Now she said, "What do you mean, you had to trade? You're the admiral, and on the Board of Trustees. You could-"
Headshake. Tregare said, "Rank or no rank, if I want loyalty I have to deal fairly. Think about it."
Feeling stupid, she said, "Sure. You're right. It just
8
seemed-" Time to change the subject. "One good thing. I think I'm going to like Captain Delarov."
III
When Lisele had ridden Tregare's original Inconnu from Stronghold to Earth, she was too young to appreciate its vast-ness. STL ships of that time carried crews of at least a hundred; the armed ones each bore two scoutships. The levels of Inconnu's decks, from cargo holds through crew's quarters and galley and Control room to the projector turrets topside, were beyond Lisele's childish imaginings. Oh, later she'd explored that ship, and learned its capabilities and limitations. Now she appreciated how the Deux could go from zerch to lightspeed or vice versa in about a week; the older ships had needed a month.
FTL ships of the Deux's class had the same-sized hulls, but the Hoyfarul FTL Drive was so bulky that they held quarters for only thirty. Crews were less than that figure, about two dozen; the surplus gave cushion for a few to ride as supercargo.
Before the Battle for Earth, Tregare's fleet against Ozzie Newhausen's UET ships, Rissa and Tregare had sent Lisele off in a specially-crewed scoutship. The scouts bedded a maximum of twelve; their accel capabilities were roughly half those of full-sized ships-their max range, light-to-zerch, about one-fifth of a light year. A scout's supplies were planned to keep twelve people alive for six months: as Tregare said, "If you run out of fuel, food won't help-and the other way 'round, too." But Lisele reached Earth safely.
Now, boarding March Hare with all goodbyes said, Lisele had some comparisons to make. Hare bulked smaller than Deux by about a third. Quarters fit that ratio: a normal crew of sixteen, with space for twenty overall. The new Drives were the same size as the Deux's, but improved; with less mass to push, Hare could mount twice the older ship's accel.
It carried one scoutship only, and this too was a new model: smaller, sleeping only six. But roughly, Lisele learned, with the same range and acceleration; the six-month limit still
9
held. Barring a totally-unforeseen breakthrough, FTL drive would never be reduced to scoutship size.
"Well," said Katmai Delarov, sitting across the table from Lisele in captain's digs, "is there anything more I can tell you at this time?"
Nursing the last of her dessert, Lisele regretted that there wasn't more of it. Dining with the captain, a day out from Shaarbant and just the two of them talking, had been both pleasant and informative. "No," she said, "I think you've given me as much as I can take in one bite."
Delarov smiled, showing white, slightly uneven teeth. Lisele found the woman's face interesting: broad, with strong cheekbones and a sturdy chin. Eyes tilted, almost to an Asiatic slant. Her black hair was cut in a heavy bang, level from across the front where it almost reached her eyebrows, to just behind the ears; the back part, waved to fluff out massively, fell below her shoulders. Her earlobes hid behind two discs of jade.
The captain stood. Her body, too, was broad for its height: not fat, but definitely sturdy. Stocky-looking or not, Katmai Delarov moved like an athlete. Going to the sideboard, bringing out a bottle and starting to apply a corkscrew, she said, "Do you take wine? I should have asked earlier, but I prefer mine after a meal, when I'm more apt to pay it proper attention." Brows raised, now hidden under the black fringe of hair, she waited.
Lisele nodded. "Yes. One glass, maybe two; no more." She smiled, and at the woman's look of inquiry, said "I was remembering. On the Deux, going to Shaarbant. Our first gunnery-simulation tournament. I placed better than anyone expected, and after dinner someone filled my glass with wine. I'd had tiny amounts, at meals, with Rissa and Tregare, but I was barely nine years old. I looked over to Tregare, and he held two fingers about this far apart, and smiled. So that's all the wine I drank. And still felt a little funny, later, going downship."
Full-throated, Delarov laughed; then she finished uncorking the bottle, and poured. "Well, if you've dealt with the stuff for six years, I assume you can handle your own rationing."
Lisele caught herself frowning; the captain said, "You have to understand, Ms. Moray: all anyone told me was who you are, and how old, and that you'd be riding aboard as a Nav/Comm trainee. Nobody said whether I was to mother-hen you, or how much. What I mean is, I know how
10
important you are, and your whole family, too. What I don't want to do, is screw up. You understand?"
