“No, you haven’t,” she said.
“Yes, I have,” he said. “You’ve been cooking on this ship. I’ve made sure that I got some samples.”
“You’re behind Romano’s request for food?” she asked.
Preemas nodded, with a small smile.
“And you think I’m good?”
Crowe would have answered in a deprecating way, saying anything would be better than their current chef. (Which was true.)
But Preemas nodded. “I think you’re gifted. Your baba ghanoush is the best I’ve ever had.”
She laughed. Crowe didn’t quite understand why until she said, “So that’s why you have tahini here. You’re sneaky, Captain.”
Preemas shrugged ever so slightly, as if it didn’t matter to him at all.
But Newark was right. He was sneaky and manipulative and several steps ahead of all of them.
Crowe made a mental note of that as well.
“Will you accept the transfer?” Preemas asked.
She frowned, but this frown was unlike her earlier one. There was no anger behind it, no fear.
“What about our current chef?” she asked.
“He’s being moved to entertainment,” Preemas said. “He won’t be in your way. You’ll let me know if there’s a problem.”
“Yes,” Newark said, apparently not realizing that “yes” was an agreement to the entire shift. Then she laughed again, a sound with real joy behind it. “You’re going to let me run the kitchens the way I want to?”
“Please,” Preemas said.
“All right then,” Newark said. “I’ll accept the transfer. Although I think it’s a mistake to take Crowe here out of engineering. He’s really good at it. He’s in the right job.”
“I know,” Preemas said. “He’ll be doing both jobs.”
She glanced at Crowe. “You know that’s two full-time positions.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything else.
“Well,” she said, her tone doubtful. “If you think you can do it…”
“Danika,” Preemas said, clearly trying to shut down that aspect of the discussion. “I wanted to talk to you before I talk to the rest of the crew. I can’t go through this one-on-one with everyone, so I’m going to have an overall meeting with the entire crew. Back me on this?”
“Of course,” she said, as if she hadn’t been furious with him when she came into the room.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll be out in the mess in a few minutes.”
She glanced at both of them, then stood. Her expression faded, but she seemed lighter.
“Captain,” she said.
“Pre,” he said. “No titles, remember?”
She shook her head just a little. She didn’t seem to be any more comfortable with that than Crowe was. She inclined her head toward Preemas, and said, “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be my pleasure,” Preemas said, waving a hand at the food.
She grinned and walked out of the captain’s dining room.
Preemas leaned back. “That went well, didn’t it?”
Crowe wasn’t sure how to answer. It had gone better than he initially expected, because he had known that Newark would be furious about her loss of rank.
He hadn’t expected Preemas to make her the chef of the ship. That hadn’t been on the revised crew manifest, and Crowe felt as if he had been blindsided.
He thought he had been consulted on all of this.
It took him a moment to make sure he had control of his voice.
“I didn’t realize you were going to move her to the kitchens,” Crowe said.
“I didn’t think she’d go,” Preemas said, smiling just a little. He swept his hand at the food. “Then, last night, I got this idea. The entire crew has been complaining about the quality of their meals. I think having her in charge will improve everything.”
Crowe nodded just once, a tiny nod, not sure what else to do. He didn’t want to yell at Preemas for failing to consult him, because that would set their relationship on the wrong foot, but Crowe felt like he had been used.
Or maybe it was just the way that blatant manipulation made him feel. He hated seeing what Preemas had done, not because it had worked, but because Preemas had essentially used Newark’s dreams against her.
Or had he? She was clearly bad at her assigned job, and she had wanted to be a chef since she was a child. She cooked in her spare time, which couldn’t be easy, even in the first officer’s quarters.
So it was the correct decision. It was just an odd way of getting there.
Preemas was watching Crowe, apparently seeing Crowe think.
“You don’t approve,” Preemas said.
Crowe shook his head once. “I didn’t say that.”
Preemas leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Unorthodox methods, First Officer Crowe. Get used to them.”
“I guess I’m going to have to,” Crowe said, as much for himself as for Preemas.
“They wrote us off, Crowe,” Preemas said. “Remember that every time you feel a need to follow regulations coming on. Examine if those regulations are there for us or if they’re there to make some higher-ranking asshole happy.”
“Even if you’re the higher-ranking asshole?” Crowe asked.
Preemas laughed. Then the laughter left his eyes, almost as quickly as it arrived. That was the second time Crowe had seen that kind of mood shift from Preemas, and it bothered him a great deal.
“I’m the law here, Crowe,” Preemas said. “Remember that, and you’ll be fine.”
The air inside the captain’s dining room felt stuffy. Crowe grabbed his bottle of water.
“They’re waiting for us, sir,” Crowe said.
“Pre,” Preemas corrected.
“Sir,” Crowe said, with force.
They stared at each other for a moment. Then Preemas grinned again. “I do like you, First Officer Crowe. You’re going to keep me honest.”
“I hope so, sir,” Crowe said. “I truly do.”
