“Wait,” Apollonia said. “Joining the . . . response thingy means I don’t have to study?”

Jaya’s disapproving frown made Apollonia immediately reconsider her words. But they did seem to sum up just what Jaya had just said to her.

“Not exactly,” Jaya said. “I said that it will count as part of your necessary practical experience. If you did not do them now, then you would have to get these practical experiences later. But it does not mean that you will not have to study at all.”

“But it’s still at least a break from study,” Apollonia said with a grin.

“You have just gotten a break from study,” Jaya noted dryly. “Going to Earth.”

“That wasn’t exactly a vacation,” Apollonia said.

Well – the first part had kind of been that. But the second half had been stressful as all hell.

“If you keep finding excuses to not do what you need to do to chase your dreams,” Jaya said, “then one day you will find yourself old and with nothing accomplished.”

“But will I be tired?” Apollonia asked reasonably. At least, she felt it was a reasonable question.

Jaya did not seem to think so. “I do not mean to be a slave driver, Apollonia, but I am trying to help you onto the path you wish. I am pleased – truly – that you wish to help the ship. It is the exact kind of attitude an officer should have. But just do not forget that not all things are exciting or enjoyable. Yet we still have to do them.”

Apollonia could feel another joke on her tongue, but swallowed and instead tried to consider Jaya’s words.

The woman had played pretty straight with her – and she was right, she had been helping.

“So I’ll keep studying in the evening,” Apollonia said. “If I’m not . . . like run into the ground by training.”

Jaya smiled brightly, suddenly looking far less intimidating, and Apollonia found that she was warmed by it.

“That is a good plan, Apollonia. And if you still wish my help – contact me. I may be busy in the coming days, but I will try to find time to help you.”

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

Pirra had never done as much desk-work as she had in the last few days.

As acting head of Response Team One, she was the top field commander – and that meant a lot of field exercises.

But the Craton was not so large that it maintained a lot of training instructors for the volunteer units. And when events like this occurred, it meant everyone, including field commanders, had to step into new roles.

This wasn’t all a mystery to her, of course. The fact that she might have to take over for Iago had always been a possibility, and she had always thought she’d been ready.

How had Urle taken to it, she wondered. When he’d stepped in for Brooks, it had been at port, but he’d done it. She hadn’t seen enough to judge the man, and some part of her wondered if their ExCom was actually suited to being captain. He was over-qualified for most roles, but . . .

She let the thought go. She was too busy. Holes in rosters had begun to appear as training had weeded out people who were simply not fit for the duty for which they’d volunteered. At least she’d avoided that pitfall with Squats on Sand; with his physical health records, even if the other issues weren’t there, she did not think he could make it. As strong as Abmon inherently were, he was a desk officer who did not have a high fitness level.

Kessissiin’s squad had an opening. Not from a drop-out, but from injury. Private Singh had cracked his collarbone in exercises, and it would take ten days before he could rejoin heavy duties.

She didn’t have any obvious candidates there . . .

Hell, she wasn’t even sure who to make her Acting Lieutenant.

On paper, everyone in Response Team One were competent and qualified. And Sergeant Bascet had stepped up, but he’d told her of his nervousness and lack of confidence in his leadership during the events in the Terris System. By the time he had brought the team back to Monitor One and recovered her, he had been quite happy to give up command.

It wasn’t what she wanted in her sub-commander . . .

Should she look outside her team? She wasn’t sure. She hated the idea, but she did have to fill a gap in the roster. Who could she transfer, though . . . ?

A beep in her system alerted her to someone at her door.

“Enter,” she said.

The door opened, and all her concerns melted away as she saw Iago Caraval standing there, grinning ear to ear.

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“Iago,” Pirra said warmly, standing up. “I’m glad to see you! And you as well, Dr. Logus.”

Iago’s smile was at once reassuring and familiar, and for a moment she could almost fool herself into thinking that things were back to normal.

But she was the one behind the desk, acting in his stead. And after his smile faded, Iago’s face went back to how it had been looking lately; gaunt and tired.

“It’s odd being on this side of the desk,” he said. “But it suits you being in command, I think.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“You don’t have to call me sir,” he replied with a laugh.

“You’ll always be sir to me,” she replied, smiling.

Logus seemed to have found their discourse quite interesting. He said nothing, merely watching, but Iago suddenly seemed aware of that fact.

“Ah, well – this isn’t a social call,” he said suddenly. “Dr. Logus has approved me for light duty, so I’m here.” He snapped to attention. “Volunteering for whatever duty you see fit, Lieutenant Commander.”

Pirra had figured as much, but she was surprised. Iago had been struggling for some time, and she truly wasn’t sure that he was up for this sort of thing . . .

“What kind of role were you thinking?” she asked Logus, not responding to Iago yet.

“Not a full return to duty,” Logus said. “But perhaps in a secondary team.”

“I was thinking one of the backup teams, myself. It might do some of the volunteers good to have a veteran hand in there,” Iago suggested.

