“I am proud of you, standing up to Freeman so boldly, though. The little shit should never have picked on one of my officers.”

The Admiral eyed him. “In case things do heat up, I would appreciate having you under my command. What would you want, hm? A Battleship? A Carrier? The Vespid’s Kiss may have an opening for Captain soon. She’s a good ship-“

“Thank you Admiral, but no,” Brooks said. “I do not wish to give up command of the Craton. I will if you order me, but . . . not if I have a choice.”

The Admiral looked disappointed, but nodded.

“She is an incredible ship. I wish we had ten thousand more like her . . . And I can’t say you haven’t done well commanding her. I wouldn’t normally want a city ship going into action much, but . . . with her, under your command, I have full confidence that you’ll bring everyone back home.”

Brooks wished he could carry the same confidence, but he did not voice that.

“I have to admit, when you joined the Voidfleet Academy at your age, I already had my eye on you,” Vandoss continued. “Taking over command of the Calliope Muse, when the Captain and ExCom were dead? Destroying the ship and taking the terrorists with it? It was the kind of action I’d expect from a good captain in the Voidfleet. When you then joined up, I watched your career closely. You impressed me in the Academy, and at Terris you did the same thing and took command when you had to. I knew then that you would always make the hard decisions when no one else could.”

Vandoss clapped him on the back, but Brooks could not feel any real pride.

He had never told the man, never told anyone, the truth about his service on the Calliope Muse. Signed on as junior lieutenant, one of three bridge officers. The ship had somehow been diverted through a temporary jumpgate the Modreb terrorists had set up, pulling them out early.

He’d wanted to scuttle the ship immediately – use the explosion to hide their escape pods going back through the gate.

But the Captain had laughed at the idea.

“This was always the plan, Brooks, don’t be naive. Did you really think you were getting paid this much just for hauling algae vats?”

The plan had always been to let the terrorists take the ship. It had been commissioned, paid for by them through intermediaries. This was just the unofficial way of passing it off.

If it had been just pirates he might have let it go.

But the terrorists were, he knew, out for blood. What they might do with a heavy-haul cruiser this size was unimaginable. Ramming it into an inhabited station or planet could kill tens of millions.

There were two million Free Credits in it for him, if he just went along with it, the First Mate had told him. Easy money, spendable anywhere outside the Sapient Union.

What choice did he have?

He’d taken his side-arm and shot the Captain and First-Mate. Gotten the rest of the crew, who he knew were innocent, into the escape pods.

As the terrorists had closed in, he’d told them he was having trouble with the last pod. They were looking for trouble from without, not within – and when they were close enough, he blew off the cargo tanks straight at them.

Predictably, they’d shot them, but the debris was already moving so fast that it damaged them. They couldn’t escape the blast of the freighter when he’d detonated it.

His pod had made it through the gate just before the debris and shrapnel caught up. The gate was wrecked, but two days later he’d come out where he’d expected – where he had hoped, back at Gohhi Station.

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Everyone called him a hero, and he’d let them believe that the Captain and First Mate had been killed in an ambush. Met their widows and children, who had no idea of what their family had been about to do.

It had been an easy way out to lie, to pretend they’d been heroes.

There was a price on his head, he knew. Three of the other crew from the Calliope had been taken in the years since, and met ugly ends.

It all left a bad taste in his mouth.

Vandoss seemed to make nothing of his silence, just watching out into space again.

“I still remember when we thought it was all our birthright,” he said. “Before we met the Beetle-Slugs and Moth-Owls and Squids. Sometimes I still wish . . .” He trailed off. “But they’re good allies. I can’t begrudge them.”

Brooks said nothing still, waiting for the Admiral to continue. “They don’t lie to us, not all the time. But these Shoggoths . . . They never tell us the goddamn truth. I was glad to see their Ambassador squirming when Freeman grilled him like that. Hell If he hadn’t put your career on the line, I’d have backed him up.”

Brooks finally spoke. “I trust Ambassador Kell a hell of a lot more than I trust Freeman.”

A look of disappointment crossed Vandoss’s face. “You’re not that naive, Brooks.”

“It’s not naivete, it’s experience. The Shoggoths have their secrets, but they’re not taking aim at anyone, not in my experience.”

Vandoss looked skeptical. “What do you think it is they want, then?”

Brooks looked back out at the stars. “I wish I could say.”

“I believe,” Vandoss said sourly. “That one day we’ll find out – and we’re not going to like it. I just hope that by then it’s not too late.”

----------------------------------------

As Aoks Darhan’s words wound down, Zeela considered the file that was Brooks’s speech. He’d created it before he’d left, but no one – not even her – had viewed it yet. She could have, but it was completed, requiring no input.

She’d wanted to see it with fresh eyes like everyone else.

She could imagine just what Sulp would say if she told him that; that he hoped Brooks put in a tirade against everyone on the ship he hated, told them to shove their heads up an exhaust port, and that fuck it, he was out.

It probably was what Sulp would have said in that position, she thought, smiling.

Most screens on the ship were showing the speeches, taking place just an hour before the voting itself started.

The screen lit up, and Captain Brooks was before the crowd.

It was not a professional scene – at least, Zeela had not set it up for him. But Brooks apparently knew at least a little about composition, for he was framed well, the angle and lighting heightening his natural features in a positive way.

He sat casually, at his desk, ordered and neat, and seemed perfectly at ease.

“My fellow citizens of the Sapient Union; my family of the Craton. I am Ian Brooks. At this time, I am not able to call myself Captain; you all know of this. Yet I will return, one way or another.

“Two years ago, when I became captain of the Craton, it was a daunting task. I was not only commanding a starship unique among humanity’s fleets, but one that was a city in space. Yet I was made welcome by all of you.

“It was immensely helpful. And then, when I had only been here three months, and you chose to name me your mayor, I was as honored as I was humbled. I have never sought to be a public servant, but as a wise person told me – we should be led by those who will step up even if they don’t want to.”

Zeela smiled a little. Those were some of the words she had used to sway him into accepting the nomination.

“I have tried to the best of my ability to be the man you put your faith in. I know that I have, as Captain, made decisions that have risked lives. But these were decisions that I had to make as Captain. Decisions that were the right move for grander scales than our ship.”

He leaned forward. “Should you think someone else will do better – then I will have been honored to be your Mayor, and will hold nothing but gratitude for that trust you showed in me.”

A hint of a smile touched his lips. “I have every confidence that I will return soon, still as your Captain. Until then.”

The message ended, and Zeela found herself smiling. It was a short address, much shorter than Aoks Darhan’s had been.

She scanned the public feeds for people’s comments and interactions. There were many voices in support of Brooks, she found. Many people did not view their Mayor as being someone who handled details, but a figurehead for the community. And to them, the Captain also being mayor felt only obvious.

Others felt Brooks’ confidence and calmness brought a serenity and harmony to their lives. Well, not always worded such, but she saw that sentiment.

Still, others did feel Darhan had some strong points. There was something to be said for separation of power. Some people felt Brooks took too many risks with the ship, despite it being a city as well. It was a growing sentiment, though still not that strong, she thought.

And while understandable, everyone who lived on a city-ship chose to, knowing that it inherently faced greater danger than any city-cylinder of Sol or the other heavily-colonized systems. Yet despite that, the Craton was considered a highly desirable place to live. People would have almost no difficulty leaving, if they applied for it, and a million others would eagerly take their place.

When the election came, Brooks would win, she thought. It would be a landslide for him once again.