Free The Rise of Earth by Jason Fry

had descendants belowdecks. They preserved the names of boys and girls fated to win the captain’s chair and less fortunate apprentices who’d been killed by a moment’s inattention or bad luck.
    Tycho looked around the quarterdeck. Mavry had the watch and was coolly scanning his instruments, his well-worn boots up on his console. Carlo was in his usual place, hands on the control yoke. He shoved the yoke to starboard but the Comet didn’t respond, a giveaway that he was deep within a simulation. Yana was belowdecks having her shoulder looked at by Mr. Leffingwell, while Diocletia had retired to the captain’s stateroom. And Huff was still sulking in his cabin.
    Tycho yawned and excused himself, climbing the ladder to the top deck. The passageway connecting the family cabins was quiet and dim. He thumbed open the door to his cabin and crawled into his bunk, fumbling to set an alarm on his mediapad, and was asleep almost at once.
    He awoke not to the alarm but to four bells—it had to be 1400. Blinking, he struggled out of his bunk andsaw that the passageway was illuminated by a square of light from the cuddy. He’d missed lunch, but some soup would do nicely.
    Tycho poked his head in and found Vass sitting at the table where the Hashoones gathered for meals. Scraps of bright white paper surrounded his mediapad, and a steaming mug of something sat at his elbow.
    â€œMaster Hashoone,” the minister said. “I never thanked you for the tour of the lower level. It was illuminating.”
    â€œMy pleasure, Mr. Vass,” Tycho said, still a bit sleepy. “Are you hungry? Mr. Speirdyke won’t arrive in the galley for a few hours yet, but I could make you some soup.”
    â€œNo thank you, Master Hashoone. I had a little something in my cabin. I hope my inquiries didn’t cause a problem for that young crew member.”
    â€œMr. Sier? He caused his own problems.”
    Vass hesitated. “If I may ask, what will happen to him?”
    Tycho yawned and stretched. “Belowdecks discipline is Mr. Grigsby’s department. But I can guarantee you Mr. Sier won’t make that mistake again.”
    â€œI see. The mistake, I take it, was being insubordinate to a member of the bridge crew?”
    Tycho nodded as he sorted through the packets of soup mix.
    â€œIt may not seem like a big deal. But aboard a ship, discipline is everything. Every member of the crew has to follow orders from his or her superior officers, withoutquestion. If anyone fails to do that, or even hesitates in doing so, it could mean all our lives. So obedience must be absolute.”
    â€œUnderstood. Though—and forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds, Master Hashoone—your sister did escalate the argument.”
    Tycho allowed himself a smile. “Escalating arguments is one of Yana’s specialties.”
    He hesitated but supposed there was no harm in letting Vass know the rest of what had happened. “Mom—Captain Hashoone—always says that obedience flows more easily in response to respect and trust. Which is why she ordered Yana to go down and apologize to Mr. Sier. She said Mr. Sier had been insubordinate, but had the excuse of not knowing whom he was addressing. My sister, on the other hand, was rude—and there’s no excuse for that.”
    Vass nodded.
    â€œIt’s very interesting seeing the workings of a privateer up close,” he said, waving vaguely at the scattered papers in front of him. “Quite different from scouring reports to try and figure out what’s happening in the Cybeles, Master Hashoone.”
    â€œSo what is happening in the Cybeles?” Tycho asked as he tore off the corner of a foil packet and poured the soup mix into a mug. “Oh, and you can call me Tycho.”
    â€œWell, Tycho, what’s happening is only obvious once it’s over,” Vass said with a smile. “Until then, you ask different people and