probably at the center of the ceremony. It was one of her crew, after all, being honored.
But today, she had put her foot down. Command Centurion Jessica Keller would not be up there with the rest, where her presence might be a distraction, however small that chance might be.
After consideration, and a few tart observations on her part, the fine folks on the station had acquiesced. They’d also decided to use the big amphitheater for today’s ceremony and to let her sit in the audience. Probably something to do with her threat to send as much of Auberon’s crew as she could spare, in their best uniforms, to attend. Or rather, to grant passes to as many people as asked, which might well be all of them.
She wouldn’t have to order anyone to be here.
If anything, she would have had to pick which of her crew would be ordered to miss this ceremony, to stay aboard Auberon , as well as Rajput and CR–264 , in order to keep the reactors behaving and the life support systems purring quietly.
In the end, her old command, Brightoak , had volunteered to send over enough engineers and crew to let the rest of the squadron come. Brightoak’s leader, Command Centurion Robbie Aeliaes, had come to the ceremony to represent them, while they found their own way to honor today’s guest.
Jessica enjoyed the view from the front row. She was dead center, between her current first officer, Denis Jež and her old friend and former first officer, Robbie Aeliaes. Her other two squadron Command Centurions, Alber’ d’Maine of Rajput , and Tomas Kigali of CR–264 were on either side of them. Behind, and around them, a mob. That was the best way to describe it. A mob.
All of Auberon . All of Rajput . All of CR–264. They lined the walls three deep and filled the aisles two wide. Every one of them dressed in their best uniforms.
It was a very special day.
Up on the stage, Tadej Horvat, the Premier of the Republic of Aquitaine Senate himself was just finishing up his opening remarks, a brief speech to welcome everyone and remind them how important it was that the civilians of the Republic recognize and honor those who served.
Jessica suppressed a snort. The only two other civilians present beyond the Premier, among the tremendous horde of people in the room were her own parents, Indira and Miguel Keller, standing in loco parentis . Jessica’s mother practically glowed. Father beamed. The rest of the crowd projected enough joy to float a dreadnaught.
Nils Kasum rose from his seat to one side as Tadej returned to his own. The First Lord of the Fleet was a skinny man, who looked much taller than his merely–average height. Something about the way he held himself filled any room. The voice that boomed out over the room was amazingly powerful, a Command voice used to giving orders across a crowded and noisy bridge in the midst of battle.
At one time, the best of the Fighting Lords. Now, their leader.
“Thank you, Premier,” Nils said warmly as he stood at the lectern. Jessica knew that the two of them went back at least to boarding school as friends. When the First Lord became her guardian angel, the Premier eventually had, as well. That had helped, today.
“I wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you to the men and women before me, specifically the crews of Auberon , Rajput , and CR–264 ,” the First Lord continued, gesturing the crowd before and below him. “The orders a Command Centurion reads when taking charge remind them to exercise excellence and demand the same of their crews . These crews have done just that. You are the reason we sleep safe at night, secure that the forces of evil and tyranny will be kept at bay. As your First Lord, thank you.”
The room was too polite to erupt in the sort of growling display they might in a more–private setting. They settled for applause.
“Today, we gather to honor one of our own. There will be medals and citations, in good time. There will be parades and publicity. But the