Free The Sail Weaver by Muffy Morrigan

that particular reflection. Turning his head, he caught the dark ponytail, clubbed with a formal bow over his collar. It still had a feeling of unreality to it. He shifted the satchel he was carrying and moved on.
    Tristan was surprised when someone slammed into him, the man in a Naval uniform growling as he walked past. He stared at the man in shock. He knew the friction between the Guild and the Navy was more open on some of the stations, but this came close to being a disciplinary offense, particularly since the man was only wearing the uniform of a boatswain’s mate.
    “Ass,” a young girl said. Tristan looked over, she was wearing a shirt that had a figure of a dragon in front of massive sails, in bright pink letters it said “I support Guild and Dragon.” She smiled shyly at him. Tristan smiled back, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks, and walked on.
    “Sir?”
    Tristan looked up. A man wearing a Naval uniform and the stripes of a First Officer stood in front of him. He looked vaguely familiar for some reason. “Yes?” Tristan replied, putting on his official face, his eyes cold as he appraised the man.
    “Are you for Winged Victory, sir?”
    “Yes?”
    “Sir! It’s a pleasure, sir! I am Thom Barrett, First of the Victory, ” he said, his hazel eyes shining as a lock of brown hair tumbled over his forehead.
    “Barrett? We’ve met? In my office?”
    “Yes, sir!”
    “You were a captain.”
    “Technically, I still am, I am functioning as First because I wanted the Victory. ” He grinned. “There was no way Davis was getting me off her.”
    “Why not?”
    Barrett smiled. “It’s hard to demote one of her designers to a garbage scow for long.”
    “Designer?” Tristan looked at him again, reassessing his initial impression.
    “Yes, sir! I was on the team that designed the Constellation, too. I missed the chance to serve on her. Captain Jackson was a good man, though, his loss is sorely felt.” There was something in Barrett’s eyes that warned Tristan this was a point of grief for the man. “I was given a small frigate escort for her, but after the loss of the Constellation, I was recalled and asked to help with Winged Victory… Oh, sorry, sir, I tend to run on at times.”
    “Of course, Mr. Barrett,” Tristan said, wondering if the overly talkative, almost too talkative, officer was something of an act. If Barrett was capable of designing a ship like the Victory, he was no fool.
    “We weren’t expecting you until later, sir.”
    “There was an early transport from the Guild.”
    Barrett nodded, still smiling as he glanced around the crowd. “Can I offer you an escort, sir?”
    Tristan weighed the offer, shifting the satchel on his shoulder as he considered it. As they got closer to the Naval docks, the chance of an incident would grow; if he was with Barrett, it was less likely. Deciding that a confrontation before he even reached the ship was a bad idea, he smiled his official smile at Barrett and gestured with his hand for the man to lead the way. “Thank you, Mr. Barrett.”
    “I am just back from leave, I haven’t been on her since they finished the officers’ quarters. I was slinging my hammock below decks before I left.” He chuckled. “I haven’t had to do that since I was a mid , I don’t fit as well as I once did.”
    Tristan hid a smile at the man’s chatter, Barrett reminded him of a midshipman far more than the officer he was, a child-like enthusiasm eddying around him. Despite the man’s seeming youth, the Naval officers and enlisted men moved away with a quiet acknowledgment of his authority.
    “Oh! Oh, look!” Barrett had stopped and was looking out a tiny porthole. “A dragon! A big one!” He turned to Tristan with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sir, you see dragons all the time, don’t you?”
    “I do,” Tristan said.
    “I’ve seen them around the station and when I was out on the Endeavor we had a scout, of course, but she didn’t mingle with us at all,