Simultaneity

January 795 U.C.

Commodore Cazerne showed up in Annerose’s small office in the military affairs headquarters with little preamble. Since he was her direct superior, she supposed he didn’t need much of a reason to come to her office, but he had a tendency to startle when he knocked on her door at the most random of times.

She smiled and saluted when he came in. “Good afternoon, Commodore.”

“Afternoon, Lieutenant,” he said. “I’m sorry to come here and pester you.”

“It’s not a problem, sir. I have that report on the proposed sixth fleet renovations, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Oh, no. Well, I’ll take it from you anyway, but I came to have a more personal conversation.”

“What is it, sir?”

“May I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair on the other side of Annerose’s desk. It had a small embroidered pillow on it. She nodded, and he moved the pillow out of the way and took a seat. “So, first of all, don’t look so tense,” he said.

“I’ll try, sir,” she said, though her hands folded atop her desk definitely still held tension in them.

“I’ve come here to talk about your performance review.”

“Ah.”

“It shouldn’t surprise you to learn that you’ve done well all around, and I’m recommending you for a promotion.”

She was surprised by this, and her eyes widened a little bit. Cazerne noticed and smiled a little, saying, “Did you think you weren’t going to be promoted?”

“I haven’t been a lieutenant for very long, sir.”

“Yes, you have. Besides, for academy graduates, that’s just a stepping stone. It’s time for you to have real, independent responsibility. I know you can handle it, so I don’t see any point in delaying.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “It makes me glad to know that you think so highly of me.”

“I’ve thought very highly of you since the day we met,” he said. “Anyway, since the promotion is sure to go through, there are a couple of other things that need to be addressed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“First of all, you’re moving out of the junior officer housing.”

“I’m fine living where I am,” Annerose said. “I like my apartment.”

“I’ll arrange it for you,” he said. “Consider it a personal favor, for you to have a nice house on Heinessen. I know what living in the junior officer housing is like, and I really would not wish it on anyone.”

“It’s really fine, sir. But if you insist.”

“I do.”

“Alright. Was there something else?”

“A promotion to lieutenant commander usually means a different assignment,” Cazerne said. Although he kept his face perfectly neutral, Annerose couldn’t help but feel like he was biting his own tongue to get the words out.

“Will you really miss me that much if I ask for a reassignment, sir?”

Cazerne laughed. “You’re my most competent subordinate. But I’m not going to trap you here, especially if there’s somewhere else you want to go. And you should probably experience what things are like elsewhere.” He paused for a second. “There will probably come a time, sooner rather than later, that I myself will no longer be in this position.” He frowned. “If you were even two years further into your career, you could take my place. As it stands, though, someone else will probably be brought in to replace me.”

“Where are you going to go?” Annerose asked, shocked. “Please don’t take offense, but I can’t really picture you anywhere else, sir.”

“It’s policy to give… most people a taste of the front lines, every once in a while. I wouldn’t be surprised if, upon my next promotion, I’m sent to command a rear line base or something of that nature.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, really,” Cazerne said. “Though perhaps I’m implying that I would not want your career to be stifled by you ending up under an incompetent commanding officer stepping in to replace me.”

“You really think I should request a different posting?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I have, I just-- it was idle speculation, a lot of it. I wasn’t planning on leaving at least until Reinhard graduates.”

“He’s a senior this year. Now’s the time.”

Annerose bit her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

“What is there to think about?”

“Where in particular I would like to go.”

“Hm, that’s fair. If you have preferences, I can certainly make the arrangements.”

“Can I have time to think about it? There’s someone I need to talk to.”

“Of course. It’s not expected you request a new posting immediately, just within six months or so.” He looked around her little office, at the picture of Reinhard, dressed in his school uniform, and her mother, on the desk. “I think you’ll understand why you might want to leave once you do get promoted. Things around here might begin to feel a little too small. I know you have ambitions.”

“I do?”

Cazerne smirked a little. “I feel we’ve had this conversation before.”

Annerose laughed, then. “Yes, probably, sir.”

“Well, that’s all I wanted to talk to talk about.”

“I have a lot to think over, then, sir,” Annerose said as Cazerne stood. On his way out the door, he stopped and turned.

“Oh, and von Müsel,” he said. “My wife invites you to dinner this Sunday, at seven.”

“I’d be happy to come,” Annerose said. “Please convey my thanks for the invitation.”

“I certainly will.”

That Sunday, Annerose dressed nicely, wearing a light, short sleeved white blouse and a long blue skirt. She rang the doorbell of the Cazerne’s house, admiring their flowerbeds and holding in her hand a children’s book that she had found for the young Charlotte.

When the door opened, Annerose was shocked that the person answering the door was neither Hortense, nor Commodore Cazerne, nor the exuberant Charlotte. Instead, there was a total stranger standing there, a young boy, maybe about ten, with platinum blonde hair and a friendly face, wearing an apron. Annerose quickly double checked the number on the door, thinking that perhaps she had absentmindedly walked up to the wrong house. But no, this was the Cazerne household, which she had visited many times in the past.

“You must be Lieutenant von Müsel!” the boy said. “Please, come in.”

Annerose, still confused, stepped inside the house. The boy held out his hand to shake, and she took it. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said, raising her voice at the end to indicate she wanted his name.

“Oh! I’m Julian-- Julian Minci.”

It was at this point that Cazerne came around the corner and saw that the introduction had been made. “I see you’ve met my houseguest,” he said. “Glad you can make it, von Müsel.”

“Houseguest?” Annerose asked.

“I’ll tell you the whole story over dinner,” Cazerne said.

Annerose was ushered further into the house, where she presented her gift to Charlotte and promised that she could read the book after dinner. She found Hortense in the kitchen, finishing up the big bowl of mashed potatoes. Hortense was pregnant again, though not far enough along to show very much.

“Want any help?” Annerose asked.

“You’re a dear. Here, bring this to the table.” She turned and handed Annerose the roast.

At dinner, they all discussed mundane things, with Hortense inquiring after how Reinhard’s summer program was going.

“It’s going well,” Annerose said. “He was surprised when he and his friend Fredrica-- you might know her father, Admiral Greenhill-- were assigned to the same base.” She turned to Cazerne. “You had a hand in that, right?”

He just smiled and shrugged, the answer obviously being yes.

“Well, he says thank you for it. I think Fredrica would prefer not to have meddling on her behalf because she doesn’t like to feel like there’s favoritism, but in this case, I’d say it’s all right.”

“It’s favoritism on behalf of your brother, instead of on her behalf, which I think is a different thing entirely,” Cazerne said. “So she can’t complain too much.”

Annerose laughed. “It’s true. I worked so hard to get them to become friends, so I’m glad that they eventually did.”

“Really?” Hortense asked. “Why?”

“Reinhard needs some encouragement in that department, occasionally,” Annerose said. “He… Well, maybe it’s not fair of me to gossip about him when he’s not around to defend himself.”

“You’re a good sister,” Hortense said. “Reinhard is lucky to have you.”

“Oh, I think he knows that quite well,” Annerose said with a laugh. “But enough about me and Reinhard, who always manages to steal the show, even when he’s not here. You said you were going to tell me about the young Mr. Minci?”

“Ah, yes,” Cazerne said. “Julian.” The boy in question smiled, somewhat uncomfortably at the sudden attention. “He’s been a very excellent guest for the past few weeks,” Cazerne said.

“I’m surprised you didn’t mention him in conversation before now,” Annerose said. “Are the two of you related?”

“No, ma’m, er, Lieutenant,” Julian said.

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to abate his nervousness with a smile. “You can just call me Annerose.” He nodded at her solemnly.

“Julian’s father used to work under me, before I knew you,” Cazerne said. “Unfortunately, he was killed several years ago. Julian had been living with his grandmother, but…”

Julian was poking his mashed potatoes into a flat layer on his plate, uncomfortably carving holes into them as the conversation turned to this subject. Annerose looked at him quite sympathetically. “It’s very nice of you to take him in.”

