Free Impulse by Dave Bara Page A

you,” he said. His eyes were a steel gray and I could see from his demeanor how he had ascended to captaincy of his world’s most important vessel. He may have been slight in stature but with that voice and those eyes I believed he could have withered grape vines in summer if he so chose.
    Zander motioned me to one of the leather chairs and I sat down.
    â€œI’m just finishing my morning coffee, Commander Cochrane, would you like some?” he asked.
    â€œNo, thank you, Captain,” I said instinctively, and instantly regretted it. It was always impolite to refuse an offer of comfort from a superior officer, at least in the QRN. It made it seem as though you felt you were too good to be one of those types who liked to play on a captain’s favor. My regret came from the fact that it was nearly midnight according to my QRN clock, not prime time for coffee, but here on
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it seemed as if the morning watch was just beginning. I glanced up at an ornate wood wall clock; it said 0645. After a moment Zander took another drink and then started right in with the formalities.
    â€œI just wanted to offer my sincerest condolences on the loss of your countrymen. Your Admiral Wesley has informed me that you had a particular attachment to one of the young lieutenants aboard the First Contact shuttle. Lieutenant Decker was a fine officer, and a fine young lady, and I enjoyed having her aboard
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,” said Zander, quietly and sincerely.
    â€œThank you, sir,” I said. Natalie’s death was the last thing I wanted to talk about. Every reminder of her struck a chord of pain in me, pain I was trying to get past to embrace my new duties. Perhaps proper grieving would come later.
    Then Zander focused those eyes on me, took in a deep breath and said, “What happened at Levant was a tragedy, one I intend to set right. This crew has been through a lot. We all lost someone we cared about that day.”
    I didn’t really know how to respond to that. They had all lost someone, a friend, a shipmate perhaps, but I had lost the girl who was my first love. I blurted out another “thank you, sir,” for the offered condolences, then hoped the conversation would go anywhere away from this subject. Fortunately, it did.
    â€œWell then, no doubt you have a great deal of unpacking to do, Mr. Cochrane,” said Zander. “I want you to know that I won’t be expecting you on bridge duty today until noon. We depart tomorrow for our return trip to Levant and you can report for full duty then. But I do run a tight ship. I expect my officers on the bridge most days by 0700. We take thirty minutes for lunch at noon and the day shift ends at five. I expect all my senior officers for dinner nightly at 1900 in the officer’s lounge. The rest of your time is your own, except for Sundays when you are excused from morning duty to attend Church Worship, if you go in for that sort of thing.”
    â€œYes, sir,” I said, feeling weary already. The captain looked up at me.
    â€œYes, you understand, or yes, you attend Worship?” he asked.
    â€œYes to both, sir,” I said back.
    â€œGood,” he said forcefully, “I like a man with morals. It’s no fun putting your life on the line with atheists in space.”
    I nodded at this, again unsure how to respond. The fact was I wasn’t really sure I wasn’t an atheist. I just hadn’t had much time to contemplate it, and I’d grown up going to Worship on Sundays.
    â€œOne other matter,” said Zander. “I’d like you to meet with Tralfane, our Historian, before your first duty. What with the two of you working the ’scope together, I think it would be best if you got off on the right foot.”
    â€œHe was on my list, sir,” I said. Zander nodded.
    â€œGood. Our previous ’scopeman never really had a good working relationship with him, and it cost us dearly at Levant.” Then Zander