after that.
But he went where he was told. He knew well enough what station justice offered.
Chapter VII
It was executive council on Dublin, and to be the centerpiece of such a meeting
was no comfortable position. Seventy-six of the posted and the retired crew… and
the Old Man himself sitting in the center seat of the table of captains which
faced the rest of the room: Michael Reilly, gray-haired with rejuv and frozen
somewhere the biological near side of forty. Ma’am was in the first row after
the Helm seats, in that first huge lounge behind the bridge that was the posteds
lounge when it was not being the council room. And with Ma’am was the rest of
Com; and Scan on the other side of the aisle, behind the rest of Helm, and that
was Megan and Geoff and others. Allison sat with impassive calm, hands folded,
trying to look easy in the face of all the power of Dublin, all the array of her
mother and aunts and grandmother and cousins once and several times removed. She
was all too conscious of Curran’s empty seat beside hers, Helm 22; and Deirdre
missing from 23; and Neill sitting in 24 and trying to look as innocent as she.
The Old Man and the other captains had a nest of papers on the long table in
front of them. She knew most of the content of them well enough. Some of it she
did not, and that worried her.
The Old Man beckoned, and Will, who was the senior lawyer in the family, came up
to the table and bent over there and talked a while to the captains in general.
Heads nodded, lips pursed, a long slow conversation, and not a paper shuffled
elsewhere in the room. The rest of the council listened, eavesdropping; and
words fell out like papers and liability; and piracy, and Union forces.
Will went back to his seat then, and the board of captains straightened its
papers while Allison tried not to clench her hands. Her gut was knotted up; and
somewhere at her back was her mother, who had to be feeling something mortal at
her daughter’s insanity. People never quit their ships. Kin stayed together,
lifelong; and daughters and sons were there, forever. There was Connie left, to
be sure—Connie, waiting elsewhere, not posted, and not entitled here. There were
friends and cousins, Megan’s support at a time like this. Allison was numb,
convinced that she was committing a betrayal of more than one kind—and still
there was no more stopping it than she could stop breathing. Win or lose, she
was marked by the attempt.
“Your entire watch,” the Old Man said, “21, isn’t represented here.”
“Sir,” she said quietly, “they’re settling a situation involving Lucy. Before it
gets out of hand.”
“I’ll refrain from comment,” the Old Man said. “Mercifully.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to approve the request for financing. Contingent on the rest of your
watch applying for this transfer as you represent.”
“Yes, sir.” A wave of cold and relief went through her. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’ve phrased this as a temporary tour.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ll retain your status then. Your watch in Helm will not be vacated.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. That was the risk they had run. Council supported them,
then. “Thank you for the others, sir.”
“I’ll be talking to you,” the Old Man said. “Privately. Now. Council’s
dismissed. Come to the bridge.”
“Sir,” she said very softly, and caught Neill’s eye, two vacant seats removed,
as others began to rise—Neill, whose brow was broken out in sweat. He gave her a
nod. She got up, looked back across the rows of chairs for Megan and Geoff, and
met her mother’s stare as if there were no one else in the room for the moment.
Her mother nodded slowly, and it sent a wave of anguish through her, that small
gesture: it was all right; it was—if not understood—accepted. Thank you, she
said: her mother lipread. Then she turned away toward the forward door the Old
Man had taken, which led down the corridor to the bridge.
Little was working… in this heart of hearts of Dublin, most of the boards dark