"She knew you would call . . . ," repeated the woman helplessly.

"She knew," repeated the senior commander. "She knew so much." The silence fell on both screens. "What can I do?"

"You have done all that you can . . . more than . . . many . . ." The woman visibly pulled herself together. "I asked her what I could say to you-if, when, you called. She said you would know, but that if I had to say anything, that she would see you at the end of time. That hers was the shorter journey, and the easier."

He said nothing, but nodded twice. Then he cleared his throat again. "Let me know. Let me know." He could say no more, and his hand lashed out at the screen controls. The image faded into gray.

Forcing himself to unclinch his fists, he took four steps to the narrow oblong window and peered at the smudged lights above the rain-damped garden.

"Hers was the shorter journey . . . Caroljoy . . . I never knew . . . never knew . . . But you did . . . You always did."

As he stood before the rain and storm, the darkness solidified within.

IV.

THE FOREVER HERO.

Call him hero after all heroes had died.

Call him champion when none else had tried.

Call him saviour of a land left burned.

Call him a destroyer of shambles unlearned.

Call him a name, a title, a force.

Call him devil, or the land's source.

Call him soldier, pilot, or priest.

Call him the greatest, or term him beast.

But remember he stood, and stretched tall, Where others crawled, or stood not at all.

Remember the captain, and call him Lord.

Remember the sheath is not the sword.

Anonymous Quoted in Ballads of the Captain Edwina de Vlerio New Augusta, 5133 N.E.C.

V.

THE CAPTAIN OF the Fleurdilis frowned as he studied the hard copy of the schematic. He supposed he could have used the screen, rather than having gone to the trouble of having the pages printed, but he liked to be able to wander around the cabin with the diagrams, to be able to make notes at odd times without having to code up the file, to puzzle through the codes and routings.

He still didn't understand all the details represented in the diagrams, but he knew enough to understand that the ship whose command he had just assumed was not configured according to her own specifications, or that the ship's own databanks did not register the differences.

Admittedly, the majority of discrepancies were minor, where conduit blocs had been shifted less than a meter, in one case, to accommodate modifications to the forward launch tubes. But some were scarcely minor. The Fleurdilis no longer carried the installed equipment for its own emergency field recharging, nor did it carry the original energy capacitators, nor the original drive field equipment.

The newer equipment was not only smaller, but, compared to the original specifications, far less powerful.

In short, he was saddled with command of a nominal cruiser, but one with less real power than an old style corvette. The lower power capability reduced range, screen defenses, and survivability.

He touched the console, without looking at the image that formed on the screen.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Send up Senior Technician Relyea, if she's available."

"Yes, ser."

The senior commander straightened his blacks, set down the schematics, and paced in a narrow circle in the small stateroom as he waited.

"Technician Relyea, Commander."

The woman was petite, scarcely even to his shoulder, with brown hair knotted into a neat bun, black eyes, and new senior tech insignia on her collars.

"Sit down." He pointed to the single guest chair.

She sat.

"Have you studied the basic schematics?" He pointed at the diagrams on the console.

She peered at them momentarily. "Not in detail. Those are really not much good."

"Figured that out. Why weren't they updated? Means that the information in the databanks isn't reliable."

The senior tech pursed her lips. "Not exactly, Commander. The data entries are not all they should be, but the correct information is there. Provided you know the keys. . ."

The Commander, still standing, turned and looked down at her.

"Go ahead."

"When the downsizing orders came through, as each ship went through refit, new specs were added to the databanks. The originals were left." She lifted her shoulders. "Just in case, I suppose."

"Downsizing orders?"

"The CommFleet Order . . . about five years ago . . . the one that was to reduce fleet energy consumption by thirty percent, except for the First and Fifth fleets, and, of course, the scouts."

"Did the rest of the galaxy downsize as well?" the commander snapped. "Forget that," he added abruptly. "Planetside at the time." He paused before continuing. "Was there any official explanation?"