“Just for now,” Cazerne said. “I need to find a more permanent place for him to stay. It’s not good for a boy to have the instability of not having a permanent home.” He looked at Annerose as though he were measuring if she would be able to fit through a narrow hole.

“That’s very true,” Annerose said. “Reinhard coped with us coming to Heinessen well, when he was your age, but he had my mother and I. I imagine that this has been very hard for you.” Her voice was kind and sympathetic, and Julian smiled a little bit at her.

“I do my best.”

“That he certainly does,” Hortense said. “You’re a wonderful kid, Julian.”

He blushed, liking the praise. “What do you like to study in school, Julian?” Annerose asked.

“I like it all,” he said. “But I think literature is my favorite subject.”

“Really?” Annerose asked. “Why is that?”

He smiled a little, thinking about it. “I like learning how other people think,” he said. “And literature is the easiest way to do it.”

Annerose nodded. “Not the only way, though.”

“That’s true,” Julian said. “I don’t want to study it for my entire life. I just like it in school.”

“You’re far too young to have decided what you want to do with your entire life,” Annerose said.

“I want to be a soldier.”

From across the table, Cazerne gave her a kind of pitying look, one that she didn’t think Julian caught. “And why is that?”

“My father was one,” he said.

“We can all be thankful that we live in a country where the status of one’s father does not automatically decide the status of his children,” Annerose said. “I am grateful that I did not follow in the footsteps of my father.”

“But--” Julian began.

Hortense cut in, “Annerose is right that you have plenty of time to think about it, Julian. You should find what suits you. Perhaps you could become a famous chef. Julian helped me with the roast, and I think he did a wonderful job.”

“You did?” Annerose said. “It’s delicious.”

Again, he blushed a little. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

He seemed overall like a very sweet boy. Annerose liked him. She hadn’t been around many children in years, not since she herself was a child, but she did get the impression that Julian was very well spoken and behaved for a ten year old. He reminded her a little of Reinhard, but without some of the secret fire that she knew had always been part of him.

After dinner, Cazerne said to Julian, “Julian, why don’t you go read that book von Müsel brought to Charlotte, and tuck her into bed?”

“Of course, sir,” Julian said. He ran off, leaving the adults sitting around the table.

Hortense poured Annerose and Cazerne glasses of whiskey, then sat down herself with a hot cup of tea at the kitchen table with them.

“You sent him away very fast,” Annerose noted. “I assume it’s not because you don’t want him to see us drinking.”

“You remain an excellent judge of my motivations,” Cazerne said. He folded his hands on the table, as though he were about to deliver a particularly dry piece of bad news to one of the fleet higher-ups. Annerose took a preemptive sip of her drink. “I’m afraid that I have a very large personal favor to ask you.”

Annerose glanced at Hortense, who smiled a little, though it was a sad and wan smile.

“I’m happy to do anything that’s in my power,” Annerose said. “What do you need?”

“Don’t say things like that before you’ve even heard what I’m asking. I don’t want you to say no, but this isn’t the kind of thing that I can simply demand.”

“Please, tell me, then, sir.”

“It’s about Julian,” Hortense said.

“What about him?” Annerose asked, rather confused.

“He needs a place to live,” Cazerne said after a second. “We’re able to host him temporarily, but with the new baby on the way, it wouldn’t be right to have him around forever.”

“Does he not have any other relatives?”

“His grandmother was an imperial refugee, and she only had one son, his father.”

“No one on his mother’s side?”

“His mother was apparently estranged from them for quite some time, and no one has been able to track her down. She may not be alive. I don’t think Julian ever knew her.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“Indeed. He has not had an easy life at all, but he’s good natured despite it.”

“So, what do you need me to do for him?” Annerose asked.

Cazerne paused for a long second. “I know this is a huge request. I would like for you to take him in.”

“What?” Annerose asked. She had not anticipated this at all. How could she just… take responsibility for a child? The thought didn’t quite sink into her brain, because it came with so many auxiliary questions and concerns.

“You can say no,” Hortense said after it was clear that Annerose had finished processing the request. “But it would be a burden off my heart if you would say yes.”

“Under what legal authority can I even take in a random child?” Annerose asked.

“There’s a program in which war orphans can be placed into the homes of officers, as a sort of… introduction to military life. The fleet pays for their schooling, as well as providing a generous stipend for their care.”

“That seems beyond cruel,” Annerose pointed out. “If I were a war orphan, the last thing I would want to do would be to grow attached to another adult who could go off to space and die at any time.”

“It may be,” Cazerne said. “But it’s better than him having nowhere to go, and no one to turn to.”

“Is it?”

“Regardless of the morality of the program, it exists, and he’s enrolled in it. I would rather find him a home with someone that I trust, rather than leaving it to luck.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the most capable person I’ve ever had work under me. I know that you know how to take care of a child his age. I think you could enjoy having him around.”

“You’re putting me into nicer housing because of this?”

“Well…” Cazerne had been caught. “I won’t lie to you.”

“But you told me that I should think about getting a different position. What if I go to the front?”

“Your mother lives in Wrightsville, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“She could look after him while you’re on deployment.”

“That would be a lot to ask of her.”

“My own mother hated having an empty nest,” Cazerne said. “She might be more receptive to it than you imagine.”

“And what about Reinhard?”

“What about him?”

“He’ll be…” Annerose frowned. “Jealous.”

“Annerose,” Hortense said. “Reinhard is an adult. And a very capable one. Perhaps you’re selling him short.”

Annerose knew very well that Reinhard would be jealous, but she wasn’t going to force the point and make him look bad. “And how does Julian feel about you sending him away?”

“I’ve been as gentle and clear about this being a temporary arrangement as I can be,” Cazerne said. “He’s a very smart boy.”

“And how would he feel about coming to live with a random stranger? I’m not even old enough to be his mother.”

“How old are you?” Hortense asked.

“Twenty-four.”

“And how old was your mother when she had you?” Cazerne asked.

“That’s different than adopting a ten year old.”

“I don’t see how. Besides, it’s not adopting, really. More like a prolonged fostering.”

Annerose looked down at her hands, smoothing and worrying the fabric of her skirt. “What if I do something wrong?” she asked.

“You have always had too little faith in yourself,” Cazerne said. “I know you would do fine.”

“I--”

It was at that point they heard footsteps on the stairs. Julian stood with his hands in his pockets in the entry to the dining hall. “I put Charlotte to bed, sir,” he said. He looked down at his feet. “I heard you talking about me.”

“Come here Julian,” Cazerne said.

Julian took a few shuffling steps forward. Cazerne put his arm around his shoulder. “How would you feel about living with Lieutenant von Müsel?” he asked.

“I don’t want to be a burden on anyone,” Julian said.

Annerose felt a sudden, strong kinship with him, then. She looked at his childish face, wide, downcast eyes, and the slump of his shoulders. She remembered her younger self all too vividly: the girl-child who still lived somewhere inside her, desperate to be useful, willing to be used, not wanting her self to take up any more space than was necessary. It had been wrong for the world to shape her that way, then, and it was wrong for this little boy to feel that way now. She put herself aside. “You wouldn’t be-- aren’t-- a burden, Julian.”

He looked up at her.

“What I was saying to Commodore Cazerne-- I’m more worried about being able to give you the support you need.”

“I don’t need anything,” Julian said. “Just a place.”

Annerose’s heart twisted in a peculiar way. “You would have to be patient with me,” she said. “I don’t know anything about kids.”

“It’s okay,” Julian said. “You don’t have to take me.”

“No,” Annerose said, and she looked at Cazerne when she did, who seemed to be resisting putting a victorious smile on his face. “I would be happy for you to come live with me, Julian. If you want to, that is.”

She knew she was making a life changing decision, but there wasn’t any other choice that she could make. She put aside her own worries, her own ideas of what her future might have looked like, and she smiled as warmly as she could at the boy in front of her.

His eyes were wide.

“Do you want to come live with me? I know you don’t know me at all.”

He nodded a little. “Yes, Lieutenant von Müsel.”

