Free No Honor in Death by Eric Thomson Page A

around her, cursing and swearing spacers worked to meet her exacting standards under the supervision of hard-faced, angry petty officers, who in turn laboured under Chief Guthren's biting tongue.  It was not the most glorious way of starting a new command.
     
    She woke eight hours later, after the first night of real sleep in weeks, feeling surprisingly refreshed and at ease.  Doctor Luttrell's prescription had been extraordinarily effective, though the woman herself remained a closed book.  For all that she made a lousy first impression, Luttrell certainly knew her business, at least as far as migraines were concerned.
    Siobhan noticed the 'message waiting' light blinking on the computer terminal.  The reminder of her ship's problems put a damper on her mood.  After a quick shower, she slipped back into her uniform and called the galley for a breakfast tray.  With the migraine's disappearance, her appetite had returned, though it could vanish just as fast after she read the messages.
    Leading Spacer Kery, delivered breakfast a few minutes later.  She did not speak, apart from acknowledging Siobhan's thanks, and set about making the Captain's bed.  When she was done, Kery slipped out of the cabin, silent as a ghost, and left Dunmoore to her solitude.  Kery was a strange fish.  Quiet and unassuming, but her dark, inquisitive eyes missed little.  Twice yesterday, Siobhan had caught Kery examining her when the clerk thought she wasn't looking.  Both times, Dunmoore had felt acutely uneasy without quite understanding why.  She wondered, not for the first time, what the relationship between Forenza and the clerk had been like.  Captain's clerks held a great deal of informal power aboard ship, power that was all too easily abused.  Guthren had taken an instant dislike to Kery and suggested to Siobhan the she transfer her off the Stingray .  Not only did Kery know too much, Guthren believed, but if lower deck gossip was true, used what she knew.  Without Forenza's protection, the short, dark-featured woman could easily become the target of revenge.  One more question mark and one more problem.
    Siobhan wolfed down the bland meal, fuelling her body without enjoyment.  Her clothes hung loosely on her lean frame these days.  The ordeal on the battleship had melted away several kilograms from a body that had no fat to spare. The Captain was grimly satisfied the wardroom food was no better than that from the lower deck galley.  The ship's cooks needed some re-training, or suitable motivation.
    The migraine’s disappearance had brought the previous day's events into clearer focus, and Siobhan, never a woman to tolerate inefficiency or weakness, felt a renewed determination to clean up the Stingray .  Admiral Nagira had given her a job to do and she would see it through.  If her crew thought yesterday was bad, they hadn't seen anything yet.  She turned to her computer and opened the first message.  It was from HQ, and it was not exactly a ‘welcome, fellow-warrior’ note.  Warriors, in Siobhan’s estimation, did not sound this pompous and self-important.
    "Dunmoore, this Commander Sones, Battle-Group Supply Officer.  Call my aide to arrange a meeting soonest. I must speak to you about your purser, Lieutenant Rossum.  His behavior is really intolerable: bullying, attempting to bribe and suborn the supply staff.  There is an established procedure to request stores.  Your people must adhere to it.  I cannot accept anything less.  Further behavior of that nature will be reported to the Flag Captain.  I expect to hear from you today.  Sones, out."
    A dark grin of amusement twisted Siobhan's thin lips.  She wondered exactly how Rossum had 'subverted' supply personnel.  In her experience, a little baksheesh went a long way when one had to bypass the bureaucratic bullshit that made every request for toilet paper, anti-ship missiles or tungsten rivets an exercise in creative writing.  There wasn't a supply