The Renegat
Raina Serpell remained in her chair at the back of the largest mess hall on the Renegat. Her wife, India Romano, was already standing, shifting from foot to foot as she watched the rest of the crew file out of the room.
The conversation was low and uncertain. Serpell couldn’t ignore all of it. Some voices just carried.
“…don’t get what he means, rank won’t matter. Of course it matters…”
“…know that I hate maintenance. It’s like he read my mind…”
“…disrespects me. I worked my whole life for that promotion, and I’m here to prove that I belong in that position…”
Serpell still had the revised manifest open on her personal screen. The manifest was covered in red, which was the color that Captain Preemas had chosen to show the changes. She thought the color choice was a mistake. Red was for alarm and anger and uncertainty, not for something he had trumpeted as good news.
He had stood not six feet from her, with Chief Engineer Crowe and former, now anyway, First Officer Newark at his side. Captain Preemas had given some speech about everyone being in the wrong position, or the wrong position for this trip, and how he liked experimenting, and how it was going to work so very well for the ship.
Serpell had no idea how it could work well. Two hundred and sixty-seven people were in brand new positions, some in positions they had never worked before on a starship. Maybe in training. Or maybe not. How could they run a security vessel with so many people in brand new jobs?
She hadn’t been moved to a new job, and she was grateful for that. But, then, it was hard to move a linguist. Linguists had specific training to deal with all kinds of languages, and all kinds of language mutations. Linguists worked tightly with the Fleet’s computer system to make sure that translations were accurate.
Captain Preemas would need her the farther back they went. Who knew what kind of cultures had taken over the sectors in the years after the Fleet left? She certainly didn’t.
India was a linguist too, but hated the work. Truth be told, she was the reason they were here. She did sloppy work, feeling that “close enough” was all most translations needed. She didn’t love the work like Serpell did.
Serpell’s friends all tried to talk her out of coming on this trip, but she couldn’t leave India. India needed her. Serpell kept India steady, made sure she did her absolute best whenever possible. Serpell kept them organized as well, and India appreciated it. She always said she had no idea how she had gotten along before she had met Serpell.
Serpell wasn’t sure how India had done it either.
India was leaning against the wall now, watching everyone leave. She had one booted foot resting on the nearest chair, a habit that drove Serpell crazy. India had a lot of habits that drove Serpell crazy, but Serpell kept telling herself that it was all part of the package.
She had fallen for India because they were so very different. India was taller, prettier, more gregarious. She changed her hair’s color almost daily, and sometimes matched her eyes to the hair. Today’s color was copper. India coated the top strands of her normally dark hair with copper, added some copper highlights to her irises, and covered her skin with some kind of copper powder. Her shirt had copper accents, and so did her boots.
If only she took as much time on her work as she took on her appearance, she would be the best linguist in the Fleet.
Not that she cared any longer, because her name was one of the names marked in red. India was moving to security. She had let out a small eep when she found herself on that list, and her entire expression brightened.
Serpell had found her own name as well, and she had felt a large thread of relief. She hadn’t wanted to move away from the linguistics team, which was pretty good. She had been looking forward to putting her skills to practical use, with India by her side.
And now, India wouldn’t be there.
Serpell kept staring at the names, hoping there had been some kind of mistake.
Others were thinking the same thing.
“…haven’t done any work on navigation systems since school…”
“…would rather be in the diplomatic core…”
“…not fair that she would get a promotion over me…”
Serpell wanted to chime in on that last one. Captain Preemas had been really clear that none of these moves were promotions or demotions. Just adjustments, ways of making the ship more efficient.
Now, the captain was nowhere to be seen. Former First Officer Newark was talking to a cluster of people near the kitchen door. Chief Engineer Crowe was gone as well.
Most of the crew had left the mess hall. It looked different than it had when Serpell had arrived. Chairs were scattered now, and mugs littered some of the tables.
Serpell had never served on a ship like this, where the common niceties like cleaning up after yourself were not observed. She was half-inclined to get up and start clearing off tables, even though she knew someone else was supposed to handle it.
“You being moody?” India asked. She was rocking the chair back and forth with her foot, almost as if she was mocking Serpell.
“I’m just looking at all the changes,” Serpell said, hating the “moody” accusation. It was a new one. When they first met, India had liked Serpell’s reflective nature, just like Serpell had liked India’s sense of adventure.
Serpell wasn’t sure when “reflective” became “moody,” but she knew it had occurred before they arrived on the ship.
“The captain said he did a ton of research before making these decisions, and I, for one, believe him.” India took her foot off that chair and gripped its back with both hands. She leaned down so that her head hovered near Serpell’s shoulder. “You’re not going to find the research in that list.”
“I know,” Serpell said. Her stomach was a hard knot of tension. Everything felt wrong to her. She liked the order on board a ship, and this totally upended the order, in every way possible.
She closed her personal screen, and pocketed it. But she still didn’t stand.
Three different groups were scattered throughout the mess hall, talking animatedly to each other. Each group had at least one person whose name had been highlighted in red. Two of those people looked happy, and one looked terrified.