She couldn’t back out now. The wheel being set in motion actually took some weight off of her. It was easier now to look at the situation and decide what had to be done. She smiled at Julian. “I’m glad.”

“Excellent,” Cazerne said, squeezing Julian’s shoulder. “I’ll work on getting the right paperwork squared away, for the both of you. You won’t have to worry about any of it.”

Annerose looked at him flatly, and he smiled to keep from cringing. She didn’t enjoy making her boss, whom she did respect, squirm, but he had backed her into a real corner.

“Do any of you want dessert?” Hortense asked. “I have a pecan pie that Charlotte doesn’t like, so she won’t be sad about us eating it all while she’s asleep.”

January 795 U.C.

Julian moved in with Annerose the same day that Annerose moved in to her new housing. Say what one would about Cazerne, he knew how to get things done quickly. Apparently, the whole moving situation had been precipitated by him watching one of his down the street neighbors make preparations to retire, thus freeing up the house that he had been living in. Annerose felt quite out of her depth on the street, surrounded by people of several ranks higher than herself. Cazerne told her not to worry about it, and Annerose tried to think through what the etiquette was for greeting her new neighbors, or perhaps her new neighbors’ wives. She was, she was fairly certain, the only female officer in the neighborhood. They were a vanishingly rare species, she was finding.

Annerose didn’t have a vast number of possessions, so it was only a few trips by car (and one trip by moving van, for all her furniture) to get all of her cardboard boxes out of the apartment she was vacating and move them into the house that seemed far, far too large for her.

When she was in the middle of carrying in the last car-load full of boxes into the house, with the door propped open, Cazerne walked down the sunny street and rang the doorbell, Julian tagging along at his side.

“I brought you some gifts, Lieutenant Commander,” he called in.

Annerose dropped the box onto the ground in the living room, a veritable pile of cardboard growing up around, feeling disorganized and overwhelmed. It reminded her of moving into her family’s old house on Odin, but this place was in far better repair. Annerose wiped her hands on her pants and came out to the front, squinting in the dust-mote filled light.

“Good morning, sir,” she said. “And good morning to you, Julian.”

“Good morning, ma’m,” Julian said. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair, which made him blink in surprise, though he didn’t duck out of the way.

“This is a housewarming gift,” Cazerne said. “I expect you will share it, though not with minors.” He held out a gift bag with a wine bottle poking out the top. Annerose took it.

“Very kind of you. I suppose I’ll have to save it until Reinhard comes to visit me over his winter break.”

“It shocks me that you won’t find any occasion to drink before then,” Cazerne said. “I thought you said you were meeting up with a friend from the academy in a bit.”

“We’ll see. I might not be in a drinking mood for that meeting,” Annerose said, involuntarily pursing her lips.

“I see,” Cazerne said.

“Did you want to come in? I’m afraid my whole house is not exactly habitable at the moment.”

“I’m sure the layout is exactly the same as mine, so I’ll save that pleasure for another time. I’ll leave you and Julian to get settled.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, then, sir,” Annerose said. Cazerne gave a little wave and turned to go down the street. Julian watched him go for a second, then stood awkwardly in front of Annerose, who laughed and held the door open. “It’s your home, too,” she said. “You hardly need my permission to come in.”

“Thank you,” Julian said, and stepped cautiously into the entryway, looking around.

“Would you like something to eat?” Annerose asked. “I can make us both lunch if you want.”

“No, I’m alright,” Julian said. “Do you want any help?”

“I’m happy to have whatever help you are offering,” Annerose said. “Though, please, if you get bored, you’re free to stop and go do something else.”

Julian shook his head resolutely. “What should I do?”

“Hmm.” Annerose led him into the living room where all the boxes were. “I think a good place to start would be to wipe down the kitchen and make sure it’s clean, and then you can put all the kitchen dishes away.”

He nodded solemnly and immediately got to work.

By the end of the day (with a stop for lunch in the middle), the whole house was liveable, at the very least, with both Annerose and Julian’s possessions squared away and the whole house clean. The place still looked very empty; the amount of furniture that Annerose had had in her small apartment did not exactly fill the space, but it was a start. Julian had worked all day long without a word of complaint, which had made the process much smoother. Annerose couldn’t quite figure him out. He seemed very cheerful and happy to help, but she was sure that there was more to him than that.

They ended up both sitting on the couch, not quite sure what to do around each other. They both had bowls of ice cream that Annerose had run down to the corner store to buy, and had changed out of their dirty work clothes into clean outfits. If it had been Reinhard here instead of the young Julian, Annerose would have been wearing her pyjamas, but she didn’t quite know what the etiquette between the two of them was destined to be on that score, so she was wearing her workout clothes. He had pulled on a fresh tee shirt and jeans.

She had the evening news on just as quiet background noise, but Julian seemed to be actively paying attention to it, his facial expression changing a little when certain people appeared on screen or were mentioned.

“Interested in politics?” Annerose asked as she fished the chocolate chips out of her mint ice cream and ate them one by one.

“I like to know what’s going on.”

“Reinhard was the same way, when he was your age.”

“That’s him?” Julian asked, pointing to the framed family photo on the wall. It had been taken when Reinhard had first entered the academy, so both siblings were wearing their school uniforms, while their mother posed behind them with a wan smile on her face.

“Yes, and our mom.”

“He looks just like you.”

“Everyone says that,” Annerose said, glancing at him. Julian was studying the photo intently. “He comes off very differently in person, though.”

“Will I get to meet him?”

Annerose sighed a little. “The answer to that question is yes, of course, though probably not until this winter. He’s out on his summer internship right now, on Condor Base.”

He tilted his head at her, catching the tone in her voice.

Annerose laughed at the oddly prescient expression on his face. “I haven’t told him that you’re living here, yet.”

“Am I a secret?”

“No, not exactly,” Annerose said. “But I feel like the news would be better broken in person than over a letter. He and I are very close, which makes some things easier and some things harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t like it when other people take up too much of my time,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “I can’t really blame him for it, in most cases, but in this one, I think he would be making an unfair judgement.”

“You think he won’t like me?”

“I think that if I were to tell him that you were living with me before he got a chance to meet you, he might form a resentment about the idea of you.”

“I’m sorry for being a problem.”

“Julian, this is most certainly not a problem with you.” She smiled. “I might be making a big deal out of nothing. I think it’s certainly possible that he could like you quite a lot. He’s never had anyone younger to be a mentor to; he might enjoy the experience.”

Julian hesitated for a second, then said, “Can I ask a question?”

“Please!”

“Do you think that I will like him?”

“How would I be able to know that?” Annerose asked. “Does he look like someone that you could like?”

Julian looked at the picture again. “I couldn’t tell from just a picture. But you’re nice.”

“We’re similar in some ways and different in others. It’s hard to describe what Reinhard is like. Intense, mostly.”

Julian nodded solemnly. He seemed to do a lot of that. “I look forward to meeting him, then.”

February 795 U.C.

There was always some kind of urgent bustle going on in the military affairs headquarters, so, at first, Annerose paid none of it any mind, and went about her business during the day as usual, which at this time was preparing for the fifth fleet’s next sortie.

She was on her way to speak to Rear Admiral Bucock, but as she was walking down the hallway, folder of papers in hand, one of Cazerne’s other staff members ran up to her in the hallway. Second Lieutenant Perchovsky was a twig of a man, and he was out of breath by time he caught her, apparently having been searching all over for her.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he huffed, “Commodore Cazerne is looking for you.”

“Why?” Annerose asked. “Is it urgent? I have a meeting with Rear--”

“He says it’s urgent.”

“Should I go tell Bucock that I won’t be able to meet with him?”

“I can tell him for you, ma’m.”

“Is Cazerne in his office?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what this is about?”

“I think the first fleet’s deployment.”

“What first fleet deployment?” Annerose asked. “That’s not--”

“You haven’t heard?”

“I’ve been busy all morning.”

“There was an Iserlohn corridor breakthrough during the night.”

“And they’re sending the first fleet out? Really?”

“Cazerne knows more about it than I do.”

