No, You Can't Go Back to the Constantinople

December 797 U.C.

Captain Reinhard von Müsel found himself more disappointed than he was expecting to be as he left his ship, the Constantinople , for the last time. He had understood that his assignment to it had always been temporary, but having spent a year onboard, and several months in command of it, he had grown attached to the chunky old battleship. She was outdated even by the Alliance’s standards-- older than he was by a decade, and in service the whole time-- but in these quarters, that just meant she was an extremely lucky ship.

Reinhard had been assigned to the Constantinople as its XO, still a lieutenant commander, but had quickly earned a standard promotion. Nine months into his tenure on board, Captain Jonesburg had been shot in a drunken bar-fight, and Reinhard had been given command of the ship in his stead. He had performed well despite his youth, and so he was leaving with a promotion in hand, summoned back to Heinessen.

The Kaiser had died. It had taken a while for the news to reach Reinhard, on patrol in the Iserlohn corridor as he was. But it had reached him as soon as his patrol group made it far enough out of the corridor that they could break their communications-silence.

Patrols in the corridor were being doubled, just in case, but Reinhard was going home. The Heinessen spaceport where he left the Constantinople for good was eerily devoid of ships, aside from those that had accompanied his in for their turn in drydock and retrofit. Everyone was on high alert, though Reinhard doubted that the rumblings of civil war within the Empire would lead to any kind of invasion. The readiness was likely just someone-- Trunicht, probably-- preparing for a different kind of engagement, with some plausible deniability.

Reinhard, while waiting for his shuttle to take him down to Heinessen’s surface, leaned against one of the railings against the windows, looking at the empty docking bays and the bulk of the Constantinople , with its running lights slowly blinking off one by one as the port workers prepared to give it a thorough check of all its systems. Although he always had something on his mind, his thoughts were the melancholy kind that came with being close to seeing home, and Annerose, for the first time in a year. He was therefore uncharacteristically startled when someone came up beside him.

“Well, if it isn’t the Hero of Condor Base himself,” the man said. “What’s a man like you doing in a place like this?”

Reinhard jumped, then smiled to recognize who it was. “Captain Attenborough-- I didn’t know you were coming into port.” He had seen Attenborough several times over the past year; they were in the same fleet, though not usually on patrol together. Their conversations had usually been short, one or the other of them always needing to rush off somewhere, but it was nice to see someone familiar, even if he was more Annerose’s friend than his.

“I’m getting kicked off the front, so I hitched a ride back on the Westmoreland. And there’s no need to be so formal. I hear we’re the same rank now.”

Reinhard straightened and turned so that they could converse more easily. “Are you being punished or something? It seems like you should be a commodore by now. You’ve been a captain long enough.”

Dusty laughed, the bright outside lights illuminating his friendly expression. “No, not at all. It’s nothing personal, they just don’t want to make me the youngest flag officer in the Alliance, unless I’ve done something particularly impressive.”

“And everything at Legnica doesn’t count?”

“Of course not.” Dusty grinned. “I’m not really that concerned.”

“Weren’t you put in charge of a whole battlegroup?”

“Oh, sure, they’re making me work above my paygrade.”

“I would be unhappy at having duties incommensurate with my rank,” Reinhard said, frowning. “In either direction.”

Dusty clapped him on the shoulder. “And that’s why I’m not particularly worried.”

Reinhard raised an eyebrow and waited for elaboration.

“They’ll go ahead and make me the youngest flag officer, just to set a bit of precedent, and then you’ll outstrip me just as quickly. That’s what your sister tells me. All’s well that ends well, anyway.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fair? All’s fair in love and war,” Dusty said with a grin. “But don’t worry about that. I’m probably going to get my letter soon enough-- it’s not worth getting worked up about the day or the hour. How have you been?”

“Fine,” Reinhard said. He nodded to the Constantinople outside the window. “Pretty weird to leave my first real command, but I think I’ll be able to do more on Heinessen than I will in the corridor, at least for now.”

Dusty whistled the chorus of “Leave Her, Johnny” while cheekily conducting himself with one wagging finger, then said, “You parting with the crew on good terms?”

“I think so,” Reinhard said. “It was only ever supposed to be temporary, until they could find a permanent replacement for Jonesburg.”

“I heard about that,” Dusty said slyly.

“How?” Reinhard asked. “I thought it had been hushed up.”

“Well, you heard about it.”

“One of my NCOs witnessed it and ran to get me so that I could deal with it. And even if he hadn’t, I could have hardly avoided it.” Reinhard shook his head. “It was a disaster.”

