“I think there’s a problem with your comms rig,” Surit said. “When was the last time you ran a daily test routine?”

“Yesterday?” the ranker said.

“It was last week,” Surit said. “I checked. There’s no need for concern, though,” he added. “I found the problem.”

Tennal wondered if Surit was going to give them an excuse for ignoring the muster order. The ranker said, “It might’ve dropped a couple of messages—” though she was clearly on shaky ground, and she knew it.

“The stage at which the messages are getting dropped,” Surit said mildly, “is between the message arriving on the ship and the message going into the recipients’ eyeballs. What do you think the best fix is?” He dropped the suggestion into an awkward silence among the rankers. “Possibly some mass eye surgery?”

Surit wasn’t so bad at this. Tennal’s mouth curled up in appreciation. It took some artistry to make an atmosphere this excruciating.

“I hope that will be the only time this happens,” Surit said calmly. The shuttle was dead silent. He had them, for now. “Please listen carefully. I have made some changes to your task allocations.”

The detail of tasks and shift patterns that followed made Tennal’s brain shut down from immediate paralyzing boredom. Tennal occupied himself with scanning faces and very carefully sampling currents around the occupants of the room—not really reading, just taking the temperature of the unit. Stress, anxiety, boredom: normal reactions for a group that had just been yelled at, even if it was by Surit, which was a bit like a recruitment poster had come to life in order to be gently disappointed in you.

“I’ll take hull-inspection duty. And finally, Private Halkana needs basic pilot training,” Surit said, pulling Tennal’s attention back. There was a new bustle in the room as the rankers settled down to new tasks or clambered out of the airlock to the mothership. Surit didn’t falter for an instant on faces or names: he zeroed in on Istara at the desk next to Basavi. “Private Istara, you have the highest piloting scores. I want you to train Private Halkana on—” He hesitated as he saw the obviously horrified looks Tennal and Istara gave each other.

At least half the room was listening to this exchange. Tennal could see them trying to place where Tennal fell in the unit dynamic—most of them would know he was a reader by now, if gossip spread the way Tennal thought, but a tiny unit like this would never have encountered a fleet reader before. If it looked like Surit was trying to be nice to Tennal, Surit would look weak.

“Private Istara and I have already met, sir,” Tennal said, with an elaborate bow in Istara’s direction. “It would be an honor to work with them.”

CHAPTER 10