doing wearing that Line outfit? Getting too old to squeeze into a cockpit?"
Ralgha bowed slightly. "It warms my heart to see you again Colonel," he said, his voice low and throaty with the odd intonation and slight accent Blair remembered well. "But I fear now is not the time to swap life stories."
Blair grinned. "Still the stickler, eh, Hobbes? Well, we'll talk later."
The Kilrathi bowed again.
Eisen introduced the department heads and senior staff officers. They were no more than a blur of unfamiliar names and faces to Blair . . . but still he felt heartened to know that at least one old friend would be with him on this cruise.
The captain concluded by introducing a fresh-faced young man wearing a lieutenant's insignia. "And this is Lieutenant Ted Rollins, Communications Officer."
"And general dogsbody," Rollins grinned. "Sir."
"I've assigned Mr. Rollins to extra duty, as your aide," Eisen continued, ignoring the lieutenants interjection. "At least until you get settled in and make staff arrangements of your own. I hope that will be agreeable with you, Colonel."
Blair nodded. "That will be fine, sir. Thank you."
"The lieutenant will show you to your quarters and help you get the lay of the land. I would appreciate you joining me in my Ready Room at . . . shall we say sixteen hundred hours, ships time? That will give you a few hours to get acclimated."
"Sixteen hundred hours," Blair repeated. He glanced around the hangar again. Would any length of time be enough to get acclimated to this old rustbucket of a ship? "I'll be there, sir."
"Very good. Dismissed." As Blair turned away, Eisen spoke again. "We're glad to have you aboard, Colonel."
Blair wished he could have returned the sentiment, but he knew it would come out sounding bitter and ironic.
* * *
Command Ready Room, TCS Victory.
Torgo System
"Come in, Colonel. Come in. Have a seat."
Blair glanced around the room, moving from the door to the chair Eisen gestured toward in front of the captain's desk. He noted that the tasteful if spartan decor and the well-kept atmosphere produced a startling contrast to most of what he had observed aboard the Victory.
"So, Colonel, I trust Mr. Rollins has been seeing to your needs." The Captain stood, crossing to a counter at one end of the room. "Will you have something to drink? We picked up a load of New Samarkand vodka a few months back that has a kick like a Gratha's blasters."
"Thank you, sir." Actually, Blair didn't particularly want a drink, but it was never wise to turn down a commanding officer's hospitality, especially not on the first day aboard.
Eisen returned with two glasses and handed one to Blair. "A toast, then, Colonel. To Victory!"
They touched their glasses and Blair took a cautious sip. "Is that the ship or the concept, sir?" he asked.
"Both," Eisen said, sitting down. Thoughtfully Eisen added, "We're going to win this war, Colonel, and I think this old ship will play a large part in it before the shooting's over."
Blair tried to keep his expression neutral. "I hope so, sir."
The captain regarded him with a penetrating look. "I'll admit, Blair, she's no Concordia . . ."
"Neither is the Concordia . . . any more." This time Blair didn't bother to hide his feelings.
"It was a terrible loss," Eisen said. "It's never easy to lose so much. You have my sympathies." He paused, looking into his glass. "Nevertheless, you're here now, and I expect nothing less than complete dedication and loyalty from every officer and rating on board this ship."
"You'll have mine, sir," Blair said quietly. "But if I may speak freely . . . ?"
"Always, Colonel."
"From what I've seen so far, you need a little less dedication and a lot more maintenance work from this crew."
Eisen leaned forward. "I'll admit she doesn't look like much, Blair," he said solemnly. "We're shorthanded in every department, and age and too damn many battles have taken their toll . The old girl was slated for retirement over a decade ago, but
Ralgha bowed slightly. "It warms my heart to see you again Colonel," he said, his voice low and throaty with the odd intonation and slight accent Blair remembered well. "But I fear now is not the time to swap life stories."
Blair grinned. "Still the stickler, eh, Hobbes? Well, we'll talk later."
The Kilrathi bowed again.
Eisen introduced the department heads and senior staff officers. They were no more than a blur of unfamiliar names and faces to Blair . . . but still he felt heartened to know that at least one old friend would be with him on this cruise.
The captain concluded by introducing a fresh-faced young man wearing a lieutenant's insignia. "And this is Lieutenant Ted Rollins, Communications Officer."
"And general dogsbody," Rollins grinned. "Sir."
"I've assigned Mr. Rollins to extra duty, as your aide," Eisen continued, ignoring the lieutenants interjection. "At least until you get settled in and make staff arrangements of your own. I hope that will be agreeable with you, Colonel."
Blair nodded. "That will be fine, sir. Thank you."
"The lieutenant will show you to your quarters and help you get the lay of the land. I would appreciate you joining me in my Ready Room at . . . shall we say sixteen hundred hours, ships time? That will give you a few hours to get acclimated."
"Sixteen hundred hours," Blair repeated. He glanced around the hangar again. Would any length of time be enough to get acclimated to this old rustbucket of a ship? "I'll be there, sir."
"Very good. Dismissed." As Blair turned away, Eisen spoke again. "We're glad to have you aboard, Colonel."
Blair wished he could have returned the sentiment, but he knew it would come out sounding bitter and ironic.
* * *
Command Ready Room, TCS Victory.
Torgo System
"Come in, Colonel. Come in. Have a seat."
Blair glanced around the room, moving from the door to the chair Eisen gestured toward in front of the captain's desk. He noted that the tasteful if spartan decor and the well-kept atmosphere produced a startling contrast to most of what he had observed aboard the Victory.
"So, Colonel, I trust Mr. Rollins has been seeing to your needs." The Captain stood, crossing to a counter at one end of the room. "Will you have something to drink? We picked up a load of New Samarkand vodka a few months back that has a kick like a Gratha's blasters."
"Thank you, sir." Actually, Blair didn't particularly want a drink, but it was never wise to turn down a commanding officer's hospitality, especially not on the first day aboard.
Eisen returned with two glasses and handed one to Blair. "A toast, then, Colonel. To Victory!"
They touched their glasses and Blair took a cautious sip. "Is that the ship or the concept, sir?" he asked.
"Both," Eisen said, sitting down. Thoughtfully Eisen added, "We're going to win this war, Colonel, and I think this old ship will play a large part in it before the shooting's over."
Blair tried to keep his expression neutral. "I hope so, sir."
The captain regarded him with a penetrating look. "I'll admit, Blair, she's no Concordia . . ."
"Neither is the Concordia . . . any more." This time Blair didn't bother to hide his feelings.
"It was a terrible loss," Eisen said. "It's never easy to lose so much. You have my sympathies." He paused, looking into his glass. "Nevertheless, you're here now, and I expect nothing less than complete dedication and loyalty from every officer and rating on board this ship."
"You'll have mine, sir," Blair said quietly. "But if I may speak freely . . . ?"
"Always, Colonel."
"From what I've seen so far, you need a little less dedication and a lot more maintenance work from this crew."
Eisen leaned forward. "I'll admit she doesn't look like much, Blair," he said solemnly. "We're shorthanded in every department, and age and too damn many battles have taken their toll . The old girl was slated for retirement over a decade ago, but
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