by David Weber
Honor stood there, facing the executive officer and her captain, and the eighteen percent of War Maiden’s company who had died stood silently at her shoulder, waiting.
“Stand easy, Ms. Harrington,” the captain said quietly, and she let her spine relax ever so slightly. Bachfisch gazed at her for a long, quiet moment, and she returned his gaze as calmly as she could.
“I’ve reviewed the bridge tapes of the engagement,” Bachfisch said at last, and nodded sideways at Layson. “So have the Exec and Commander Hirake. Is there anything you’d like to add to them, Ms. Harrington?”
“No, Sir,” she said, and in that moment she looked more absurdly youthful even than usual as a faint flush of embarrassment stained her cheekbones, and the treecat on her shoulder cocked his head as he studied her two superiors intently.
“Nothing at all?” Bachfisch cocked his head in a gesture that was almost a mirror image of Nimitz’s, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t suppose anything else is really needed. The tapes caught it all, I believe.”
He fell silent for another moment, then gestured at Commander Layson with his good hand.
“Commander Layson and I asked you to come see us because of what’s on those tapes, Ms. Harrington,” the captain said quietly. “Obviously, War Maiden has no choice but to cut her deployment short and return to the Star Kingdom for repairs. Normally, that would require you to transfer to another ship for the completion of your middy cruise, which would unfortunately put you at least six T-months or even a T-year behind your classmates for seniority purposes. In this instance, however, Commander Layson and I have decided to endorse your Form S-One-Sixty to indicate successful completion of your cruise. The same endorsement will appear in the records of Midshipwoman Bradlaugh and Midshipman Lakhia. We will also so endorse Midshipman Makira’s file and recommend his posthumous promotion to lieutenant (junior-grade).”
He paused once more, and Honor cleared her throat.
“Thank you, Sir. Especially for Nassios. I think I can speak for all of us in that.”
“I’m sure you can,” Bachfisch said. He rubbed his nose for just a moment, then surprised her with a crooked grin.
“I have no idea what’s going to happen to my own career when we return to Manticore,” he told her. “A lot will no doubt depend on the findings of the Board of Inquiry, but I think we can safely assume that at least a few critics are bound to emerge. And not without some justification.”
It was all Honor could do not to blink in surprise at the unexpected frankness of that admission, but he went on calmly.
“I got too confident, Ms. Harrington,” he said. “Too sure that what I was looking at was a typical Silesian pirate. Oh,” he waved his good hand in a small, brushing-away gesture, “it’s fair enough to say that we very seldom run into anyone out here, pirate or privateer, with that much firepower and that well-trained a crew. But it’s a captain’s job to expect the unexpected, and I didn’t. I trust that you will remember that lesson when you someday command a King’s ship yourself.”
He paused once more, his expression clearly inviting a response, and Honor managed not to clear her throat again.
“I’ll certainly try to remember, Sir,” she said.
“I’m sure you will. And from your performance here in Melchor, I have every confidence that you’ll succeed,” Bachfisch said quietly. Then he gave himself a small shake.
“In the meantime, however, we have some practical housekeeping details to take care of. As you know, our casualties were heavy. Lieutenant Livanos will take over in Engineering, and Ensign Masters will take over Communications. We’re fortunate that everyone in Auxiliary Control survived, but we’re going to be very short of watch-standing qualified officers for the return to Manticore. In light of our situation, I have decided to confirm you as Assistant Tac Officer, with the acting rank of lieutenant (junior-grade) and the promotion on my own authority to the permanent rank of ensign.” Honor’s eyes widened, and he smiled more naturally. “Under the circumstances, I believe I can safely predict that regardless of the outcome of my own Board, this is one promotion which BuPers will definitely confirm.”
“Sir, I—I don’t know what to say, except, thank you,” she said after a moment, and he chuckled.
“It’s the very least I can do to thank you for saving my ship—and my people—Ms. Harrington. I wish I had the authority to promote you all the way to J. G., but I doubt that BuPers would sign off on that even under these circumstances. So all you’ll really get is a five or six-month seniority advantage over your classmates.”
“And,” Commander Layson put in quietly, “I feel sure that the Service will take note of how and why you were promoted. No one who doesn’t know you could have expected you to perform as you did, Ms. Harrington. Those of us who have come to know you, however, would have expected no less.”
Honor’s face blazed like a forest fire, and she sensed Nimitz’s approval of the emotions of her superiors in the treecat’s body language and the proprietary way his true hand rested on her beret.
“I expect that we’ve embarrassed you enough for one afternoon, Ms. Harrington.” Bachfisch’s voice mingled amusement, approval, and sympathy, and Honor felt her eyes snap back to him. “I will expect you and Commander Hirake to join me for dinner tonight, however, so that we can discuss the reorganization of your department. I trust that will be convenient?”
