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Authors: Jody Lynn Nye
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uncertain as to what to do.
The arrival of my mother changed all that. When she was announced by the steward at the gate, Plet’s back straightened like a yardstick. The others, taking their cue from her, stood to rigid attention.
In glided Admiral Tariana Kinago Loche. Since my prepubescent years, I had been a good foot taller than she, but I would never match her in formidable presence. Not that she seemed dangerous, something that her foes had found to their dismay upon encountering this small, slim, youthful-looking lady with her fresh, peach-kissed complexion, her sea-blue eyes, and her marvelous caramel-colored tresses. Tonight, those tresses were arranged high in a waterfall of waves and ringlets, just brushing the shoulders of an impeccable dress uniform. Her pale blue trousers bore a stripe down the side that was not white for an admiral, but platinum for the First Space Lord. Some had mistaken the two to their deep and pathetic sorrow. To crash upon the rocks of my mother’s asperity was indeed to break up and sink without a trace.
The maternal unit approached. I feared for the worst, but she pulled my head down and kissed me on the cheek.
“Well, my dragonlet,” she said. “Is this in an attempt to make up for your outrageous behavior?”
“I am afraid that would take several lifetimes of expiation,” I said.
“So true. Have you been to see your father to say goodbye?”
“Yes, I have,” I said. “I brought him a model of the Rodrigo that I made myself. It is a proper poppet of the ship, since I included a shaving of metal from the underside of the captain’s chair. My chair,” I corrected myself. Mother nodded approvingly.
“That is right, Thomas. You are not a captain yet. Commander Parsons has the highest naval rank of your company. You lead by courtesy. Please do not forget that. I don’t want to have to read another report of you usurping his position.”
“We work together!” I protested. “Parsons himself will tell you that my ideas are sound ones.”
I stopped to cross mental fingers. But my mother had always been adept at reading my mind.
“But you would rather seek forgiveness than ask permission.”
“There never is time to ask permission,” I said, with all truthfulness. “Every time I went against his wishes on my last mission, it had been in the heat of battle, so to speak. It was act or be acted upon.”
“That is the risk you take when there is a chain of command. Don’t assume you know everything, Thomas. In fact,” she added, with a twinkle in her sea-blue eyes that was the physical trait we shared most closely, “don’t assume you know anything. It will keep you out of trouble more frequently than it will put you in it.”
“I will carve your words upon my heart, mother,” I said, leaning over to kiss her again.
“See that you do. And have pity upon young Captain Naftil. He is not as immune to our charms as most. It is his only flaw as a commander. He has a long future in the navy, and I don’t want my own son preventing him from attaining promotion.”
“I will treat him with the respect he deserves,” I said. “You have my solemn promise.”
Mother sighed and shook her head.
“You will treat him as the captain under whose authority you travel, my dear. Don’t forget that. Now, will you make me known to your crew?”
I made the introductions with all due propriety. Mother advanced her hand to shake first with Plet, who had gone so rigid I feared she might implode, then to the others in turn.
“This is such an unruly crowd,” Mother confided to them, with the ease she always showed nervous recruits. “I’m afraid they may topple me off my feet! I would greatly appreciate it if you would accompany me. My escort has not yet arrived.” It was a white lie. I knew she hadn’t brought an escort. After all, she was my mother, this was my party, and she was related to over eighty percent of the guests. But the excuse served to electrify my
The arrival of my mother changed all that. When she was announced by the steward at the gate, Plet’s back straightened like a yardstick. The others, taking their cue from her, stood to rigid attention.
In glided Admiral Tariana Kinago Loche. Since my prepubescent years, I had been a good foot taller than she, but I would never match her in formidable presence. Not that she seemed dangerous, something that her foes had found to their dismay upon encountering this small, slim, youthful-looking lady with her fresh, peach-kissed complexion, her sea-blue eyes, and her marvelous caramel-colored tresses. Tonight, those tresses were arranged high in a waterfall of waves and ringlets, just brushing the shoulders of an impeccable dress uniform. Her pale blue trousers bore a stripe down the side that was not white for an admiral, but platinum for the First Space Lord. Some had mistaken the two to their deep and pathetic sorrow. To crash upon the rocks of my mother’s asperity was indeed to break up and sink without a trace.
The maternal unit approached. I feared for the worst, but she pulled my head down and kissed me on the cheek.
“Well, my dragonlet,” she said. “Is this in an attempt to make up for your outrageous behavior?”
“I am afraid that would take several lifetimes of expiation,” I said.
“So true. Have you been to see your father to say goodbye?”
“Yes, I have,” I said. “I brought him a model of the Rodrigo that I made myself. It is a proper poppet of the ship, since I included a shaving of metal from the underside of the captain’s chair. My chair,” I corrected myself. Mother nodded approvingly.
“That is right, Thomas. You are not a captain yet. Commander Parsons has the highest naval rank of your company. You lead by courtesy. Please do not forget that. I don’t want to have to read another report of you usurping his position.”
“We work together!” I protested. “Parsons himself will tell you that my ideas are sound ones.”
I stopped to cross mental fingers. But my mother had always been adept at reading my mind.
“But you would rather seek forgiveness than ask permission.”
“There never is time to ask permission,” I said, with all truthfulness. “Every time I went against his wishes on my last mission, it had been in the heat of battle, so to speak. It was act or be acted upon.”
“That is the risk you take when there is a chain of command. Don’t assume you know everything, Thomas. In fact,” she added, with a twinkle in her sea-blue eyes that was the physical trait we shared most closely, “don’t assume you know anything. It will keep you out of trouble more frequently than it will put you in it.”
“I will carve your words upon my heart, mother,” I said, leaning over to kiss her again.
“See that you do. And have pity upon young Captain Naftil. He is not as immune to our charms as most. It is his only flaw as a commander. He has a long future in the navy, and I don’t want my own son preventing him from attaining promotion.”
“I will treat him with the respect he deserves,” I said. “You have my solemn promise.”
Mother sighed and shook her head.
“You will treat him as the captain under whose authority you travel, my dear. Don’t forget that. Now, will you make me known to your crew?”
I made the introductions with all due propriety. Mother advanced her hand to shake first with Plet, who had gone so rigid I feared she might implode, then to the others in turn.
“This is such an unruly crowd,” Mother confided to them, with the ease she always showed nervous recruits. “I’m afraid they may topple me off my feet! I would greatly appreciate it if you would accompany me. My escort has not yet arrived.” It was a white lie. I knew she hadn’t brought an escort. After all, she was my mother, this was my party, and she was related to over eighty percent of the guests. But the excuse served to electrify my
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