For just a moment, Winter was back in Khandar, with Sergeant Davis looming over her with his great scarred fists raised. Her breath caught, but when she blinked, the image was gone. Novus was no Davis, had none of the sergeant’s strength or brutality. Looking at him now, she could see he was scared, talking big because he knew he’d backed himself into a corner.

“Thank you for being frank with me, Lieutenant,” Winter said. “I’ll consider what you’ve said. You’re dismissed.”

Fear turned to triumph in Novus’ eyes. “Oh yes. Consider it.” He shook his head. “You are a fucking coward, aren’t you? I can see that now. I should have known it all along. Go ahead, then. Lead us to disaster. Once your girls get slaughtered, we’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”

He turned on his heel and stalked away. Winter sucked in a long breath and blew it out again.

Well, then. She looked after the lieutenant and shook her head. Now what?

“You’ll have to get rid of him,” Cyte said as they watched the formations assemble. “I probably would have fired him on the spot. Or slugged him.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Winter said. “Being an asshole isn’t against regulations.”

“Using that kind of language to a superior officer is,” Cyte said. “Besides, I think Janus has already set the precedent when he kicked out de Ferre and his friends.”

“I’m not Janus,” Winter said. She caught sight of Lieutenant Novus, on the other side of the drill field. He looked from Winter to the men and women getting into formation and back again, then shook his head and stalked away.

“Janus would back you if Novus tried to go through channels. And if he tried anything else, you’d be within your rights to have him arrested.”

“Maybe.” Winter was only half listening, scanning the crowd that had turned up to watch the morning’s drill. “I need to talk to Sevran and see what he thinks.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Cyte said. “If Novus gets it into his head that he can run roughshod over you, there’s going to be trouble.”

“Yeah.”

Winter went stiff as she found what she was looking for. A flash of glorious red hair, in the middle of a knot of Girls’ Own spectators. She tried to catch Jane’s eye and failed. But at least she’s out of her tent.

“Okay,” she said to Folsom, who stood ready to repeat her commands. “Let’s get started.”

“Close up!” Folsom’s voice rang through the misty morning air like a clarion call. “Skirmish line, forward! Main line, loading drill!”