Commander Kneale’s face set. There was no particular emotion in his expression, only assurance. “Most of you have heard this before. Listen anyway. We are the Staff Side of the finest starship in existence today, the Empress of Earth. Ship Side navigates us to our destinations. The Purser’s section provides the passengers with the services they require, as they would require them in a dirtside hotel. Engineering makes sure that the fusion drive propels us in deep space and the magnetic motors land us and lift us off safely. All of these things are important.
“But we are important as well,” Kneale continued. The level of his voice had been rising by imperceptible degrees as he spoke. “Staff Side is the lubricant that makes our Empress the success she is. You’ll hear Ship’s officers mutter that all the Staff is for is to keep passengers from pestering the real officers . . . but without those passengers, there wouldn’t be a need to navigate the Empress anywhere.”
Kneale’s voice boomed. This wasn’t a lecture or even a pep talk, Ran realized. It was a sermon by a fire-breathing preacher so committed to his beliefs that he would willingly die for them.
“You’ll hear stewards say that they do the real work,” the commander said, “while Staff Side just swanks . . . but if the unexpected occurs, if Third Class riots, or a couple starts fighting with steak knives in the First Class dining room, we’re the ones who’ll deal with it If all the engineering officers collapse from food poisoning, we’ll nurse the Empress home. I did that on the Captal de Buch between Lusignan and Arcwell, and any officer who serves under me is qualified to do the same!”
Kneale stood splay-legged and set his massive fists against the points of his hips. “The Empress of Earth succeeds, and she will succeed, because we of Staff Side will make her succeed, whatever it may cost us personally. If there’s anybody here who doesn’t think he or she is capable of giving one hundred percent to Trident Starlines if the necessity arises—tell me now, because that’ll be easier than having me learn the truth the hard way.”
He glared around the lounge. Nobody spoke.
Ran met the commander’s eyes without expression. His lips were in a state of repose, neither tense nor smiling.
Commander Kneale broke into a grin. “So long as you know I mean it, children,” he said mildly.
“We know you do, sir,” said Mohacks.
Kneale unclenched his fists and tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Very good,” he said. “Mr. Colville, do you have any questions before we break up?”
Ran cleared his throat. “I intend to be worthy of the Empress of Earth and of the trust Trident Starlines has put on me, sir,” he said. The truth was more complex than that, but that was true.
He turned and looked at Mohacks and Babanguida. The faces of both ratings froze. “I intend to be a good officer to the men under me, but I understand that I am their officer. It’s part of my duty to see to it that they do theirs.”
“Yes sir!” Mohacks said. Babanguida’s face could have been cast in concrete.
“For the rest,” Ran said, facing around to Kneale again, “it’s like I said before. Passengers are passengers, ships are ships. I have a lot to learn about the Empress, but there’s nothing in my duties aboard her that I haven’t accomplished on lesser vessels.”
Kneale smiled vaguely. “Are there any questions for Mr. Colville, then?” he said.
“Ah, sir?” asked Crewman Blavatsky. Her voice was hesitant from doubt that enlisted personnel were included in the offer.
Ran nodded. “Yes?”
“Is your family from Earth, then?” Blavatsky said.
“It’s a full ten years since I’ve set foot on the planet, Blavatsky,” Ran said. He chuckled in the well-tested belief that good humor would deflect attention from the way he avoided answering the question. “I left Earth at the end of Officers’ Academy, and I haven’t been back since.”
“If there are no further questions,” Kneale said calmly, “you’re all dismissed in accordance with the duty roster. Have a safe leave, people.”