“Oh, right.” Annerose had gotten momentarily distracted thinking about the logical reasoning behind sending out the first fleet, the one that usually remained stationed near the Heinessen starzone as a protective, emergency force. “Thanks Perchovsky. I’ll go find him. Here, give this to Bucock. If he knows how to deal with it, great, if not, he can give me a call and I’ll give him what he needs.” She shoved the folder into his hands, then went to find Cazerne.

She knocked on the door of his office and he told her to enter. He was standing by the window, looking out, an oddly pensive pose for him. Usually he was at his desk. She saluted, and he saluted back.

“You needed me for something, sir?” Annerose asked.

His face was very still, but Annerose could tell something was very wrong immediately when he said, “Please, Annerose, have a seat.” He never called her Annerose.

She blanched, and he waited for her to sit before taking a seat himself.

“I’m afraid that I have some bad news,” Cazerne said. “And I know you would prefer to hear it from me as soon as I knew, rather than later from anyone else.”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Last night, there was a breakthrough in the Iserlohn corridor. It looks like the imperial fleet decided to do a huge number of rapid strikes on small targets in the area. About forty outposts, mining operations, forward bases, a couple of frontier planets got the brunt of it.” He paused for a second. “Condor Base was one of the places that was hit.”

Annerose felt the blood drain from her head. She clutched the arms of her chair as though they could offer her any stability as the world spun around her. “Reinhard?”

“Per SOP, the base dumped its logs by radio to an ansible beacon about ten light hours distant when the communication blackout began. We received them this morning. It appears that Reinhard, along with Cadet Greenhill, were both on board a ship called the C-108 with a skeleton crew, performing readiness trials during the time that the attack took place.”

“What does that mean?” Annerose asked. “Where is he?”

“The C-108 has not contacted anyone by ansible.” Cazerne said. “We sent… A drone was sent to get pictures of the situation at the base, and from preliminary analysis of the wreckage, it appears as though the C-108 was destroyed.” His fingers worried at a piece of paper on his desk. When Annerose looked down at it, she could see that it was a photograph, turned upside down.

“How do you know?” she asked.

Cazerne turned the photograph over. There was the base, the lumpy asteroid, flanked by the clear profiles of imperial warships. Circled in red, then magnified in an offset in the corner, was a blurry picture of a piece of twisted metal, bearing white paint-- a fragment of a hull marking. The caption of the photo read, “Condor Base 795-2-15, 12:02 HST. Fragment of ship C-108.”

“And Reinhard?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“There’s a remote possibility that he made it onto an escape pod, but he hasn’t radioed the beacon. He might be waiting to do so if imperial ships are still in the area, but…” He paused and looked at her. “I think it would be cruel of me to make you hope in a vanishing possibility.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m sorry, Annerose,” he said. “Reinhard is probably dead.”

Annerose stared across the room, out at the bright sunlight outside, and realized she was crying. She felt detached from her body and completely calm, despite the fact that tears were trickling out of her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me, sir,” she said. Her voice sounded odd, like it belonged to someone else. “Was that all?”

“Annerose--”

“I should go give my report to--”

“Annerose, I think you should go home for the day.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Her whole world felt like it had fallen apart, and yet she was somehow standing outside of it. Reinhard had been the star by which she charted her course for her entire life. She didn’t know what to do.

Cazerne stood stiffly and walked over to her. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I--”

The idea that Cazerne might feel guilty for arranging Reinhard’s assignment that summer crossed her mind as a thought, and then was gone, unable to hold on to anything.

“Do you want me to call your mother?” he asked.

“I’ll tell her,” Annerose said. “I should.” Her tongue couldn’t quite form the words, but she said them anyway, the noises tripping and falling on their way out of her mouth. She stood. “I should go, sir.”

In a breach of professional etiquette that would have been surprising if Annerose could feel surprised about anything, at this point, Cazerne wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a crushing hug. She stood there and recieved it, not really able, or willing if she had been able, to move her arms. Her face was wet, and her breathing felt wrong and funny, coming in little gasps.

“Can you drive home, or should I--”

“I can drive, sir,” Annerose said. “Please don’t worry about me.” Her voice was thick.

He let her go. Her arm felt like it weighed a million pounds as she raised it to salute. Then she turned and left the room.

The walk out of the building and the drive home felt like they didn’t really exist. One moment she was in Cazerne’s office, the next moment she was numbly hanging up her keys on the hook in her house, the house that Reinhard would never get to see, and sitting down on her couch. She stared across the room at the family photo. Reinhard smiled out of the frame at her.

Her hands trembled as she held her phone. She needed to call her mother. She needed…

Maybe she should have just driven to Wrightsville and told her in person. Maybe she should get back in the car and do that. As she stood up, she remembered that Julian would be home from his summer day program in an hour, and she should…

She dialed her mother’s number. It rang six times and her mother picked up. She sounded slightly out of breath.

“Annerose! To what do I owe this surprise call?”

“Mama--” Annerose choked out, and that was all she could say before she started sobbing into the phone.

“Annerose, oh gods, what’s the matter? Sweetheart?”

She couldn’t quite get control of herself. She hadn’t ever been like this before in her life. The tears just wouldn’t stop coming, and she couldn’t quite breathe.

“I’m coming,” her mother said. “I’ll get on the next train. Just hold on. Stay on the phone.”

It was this that allowed Annerose to say something. “No, mama,” she said through choking sniffles. “Don’t.”

“What’s the matter, darling?” her mother asked again.

“Reinhard-- he--”

“What’s happened?” Her mother’s voice was suddenly also full of fear.

“Condor Base was-- Commodore Cazerne says-- he’s probably dead,” Annerose finally got out.

There was a long, long moment of silence from the other end of the line.

“Reinhard?” Caribelle finally whispered.

“Mama…” Annerose said again, hearing the tears in her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. Some of that shocked her out of things. “Do you want me to come see you?” Annerose asked. “I’ll--”

“No,” her mother said. Her voice sounded distant now, too. “No, don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Annerose wiped her face on her sleeve. She didn’t know if she wanted to see her mother, if that would make things better or worse. She didn’t know if there was anything either of them could do to help each other.

“I think I need some time,” Caribelle said. “I’ll-- I’ll call you back.”

And then abruptly the phone call ended. Annerose’s hand unclenched and it fell down to the couch cushions, then slid off onto the floor. She didn’t bother to pick it up. She was transfixed by the photo of Reinhard on the opposite wall, and she stared at it in an intense, meditative stillness, not thinking anything really, for what could have been hours. She didn’t notice the passing time, just felt the grief come up in waves, threaten to drown her, then abate into a thoughtless emptiness. Tears would rise to her eyes and bile would rise to her throat, but she choked it down and sat there in that painful silence.

Julian came in the door later. He called out for her, having seen her car in the driveway, which was unusual for this time of day. She didn’t respond, but he found her in the living room, staring at the picture.

“Is everything alright, Lieutenant Commander?” he asked.

“My brother is dead,” Annerose said. Her voice sounded flat and wrong. But she wasn’t crying anymore. Her face was raw and red, but she physically didn’t have any tears left. “The base he was posted at was attacked, and the ship he was on was destroyed.”

She didn’t look at Julian while she said this, and he just stood in front of her, his face sad and pale. Then he seemed to firm up, as though he had made a decision. He walked into the kitchen, boiled water for tea, steeped chamomile double strength with enough honey and milk to sedate a horse, and made her a turkey sandwich which he cut up into neat little triangles. He presented all of this to her, laying it on the coffee table without speaking. Then he sat down on the couch next to her, just watching her.

She drank the tea and nibbled the sandwich, and when she ran out of tea he got up to make her more. They didn’t speak, really. The afternoon light dimmed, and neither of them got up to turn on the overhead lights.

“I wish I could have gotten to meet him,” Julian said, in the twilight darkness of the room.

“I didn’t even tell him I got promoted,” Annerose said, the only thing she was latching onto as a cogent thought. “I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted it to be a surprise.” And she was choking on little half sobs again, and Julian leaned onto her shoulder, a comforting gesture, but she grabbed him and held on as though he were the only thing that was helping her to weather the storm.

