.
Well, have you the guts to face him? Sarcasm lashed her forward to meet the captain's eyes.
"I tried,” he told her. And then, to her horror, “I should say I'm sorry. But you, at least, will have a chance to live."
If she didn't walk away now, she'd break. “I know you tried, sir,” she tried to sound confident. “So it's TDY again, isn't it? Just this time, it's not all that temporary."
In the days remaining before Commander, now Captain, Banez took Amherst away, they helped unload the supplies that must suffice until the colony became independent. Food concentrates for several years. With luck, they would be growing their own crops before the concentrates ran out. Without luck ... colonies had starved before, even on the same world as their founding nation. A limited number of hydro canisters and chemical tanks. They'd all have to turn dirt farmer! Pauli shook her head, appalled, and stared venomously at Becker, who had lugged his own share of the burdens. He straightened up, rubbing hands that had blistered very satisfactorily. She hoped they turned infected on him.
Undamaged genes ... racial survival, my ass! she grumbled silently. Piece by piece, the settlement took shape.
The evening that the Amherst departed, Rafe finally walked over to talk with her. Couldn't he see that she had managed to avoid him since planetfall, that she wanted it that way? Probably he could. Perhaps that was why he had brought the captain with him.
"Pauli, can I talk with you?"
"You're talking,” she said. Rafe would probably like it here. That was part of what made her so angry at him. Despite his commission, he was a xenobiologist, and xenos were practically civilians themselves. Like the anthro officer Ro Economus, whom Becker had also marooned here. She'd signed up for the service late. But that wasn't all that explained why, at age thirty, she was still an ensign. Even grounded, however, Rafe and Economus could still do the work they'd joined the service for while she ... Pauli avoided looking at Rafe: tanned, the weathering carefully maintained under ship's UVs, reddish hair, rangy strength. He was lantern-jawed, pleasantly homely. So all right, pilot wisdom decreed that the pilot who got involved with anyone but a pilot was a fool. Rafe had
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