Walter Williams - Logs

Being chosen by Fletcher wasn't necessarily a recommendation in Martinez' opinion, but he nodded.

"And the one who wasn't chosen?" he asked.

Kazakov thought a moment before she replied. "There's no problem with the way she performs her duties," she said. "She's very efficient."

Martinez gave no indication of his awareness that this was a less than wholehearted appraisal. He liked the fact that Kazakov felt sufficient loyalty to the other officers not to put a knife into Chandra's back when she had the chance.

"Let's take the lieutenants one by one," he said.

From Kazakov's report Martinez gathered that three of the lieutenants were Gomberg or Fletcher clients, following in their patron's wake up the ladder of Fleet hierarchy. Two, Husayn and Kazakov herself, had benefitted from those complex trades of favor and patronage so common among the Peers: Fletcher had agreed to look after their interests in exchange for their own families aiding some of Fletcher's friends or dependents.

Perhaps Kazakov thought that this genealogy of relationships and obligations was all that was required to explain the lieutenants to her new captain, or perhaps she was looking into the future and letting Martinez know that her relations were ready to assist Martinez' friends in the same sort of arrangement they'd had with Fletcher. Martinez was gratified, but insisted on knowing how well the officers did their jobs.

According to Kazakov they did their jobs very well. Lord Phillips and Corbigny, the two most junior, were inexperienced but promising; and the others were all talented. Martinez had no reason to doubt her judgments.

"It's a happy wardroom?" Martinez asked.

"Yes." Kazakov's answer came without hesitation. "Unusually so."

"Lady Michi's lieutenants are fitting in? Coen and Li?"

"Yes. They're amiable people."

"How about Kosinic? Was he a happy member of the wardroom mess?"

Kazakov blinked in surprise. "Kosinic? He wasn't aboard for very long, and-I suppose he agreed well enough with the others, given the circumstances."

Martinez raised his eyebrows. "Circumstances?"

"Well, he was a commoner. Not," Kazakov was quick to add, aware perhaps that she'd put a foot wrong, "not that being a commoner was a problem, I don't say anything against that, but his family had no money, and he had to live off his pay. So Kosinic had to take an advance on his pay in order to pay his wardroom dues, and he really couldn't afford to club together with the other lieutenants to buy food stores and liquor and so on. The rest of us were perfectly happy to pay his allotment, but I think he was perhaps a little sensitive about it, and he severely limited his wine and liquor consumption, and avoided eating some of the more expensive food items. And he couldn't afford to gamble-not," she added, catching herself again, "that there's high play in the wardroom, nothing like it, but there's often a friendly game going on, for what we'd consider pocket money, and Kosinic couldn't afford a place at the table."

Kazakov reached for her wine and took a sip. "And then of course the mutiny happened, and Kosinic got wounded. I think perhaps the head injury changed his personality a little, because he became sullen and angry. Sometimes he'd just be sitting in a chair and you'd look up and see him in a complete fury-his jaw would be working and his neck muscles all taut like cables and his eyes on fire. Sometimes it was a little frightening. This is extremely good wine, my lord."

"I'm glad you like it. Do you have any idea what made Kosinic angry?"

"No, my lord. On those occasions I don't think the wardroom conversation was any more inane than usual." She smiled at her own joke, and then the smile faded. "I always thought getting blown up by the Naxids was reason enough for anger. But whatever the cause, Kosinic became a lot less sociable after he was wounded, and he spent most of his time in his cabin or in the Flag Officer Station, working."

Martinez sipped his own wine. He thought he understood Kosinic fairly well.

Martinez was a Peer, and blessed with a large allowance from his wealthy family. But he was a provincial, and marked as a provincial by his accent. He knew very well the way high-caste Peers could condescend to their inferiors, or deliberately humiliate them, or treat them as servants, or simply ignore them. Even if the other officers intended no disparagement, a sensitive, intelligent commoner might well detect slights where none existed.

"Do you happen to know how Lady Michi came to take Kosinic on her staff?" Martinez asked.

"I believe Kosinic served as a cadet in a previous command. He impressed her and she took him along when he passed his lieutenants' exams."

Which was unusually broad-minded of Michi, Martinez thought. She could as easily have associated herself only with her own clients and the clients of powerful families with whom she wished to curry favor, as had Fletcher. Instead, though she came from a clan at least as ancient and noble as the Gombergs or Fletchers, she'd chosen to give one of her valuable staff jobs to a poor commoner.

Though it had to be admitted, in retrospect, that Michi's experiment in social mobility hadn't been very successful.

"Was Kosinic a good tactical officer?" Martinez asked.

"Yes. Absolutely."

Martinez sipped his wine again. In spite of Kazakov's praising the vintage, it still tasted vinegary to him.

"And the warrant officers?" he asked.

Kazakov explained that Fletcher had his pick of warrant and petty officers, and chosen only the most experienced. The number of trainees had been kept to a minimum, and the result was a hard core of professionals in charge of all the ship's departments, all of whom were of exemplary efficiency.

"But Captain Fletcher," Martinez said, "chose to execute one of those professionals he had personally chosen."

Kazakov's expression turned guarded. "Yes, my lord."

"Do you have any idea why?"

Kazakov shook her head. "No, my lord. Engineer Thuc was one of the most efficient department heads on the ship."

"Captain Fletcher had never in your hearing expressed any… violent intentions?"

She seemed startled by the question. "No. Not at all, my lord." Her brows knit. "Though you might ask…" She shook her head. "No, that's ridiculous."

"Tell me."

The guarded look had returned to her face. "You might ask Lieutenant Prasad." She spoke quickly, as if she wanted to speed through the distasteful topic as quickly as she could. "As you probably heard, she and the captain were intimates. He may have said things to her that he wouldn't have…" She sighed, having finally got through it. "To any of the rest of us."

"Thank you," Martinez said. "I'll interview to each of the lieutenants in turn."

Though he couldn't imagine Fletcher murmuring plans for homicide along with his endearments, assuming he was the sort of man who murmured endearments at all. Neither could he imagine Chandra keeping such an announcement secret, especially in those furious moments after she and Fletcher had their final quarrel.

"Thank you for your candor," Martinez said, though he knew perfectly well that Kazakov hadn't been candid throughout. On the whole he approved of the moments when she'd chosen to be discreet, and he thought he could work with her very well.

They ended the interview discussing Kazakov's plans for her future. Her career had been planned so as to minimize any possible intervention by fortune: in another one of those trades so common among Peers, a friend of her family would have given her command of the frigate Storm Fury, a plan that had been detailed when both the friend and the frigate had been captured by the Naxids on the first day of the mutiny.

"Well," Martinez said, "if I'm ever in a position to do something for you, I'll do my best."