Feeling a bit deflated, Lisele said, "So that's why our intimate little supper? Which I've enjoyed a lot, and thanks."
"No; that's not why. It's why I ask some questions, ves. But you're here because I like you, and want to know you better."
Disarmed now, Lisele shrugged. "All right; I feel the same way. I'd like to know more about you, too." She grinned. "Your turn. Okay?"
"Why not? Fire away."
"Well," as Lisele felt herself make a slight scowl, "I can't place your background. Ancestry, I mean. Would it be partly Asian, maybe?"
Delarov grinned. "If you go back far enough." She sipped at the pale wine. "I'm Aleut, if you know what that means. Aleut with a little Russian mixed in, three or four centuries back. My several-greats-grandparents lived on Ainchitka Island, between the Pacific Ocean and Bering Sea, and were evacuated to the Alaskan mainland during the second World War." Grimacing, she shrugged. "For a number of decades the Aleuts had a bad time of it: poverty, and no skills that were usable in a changing economy. Ready for that second glass?'
"Make it just half, please."
"All right. Well, enough lecture. My grandfather worked his way through the university at Fairbanks, became an attorney, and pulled his whole branch of the family out of hut-style living. So my parents, and then my brother and I, got off to good starts."
Lisele nodded. "So then you went through the Slaughterhouse."
"Not exactly. I'in only twenty-seven, bio; I was in my snotty year when Tregare smashed UET. Afterward the Space Academy was still tough, but fair. No more of the savage random cruelty that kept us all so scared." She smiled. "I can t match scars with the oldtimers, and that's fine with me."
"I certainly believe you!" After another minor question or two, Lisele couldn't think of anything more to say or ask. So she drained the last drops of her wine, thanked the captain again, and excused herself.
As an officer-trainee in communications, navigation, and the fine art of piloting a ship, unofficially Lisele held the equivalent of a Chiefs rating and was quartered accordingly.
11
As she headed downship toward her smallish but adequate cabin, behind her came a hail. "Lisele? Wait a minute."
She turned to see Arlen Limmer making fast work of his own descent, three steps at a time with only an occasional grab at the handrail to keep balance. Dark like scarfaced Derek, his father, but with his own face unmarred, the young man was handsome enough, she supposed. And he had a good disposition, really. What bothered her-well, it was hard to pin down. Maybe that whatever he wanted, he wanted right now. Unlike Lisele, he'd never had to learn to wait.
For him to catch up to her now, she was the one who waited. As smiling, with hair tousled and face sweating, he approached. "Hey; glad I caught you. I'm just off watch. Soon as I shower and change, I'm headed back upship, to the galley. Join me?"
"I've eaten." But as she saw disappointment begin to cloud his expression, she said, "Sure, though; I could use another cup of coffee, and we can talk while you eat. '
"Fine. I'll stop by your digs; all right?"
She nodded; as he turned away to his Third Hat's cabin, he waved a hand.
Lisele went to her own deck, one level below. Inside her quarters, her home until Hare reached Earth, she paused. No need to bathe again so soon, but she might as well change clothes. To dine with Captain Delarov she'd worn her best outfit: not quite a uniform but fancier than the standard working jumpsuit. And although the galley was kept as clean as such places could be, why chance getting spots? So she undressed and hung the clothing up neatly, then picked up the jumpsuit she'd been wearing before.
Absently she scratched an itch at the outside of her right thigh. The redness was gone, and nearly all the swelling, from the contraceptive implant. Rissa, the last night before March Hare lifted, had shown her how to work the ampoule and pop the tiny capsule into muscle tissue. "Lisele, I know that you are not planning to get romantic with Arlen," her mother said. "Not in the immediate future, at least. Still it cannot be harmful for you to know that in any case you are protected. After your next menses you may assume that the implant has taken effect."
When Rissa also gave her the packet, still containing two more ampoules, Lisele protested. "But these are two-year implants. Why would I need extras now?"
12
Rissa shrugged. "The things come three in a box. And this prescription is designed for your general age group, not mine." So Lisele accepted the small container.
Now she thought, Z don't really need any of them, yet. But as Tregare would say, it can't hardly hurt a damn thing!
Arlen must have showered fast; before Lisele expected it, his rap came at the door. She met him there, and they climbed upship to the galley, rapidly enough to arrive slightly short of breath. As he took a tray and went through the food lineup, Lisele bypassed that part and carried a small pot of coffee to a vacant corner table.