Relyea cocked her head to one side. "Then I was number two on the Bolivar, chief tech ops, not on admin, but I recall the official reason was that an analysis of the Fleet had shown that in ninety-eight percent of all operations no more than fifty percent of the available power levels was ever required. Don't hold me to the exact numbers, but that was the general idea."

"Too much peacefime." He frowned. "About the specifications?"

"Yes. The new ones are under 'Ship Specifications-downsized.' As you'd expect . . ."

"If one knew," added the Commander.

"If one knew."

The five by five cabin seemed to shrink, though it was more than twice the size of most cabins on the cruiser.

"If I might ask . . . Captain," ventured the technician.

"Ask."

"How did you end up with the Fleurdilis?"

The commander smiled. The senior technician, for her more than thirty years of service, shrank from the expression.

"Because someone wants to file me away, preferably to make a mess of it as well, Relyea, and I don't intend to." The hawk-yellow eyes bored into her. "Now. What other technical changes and booby traps are buried in this obsolescent excuse for a fighting ship?"

"That would be hard to say, Captain."

"Don't care how hard or how long. You either know, or you don't. If you know, start telling me. If you don't, tell me, and go and find out. If I find out before you, we'll discuss your request for a transfer."

"You aren't serious . . ."

"Relyea, I am very serious. We have orders to break orbit for my first patrol in two standard weeks. I intend to know the personnel background on every crew member cold before we break. Same for technical specs. Same for the teamwork that exists or doesn't."

"Captain, I doubt that any line officer has requested or learned the technical details of his command."

"I did, and I will here. As for the others, I wouldn't be surprised. Precedent is irrelevant. By the way, can you install a power diverter from the screens and grav fields to the drives?"

"Could be done, I suppose."

"Good. Let me see your proposal by, say, 1800, tomorrow."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Without full screen power, at least ought to be able to get to hell and gone out of trouble."

Relyea nodded slowly.

"Anything else I should know?" asked the captain.

The senior technician frowned, looked at the deck, then into the hawk yellow eyes. She looked back at the deck. Finally she stared at the wall.

The captain waited, knowing this time he could not afford to push.

The technician cleared her throat, once, twice.

The senior Commander slowly folded the older schematics, until they were small enough to fit into the single drawer under the console.

"Personnel . . . have you studied any . . . ?"

"Taken a quick scan through the entire crew."

"Your initial reaction?" The brisk voice was now tentative.

"Take some work to shape up."

Relyea nodded once.

Again the captain smiled the smile that flared like a predator's before he spoke.

"Noticed a few other things, Relyea. Not one senior rating with time in grade left. Not one outstanding performance score. Forty percent of the crew transferred in within the last three standard months. The scheduled refit postponed until after our first two patrols. Are those the sorts of things you're suggesting?"

The senior technician frowned, "Outside of the specs, you seem to have found out a great deal in the three days you've been aboard."

"One thing I haven't found out, Relyea. Most important of all."

"And that is, ser?"

"Who I can trust. Who is responsible."

The senior technician swallowed. Swallowed again. "Captain . . . you give us orders. We'll get them done."

The senior commander nodded. "Understand." His voice was surprisingly soft. "I understand, Chief Technician. And I'll make it clear, quite clear, that you are the senior technician."

"Thank you, Captain." Relyea's voice picked up. "Do you want a quick rundown on what the other spec changes are and the difficulties? Now? Or later?"

"Can you run it into the system, under, 'Captain's Specs,' for me to study later tonight?"

"Give me two or three hours."

The captain nodded. "Tomorrow," he added, "right at 1400, Relyea, you'll take me on a tech walk-through. Want to meet every one of your techs. Every last one. Let them see me, see that line and tech work together."

He turned directly to the thin faced and older-looking woman. "I will work through my senior tech, and the senior tech will work for the captain and for the good of the ship."