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position by rank—possibly by
your skills in the cockpit as well—but I don’t think you’re a particularly good
officer. However, Sector Command made sure this whole thing was going to
happen, and it now seems you and I are both stuck with it for the duration, so
we’d better get used to it.”
       “You give the orders and I follow them; is that how it’s going to go?”
       Krif nodded sharply. “That’s how it’s going to go. If you don’t like
it, I don’t care. You signed on for this voluntarily. Keep that in mind if—and
when—the shit hits the fan.”
       “Anything else?” Shawn asked, rolling his eyes and deciding not to
press the captain any further on the matter.
       “Your assignment is to command the Rippers. Lean on Brunel if you need
to, but not too heavily. She’s a young Lieutenant Commander with a good head on
her shoulders, but she’s still green when it comes to command. You’ll also have
to maintain minimal flight hours, which means you’ll need a ship. But before
you even set foot in one of those, I’ve already taken the liberty of assigning
you to simulator training. That should get you up to speed on the basics. You
won’t need to know more than that.”
       “I’m sure you’re wrong.”
       “I’m quite certain I’m not,” Krif replied matter-of-factly.
       “What if I’m out there and I get into trouble?”
       “First off, you won’t be out there all that often. Secondly, as soon
as Brody was killed, Sector Command initiated a new policy: no commanding
officers can detach from their assigned group at any time during a patrol or
combat situation; that’s what the junior officers are for. Aside from the
simulator, you’ll never need to learn advanced combat tactics for the new
fighters. If you see trouble, meaning if you see anything remotely exciting or
enticing, you’ll radio it in and let someone else take the credit.” Krif added
the final words with a sneer.
       “And what about you and me?”
       “Just follow orders and generally try not to be such a pain in my ass.
Do that and we will get along fine, all things considered.”
       “All things considered, Dick, I’m sure that’ll never happen.”
       “Let it go, Kestrel. It was a long time ago.”
       “Not to me, it wasn’t.”
       Krif rubbed his hands down his chin and then leaned back in his chair.
“Are you still having the nightmares?” he asked in a more congenial tone. He
took Shawn’s glare and silence as an affirmation. Before he could say anything
more, a buzz came through the intercom mounted in the desktop. “Yes, what is
it?” he asked after pressing a switch.
       “Captain, this is Commander Ashdoe,” came the stern voice of the
ship’s executive officer. “Lieutenant Commander Kestrel’s presence is requested
on the observation deck in forty minutes.”
       “Thank you, Commander,” Krif replied before switching off the channel.
He turned his attention back to Kestrel. The man looked tired, and far older
than he should have. Regardless of his personal feelings toward him, no officer
should be allowed to stand duty in that condition. “You eat yet?”
        Shawn, still glaring, slowly shook his head in silence.
       “My cook is one of the best in the fleet. He has this really annoying
habit of making too much food, and I hate for things to go to waste. My
personal dining room is right next door, and dinner should still be warm. If
you feel up to it, make yourself at home. After that, report to the observation
deck as requested.”
       Shawn didn’t say anything. He simply stared the captain down for one
final moment before exiting the space.
     
    * * *
     
       Shawn put down his fork and, after taking a drink of water, instantly
wished for something a little stronger. He looked around the captain’s personal
dining area and found it to be immensely more comfortable than the crew’s
general galley. The room was probably fifteen