In a corner of her mind, she knew that this was an unfair burden to place on him, a ten year old near-stranger, who had lost his own father in the same way she had just lost Reinhard, but she was selfish here, and Julian let her be.

Annerose returned to work the next day. She wasn’t pretending that nothing had happened, and she went about her day in a fog of grief, taking twice as long at even the simplest tasks, feeling weighed down and unable to move, but there was work to be done. Urgent work. Necessary work.

At one point, she caught a glimpse of Admiral Greenhill down the hallway, who looked more haggard than she did. She thought about running after him, but what could she possibly say?

Cazerne treated her delicately, but she would prefer that he just treated her like normal and let her do what she needed to do, however slowly it took. She caught him speaking on the phone to Julian about her, that afternoon, and she half wanted to reprimand him for making Julian responsible for her, but she couldn’t quite string the thought together well enough to yell at her commanding officer.

She spoke with her mother on the phone again, and she seemed in bad but survivable shape. She said she was staying with a friend from her church for the moment. Annerose was more grateful than she was concerned by that.

It was two days later that she remembered she had planned a meeting at lunch with Walter von Schenkopp, who, along with the rest of the Rosen Ritter, had returned to his usual posting on Heinessen. She was tempted to send him a message asking to cancel, but then realized that he had no idea why she would be doing that, and had no desire to communicate that over text, so she met him as planned, in a quiet corner of a sunny restaurant in downtown Heinessenopolis.

He looked the same as he had the last time she had seen him. He still had the same easy smile and handsome face that she had liked so much when she had been younger. A part of her knew that she still would have liked them, if she had been able to think about anything other than the yawning void of grief that absorbed every stray second of attention. She watched him as he strode through the restaurant towards her, grinning a little bit.

Schenkopp slid into the booth across from her, saw her expression, and said, “Are you really that upset at me?”

“Reinhard’s dead,” she said.

It took a long moment for him to respond, and his voice was appropriately solemn when he did. “I’m sorry,” he said. “How?”

“His summer internship was on one of the bases that was attacked earlier this week. He was on a ship, which was destroyed.”

“There’s no way he could be on the POW list?”

“It’s unlikely.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was looking forward to him graduating.”

Annerose just nodded. The waitress came over and they both ordered coffee and sandwiches.

“Are you all right?” Schenkopp asked. He didn’t seem clear on how she wanted him to behave, so he stayed firmly on his side of the table, not leaning towards her, just stirring his coffee endlessly.

“No,” she said. “But there’s no way to be all right.”

“I understand,” he said.

“I think, maybe, it’s better if we talk about something else,” Annerose said. Her face had been growing progressively hotter as she sat there, the sure sign that tears were about to break past the dam of her eyes, so she tried to change the subject.

“Whatever you like,” Schenkopp said.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve had better times in my life,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

“You heard about Van Fleet?” Schenkopp asked. Of course she had heard of it; it had been the talk of the military affairs building for months, the most exciting action that they had seen in a while. She just nodded, though. “Did I tell you that I was on 4-2?”

“You didn’t tell me, but I look where the Rosen Ritter go,” Annerose said. “I saw that the regimental leader died. I’m sorry.”

“There are worse things to happen to a person,” Schenkopp said. “I’m the interim regimental leader, now.”

“Interim?”

“They’re refusing to make it official.”

“Why?”

“Personality conflicts. Rear Admiral Cerebrese doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“They’ll have to confirm me eventually.”

“Should I congratulate you?”

“If you like.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll be regimental leader lucky number thirteen.”

“Is that lucky?”

“Depends on your point of view.” He smiled a little. “A lot of people believe I’m going to go back to the Empire.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

“You really shouldn’t just believe people when they say things like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Annerose said. “I can’t bring myself to feel that curious about people’s secret motivations, or anything, right now.”

“I understand.”

“I should ask you what I wanted to ask you,” Annerose said.

“Please do,” Schenkopp said. “I don’t want to delay you if you want to leave.”

“I would like to join the Rosen Ritter,” she said.

“Why?”

“Commodore Cazerne says I should find other experiences than here,” Annerose said. “You offered me a position there, once. I would like to take it.”

“Things were different then.”

“Yes.”

“I am not saying that you shouldn’t join the Rosen Ritter because I think you’re weak. I know you think that I am, but that’s not the reason.”

“Then why not?” Annerose’s voice was flat. She might have, in a different time, been arguing more passionately for her case, or against Schenkopp’s, but she wanted to state her business and then leave, lay down in a dark room for a while and think about nothing.

“Der Decken died on 4-2,” he said.

“So did many other people.”

“That’s true.” Schenkopp looked away from her for a second. “Including someone I cared about.”

“A woman?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s war.”

“What was her name?”

“Valerie Fitzsimmons,” Schenkopp said.

“What was she like?” Annerose’s voice was flat. There was curiosity, somewhere in her mind, and jealousy somewhere else, but really she just wanted to hear Schenkopp talk.

Schenkopp paused. “She was… Pragmatic. Intelligent. She was older than I was, by a few years. She was divorced, no kids.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Was she pretty?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know. She was important to you. I just--” She stopped talking and looked down at the table. He was quiet for a second.

“Yes, she was beautiful,” he said. “She used to joke about how we would eventually break up, usually when one of our postings on 4-2 was over.” He shook his head. “I wish we could have played that out for real. It would have made her laugh.”

Annerose didn’t know why she had asked, and now she almost regretted it. It felt like she was prying into something that she had no right to. It wasn’t as though they had anything between them anymore.

“Was she in the Rosen Ritter?”

“No, she was an air defense system controller, assigned to the base itself. Fitzsimmons isn’t exactly an imperial name.”

“Could have been her former husband’s.” She didn’t know why she kept talking.

“No, she never took his name when they married.”

“Oh.”

“She was like that.” It was the sad wistfulness in his voice that was pulling at Annerose’s heart, she realized, so she had to change the subject. She couldn’t keep thinking about this, not now.

“So why should that stop me from joining the Rosen Ritter?”

“Because I wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“I thought there was nothing between us anymore.” She wasn’t really upset about that, on a conscious level, though the unconscious one was a different story. She could feel the echoes of feelings in her chest, but they were so tied up and underneath her grief that she couldn’t pull them out to examine.

“There’s not?”

“Not right now, Walter,” she said. “I can’t.” Her voice broke a little.

“I know. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She shook her head, hair falling down around her eyes. She tucked it back behind her ears. “So, that’s not a good reason,” she said. “Please.”

“Why do you want to, so badly?”

“I don’t have anything left to lose.”

“I’m not going to let you join my regiment because you’re suicidal, Annerose.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Perhaps.”

She looked down at her hands. “I need to do something,” she said. “I know--” She tried to voice her next thought as carefully as possible, picking up her coffee in a hand that shook only a tiny bit. “Reinhard would have wanted me to make my own path. I don’t want to be trapped in a desk my entire career-- I guess because I’m a woman that’s what people expect-- and you wouldn’t treat me any differently. I wanted this before, and I’m trying to remember the reasons why I wanted it. Now I just need to do anything, I don’t care what. Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m not making sense even to myself. I--”

One of her hands was laying on the table. Schenkopp reached over towards it, not quite touching her, hovering his hand somewhat above hers, asking for permission. She could feel the warmth of it, waiting for her. She covered her face with her right hand, but the fingers of her left hand on the table reached up towards Schenkopp’s palm. He covered her hand with his, then, and it was a small comfort.

“Give it time, Annerose,” he said. “Just for now.”

She nodded, still not uncovering her face, trying to stifle her tears.

Schenkopp continued talking, his voice low and soothing. “You should meet Blumhart and Linz. I’ll introduce you. I’m sure you’ll like them. Is that all right?”

She just kept nodding, and he kept saying things, though she didn’t think she was really hearing them.

