Dreadnought!
Page 21
My cheeks reddened again. “What’s going to happen to the dreadnought, sir?”
“No decision yet, but the rumors lean toward its being decommissioned and dismantled. The Special Review Board may decide its existence was contrary to the principles of the Federation.”
“And do you happen to be serving on that review board, by any chance?”
“By a certain chance.”
“Hmm … good.”
“Why, thank you.” This time he did grin, warming the space around us. Captain Kirk’s presence provided a shield from well-meaning congratulators. They seemed to leave me alone now that he and I were together. “Are you regretting your actions?” he asked. “If so, it’s normal aftershock.”
“Not regret, exactly. I do feel sad that all those people on Pompeii had to die because of Rittenhouse’s misguidance. They were only following orders. His errors got them killed and got me a Medal of Valor.”
“You’ll find any honor has its cost, usually paid by someone else. The cost would’ve been much higher if we hadn’t moved against them.”
“I’m glad Dr. Boma slipped away from Pompeii in the Tycho. I never really felt he was the kind to be taken in by Rittenhouse.”
“Boma was,” he said, then paused, looking for accuracy, “a racist. He thought humans should prevail. But even above that he respected life. Once he realized Rittenhouse’s plans to slaughter the dreadnought’s crew, he engineered the power failure so you could escape from the brig, then slipped away. It takes a courageous man to admit he’s wrong in midstream.”
I sighed thoughtfully. “Yet, in a way, he’s right. Humans do make the best commanders. But it’s because of our flaws. I didn’t understand that. I … had misconceptions too.”
“We all do. Life is an ongoing classroom.”
After we’d gone a few steps in companionable silence, I asked, “Any news on Commander Burch?”
“Dr. McCoy says he should be able to stand for the Medal of Honor presentation in another week or so.”
“I’m glad he’s getting it. He’s the one who really had courage. Command isn’t his field, but he took it on anyway for the sake of galactic diversity.”
“Plus it takes some of the sting out of your having to endure the Medal of Valor.”
“Oh, no, sir—”
“Just a little?”
“Maybe just a little.”
We shared a chuckle and a long mutual glance, relaxing that much more in each other’s company.
Cagily I began, “I hear, what with the upset at Command, there are going to be some openings in the Admiralty.”
He eyed me again, this time with a different edge. “So …?”
We both knew exactly what I meant, and strode slowly through the crowd looking at each other, both waiting for the other to speak first. Finally I broke.
“So …” I parroted—and couldn’t do it. I took refuge elsewhere. “Think they’ve got a place for me?” The last of it dissolved into lighter laughter, no matter how I fought for a straight face.
Kirk’s chuckle eased the string of tension I’d run between us. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” he said. “Commander, have you ever been sailing? On the sea, I mean.”
My turn to shrug. “There’s not much wind on my home planet, sir.”
His eyebrows bounced once. “I’d like to introduce you to it. I have a very old, very comfortable vintage schooner moored on San Francisco Bay. I think you’d appreciate her.”
“Captain,” I answered, “I’d relish that.”
“We have … things to talk about. And I think we’re both entitled to a weekend’s shore leave, don’t you? I could offer a few thoughts on what command is like, and even a tip or two on what it means to be close friends with a Vulcan.”
Once again our gazes meshed, understanding flowing like a deep, cool wine between us. We knew each other, but not too much, not too deeply to smother the mystery.
“Yes, sir,” I said with new strength.
That food was beginning to smell incredibly good.
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