The ranker almost levitated out of bed, stuttering excuses. Tennal had never seen someone move that fast. “That’s your new officer, by the way,” Tennal said sweetly, as Surit politely ushered him out the door. “Muster in ten. See you on the ship.”

“That went well,” Surit said, and he proceeded to repeat it three more times while Tennal trailed behind him in growing fascination. The fifth ranker was in the sixth’s assigned quarters. “Two of you at once!” Surit said cheerfully. Neither of them had Tennal’s lack of shame: they blushed all the way through getting dressed, while Surit stood in the doorway with his arms folded and his expression amiably neutral, and Tennal struggled to keep a straight face.

“You’re making me laugh on purpose,” Tennal murmured, when they’d sent the latest two down to the shuttle to keep Basavi company.

“Absolutely not.” Surit might even have been telling the truth; not a muscle had moved in his expression.

“Really?” Tennal said. He’d taken a copy of Surit’s list and was following along. “Next five are in the rec room.”

Surit produced all five plus a tagalong from a table in the rec room. It turned out none of them could recite the subclauses that dealt with drinking on shift, so Surit quoted them in full, in the hearing of two dozen people, until the rankers in front of him had gone through all the stages from incredulity to awkward fidgeting to full mortified silence. There were no protests as he suggested they relocate back to the shuttle.

Part of Tennal was enjoying himself immensely. He hadn’t considered it might be possible to cause more low-level chaos with a rule book than without. “That’s nearly all of them. I’ll get the last one from the canteen, shall I? You said muster would start now.”

Surit frowned at his wristband. Tennal was starting to understand he didn’t like missing a deadline, even one he’d set himself. “Yes. Would you mind?”

“Let me be useful somewhere.” Tennal waved a finger in a mock salute and left him.

The corridors of the Fractal Note were much busier now that there were all these other ships around. Tennal was used to his civilian clothes attracting stares. What threw him was these newcomers weren’t staring at him. Now that he was in a ranker’s uniform, nobody watched him suspiciously or gave him space. It was like the uniform had made him invisible.

It was when an officer glared at him until he saluted her that it really sank in: he wasn’t playacting as a ranker. Until he escaped, he was one.