The next night, at around three in the morning, Annerose was fitfully asleep, dreaming a nightmare that might have been more miserable had it not been so mundane, the same recurring dream she had been dreaming since they left Odin. She woke to someone shaking her shoulder.

“Reinhard?” she asked, catching a glimpse of blonde hair, then abruptly remembering that Reinhard was dead, and it was Julian waking her up. He was dressed in his pyjamas and his hair was sticking out at all angles, having also clearly been just roused from his sleep. “Sorry, Julian, what is it?” Annerose asked, fighting past the misery that had threatened to overwhelm her for a second.

“Commodore Cazerne was ringing the doorbell,” Julian said. “I let him into the kitchen.”

Julian stepped back, since he had been leaning over her. Annerose sat up in bed, her own pyjamas falling loosely over her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, cold suddenly now that the blanket was down around her lap. “I’ll get dressed,” she said. “Can you make him some tea or something?”

“He says it’s very urgent.”

“I’m coming,” Annerose said, and Julian left the room, leaving her in the quasi-darkness by herself. She took a few steadying, deep breaths, then got up and pulled on the first outfit that fell to hand, which happened to be the uniform she had worn the day before.. She pulled her hair back into a rough ponytail as she walked out to the kitchen, then rubbed her face on her sleeve.

Cazerne was sitting at her kitchen table, unusually in civilian clothing. “Oh, good, you’re dressed,” he said when she came in, blinking in the sudden harsh light of the kitchen. She fumbled a weak salute at him, since she figured he was here on business. “We should get going.”

“What’s going on, sir?”

“Admiral Greenhill knows something that you and I don’t,” Cazerne said. “I suspect that you would like to find out what that is.”

The words didn’t really make sense.

“Come on. I’m going to drive us both to HQ. I think time is of the essence,” he said, standing. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep, Julian.”

“It’s no problem, sir,” he said. He handed Annerose a thermos of tea, which she gratefully accepted.

“Thank you, Julian,” she said, and ruffled his hair as she walked past, something she had used to do to Reinhard, but now--

Cazerne’s car was idling outside her house; he had left it on the whole time. She slid into the passenger seat next to him.

“What is this about, really, sir?”

“I had one of the night guards who owes me a favor let me know if Admiral Greenhill came in to HQ unexpectedly, any time over the next few days. The first fleet should have reached their destinations by now.”

“Commodore… I appreciate the thought, but you also told me not to pin my hopes onto something unlikely.”

Cazerne glanced away from the dark road rushing past to look at her. “I agree,” he said after a second. “It’s very unlikely that your brother is still alive. But regardless, you may also wish to see the reports come in that the ones who killed him have been destroyed.”

“Is this some kind of test of my personality, sir?” Annerose asked, staring out the window. She saw a deer standing at the side of the road as they left the suburbs, lifting its head, eyes catching the car’s headlights.

“If it is, then I’m the one who’s failing it,” Cazerne said. They drove in silence the rest of the way. The more alert and awake Annerose felt, the more grimy she felt, and as they walked into the cool and bright lobby of the military affairs headquarters, Annerose felt more out of place than she had since she was first walking in as an intern.

Cazerne led her up many floors, to a room where people were streaming in and out, each intent on their own business. She and Cazerne pushed their way through into the room, and since no one stopped them, and several people nodded at Cazerne, she presumed it wasn’t wrong for them to be there.

At the front of the room was a huge projected map, showing the positions of various subsets of the first fleet scattered around the exit to the Iserlohn corridor. She thought she knew now why the first fleet had been sent out rather than any of the others: since it was the stationary Heinessen defense fleet, it was generally in a state of readiness, and it was also the fleet that was most used to sending out small detachments to work individually, since it was responsible also for chasing down pirate vessels and the like. Because the blitz actions of the imperial fleet had been small and spread out in a wide swathe across the “mouth” of the Iserlohn corridor, it made sense that the first fleet could split up and handle each smaller engagement.

Further screens around the walls tracked the status of each one of these engagements. Some had no information other than the last noted position of the battlegroup in question, others had detailed logs indicating ship losses and the status of the battle. Most people were focused on the largest engagement, the one which was being personally overseen by Admiral Kubersly, who commanded the entire first fleet. Annerose scanned the edge of the room until she found the one screen showing the status around Condor Base. Messages were appearing on the screen as information trickled in, including detailed positioning data from the battlegroup showing where each ship was in relation to the base itself, which she was surprised had not been destroyed.

Annerose watched with tension mounting in her shoulders as the battlegroup approached the base, and saw the dots that represented the imperial ships begin to move.

She leaned towards Cazerne. “Is this live, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, until the imperial fleet starts jamming communications,” he said. “Then we’ll have to wait for the radio relay, or, more likely, the end of engagement report.”

“Why don’t they?”

Cazerne glanced at her. “The same reason they’re sitting there like bottles lined up to be shot off a fence: they’re waiting for orders, I’d imagine.”

The absurdity of that cut through Annerose’s fog of thoughts. “Stupid,” she muttered.

“I don’t disagree.”

It seemed utterly unfair that her brother could have been killed by an enemy who didn’t even know to pull its ships back from a battle in which they were hopelessly outnumbered. She could see on the screen that the Alliance battlegroup heading towards Condor Base was about four hundred strong, while the imperial group had a maximum of about sixty ships.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe as the two groups exchanged the first few bouts of fire, the imperial group moving out away from the base to attack. Their commander seemed incompetent. Didn’t he know that there was no way he could win? Although the overarching strategy seemed wrong, the individual ships in the imperial fleet were successful in picking off a few Alliance vessels.

The damage reports of each individual ship trickled in below the moving images, a litany of names.

> Count of Monte Cristo, disabled

> Exodus, all hands lost

> Albany, all hands lost

> Petrograd, disabled

> Amazonia, all hands abandon ship

> Erebus, disabled

The list went on.

Eventually, though, the Alliance battlegroup reorganized its lines to ward off the fierce charge of the relatively small imperial force, and pressed them backwards towards the base. Annerose watched with growing concern as the imperial force moved backwards, hiding behind the base. As they moved out of line of sight, they vanished from the screen.

“Are they not running because they have orders to stay?” Annerose asked. She didn’t like the way the Alliance ships were drawing closer and closer to the base, spreading out to try to pincer attack the hidden imperial ships. They began popping back into view on the display as the first Alliance ships rounded the side of the base. They were running now. “Commodore--”

“You see it too?” he asked quietly.

“Why don’t they circle wider?”

“They’re aiming for speed,” he said. “And they want to defend the base-- put themselves in between.”

“Should we tell someone?”

Cazerne shook his head.

“But--”

The data stream froze.

“There’s the jamming,” Cazerne said. He chuckled a little bit, even though both he and Annerose could see that the situation was probably about to be unpleasant for the Alliance forces.

“What’s so funny?”

“If the imperial forces jam communications themselves as they retreat, they can pretend to their superiors that it was our side doing the jamming, and thus they couldn’t receive the order to stay put or retreat, and acted under their own best judgement. That’s my thought, anyway.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t that funny for Annerose, because now she was staring at the still Alliance ships circling the base, frozen in time many light-years away, completely out of reach. She couldn’t stop staring at this moment that she was sure was about to precede disaster.

Cazerne grabbed her shoulder and tugged on her gently. “That’s all there is to see for now,” he said. “Let’s go get a coffee.”

“What if the jamming ends?”

“Come on, von Müsel,” he said. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I think we don’t need to be here for that.”

She thought about protesting, but then knew he was right. They sat together in one of the cafeterias on the lower floors, totally empty now, with all the food serving stations closed. The coffee machines were always working, though.

“Why are we here?” Annerose asked after a minute, dumping several little creamers into her coffee.

“Do you not want to see this?” he asked.

“It feels worse to watch things happen that I have no control over.”

“I’m surprised that you didn’t already know that that is the very essence of being in the fleet.”

“You always seem to have control over everything, sir.”

“I think you’re sorely mistaken about that,” Cazerne said, frowning. “No matter who you are, there’s decisions that are going to be made above your head that you can do nothing about. The best you can do is live with it.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are, von Müsel.”