It was a good thought; but Pirra had concerns. If she put Iago into a team with three rookies, he would all-too easily take over. She didn’t want to put him in command, but what rookie wouldn’t want to bow to his experience?

She needed a team that had another hand in it that she trusted to not just bow to him by reputation alone.

The list of teams panned up in her HUD, and she looked through the list. Nearly every experienced squad leader had served under Iago, most having been trained by him.

Kessissiin’s name popped up in one. He wasn’t actually commander in his volunteer squad, but only by dint of being freshly transferred to the Craton. The team would only be pressed into action by Kai Yong Fan’s express order, in the most dire of circumstances – which she did not expect.

And they were down a member . . .

Kessissiin had never met Iago before . . . she could see that working. Her system ran the numbers, trying to work out if this unit could cooperate well.

It came up with a very good rating for them – the two would likely get along well.

That would work.

“All right,” she told Iago. “I’ll look into getting you a position, Lt. Commander Caraval. Report to Team Leader F in one hour for more instructions – and thank you for volunteering.”

The man smiled at her, years dropping from his face. “Thank you, Pirra.”

She saluted him, and he left.

“Not you,” she said to Logus as he also turned. The man did not seem too surprised, but Pirra waited until the door closed before speaking.

She gestured sharply for him to sit, and then sat down across from him.

“What are you thinking here, doctor?” she asked, keeping her voice level with effort.

She liked – no she loved – the idea of getting Iago back. But this felt too soon.

“I’m not entirely comfortable with it, either,” Logus admitted. “But when he came to me and asked for my blessing, I realized that this could be a good step for him. He’s reaching out – and we need to take his hand. If we tell him no now, it’s going to shake his confidence even more.”

“And if things get serious, and he can’t take it?” Pirra asked sharply.

“If things were to get serious, you have the option of not using him,” Logus replied. “Right now, I’m thinking solely of him in training – we can get him back among people, back doing what he knows how to do. And we can compare everything to his baseline biometrics; mental, physical, the whole nine yards.”

Pirra didn’t know the expression, but her system informed her, and she took a deep breath, leaning back in her seat.

She could see the logic, but she was not certain. “Is this an official recommendation?” she asked.

“To be honest, no,” Logus replied. “The decision is entirely yours, in the end.”

She knew that the doctor only wanted to help Iago – and she wanted that, too. Plus, he was right. This was a great chance to get a real grip on how he would hold up under training. Even if he did great, she wouldn’t want to send him into action. She could always ground him.

She’d hate to do that to him, though. She wouldn’t take it well if the situation was reversed.

Logus cleared his throat, pulling her attention back.

“Maybe we should bring this to Kai,” Pirra said. Kai Yong Fan was the head of Response. She was really more of an administrator, though an extremely competent one who made sure that Response always had what it needed.

“Pirra,” Logus said gently. “Response Field Commander has final say on personnel in this situation. I am sorry – I truly am – to throw this on you. It’s not fair to you. But at the end of the day, you have to make the call. When you agreed to go behind that desk, you took on these responsibilities.”

Pirra sat up straight, eyes widening, crest rising. She felt a burst of heat in her chest – the sudden adrenal swell that could turn into rage or terror.

But she fought it down.

Because Logus was right.

Even if she’d never intended to be behind this desk, she was field commander now. Kai Yong Fan was twenty years removed from the field, and Pirra was now the most senior active Response Officer.

“I also considered,” Logus continued, “that if trouble did come, then Iago would feel compelled to put himself into action. Without orders, equipment, or back-up.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“Because it’s in his nature. He runs towards danger; much like yourself. It’s a key part of the psyche of Response Officers.”

Pirra let out a slow whistle. “I think you’re right. Sky, how am I going to tell Elliot that I did this?”

“I’m sure he already knows,” Logus told her. “Elliot is still here, and I think giving Iago training to focus on will help them both.”

“Wait – Elliot is still on the ship?” she asked sharply.

“Yes,” Logus told her. “Against my suggestion, against everyone’s, Iago refused to disembark him in Sol. He’s the only child left on the ship.”

“I am surprised he doesn’t want to stay with him . . .”

“It was an unwise decision, but if he and Elliot are only sitting together, I fear their anxiety will be worse.”

Pirra nodded. “I see.”

Logus shrugged. “In the end, we can’t actively scan people’s brains every moment. We still have to just use our best judgment – and make the call.”

That sounded to Pirra like an excuse, but she couldn’t disagree.

“Thank you for your help, Doctor.”

He saluted her. “And you, Lt. Commander. I know the job has a weight, and one I can’t truly understand. But for what it’s worth, I respect you for taking it.”

She accepted his compliment with a nod, but said nothing. The man left, and she found herself feeling hollow, with only a little residual anger at him.

Wishing that someone else could just take responsibility because you didn’t want to wasn’t how a grown being should act.

This job did have weight, she thought. But she also knew that she wasn’t feeling it – not yet. She wouldn’t until someone died under her command, under her order.

And when that came, she’d just have to deal with it.