damn thing that other people give to me.”
“No,” Thakur agreed with measured calm. “None of us are in control of anything. We just go along as it comes. Your family in particular.”
“You know, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that one day, Lieutenant Commander Debogande, you’ll have to either grab the wheel, or admit that you just don’t care, and go where ever your fortuitous life takes you.”
“Well fuck you,” Erik retorted. “I don’t care what row of tin you wear on your chest. If you’re going to accuse me of something, come out with it straight and stop insinuating like a coward.”
“You watch that tone with the Major, boy,” Dale warned from the rear seat.
Thakur held up her hand again, and Dale silenced. But she was smiling. “That’s much better,” she told Erik. “More like that, and we might just get through this.”
----
F leet HQ was located on the edge of southern Shiwon against the Feicui Hills, and could be seen from orbit with the naked eye. Erik, Thakur and Dale marched from parking across the huge central courtyard, large enough to land a squadron of assault shuttles on. It was centred by an eternal flame that burned within an inspired artistic scaffold, many storeys high. In concentric circles around it, inscribed in the acres of paving, the names of worlds conquered and battles fought, across the last twelve hundred years. There were thousands of inscriptions, some of them dating back to Sol System, and the krim invasion. Touring the courtyard was a ritual of all Fleet officer training on Homeworld — by the end of three years all cadets were expected to be able to march from one important battle to another, blindfolded.
They headed for one of the surrounding ring of glass towers, and were admitted past armed guards and automated security with their Fleet IDs. The circular, central foyer was awash with uniforms, striding, talking, pursuing various business. Hats off, Erik and the marines waited for an elevator, then rode it up to the twenty-third floor.
Then more halls and offices, busy with staff. Erik knew the way well enough — he’d done six months here straight out of the Academy, learning how to salute while walking without bumping into things. And not much else, he thought sourly, entering the main reception for First Fleet Command. An Ensign glanced at him from behind her desk.
“Lieutenant Commander, can I help you?”
Erik walked briskly to front her. “Lieutenant Commander Erik Debogande, third-shift UFS Phoenix , reporting to Rear Admiral Bennet.”
The Ensign glanced at her screen. “Yes Lieutenant Commander, she’s currently in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?”
“Please tell her I’m here,” Erik told her. “I’ll wait.” He turned on his heel, strode to a seat by the wall, and sat. Thakur and Dale joined him, not a word spoken. The baffled Ensign spoke quietly into a com.
“She doesn’t know,” Thakur murmured. “They’re keeping it quiet.”
“This is all kinds of fucked up,” Dale muttered. “Court-martial for what?”
“The flanking jump to Dhuvo system,” said Erik. Both marines looked at him. “It was irregular.”
“It was brilliant,” said Thakur.
“Yes, and irregular. Typical Captain. But he left the scene of the battle to hit the reinforcements before they came in. If someone’s being a total ass hat, which seems increasingly likely, they might book him for leaving the battle without orders.”
“Thus saving everyone’s ass,” said Thakur. “Captains always improvise, with light-delay in battle it’s impossible to wait for orders in an unfolding fight.”
“You don’t need to tell me, Major,” Erik said through clenched teeth. “I’ve flown the damn ship.”
“And you’re sure Fleet Admiral Anjo said nothing about a court-martial when you talked to him?” Erik just glared at her. It had no effect on Thakur at all. She looked at the file-pushers at work behind their
“No,” Thakur agreed with measured calm. “None of us are in control of anything. We just go along as it comes. Your family in particular.”
“You know, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that one day, Lieutenant Commander Debogande, you’ll have to either grab the wheel, or admit that you just don’t care, and go where ever your fortuitous life takes you.”
“Well fuck you,” Erik retorted. “I don’t care what row of tin you wear on your chest. If you’re going to accuse me of something, come out with it straight and stop insinuating like a coward.”
“You watch that tone with the Major, boy,” Dale warned from the rear seat.
Thakur held up her hand again, and Dale silenced. But she was smiling. “That’s much better,” she told Erik. “More like that, and we might just get through this.”
----
F leet HQ was located on the edge of southern Shiwon against the Feicui Hills, and could be seen from orbit with the naked eye. Erik, Thakur and Dale marched from parking across the huge central courtyard, large enough to land a squadron of assault shuttles on. It was centred by an eternal flame that burned within an inspired artistic scaffold, many storeys high. In concentric circles around it, inscribed in the acres of paving, the names of worlds conquered and battles fought, across the last twelve hundred years. There were thousands of inscriptions, some of them dating back to Sol System, and the krim invasion. Touring the courtyard was a ritual of all Fleet officer training on Homeworld — by the end of three years all cadets were expected to be able to march from one important battle to another, blindfolded.
They headed for one of the surrounding ring of glass towers, and were admitted past armed guards and automated security with their Fleet IDs. The circular, central foyer was awash with uniforms, striding, talking, pursuing various business. Hats off, Erik and the marines waited for an elevator, then rode it up to the twenty-third floor.
Then more halls and offices, busy with staff. Erik knew the way well enough — he’d done six months here straight out of the Academy, learning how to salute while walking without bumping into things. And not much else, he thought sourly, entering the main reception for First Fleet Command. An Ensign glanced at him from behind her desk.
“Lieutenant Commander, can I help you?”
Erik walked briskly to front her. “Lieutenant Commander Erik Debogande, third-shift UFS Phoenix , reporting to Rear Admiral Bennet.”
The Ensign glanced at her screen. “Yes Lieutenant Commander, she’s currently in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?”
“Please tell her I’m here,” Erik told her. “I’ll wait.” He turned on his heel, strode to a seat by the wall, and sat. Thakur and Dale joined him, not a word spoken. The baffled Ensign spoke quietly into a com.
“She doesn’t know,” Thakur murmured. “They’re keeping it quiet.”
“This is all kinds of fucked up,” Dale muttered. “Court-martial for what?”
“The flanking jump to Dhuvo system,” said Erik. Both marines looked at him. “It was irregular.”
“It was brilliant,” said Thakur.
“Yes, and irregular. Typical Captain. But he left the scene of the battle to hit the reinforcements before they came in. If someone’s being a total ass hat, which seems increasingly likely, they might book him for leaving the battle without orders.”
“Thus saving everyone’s ass,” said Thakur. “Captains always improvise, with light-delay in battle it’s impossible to wait for orders in an unfolding fight.”
“You don’t need to tell me, Major,” Erik said through clenched teeth. “I’ve flown the damn ship.”
“And you’re sure Fleet Admiral Anjo said nothing about a court-martial when you talked to him?” Erik just glared at her. It had no effect on Thakur at all. She looked at the file-pushers at work behind their
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