She stirred her coffee. “I informally asked for a transfer,” she said, finally.

“To where?”

“The Rosen Ritter.”

He nodded. “You mentioned that before. I wasn’t sure if you were still interested.”

“I don’t know what I’m interested in.”

“What do you mean by informally asking?”

“I’m friends with the interim regimental leader.”

“Ah.” Cazerne looked at her intently and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “And what did he say?”

“He’ll think about it.”

“And do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Probably.”

“Congratulations.”

“I don’t know if it’s something to be congratulated on.” She smoothed out the fabric of her pants. “He thinks I’ll get myself killed.”

“And will you?”

“Did I think Reinhard was going to get himself killed?”

Cazerne nodded. “I wish that I hadn’t had his posting changed.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.”

They sat there for a while, Cazerne turning the conversation to far less fraught matters like their current work projects. Despite the coffee, Annerose began to yawn. Cazerne told her to go up to her office-- she could take a nap there-- and he would wake her up if anything urgent happened, like the POW list coming in. She didn’t want to, at first, but then he pointed out that they weren’t going to hear anything until the end of engagement report came back, so she might as well get some rest.

She did so, laying her head on her desk in her tiny office, the first morning light beginning to peek through the blinds on her window.

Cazerne came by again. Time had lost most of its meaning to her, so she wasn’t sure when it was that he knocked on her door. She sat up, feeling sore. “Come in.”

“You should read this,” he said, and handed her a tablet.

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. It was the end of engagement report that had come through. She skimmed it.

Executive summary: Condor base destroyed in pre-planned nuclear attack. Battlegroup sustained severe damage (93 ships lost). Imperial destroyer Falke being used as prison ship was commandeered by POW. Majority of base personnel rescued.

Attachments: Timeline, full battlegroup logs, ship damage report, casualties report (forthcoming/tbd), base crew report (forthcoming/tbd), POW list (forthcoming/tbd)

She bit her lip and put it back down, not wanting to read through the whole timeline of the battle. “I’m glad the base crew was rescued.”

“Go to the end of the timeline,” Cazerne said, quietly.

She did. There, right at the end of the timeline, was a single, innocuous sentence. Cadet Fredrica Greenhill was among those aboard the Falke. She was escorted to the flagship Minnesota.

“She was with Reinhard on the C-108,” Cazerne said, when Annerose put the tablet down again. “Maybe…”

“When will we have the base personnel list?” Annerose asked. She hated the hope that was in her chest suddenly, threatening to overwhelm her. She didn’t want to hope that Reinhard was alive, because if she hoped for that, and then found out that he was dead, she would have to face the grief all over again, even though nothing had really changed. She didn’t think she could bear that fresh agony a second time, though she knew she would have to.

“I don’t know. Probably when the written reports start coming in. Maybe this afternoon.”

“Can I contact Cadet Greenhill?” she asked.

“Is that wise?”

“She’s a friend of mine,” Annerose said. “Not just Reinhard’s.”

“You can write a letter. I can do my best to push it through. Personal communication with the first fleet is going to be spotty, though, since the ansibles are probably having all their bandwidth devoted to sending back the logs.”

Annerose nodded as Cazerne stood. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll let you know when the base personnel list comes through. We can look at it together.”

“You don’t have to, sir.”

“I think that I owe you that much, at least.”

Annerose wanted to protest again, but just nodded, and he headed out. He returned a few hours later, while she was trying in vain to get real work done.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“No. I will later.”

“The base personnel list came in.” He pulled a granola bar out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Eat this, and then you can look at it.”

“Have you looked at it?” she asked. She took the bar.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay.” She unwrapped the food and ate it as quickly as possible. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Cazerne sat down across from her and pulled his tablet out. A long list of names was on the screen, and Cazerne searched it for every possible spelling of “Müsel” and “Reinhard” coming up with nothing. With every failed attempt, Annerose slumped further in her chair.

“I expected that,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Cazerne said again.

“It’s not your fault.” She took the tablet from him and scrolled through the list, reading it from top to bottom, a litany of about four hundred names.

“Fredrica isn’t on here,” Annerose said after a minute.

“She was transferred to the Minnesota. They wouldn’t have counted her while they were getting everyone off that ship.”

“I guess.” Annerose slid the tablet back to him. “Thank you for sitting with me.”

“Do you want to go home?” he asked.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said. “I have work to do.”

He nodded. “Don’t…” he started to say, but then stopped. “You know where to find me if you need me.” And then stood and left.

Annerose didn’t pay any more attention to anything that was going on with the first fleet. She started writing a letter to Fredrica, then deleted the entire thing. She didn’t know what she could even say to her. Maybe when she returned to Heinessen they could meet up in person, but a letter now might be too raw.

She worked the whole day, then went home. Julian was in the kitchen, making dinner.

“I thought you would come back early, since you went in so early,” Julian said. “Was there any news?”

“No,” Annerose said. “You didn’t have to cook.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I wanted to.” He handed her a plate of pasta and they sat down to eat.

“How was your summer camp?” Annerose asked, trying to keep her mind off of things. Julian described his day in detail, keeping his tone a moderated level of cheerfulness. She appreciated the distraction.

“Do you want to see the bead lizard I made?” He showed it to her, and she expressed that she did in fact like its green and brown beaded tail.

After dinner, Annerose intended to work on her embroidery on the couch, but she stared at and hated her current project, a nature scene of a waterfall, and she poked the needle through the cloth several times before just letting the whole thing slide onto her lap. She tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling, not really thinking about anything. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

Someone was shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes, struggling to remember where she was, and the needle from her embroidery stabbed her in her leg.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking around in the darkness. The only light came from the tv, muted and flickering like it often was in her mother’s bedroom. Julian was sitting on the couch next to her, pulling her awake.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he said. “Look!”

On the screen, on the television, was a picture of Reinhard, looking filthy and holding a gun in front of him as he stood on the bridge of an imperial destroyer. Shockingly, he was dressed in the uniform of an imperial officer.

If it weren’t for the fact that she had already been stabbed by her embroidery, Annerose would have thought she was dreaming.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Julian unmuted the television. “...Commandeered the imperial destroyer Falke during the battle outside Condor Base, in the Condor starzone near the Iserlohn corridor. We have had unprecedented transparency from the fleet, including footage of the storming of the bridge, which you’re seeing now.

“We will read to you a selection from the report submitted by the young Cadet von Müsel…”

“He’s alive!” Julian said, exuberant. “They said he’s on the Minnesota coming back to Heinessen.”

Annerose still couldn’t quite believe her eyes or ears, as the television newscaster read on, narrating the events unfolding in the grainy security footage. She didn’t know how the news had gotten this information, and why no one had told her that Reinhard was alive. She didn’t know what was going on.

She pulled out her phone and dialed her mother, who picked up after four rings. “Hi, Annerose,” she said, sounding tired. “How are you?”

“Mom, are you at home?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m with my prayer group, we--”

“Turn on the news, right now.”

“Why? What’s going on? What channel?”

“Ale News Network,” Annerose said. “Just do it.”

There was a moment of shuffling sounds over the line, and then the sound of the tv in her mother’s room turning on, an echo of the same news broadcast coming through over the phone.

“Reinhard?” her mom asked.

“He’s alive,” Annerose said, almost crying into the phone. “He’s fine.” There was a heavy sound from the other end of the line, then a creaking as her mother sat down on the bed. “Mom?”

“I knew he was alive,” she said. “I knew he was.”

“He is, mom,” Annerose said. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.”

“I’ll call you back tomorrow,” Annerose said. “I need to find out more about what’s going on.”

“You do that, sweetheart. I’ll keep an eye on the news.”

“Goodnight, mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Caribelle said, then hung up.

Annerose immediately called Cazerne, then, to find out what exactly was happening and what Reinhard’s status was, and when she could contact him.