“Of course, Sir!” Honor blurted.
“Good. And I’ll have Chief Stennis be sure we have a fresh supply of celery on hand.”
Nimitz bleeked in amused enthusiasm from her shoulder, and she felt her own mouth curve in her first genuine smile since Annika’s explosion. Bachfisch saw it, and nodded in approval.
“Much better, Ensign Harrington! But now, shorthanded as we are, I’m sure that there’s something you ought to be doing, isn’t there?”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sure there is.”
“In that case, I think you should go attend to it. Let’s be about it, Ensign.”
“Aye, aye, Sir!” Ensign Honor Harrington replied, then snapped back to attention, turned sharply, and marched out of the captain’s day cabin to face the future.
Changer of Worlds
by David Weber
Branch Leaper paused midway down the long picketwood limb, and his ears went up in surprise as he tasted the first hint of the approaching mind glow.
Mind glows, he corrected himself as he realized two People made their unannounced way along the broad highway of branches towards him. There was something very familiar about one of the mind glows, yet Branch Leaper could not quite decide what it was. He ought to be able to, and he knew it, and yet…
He sat bolt upright on his rearmost pair of limbs, fluffy tail curled about his toes, and peered in the direction of the oncoming mind glows. They were very powerful, he noted respectfully, and he tasted the overlaid harmonies of a mated pair. The female glow was the stronger of the two, of course. It almost always was, and yet it had to be very powerful to be stronger in this case. That was what baffled him about the elusively familiar taste of the male mind glow. He ought to recognize so strong a mind glow if he had ever encountered it even briefly, yet it was as if its very strength was what made it unfamiliar. Besides, he knew all mated pairs of Bright Water Clan, and the unseen travelers were not from among them.
His whiskers twitched in perplexity. It was not unheard of for a mated pair to travel through a strange clan’s territory, but good manners usually required that they warn that clan of their presence. Not that the People took such journeys amiss—except, perhaps, he admitted, during times of great famine at the very end of the cold days of a turning, when even a single pair of additional hunters might make the difference between life or death for the clan’s kittens. But that was rare, and usually it was simply a matter of courtesy.
He sat a moment longer, then moved to the nearest picketwood bole and flowed smoothly up it. He found a comfortable spot in the fork of a branch and settled down
to wait. The strangers were approaching quickly, and his wait should not be long.
Nor was it. The People were less concerned about measuring things like the passage of time than were the two-legged humans with whom they shared their world, but Branch Leaper judged that no more than two or three hands of the human’s “minutes” could have elapsed before the pair upon whom he waited came into sight. They were moving rapidly, the male leading with the air of one completely familiar with the territory about him, and Branch Leaper’s tail kinked straight up behind him as his eyes combined with the taste of the newcomer’s mind glow to bring true recognition at last.
The male paused, as did his mate, and looked about alertly. His eyes found Branch Leaper almost instantly, and the Bright Water scout tasted the matching recognition in his mind glow.
he replied, his answering mind voice laced with ironic amusement. He made no reference to Branch Leaper’s shock, but the scout knew the other tasted the embarrassment he had felt at revealing his astonishment. But Laughs Brightly had bonded to a human over two hands of turnings ago, and those who had bonded to humans almost never mated. They might well partner temporarily when they were able to return to their home clans’ ranges, but the adoption bond itself almost always precluded the very possibility of a true mating. True, there were very occasional exceptions to that rule, yet Branch Leaper knew that Laughs Brightly’s human was only rarely here on the world of the People, which ought to have made it impossible for Laughs Brightly even to meet a female of the People, far less mate with one! No wonder Branch Leaper had not recognized his mind glow, for the possibility that Laughs Brightly might have taken a mate since last they met had never so much as crossed the Bright Water scout’s mind.
But perhaps the fact that he had done so explained the tremendous, unexpected power of his mind glow, Branch Leaper mused. As Laughs Brightly and his new mate came still closer, Branch Leaper was forced to reduce his own sensitivity, much as if he were squinting mental eyes against a blinding light. It was almost painful, at least until he could become accustomed to it, and he felt his surprise at discovering Laughs Brightly had mated fading into sheer awe as the power of those fused mind glows washed over him. Those who bonded to the humans normally found their mind voices strengthened at least as greatly as those who found mates among the People, but Branch Leaper had never come within mind voice range of any of the People who had established both bondings!
Or not, at least, until today.
she told him, and he managed to flick his ears in acknowledgment despite his disbelief. He gazed at her for long moments, tasting the half-amused, half-resigned tolerance in her mind glow as he tried to grapple with who and what she was. Clearly she had anticipated such a reaction… and so must Laughs Brightly, Branch Leaper recognized. He did not know the older treecat as well as he might have, for Laughs Brightly was home too infrequently, but he did know the older scout well enough to realize how he would have responded to such emotions about his mate if he had not prepared himself for them ahead of time.
