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and blue. She hardly noticed when the ship cast off and slid almost
soundlessly through the waves, across the bay and around the jagged island in
it. There, in the lee of the island, facing the great cliffs, the ship rested
as the chaplain spoke the final words.
" - Rest eternal grant to him, 0 Lord - " And the other voices joined his,
"And let light perpetual shine upon him."
The chaplain stepped aside; the escort commander brought the escort to
attention and three loud volleys racketed in ragged echoes from island and
cliffs beyond. Birds rose screaming from the cliffs, white wings tangled in
the light. Sass clenched her jaw: now it was coming. She tried not to see the
tilting frame, the slow inexorable movement of the casket to the waiting sea.
As if from the arc of the sky, a single bugle tolled the notes out, one by
one, gently and inexorably. Taps. Sass shivered despite herself. It had ended
her days for the past four years - and now it was ending his. It had meant
sunset, lights out, another day survived - and now it meant only endings. Her
throat closed again; tears burned her eyes. No one had played taps for her
parents, for her sister and brother and the others killed or left to die on
Myriad. No one had played taps for the slaves who died. She was cold all the
way through, realizing, as she had not ever allowed herself to realize, that
she might easily have been another dead body on Myriad, or in the slaver's
barracks, unknown, unmourned.
All those deaths . . . the last note floated out across the bay, serene
despite her pain, pulling it out of her. Here, at least, the dead could find
peace, knowing someone noticed, someone mourned. She took a deep, unsteady
breath. Abe was safe here, "from rock and tempest, fire and foe," safe in
whatever safety death offered, completing his service as he had wished.
She took the flag, when it was boxed and presented, with the dignity Abe
deserved.
BOOK TWO
Chapter Five
"Ensign Sassinak requests permission to come aboard, sir." Coming aboard meant
crossing a painted stripe on the deck of the station, but the ritual was the
same as ever.
"Permission granted." The Officer of the Deck, a young man whose reddish skin
and ice-blue eyes indicated a Brinanish origin, had one wide gold ring and a
narrow one on his sleeve. He returned her salute, and
Sass stepped across the stripe. Slung on her shoulder was the pack containing
everything she was permitted to take aboard. Her uniforms
(mess dress, working dress, seasonal working, and so on) were already aboard,
sent ahead from her quarters before her final interview with the
Academy Commandant after Abe's funeral.
Her quarters were minimal: one of two female ensigns (there were five ensigns
in all), she had one fold-down bunk in their tiny cubicle, one narrow locker
for dress uniforms, three drawers, and a storage bin. Sass knew Mira Witsel
only slightly; she had been one of Randolph Neil
Paraden's set, a short blonde just over the height limit. Sass hoped she
wasn't as arrogant as the others, but counted on her graduation rank to take
care of any problems. With the other ensigns, they shared a small study/lounge
(three terminals, a round table, five chairs). Quickly, she stowed her gear
and took a glance at herself in the mirror strip next to the door. First
impressions . . . reporting to the captain . . . she grinned at her
reflection. Clean and sharp and probably all too eager . . . but it was going
to be a good voyage . . . she was sure of it.
"Come in!" Through the open hatch, the captain's voice sounded stuffy, like
someone not quite easy with protocol. Fargeon. Commander
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Fargeon - she'd practiced that softened g, typical of his homeworld (a
French-influenced version of Neo-Gaesh). Sass took a deep breath, and stepped
in.
He answered her formal greeting in the same slightly stuffy voice: not
hostile, but standoffish. Tall, angular, he leaned across his cluttered desk
to shake her hand as if his back hurt him a little. "Sit down. Ensign," he
said, folding himself into his own chair behind his desk, and flicking keys on
his desk terminal. "Ah . . . your record precedes you. Honor graduate." He
looked at her, eyes sharp. "You can't expect to start on the top here.
Ensign."
"No, sir," Sassinak sat perfectly still, and he finally nodded.
"Good. That's a problem with some top graduates, but if you don't have a
swelled head, I don't see why you should run into difficulties. Let me see
- " He peered at his terminal screen. "Yes. You are the first ensign aboard,
good. I'm putting you on third watch now, but that's not permanent, and it
doesn't mean what it does in the Academy. Starting an honor cadet on the third
watch just ensures that everyone gets a fair start."
And you don't have to listen to complaints of favoritism, Sassinak thought to
herself. She said nothing, just nodded.
"Your first training rotation will be Engineering," Fargeon went on. "The
Exec, Lieutenant Dass, will set up the duty roster. Any questions?"
Sass knew the correct answer was no, but her mind teemed with questions. She
forced it back and said "No, sir."
The captain nodded, and sent her out to meet Lieutenant Dass. Dass, in
contrast to his captain, was a wiry compact man whose dark, fine-
featured face was made even more memorable by light green eyes.
"Ensign Sassinak," he drawled, in a tone that reminded her painfully of the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
