On Basilisk Station

By David Weber

Finished Teacher's advisor to be had.

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Her hair-style was once sensible, with out pretensions to glamour. It was once clipped brief to house vac helmets and bouts of zero-gee, and if its two-centimeter strands had a obdurate tendency to twist, it used to be neither blond, nor purple, nor even black, only a hugely sensible, thoroughly unspectacular darkish brown. Her eyes have been even darker, and she'd continually concept their trace of an almond form, inherited from her mom, made them glance misplaced in her strong-boned face, nearly as though they would been extra as an afterthought. Their darkness made her faded complexion appear nonetheless paler, and her chin used to be too robust under her firm-lipped mouth. No, she determined once again, with a well-recognized colour of remorse, it was once a serviceable adequate face, yet there has been little need pretending someone might ever accuse it of radiant good looks . . . darn it. She grinned back, feeling the bubble of enjoyment pushing her concerns apart, and her mirrored image grinned again. It made her seem like an urchin gloating over a hidden bag of sweet, and he or she took herself firmly to activity for the rest of the journey, targeting a brand new CO's accountability to appear cool and picked up, however it used to be challenging. She'd performed good to make commander so quickly in spite of the Fleet's regular development within the face of the Havenite hazard, for the life-extending extend strategy made for lengthy careers. The army was once well-supplied with senior officials, regardless of its growth, and he or she got here of yeoman inventory, with no the high-placed family members or pals to nudge a naval profession alongside. She'd recognized and accredited from the beginning that people with much less competence yet extra exalted bloodlines might race prior her. good, they'd, yet she'd made it finally. A cruiser command, the dream of each officer worthy her salt! So what if Fearless was once two times her personal age and little greater than a latest destroyer? She used to be nonetheless a cruiser, and cruisers have been the Manticoran Navy's eyes and ears, its escorts and its raiders, the stuff of autonomous instructions and chance. And accountability. That notion permit her banish the grin eventually, simply because if self sufficient command used to be what each reliable officer craved, a captain on their lonesome within the huge darkish had nobody to attract. not anyone to take the credits or proportion the blame, for she used to be on their own, the ultimate arbiter of her ship's destiny and the direct, own consultant of her queen and nation, and if she failed that belief no strength within the galaxy may perhaps keep her. The group of workers tablet ghosted to a cease, and she or he stepped out into the spacious gallery of the spacedock, brown eyes hungry as they swept over her new command finally. HMS Fearless floated in her mooring past the cruel, thick wall of armorplast, lean and modern even less than the muddle of labor structures and entry tubes, and the pendant quantity "CL-56" stood out opposed to the white hull simply at the back of her ahead impeller nodes. backyard mechs swarmed over her within the dock's vacuum, supervised through vacsuited people, yet many of the paintings appeared to be targeting the broadside weapon bays. Honor stood immobile, gazing throughout the armorplast, feeling Nimitz upward push immediately and tall on her shoulder to hitch her perusal, and an eyebrow quirked.

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