Heris Serrano Read Online Free PDF Page A

open-keyed . . ."
     
    "I've accessed the ship files," Heris said. "But I find nothing equivalent to our—to the Space Service's fitness reports. Are periodic evaluations handled by the captain aboard or . . . ?"
     
    "Oh." The knife edge receded behind the silk again. "Well . . . there's no established schedule, not really. In the commercial ships, of course, there's always some sort of corporate policy, but not on private yachts. Usually the captain keeps some sort of reports. You found nothing?"
     
    "Nothing," Heris said. "Just the data that might have been in the original applications. I thought perhaps you—"
     
    "Oh, no." The voice interrupted her this time. "We don't keep track of that sort of thing at all." Far from it, the tone said. After all, one could hardly recommend someone known to have problems on a previous vessel; best not to know. Heris had known Service people with the same attitude. "If there's nothing in the ship files," the voice went on, "then I'm afraid we can't help you. We could supply incomplete data on education, background—but nothing more than that. Sorry . . ."
     
    Before the silken-voiced supervisor could disconnect, Heris asked a quick question. "How do you choose which to recommend to which employers?" A long silence followed.
     
    "How do we what ? " No silk remained; the voice sounded angry.
     
    "I noticed that only Sirkin—the newest crew member—ranked particularly high in her class, and she's told me she was looking for a short-term job on a yacht for personal reasons. The others generally rank in the middle quartiles. Yet Lady Cecelia's paying top wages; I wondered why you weren't recommending these positions to your most qualified applicants."
     
    "Are you accusing us," the voice said, all steel edge now, "of sending Lady Cecelia unqualified crew members?"
     
    "Not at all," said Heris, although she suspected exactly that. "But you aren't sending her your cream, are you?"
     
    "We sent you ," the voice replied.
     
    "Exactly," Heris said. "I know I'm not on the top of your list of captains . . . and I shouldn't be." As she had hoped, that admission soothed some of the anger in the voice on the com.
     
    "Well. That's true. I suppose." Heris waited through some audible huffing and muttering, and then the voice went on. "It's like this, Captain Serrano. There's good people—qualified people—who aren't right for every opening. You know what I mean; surely you had people even in the R.S.S. who were good, solid, dependable performers in ordinary circumstances, but you wouldn't want to have them in charge of a cruiser in battle."
     
    "That's true," Heris said, as if she'd never thought of it herself.
     
    "We supply crews to all sorts of people. We tend to hold out our best—our cream, as you said—for the positions where it matters most. It's true that Lady Cecelia is a valued client, and her family is important, but . . . it's not like that yacht is the flagship of Geron Corporation, is it?"
     
    "Not at all."
     
    "She's got a fine ship, relatively new, has it refitted at the right intervals, spares no expense in maintenance, travels safe routes at reasonable speeds. . . . She doesn't need someone who can cope with a twenty-thousand-passenger colonial transport, or maneuvering in a convoy of freighters. Other people do. And her requirements dovetail nicely; we suggest for private yachts crew who are stable emotionally, perhaps a little sedate—" Lazy, thought Heris, could be substituted for that euphemism. No initiative. "Obedient, willing to adapt to a variable schedule."
     
    "I see," Heris said, intentionally cheerful. She did see; she did not like what it said about the agency's attitude toward her, or toward her employer. She was sure Lady Cecelia had never been told that her safety was less important than that of a load of frozen embryos or bulk chemicals. She had trusted the agency, and the agency had sent her junk. It had not occurred to