Rogue Galaxy, Episode 1: The Captain and the Werewolf Read Free

Democratic Empire and against the rest of the Fleet as well. And that makes our rebellion seem like a personal thing. Makes it seem that way, not to me, but to certain elements of the crew. Hypothetically. And that makes them less likely to be willing to spend who knows how many years drifting through uncharted interstellar space.”
    He finished and sat looking at her with an oh-so-innocent face, as if naturally he himself would never be part of those hypothetical, dissatisfied elements. Blaine returned his gaze. From the way his face suddenly blanched, she knew he realized he'd gone too far.
    “Lieutenant-Commander Miller,” she said. Her words were crisp, low, and clear. “If you should hear any seditious talk among the crew—among any of them—you will inform myself and the captain. And then, I trust, we all three will do our duty.”
    “Aye-aye, ma'am,” he said, rigid and stone-faced.
    Blaine looked down at their warming mugs, regretting that their simple outing had gotten complicated. “Roy—I'm your friend,” she said. “But I'm an officer of the Imperial Space Fleet, first.”
    “Commander, I wouldn't have it any other way. Nobody comes before the Fleet, as far as I'm concerned. And, speaking frankly, this ship may be its only remnant, and I'm scared the captain may not be aware of how his actions might endanger it.”
    Blaine gave him an even harder stare. Miller held his ground.
    Blaine said, “You don't believe the rest of the Fleet will emerge from the Bubble soon?”
    “I love the Fleet so much that even if none of the ships ever do emerge, I will do anything to keep it alive here, on the Galaxy .”
    She sighed and broke eye contact. This time it was she who wished the beer had real alcohol, as she picked up her mug and took a swig. “I'll talk with him, I suppose. I'll try to find a diplomatic way to bring your concerns up.” With a sudden spurt of anger she reflected that she shouldn't have to be concerned with how diplomatically she phrased such a serious concern to her captain—she should be able to just say it, and not worry about his feelings.
    Miller was leaning forward again, having taken her words as encouragement. “He wouldn't have to break up with her or anything. Just make sure the crew doesn't feel like Summers comes first. Not do things like leave Kimball prematurely because someone maybe might suggest leaving Summers there. And not give her such a run of the ship—I mean, it's crazy not to have her locked up when we come out of hyperspace. Our charts aren't always accurate enough to guarantee that we're not coming back into real-space in the presence of a moon. No one's sure whether the Provisional managed to introduce a scrambler-bug into our database before we broke contact, and the astro-mages aren't even sure what constitutes a full moon, in an outer-space context....”
    “I'm not going to get that specific with him, Miller,” Blaine snapped. “You don't talk this way with anyone else, do you?”
    “Never.”
    “Good. Keep it that way. The man is our captain, and we will respect him.”
    Miller couldn't control a sudden spasm of disgust that rippled across his face. “We both know which of you two should be the captain, Val....”
    “Hey!” Her bark was so loud that not only Miller, but the vacuum-hockey ensigns and everybody else in the cantina froze. “Belay that crap!”
    Miller's face was red. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I didn't mean....”
    Blaine stood up. “I think I better think of some work I need to get done, before this conversation goes any further.” She picked up her mug and drained the rest of her beer before leaving. Miller kept his eyes down, not meeting hers.
    As Blaine turned and left, her scowl sending personnel scurrying out of her way, she couldn't hide from herself the fact that Miller might be right. Would Farraday have made captain of a starship, if he hadn't been his mother's son? Maybe not ... but, God, what a mother! For the first