What are you doing wearing that Line outfit? Getting too old to squeeze into a cockpit?'
Ralgha bowed slightly. 'It warms my heart to see you again Colonel,' he said, his voice low and throaty with the odd intonation and slight accent Blair remembered well. 'But I fear now is not the time to swap life stories.'
Blair grinned. 'Still the stickler, eh, Hobbes? Well, we'll talk later.'
The Kilrathi bowed again.
Eisen introduced the department heads and senior staff officers. They were no more than a blur of unfamiliar names and faces to Blair . . . but still he felt heartened to know that at least one old friend would be with him on this cruise.
The captain concluded by introducing a fresh-faced young man wearing a lieutenant's insignia. 'And this is Lieutenant Ted Rollins, Communications Officer.'
'And general dogsbody,' Rollins grinned. 'Sir.'
'I've assigned Mr. Rollins to extra duty, as your aide,' Eisen continued, ignoring the lieutenants interjection. 'At least until you get settled in and make staff arrangements of your own. I hope that will be agreeable with you, Colonel.'
Blair nodded. 'That will be fine, sir. Thank you.'
'The lieutenant will show you to your quarters and help you get the lay of the land. I would appreciate you joining me in my Ready Room at . . . shall we say sixteen hundred hours, ships time? That will give you a few hours to get acclimated.'
'Sixteen hundred hours,' Blair repeated. He glanced around the hangar again. Would any length of time be enough to get acclimated to this old rustbucket of a ship? 'I'll be there, sir.'
'Very good. Dismissed.' As Blair turned away, Eisen spoke again. 'We're glad to have you aboard, Colonel.'
Blair wished he could have returned the sentiment, but he knew it would come out sounding bitter and ironic.
'Come in, Colonel. Come in. Have a seat.'
Blair glanced around the room, moving from the door to the chair Eisen gestured toward in front of the captain's desk. He noted that the tasteful if spartan decor and the well-kept atmosphere produced a startling contrast to most of what he had observed aboard the Victory.
'So, Colonel, I trust Mr. Rollins has been seeing to your needs.' The Captain stood, crossing to a counter at one end of the room. 'Will you have something to drink? We picked up a load of New Samarkand vodka a few months back that has a kick like a Gratha's blasters.'
'Thank you, sir.' Actually, Blair didn't particularly want a drink, but it was never wise to turn down a commanding officer's hospitality, especially not on the first day aboard.
Eisen returned with two glasses and handed one to Blair. 'A toast, then, Colonel. To Victory!'
They touched their glasses and Blair took a cautious sip. 'Is that the ship or the concept, sir?' he asked.
'Both,' Eisen said, sitting down. Thoughtfully Eisen added, 'We're going to win this war, Colonel, and I think this old ship will play a large part in it before the shooting's over.'
Blair tried to keep his expression neutral. 'I hope so, sir.'
The captain regarded him with a penetrating look. 'I'll admit, Blair, she's no Concordia . . .'
'Neither is the Concordia . . . any more.' This time Blair didn't bother to hide his feelings.
'It was a terrible loss,' Eisen said. 'It's never easy to lose so much. You have my sympathies.' He paused, looking into his glass. 'Nevertheless, you're here now, and I expect nothing less than complete dedication and loyalty from every officer and rating on board this ship.'
'You'll have mine, sir,' Blair said quietly. 'But if I may speak freely . . . ?'
'Always, Colonel.'
'From what I've seen so far, you need a little less dedication and a lot more maintenance work from this crew.'
Eisen leaned forward. 'I'll admit she doesn't look like much, Blair,' he said solemnly. 'We're shorthanded in every department, and age and too damn many battles have taken their toll . The old girl was slated for retirement over a decade ago, but they put her back on the line instead. Maybe she doesn't look as good as the big ships you've served on in the past, but that doesn't mean she's not able to do her job. And it's the crew, the men and women who work overtime day after day just to keep her up and running, who are responsible for keeping us on the firing line. That dedication makes all the difference, Colonel, and even if it doesn't extend to slapping on a fresh coat of paint or making sure the food dispensers in the Rec Room have a full stock of chicken soup every day, it still means something to me.'
Blair didn't answer right away. 'I . . . take your point, sir,' he said at last. 'I'm sorry if I seem to be running down your command . . .'
Eisen smiled easily. 'I'm used to it by now, Colonel, believe me. She doesn't look like much, I'll grant you that. But I was communications officer on Victory's maiden voyage, my first assignment out of the Academy. I've been with her many times throughout my career, and I guess I'm just a little bit protective about the old girl after all.'
'I can understand that, sir. You can get . . . attached to a ship, over time.' He was thinking of the old Tiger's Claw . . . and Concordia. 'I'll admit I wasn't looking forward to this assignment when Admiral Tolwyn told me about it. But I'm feeling much better about it now.'
'My pep talk was that good?' Eisen asked with a grin.
'That . . . and finding out you have Ralgha nar Hhallas aboard. He's one of the best.'
'Commander nar Hhallas? Yes, he's a good officer. He'll be my Exec this trip . . .'
'Sir . . . with all due respect, that's a real waste of talent. Hobbes is a natural-born fighter pilot. Putting him in a Line slot . . . I think it's a mistake.'
'It was his own request, Colonel. I know his record, but . . .' Eisen trailed off, then shrugged. 'Fact is, no one aboard will fly with a Kilrathi on his wing.'
'Fifteen years of loyal service and a string of combat kills as long as my arm doesn't count for anything?'
The captain looked away. 'Not with these people, Blair. Not after everything they've been through in this damned war. Anyway, he made the request for the good of the flight wing.'
'Well, I'm in command of the wing now,' Blair said. 'And I want him restored to flight status immediately, for the good of the wing.' He paused. 'Not that I would try to tell you how to run your ship, of course . . .'
'Why not? Isn't that the accepted role of every wing commander in the fleet? You guys always felt the Line was nothing but a bunch of glorified taxi drivers.' Eisen's smile faded quickly. 'Look, Colonel, your loyalty is admirable, and I'll willingly transfer him back to flight, but the problem still remains — who would have a Kilrathi as a wingman?'
'I'll fly with him,' Blair said coldly. 'Even if none of the others will. He's the best damned wingman I ever flew with, and I have a feeling we're going to need him if we're heading into a combat zone.'
'If you say so, Colonel,' Eisen said, shrugging again. 'But I think you're asking for trouble. Not that I'd tell you how to run your wing, of course . . .'
CHAPTER II
