“I was the same age when it happened to me,” I pointed out. Not I really, but this body, this last one left to me. “A little younger.” I didn’t point out that Medic hadn’t reacted this way to seeing me. That it made a difference when it was a citizen, instead of some uncivilized, conquered enemy.

She didn’t notice it herself, or else was too overwhelmed just now to react. “Who is she now, then?”

“Good question.” I put away the last of the instruments. “She’ll have to decide that.”

“What if you don’t like her decision?” Shrewd, Medic was. I’d rather have her on my side than otherwise.

“That,” I answered, making a small tossing gesture, as though casting the day’s omens, “will be as Amaat wills. Get some rest. Kalr will bring supper to your quarters. Things will seem better after you’ve eaten and slept.”

“Really?” she asked. Bitter and challenging.

“Well, not necessarily,” I admitted. “But it’s easier to deal with things when you’ve had some rest and some breakfast.”

4

In my quarters, Kalr Five, disquieted by the day’s events but of course expressionless, had my supper waiting for me—a bowl of skel and a flask of water, common soldier’s mess. I suspected Ship had suggested it to her but didn’t query to confirm that suspicion. I’d have been content eating skel all the time, but it would have distressed Five, and not only because it would have deprived her of the opportunity to filch tastes of non-skel delicacies, a cherished perquisite of serving the captain or the officers in the decade room.

While I ate, officerless Bo halfheartedly, nearly silently, scrubbed their allotment of corridors, still spotless as it had been this morning, but part of the day’s routine and not to be neglected. They were tired and worried. Judging from their sparse chatter, the consensus was that I’d abused Lieutenant Tisarwat so harshly she’d become sick. There were some grumbles of no different from the last one. Very carefully referentless.

Bo One, decade senior, checked their work, reported to Ship that it was complete. And then said, silently, fingers moving, “Ship.”

“Bo One,” said Mercy of Kalr. Who knew Bo One quite well, had heard all the grumbles. “You should take your questions to the fleet captain.”

When Bo One had gone to see Medic, less than five minutes after I’d left for my own quarters, Medic had told her the same thing. And this was the third time Ship had suggested it. Still, Bo One had hesitated. Even though by rights she was in command of Bo, with Lieutenant Tisarwat unconscious and my not having assigned anyone to replace her. Had therefore the right, the responsibility even, to approach me for information and instructions.