Life over the next few days was chaotic and stressful. Annerose was dying to see Reinhard, but he was still en route, and she wasn’t allowed to speak to him at all. In fact, she had been told to meet with the publicity staff at the military affairs headquarters, the people who dealt with all press-related inquiries, and been told explicitly that she was not allowed, under any circumstances, to give interviews or speak to the press at all.

She asked Cazerne if they were allowed to stop her from doing that, and he looked at her sideways and asked if she actually wanted to go be the public face of this. She emphatically did not, so she left handling it to the professionals. This was harder than she thought it would be, because people found her house and waited outside of it, which annoyed her. She had Julian walk home from his bus stop after his summer camp through the back streets, then cut through some other family’s backyard and hop her fence to avoid them.

It infuriated her that she was not allowed to write to Reinhard, and she didn’t understand why. It infuriated her more that she wasn’t allowed to meet him at the airport when he came back down to the planet. She didn’t understand what the restrictions were in place for. Wasn’t it already clear that she was going to obey the edicts not to talk to the media? She resented the fact that she was being treated like some kind of criminal element. It felt that way, at least. She knew that it wasn’t just press who were watching her door-- she was also being surveilled by plainclothes military police. Cazerne had tried to tell her it was for her own protection, but she could tell that even he was annoyed, and was just trying to put an acceptable spin on the weird situation.

She was finally told that she would be allowed to see Reinhard and take him home when he returned to the military affairs headquarters. She paced back and forth in her office, a highly unusual activity for her, but she was full of a terrible, burning energy. Although her rational brain knew that Reinhard was fine and alive, she still felt like she couldn’t confirm it until she had seen him with her own eyes.

There was a knock on her office door. Annerose practically ran to open it, pulling it open and almost fumbling with the handle in her haste.

There was Reinhard.

He had a kind of apologetic smile on his face, and he stood stiffly as though he wasn’t sure how to move. He looked her over for an instant, and, never one to miss a detail, his eyes settled on her new pin. Annerose ignored the soldiers surrounding him, grabbed his arm to pull him inside the room, and then slammed the door shut in their faces.

Now that they were in private, she immediately threw her arms around him. Some of the tension that she could see in his shoulders immediately melted away as they hugged each other.

“Annerose--”

“I thought you were dead,” she said, and then couldn’t help but cry, getting the shoulder of his uniform wet as she sobbed into it. “I thought you were dead and that I would never see you again.”

“I’m alive,” he said, rubbing his hand along her back. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

She couldn’t stop crying and clinging to him for a long moment, making a fool of herself like she hadn’t since she was young and angry at him for getting in trouble at school. “I’m sorry for being such a mess,” she said as she eventually pulled herself away from him and rubbed her eyes on a tissue she pulled from her pocket.

“I’m sorry to have worried you,” Reinhard said. “I wanted to talk to you immediately but they wouldn’t let me.”

“I know,” Annerose said, some of the frustration of the past few days coming through in her voice. “Trust me, I know.”

Reinhard laughed a little. “Are you okay now, though?”

Annerose finished wiping her eyes, steadied herself by leaning one hand on her desk. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She paused a second. “Mom is, too, by the way. You’ll have to go see her sometime this week.”

“Of course. You don’t have to think that I’m an undutiful son.”

“I know.” Annerose let out a half laugh. “You’re back with me for three seconds and I’m already scolding you. You must think I’m ridiculous.”

“No, of course I don’t.” He was smiling broadly down at her. “Well, I do for some things.”

“Like what?”

“You didn’t tell me that you got promoted.”

She laughed a little again. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Gods, Reinhard, so much has happened.”

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander von Müsel,” he said with a bit of a smirk.

“What’s that face for?”

Reinhard reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. He turned around so he wasn’t quite facing her, and when he turned back around, he had affixed his own lieutenant commander pin to his uniform collar. Annerose stared at it, shocked.

“Well, aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander von Müsel,” she said. He laughed at her.

“I’m glad you got promoted. I would hate to jump ahead of you for something like this.”

“Are you actually promoted?” she asked.

He scowled a little bit. “I have to finish school, and then I’ll be commissioned in.” Reluctantly, he unfastened the pin from his collar. He put it back in the box, then handed it to her. “You should hold on to this for me, so that I don’t let it get to my head.”

“Very mature of you.”

“I assume I would be keeping it in your apartment anyway.”

“Oh, that’s another thing,” Annerose said, and she looked away from Reinhard a little.

“What? Are you going to make me stay with mom?”

“Oh, no, you can stay with me. I just, er, my living situation has changed a little bit.”

“In what way?”

“I moved into the neighborhood where Commodore Cazerne lives.”

“The houses over there are nice. I’m glad.”

“There’s also--” She didn’t really know how to put this.

“What?”

“You need to promise that you’re not going to get mad.”

Reinhard narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Promise.”

“You making me promise makes it almost guaranteed that I have something to be mad about.”

“Come on, Reinhard. Please.”

“You have a new boyfriend or something? It’s fine.” It didn’t exactly sound like he was fine with that.

“No, it’s not that.”

“I promise I won’t get mad. Just spit it out.”

“Okay-- there’s-- Commodore Cazerne asked a favor of me. There’s this-- Cazerne asked me to take care of a child.”

“What?” Reinhard seemed utterly confounded.

“His name is Julian Minci, he’s a war orphan, he’s ten. He’s living in my house.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted you to meet him and not just have you learn about this over a letter.”

“I can understand why, though I would have also preferred to know.” He didn’t seem angry, mostly in a small state of shock. “He’s at your house?”

“Yes. We should go. He’s-- well, he’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Is he the type of ten year old that I will find tolerable?”

“Oh, yes. He’s very smart.”

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it.” His voice was now carefully neutral. “Shall we go?”

“Yes, let’s.”

They were escorted out of the building so that Annerose could drive them home. “I’m going to park us down the street. I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to do some crossing of my neighbor’s back lawns, and then hop my fence. I really don’t want to deal with the crowd of media people,” Annerose said as they drove back.

“I don’t care if people see me.”

“I get the feeling that the media attention won’t actually be good for you in the long term.”

They did end up stealthily ducking through a few back yards and hopping the fence to get to Annerose’s house.

“Julian, I’m home,” Annerose called as they came in the back door.

There was the sound of running feet, and Julian skidded around the corner into the living room, a big smile on his face. Annerose smiled back. Reinhard stood rather stiffly beside her. It was clear that there were wheels turning in Julian’s head as he looked at Reinhard, who was taller than him by quite a bit.

“Julian, this is my brother, Reinhard. Reinhard, this is Julian Minci.”

Julian hesitantly stepped forward, and Reinhard held out his hand to shake. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Julian said.

This had not been what Reinhard was expecting Julian to say, because he laughed loudly as he shook Julian’s hand, which made the tips of Julian’s ears turn pink. “Don’t believe everything you see in the news,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“It would be an honor even if you were just Lieutenant Commander von Müsel’s brother. She told me about you.”

Reinhard smiled. Julian had hit on a combination of words that Reinhard did like to hear-- showing deference to her rank, flattering Reinhard’s ego, and also showing that Annerose spoke highly of him even when he was not around. Reinhard relaxed a little, and some of the worry that the two wouldn’t get along left Annerose. Perhaps this had been the ideal time to break the news that she had taken Julian in to Reinhard, because he was already very busy thinking about his own self.

“Julian has been the biggest help in the world over the past week or so,” Annerose said.

“I’m sorry for making everyone believe I was dead,” Reinhard said. “It was unfair of me to give you a scare like that.”

“It happens,” Annerose said, though she didn’t think it did very much. “Should we order some takeout?”

“I made dinner,” Julian said. “It’s in the oven.”

“Oh, perfect,” Annerose said. “Thank you, Julian.”

“And that bottle of wine that Commodore Cazerne gave you is chilling.”

Reinhard raised an eyebrow at him. “And you’re expecting to have some of it?”

Julian blushed hotly. “No, sir.”

Reinhard tousled his hair and laughed, walking past him into the kitchen. Annerose watched him go. Perhaps everything was right with the world, at least here in her little house, at least for this one moment.