“You’re not trained for security,” Serpell said without looking at India.
“You don’t need training for security,” India said. “I’ve read the position descriptions in the past. You need physical strength, an intelligence that can handle fluid situations, and preternatural calm.”
India didn’t have preternatural calm. She barely had calm. It took very little to arouse her, whether that was arousing her to anger or arousing her sexually. India’s moods shifted with the situation in front of her.
If anyone in the relationship should be called “moody,” it was India.
“You know I’ve never stopped training,” India said.
She was obsessed with her physical condition. She was one of the strongest people Serpell had ever met. She liked the physical work. That had been one of her big complaints about linguistics—how much time it took in quiet, studious places.
After she and Serpell met, India used to joke that they were a two-fer. Two linguists who could go into any situation. One would keep translating no matter what the circumstance, and the other would keep them safe even if the circumstance turned dire.
Serpell had liked that. She had liked the way that India saw the universe as a hostile place that needed to be conquered. Serpell had always thought that learning someone else’s language was a way to conquer anything, and it wasn’t until weeks after they had spoken their vows that, Serpell realized that India didn’t agree.
India thought getting rid of the language barrier was a good first step toward dominating a situation. And sometimes India didn’t even want to get rid of the language barrier. She wanted to learn the other side’s language, and not translate anything, as a form of power.
“Ah, come on, Rains,” India said, pressing her head against Serpell’s. “You know this is better. I wasn’t cut out to spend my days translating other people’s words.”
One of the groups across the mess hall had devolved into an angry whispered fight. They kept gesticulating at each other, as if they could change whatever situation they were in just by flapping their arms.
“I was thinking,” Serpell said quietly, still not looking at India directly, “that maybe we reevaluate our positions here.”
“That’s what the captain did.” India sounded practically gleeful. “And he put me in a job I’ve wanted for years.”
The conversation was going to go nowhere. Serpell could see that now. If she pushed it, she and India were going to fight.
But Serpell had to push it. Because if she didn’t, she would miss an opportunity.
“I mean, re-evaluate being part of this crew.” Serpell spoke as softly as she could, given the people across the mess. She didn’t want them to hear what she was saying.
India raised her eyebrows, and sank into the chair across from Serpell. “What are you saying? This is a great opportunity for me.”
“He said this is going to be a dangerous mission,” Serpell said. “He implied we might not survive it. And you know, everyone I’ve talked to here has no family with the Fleet or they’re estranged from their family. Even you and me.”
India’s entire face had fallen flat. “You know they said I couldn’t come if you stayed behind.”
Serpell’s breath caught. “What?”
“They said I couldn’t come—”
“I thought you told them we were a team. I thought you told them that we couldn’t be separated. I thought that’s why they let us on this ship.” Serpell’s voice went up. She felt off-balance.
Had India lied?
“They didn’t want you to come here,” India said. “You could’ve kept moving up in the Fleet. I told you that a long time ago. They said you were too
good to come along, and I said we go everywhere together, and then, remember, they had that meeting with you, and you said—”
“I said we were a team,” Serpell said numbly. “I said we did everything together. I said that our careers were intertwined.”
Were those lies too? She had believed them at the time, but now, they weren’t going to be a team.
She swallowed the hurt, and went back to her point.
“If you take this assignment, India, we’re not a team anymore.” Serpell sounded a bit shaky, even to her own ears. “And frankly, what the captain wants to do sounds even more dangerous to me. He said we’re going into foldspace after we leave this sector. I think this is our last chance—maybe our only chance—to get off this ship, and go back to our lives. I think we should take it, India.”
India stared at her as if she had never seen Serpell before.
“And do what, Rains?” India snapped. “What would I do? Be your linguistic assistant on some assignment? I certainly won’t get the chance to do security anywhere else. Going back will remove every single career opportunity that I have. Do you really want to sink me?”
“No,” Serpell said. “But I don’t want…I mean, I want us to be the team I told everyone about. I don’t want to lose you in linguistics. You’re—”
“A drag on you,” India said. “You know it. You’ve taken work from me because you said that you could do it faster. What you meant was you could do it better. Everyone can. I hate linguistics, and I have a new opportunity now, because we’re on the Renegat. So rather than run away to the safe parts of the Fleet, let’s stay here. Let’s see what happens.”
“We could die,” Serpell said, her voice a near-whisper. “That was the subtext, India. They put the wrong people in the wrong positions on a ship that has no support, and they’re sending us somewhere mysterious which is a long way from here, and the implication is that we could die.”
“And if we go to some planet and I misinterpret the language, we could die there too. Or we could get injured or sick or something bad can happen, Rains. We’ve had this discussion. You don’t take risks because you’re afraid. You need me to help you make the right choices, remember?” India didn’t speak with her usual passion on this. Whenever she made a version of this speech in the past, she’d put her hand on Serpell’s arm or pull her close or kiss her.
The Renegat Page 21