Elizabeth Moon - Rules of Engagement

“No onions, thanks.” Not with a shuttle liftoff. But she nodded to the rest of his suggestions, and soon the sizzling platter appeared.

When she had started eating, the man went on chatting. “She’s a pretty thing, but stubborn as a stump. A good argument against letting civilians train at our facilities, no matter whose children they are. It does no good to mix with the Families. They employ us; they cannot be us.”

For some reason—perhaps the energy imparted by the steak—Esmay was moved to argue. “She had a lot of talents we could use—”

“Oh, certainly, if she had any discipline at all . . .”

“She did pull off some good stuff I heard about,” Esmay said. “Helping that old lady—she worked hard on that.”

His eyes twinkled. “You’d make a silk purse out of any sow’s ear, would you, Lieutenant? A good attitude for a young officer, but you’ll find some of ’em smell of pig no matter what you do. So where are you going now?”

“I’m not sure,” Esmay said. “They’re supposed to have my assignment ready by the time I get to sector HQ. They may bury me in paperwork—”

“No, I don’t think so,” the man said. “Even if you’re in trouble now, it will pass, and they’re not going to waste a young officer with real combat ability.”

“I hope not,” Esmay said.

“We’re going to have to find something else,” the admiral said. “I know what we thought we were going to do with Lieutenant Suiza, but we certainly cannot reward her performance with a plum assignment.”

“We needed her the way she was—” the commander said.

“The way we thought she was. Thank any deity you like that we brought her in for training before assigning her permanently to command track. Imagine the mess she could’ve caused as a cruiser captain, if all this had slid by.”

“I still find it hard to understand. There was nothing— nothing —in her record to indicate that kind of character flaw, rather the opposite.”

“There was nothing in her record to indicate her ability in combat until Xavier,” the admiral said. “If she could hide that kind of talent, and she did, then this is no more difficult. And after all, she’d never been in contact with any of the Families before—Altiplano has no Seat in Council.”

“There is that.” The commander looked thoughtful. “I wish we knew whether there was anything more to it.”

“More? Verbal assault on the Speaker’s daughter isn’t enough?”

“Well . . . is it just personal, or is it political? Is she the spearpoint for something?”

“I don’t know, and at the moment I don’t care. We’ve wasted entirely too much money and time on this young woman, and we’re going to have to figure out a way to get repaid without risking the welfare of the Fleet.” The admiral looked around the table. “Someone had better have an idea how.”

Down at the far end, a lieutenant commander raised her hand. “Sir, she’s elected to take both the basic level Search and Rescue as well as Escape and Evasion, right?”

“Yes . . .”

“SAR is chronically short of junior officers for both ship XOs and SAR team leaders, and those are command track billets. There are at least three openings for lieutenants in Sector VII alone.”

The admiral thought a moment. “Relatively small ships, elite crew, operating independently for the most part—yes. She’d be under really close supervision; if she messes up, or tries to foment some kind of action, her captain would know for sure. Good. What have you got?”

“ Shrike , I thought. Podaly Solis is commanding it, and his exec just applied for family leave.”

“Mmm. I don’t know about having her second in command . . .”

“My thought was, it puts her more directly under the captain’s supervision than she would be as a team leader. And we have no doubts about Solis; he helped us clean out that mess at Sector HQ, as I’m sure the admiral recalls.”

“Yes, that’s true. Probably the best we can do. Blast the girl; why couldn’t she have been as good as she seemed?”

Esmay arrived at Shrike ’s dock area to find it in perfect order; the guard saluted crisply and checked her orders.

“I’ll just let the captain know—we didn’t expect you until early next shift.”

“ Gossamer came in early,” Esmay said.

She wondered what her father would think now, both about her promotion and the trouble she was in. She was sure he’d followed her career as best he could from Altiplano; her promotions and awards were matters of public record, and the news media had covered the Koskiusko affair. Her thoughts drifted to her great-grandmother—so fragile, so embedded in her culture’s past. What would she think? For an instant, she wished she could sit beside that low chair, and pour out the whole story. Surely her great-grandmother would understand about Barin; surely she would feel the same way about Brun.

Captain Solis greeted her with reserve; she did not know whether it was his habitual mood, or whether he had been informed of the trouble she was in.

“You’re quite inexperienced to be taking over as number two,” he said. “I understand you have a distinguished combat record, especially considering that you were not in command track at the time. But the executive officer of an SAR—that’s asking rather a lot of you.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Esmay said.

“I’m sure you will. Your experience on a DSR will be some use, and I see you stood well in your classes in both search and rescue and escape and evasion. Still, it will be a stretch, and you might as well be prepared.” He gave her a long look. “Now, about this other problem—your quarrel with the Speaker’s daughter.” He shook his head. “If I’d been your CO, I’d have had you up for conduct unbecoming. He didn’t, and so far you have no record here, but I warn you—I will not tolerate disrespect for the civil government of the Familias Regnant. Officers do not play politics. We serve; we do not interfere.”

Esmay wanted to say that Brun was not her father, and had no official position of her own, but she knew she must not. Why did they keep thinking that her opinion of Brun’s behavior had anything to do with her loyalty to the Fleet? “Yes, sir,” she said.

“You will find no support for any Family games on my ship,” he went on. “And no room for grandstanding, either. You do your job, and do it well, and you’ll get the appropriate credit in your fitness reports. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll expect you back here in two hours for a briefing. Dismissed.”

It was cold comfort that her duffel was all in her compartment when she got there. At least her new position ensured a compartment, even on so small a ship. She glanced around. Bunk, storage lockers, desk, cube reader, and—to her surprise—a row of display screens above the desk. Esmay inserted her datawand into the slot, and these screens flashed to life. One displayed the orders of the day; another gave the status of the two SAR teams and their vehicles; yet another listed stores, crosslinked to consumption rates.

Esmay stowed her gear in the lockers—she had nothing to put in two of them—and changed into a clean uniform. She did not look forward to the next meeting with her captain.

He was, however, slightly more affable. “I hate losing Colin,” he said. “But his wife was killed in a traffic accident while she was downside arranging for their children to change fosterage. It’s going to take him quite a while to sort everything out . . . the kids have outgrown the grandparents, and the retired uncle who was going to take them was killed in the same accident.” He shook his head, then smiled at Esmay. “You’ll find we have good teams, Lieutenant. And a tour on an SAR is always interesting. We deal with problems that the big boys ignore—everything from private yachts stranded by jump-drive blowouts, to collisions. You will learn a lot. And since we didn’t expect you until tomorrow, you’re not on the watch list yet, which gives you time to poke around and start learning your job.”