aide-de-camp’s face was uncalled for; the “old man” probably wanted to welcome the scion of a noble house to the fleet. I had scraped greetings to him from my mother, and this was as good a time as any to present them. I perceived that the admiral’s place at the table had been cleared. No doubt he had an intimate repast prepared for just the two of us, to make welcome the son of an old friend.
“Back in a while!” I said to the others.
Anstruther shook her head. “You’ll be swabbing out the food processors,” she promised.
* * *
I followed the small-framed commander into a narrow vac-lift that whooshed us upward with enough force to pull the planes of my face downward toward my neck. We came to an abrupt halt a few seconds later. My cheeks bobbed up and down before assuming their correct place. I straightened my collar and strode in the wake of my guide.
Plain white enameled doorways offered themselves to either side of this new, plain white enameled corridor. Curiosity made me want to know what was behind them, but I didn’t ask. I was rehearsing to myself the exact phrasing that my mother had used when asking me to remember her to the admiral.
A half-step behind the commander, I nearly walked onto his heels when he stopped a third of the way from the end of the hall and turned sharp right. He held his wrist insignia in the eye of a sensor concealed in the doorframe. Red, blue and green lights sparkled, and the door slid open. Directly in front of me, at a maroon-red antique wooden desk, Podesta sat bolt upright with his hands folded together. The commander peeled discreetly away and retreated from the chamber, leaving us alone.
I saluted brightly, hoping the energy would transmit itself to the admiral’s downturned mouth and lift it. “Ensign-Lieutenant Kinago, Admiral!” I announced. “May I say how glad and honored I am to be aboard? My mother holds you in high esteem. She sends her regards to you, and wishes you good health and success.”
The mention of my mother, rather than cheering him up, seemed to attach an anchor to the corners of Podesta’s mouth and drag them lower. He looked pale against the mostly black starmap of the Imperium that filled the entire wall of the office behind his large desk. He rose from the austerely padded chair and walked around his desk to meet me eye to eye. We were of a height, I was surprised to note. That meant he would have been a good deal taller than my maternal unit.
“Tell me something frankly, Ensign,” the admiral said.
I was eager to be of service. I straightened further, and my bones cracked in response.
“Anything, sir.”
The gaunt visage confronted me until our noses were almost touching. I presented the most open of countenances for his perusal. “Is Tariana angry with me? Did she set you up to throw a deliberate insult in my face?”
“Why, no,” I replied, rather rocked back on the heels by the question. “She holds you in the very greatest of esteem. She told me that I ought to be proud to be assigned to your fleet for my very first assignment. And so I am!”
“Then, it must have been your own concept,” the admiral retorted, the shaggy eyebrows ascending miraculously up the broad brow. A trifle of color tinged the pale cheeks. “To flaunt your birth rank, which has no place here. To make your own hours, instead of adhering to ship’s time. And that uniform! Did you have a problem coloring within the lines when you were in infant school, boy?”
“I was rather neat, if you ask me,” I said, after a moment’s perusal of my memory. “My father’s influence, I believe. He’s very tidy in the art department, though his choice of subject is inexplicable, in my opinion—”
“You young fool!” His query had apparently been a launching point for a line of thought, not a literal question, to judge by the rapidly increasing rubicundity of his complexion. “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t spend the rest of your
“Back in a while!” I said to the others.
Anstruther shook her head. “You’ll be swabbing out the food processors,” she promised.
* * *
I followed the small-framed commander into a narrow vac-lift that whooshed us upward with enough force to pull the planes of my face downward toward my neck. We came to an abrupt halt a few seconds later. My cheeks bobbed up and down before assuming their correct place. I straightened my collar and strode in the wake of my guide.
Plain white enameled doorways offered themselves to either side of this new, plain white enameled corridor. Curiosity made me want to know what was behind them, but I didn’t ask. I was rehearsing to myself the exact phrasing that my mother had used when asking me to remember her to the admiral.
A half-step behind the commander, I nearly walked onto his heels when he stopped a third of the way from the end of the hall and turned sharp right. He held his wrist insignia in the eye of a sensor concealed in the doorframe. Red, blue and green lights sparkled, and the door slid open. Directly in front of me, at a maroon-red antique wooden desk, Podesta sat bolt upright with his hands folded together. The commander peeled discreetly away and retreated from the chamber, leaving us alone.
I saluted brightly, hoping the energy would transmit itself to the admiral’s downturned mouth and lift it. “Ensign-Lieutenant Kinago, Admiral!” I announced. “May I say how glad and honored I am to be aboard? My mother holds you in high esteem. She sends her regards to you, and wishes you good health and success.”
The mention of my mother, rather than cheering him up, seemed to attach an anchor to the corners of Podesta’s mouth and drag them lower. He looked pale against the mostly black starmap of the Imperium that filled the entire wall of the office behind his large desk. He rose from the austerely padded chair and walked around his desk to meet me eye to eye. We were of a height, I was surprised to note. That meant he would have been a good deal taller than my maternal unit.
“Tell me something frankly, Ensign,” the admiral said.
I was eager to be of service. I straightened further, and my bones cracked in response.
“Anything, sir.”
The gaunt visage confronted me until our noses were almost touching. I presented the most open of countenances for his perusal. “Is Tariana angry with me? Did she set you up to throw a deliberate insult in my face?”
“Why, no,” I replied, rather rocked back on the heels by the question. “She holds you in the very greatest of esteem. She told me that I ought to be proud to be assigned to your fleet for my very first assignment. And so I am!”
“Then, it must have been your own concept,” the admiral retorted, the shaggy eyebrows ascending miraculously up the broad brow. A trifle of color tinged the pale cheeks. “To flaunt your birth rank, which has no place here. To make your own hours, instead of adhering to ship’s time. And that uniform! Did you have a problem coloring within the lines when you were in infant school, boy?”
“I was rather neat, if you ask me,” I said, after a moment’s perusal of my memory. “My father’s influence, I believe. He’s very tidy in the art department, though his choice of subject is inexplicable, in my opinion—”
“You young fool!” His query had apparently been a launching point for a line of thought, not a literal question, to judge by the rapidly increasing rubicundity of his complexion. “Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t spend the rest of your
Similar Books