A fresh ripple of embarrassment flickered through Branch Leaper, but this time he did not apologize. There was no true need, since Golden Voice and Laughs Brightly obviously both knew exactly what had sparked it. Besides, he rather doubted he could find a way to apologize without making things still worse, for nothing he had ever been taught by Swift Darter or any of the older clan elders suggested how to go about responding properly to such an unheard of situation.
So instead of apologizing, he merely gave himself a quick shake, knowing they tasted the unvoiced apology in his mind glow anyway, and returned his attention to Laughs Brightly.
Branch Leaper had come to grips with his astonishment by the time they reached their destination. He remained uncertain what he thought of the unprecedented choices Golden Voice clearly had made in her life, but the humming vibrancy of the bond between her and Laughs Brightly burned in the back of his brain like bright fire. As he became accustomed to it, its almost painful intensity shifted and changed, transmuting into something just as powerful yet less fierce, a welcoming beacon and not the blinding light it had first appeared. And as he adjusted to it, he also tasted more of its subtle nuances. He was only a scout, no mind teacher or memory singer, yet even he could taste the strange, unending strain of sorrow which hovered always in their shared mind glows. It came from Golden Voice, he realized. A sense of bereavement, of unendurable sadness and wrenching loss. It was not at the surface of her mind glow, and he rather doubted that she was even fully aware of it, for it had the flavor of an old wound—one which might never fully heal, but which one had no choice but to live with.
It seemed wrong to taste such a thing in such a brilliant mind glow, and yet, as he tasted it, Branch Leaper slowly realized that in an odd way he doubted he would ever be able to define even for himself, that sorrow was part of what made this pair glow so brightly. It was as if the sorrow, the sense of loss, had somehow tempered the steel of the joy they took in one another, as if the knowledge of what Golden Voice had lost made them even more aware of all that they now had.
And whatever Branch Leaper or anyone else might think of the propriety of Golden Voice’s having mated with anyone, he knew no one who ever tasted their bond could ever doubt its depth and power. Surely anything which produced such brilliance and joy in those who shared it could not be wrong, whatever he might think of the decisions which had led her into a position in which it might be forged. And even if that had not been so, the People’s most ancient traditions made the bonding of mates an intensely private thing. No one could avoid tasting their mind glows, but the choice to mate, and who to mate with, was one no other of the People—not even a clan’s elders—had the right to challenge or question. Which was as it ought to be, of course. It was merely that all the rest of the People’s customs insisted that Golden Voice should never have—
He shook that thought off once more, with less difficulty this time—no doubt a sign that he had grown more accustomed to it—and led the way towards the tallest tree at the heart of Bright Water’s central nesting pl
ace. More adult members of the clan appeared as he, Laughs Brightly, and Golden Voice crossed the interlacing picketwood branches towards their destination, and he tasted their surprise, mirroring his own as they saw Laughs Brightly and realized it was his mind glow they had tasted.
Branch Leaper’s ears cocked wryly at some of the emotions he tasted. Laughs Brightly was enough older than he, and had adopted Dances on Clouds long enough ago, that Branch Leaper had never seen firsthand the pranks and jokes which had earned Laughs Brightly his name among the People, but he had heard sufficient tales of them to understand the naming. Now he tasted a certain resignation among some of his older clan mates as they absorbed the newfound strength of Laughs Brightly’s mind glow and contemplated what he might be able to accomplish now. It was, perhaps, as well that he and Dances on Clouds were so seldom on the People’s world!
They reached the tall tree, and, as always, Branch Leaper felt his pace slow, his manner become more sober and dignified. This tree had been the center of the Bright Water range for over ten hands of hands of turnings, longer even than the entire time the humans had been on the surface of the People’s world. Fewer than two hands of clans could claim to have maintained the same range for so many turnings, and this tree had been the nesting place of some of the greatest mind singers of all the people, including Sings Truly herself. It was not the way of the People to feel awe of one another, for a race which could taste the mind glows and emotions—even the very thoughts—of its clan leaders and memory singers knew one another too well for that. Usually. Yet Branch Leaper always felt a deep, almost reverent awe whenever he ascended this tree and realized that his claws touched the same bark, the same wood, as those of the legendary Sings Truly and all of her successors.
Now he reached the high branch he sought and paused. The large nest of Bright Water Clan’s current senior memory singer stood before him, and it would not be necessary for him to use the attention chime to announce his arrival. Wind of Memory sat before her nest’s entrance, flanked by Songstress and Echo of Time, and almost two-thirds of the clan’s elders had assembled with them. Clearly someone else had sent word of their coming ahead, for this was every one of the elders who had been present in the central nesting place, and their mind glows were gravely formal.