Moonstruck by Susan Grant

the time he came aboard your ship.”
    “He remembers nothing of that time.”
    She lowered the data-vis. “Or so he says. Wraiths are assassins, like our REEFs, only without the bio-engineered implants. Their activities were so covert, even your own military feared them. They are masters of deception, of survival.”
    “I hear what you’re saying, Admiral, and gods know I thought the same, but I believe what he says. I’m a good reader of people. I can see a truth or a lie in a glance. It’s served me well.”
    She’d gone pale with his admission that he read others well. He knew she was thinking about the look they’d shared, worrying what he’d figured out about her. He’d seen the pain, aye, but it didn’t mean he knew the source of it, he wanted to reassure her. He kept his silence. To reveal what he’d seen would be a mistake.
    “Admiral, Bolivarr has a deep hatred of the dead warlord and the Drakken government, and doesn’t know why. He asked me for asylum, and I granted it. He’s been nothing but a model officer ever since, a source of calm in crisis.”
    Again, she tapped the light pen against her chin as she pondered the information he had given her. He had the feeling she was contemplating him as much as she was the subject of Bolivarr. Finally, she said, “Your wraith might very well be of use to us, hunting strays in the Borderlands. More so if his memory returns.”
    “Our wraith,” he reminded her.
    “No. Yours, Warleader. I will hold you fully responsible for him and his actions on this ship.”
    Yes, he thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Bolivarr was on.
    “I want both of you to see the ship’s physician, Dr. Kell, for full exams after the launch. Have the medical reports sent to me.”
    “Aye, Admiral. And thank you.”
    At the gratitude in his tone, she frowned.
    “I know,” he said. “I don’t have to thank you. I will all the same.”
    She slipped the data-vis in her uniform pocket. “Call an all-hands meeting immediately. I want to speak to the entire crew before launch.”
    He came to attention. “Aye, aye.”
     
    T HE SMALL SIZE OF THE CREW was apparent when the number of bodies filled up only two-thirds of the main briefing room. Rather than speaking from a dais constructed for that purpose, the admiral paced the floor in her usual way: head held high, posture erect, her expression cold and observant. Finn was certain she’d already examined every man and woman’s face in the audience, and had drawn opinions based on what she saw in them.
    He shared the floor with her, on her orders. It was an important sight for the crew to see—a statement. He was Bandar’s second, no question; he shared command of this ship. Coalition, Earthlings and his own crew would not miss the symbolism. As much as she seemed to despise him when they were alone, in public she acted almost civil, and certainly fair. She was a professional, that’s why, a professional who no doubt regretted revealing her emotions to him in Zaafran’s office earlier that day. Would she punish him for it all the rest of the voyage? Gods, that could be years. Or so he hoped. He was determined to make this gig last…. The luxurious quarters, the delicious food, the well-made uniforms, he thought, running a hand over his new Triad gear with its fancy commander epaulets. Rorkken, he thought with a sizzle of pride. You’ve finally made something of yourself.
    He’d never known his mother (or his father, for that matter), but if she were in the heavens looking down at him right now, she’d be proud.
    Bandar finished briefing the crew on the relevance of the terrorist threat. “We will launch immediately following this briefing. The official word, however, is that we’ll be docked here for another week, awaiting personnel and supplies. We’ll be light-years away from the Ring before anyone can make good on their threat of blowing us into plasma dust.”
    Noises of approval went around the room, evenly split