“Very undignified,” Dusty said.

“But how did you hear about it?”

“Well, I can get any bartender to gossip with me.” He grinned. “I missed my calling as a journalist, now I’m stuck being a starship captain instead.”

That got a chuckle out of Reinhard.

“Did he live, by the way? Your former captain?” Dusty asked.

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine. Discharged, though.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Where are you being assigned?” Reinhard asked.

“I’m on leave for the next three weeks,” Dusty said. “They haven’t told me what I’m doing after that, but I’ve heard that Bucock wants me as a staff officer.”

“And how did you hear that?”

Dusty just tapped his nose. “I can’t give away all my trade secrets. Journalistic privilege and all.”

“I hope it’s true. I like Bucock.”

“Really? I didn’t know you had met him.”

“No, I haven’t, but my sister has a good opinion of him, and I trust her more than I trust almost anybody else.”

“Of course, Commander Müsel’s word is as good as gold.” He smiled. “She angry about you outstripping her?”

“I doubt it,” Reinhard said with a shrug. “I haven’t told her yet, though.”

“Well, if she’s upset, that’s her own fault. No room for growth in the Rosenritter, I’ve heard.”

“Not until they promote Schenkopp, which isn’t going to happen,” Reinhard agreed.

“No?”

“People don’t like promoting Rosenritters to flag officers,” Reinhard said. “They don’t have the best track record.”

“And what do you think of Herr Schenkopp?” Dusty asked, a funny flourish on his name.

“Annerose likes him. As I said, that’s good enough for me.”

Dusty laughed again, which made Reinhard frown, but there was nothing malicious in it. “So, where are you headed on Heinessen?”

“I’m joining Job Trunicht’s advisory staff, actually,” Reinhard said.

Dusty’s eyebrows shot up. “I knew you had redeemed yourself from your Phezzani disgrace, but I didn’t know it had gone that far.”

“Trunicht has always been interested in my career.” His voice was neutral. “And I don’t think I was ever really in disgrace.”

Dusty pointed to the Constantinople . “You got kicked out to the very front onboard a tin can twice your age. That’s a posting for someone whose career is in disgrace, if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I asked to be sent to the front,” Reinhard said.

“Oh, right, I forget that you feed on danger and derring-do.”

“It’s better than being assigned to staff some prison camp in the boonies,” Reinhard said. “It gave me a chance to make some good of myself.”

“I get the sensation that you could do that anywhere.”

“If you get too complimentary of me, Annerose will get jealous.”

That made Dusty smirk. “We couldn’t have that, could we?” He tilted his head. “Are you planning to stay with her while you’re on Heinessen?”

“Probably,” Reinhard said. “I don’t know how long I’ll be there, but there’s no point in trying to get my own place when Annerose has room for me.”

“I’m going to get annoyed with my family before my three weeks are even up,” Dusty said. “Probably going to have to fork out some money for a hotel. If I wasn’t in space so often I would have put in for officer housing before now, but I didn’t see the point in it unless I got a position on Heinessen.”

“If I wasn’t staying in the spare room, I’m sure Annerose would let you have it.”

“Hah, and what a scandal that would be.”

“I doubt it,” Reinhard said, which he hadn’t intended to be any more than a bare statement of facts, but it made Dusty laugh.

“You seeing anyone on Heinessen?” Dusty asked. “Some beautiful, charming--”

“No,” Reinhard said.

“Ah.” Dusty grinned. Across the concourse, someone was waving at them, a man with curly orange hair.

“Attenborough! What are you doing?” the man across the way yelled. “We were supposed to be getting drinks!”

“Oh, jeeze,” Dusty said, glancing behind himself and making a chagrined expression. “I’d better run.”

“Who’s that?”

“One of the Spartinian pilot-officers in my battlegroup. Poplan. Great guy.”

“Annerose know him?”

“No,” Dusty said. “And it’s probably best that we keep it that way.”

“Alright,” Reinhard said with a smile. “I won’t tell her who you’re consorting with.”

“‘Consorting,’ that’s a good one. Not exactly the vibe, though.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Hey, if you’re not busy all the time in your new post, give me a call! We could get drinks.”

“I’m sure Annerose would love to have you over for dinner.”

“Well, sure-- I--”

“Attenborough!” Poplan yelled. “I don’t have all day!”

“You’d better go,” Reinhard said. “I shouldn’t keep you.”

“Yeah, alright. See you around.” Dusty’s tone had fallen.

“Definitely,” Reinhard said, which made Dusty smile again. He gave a jaunty wave and headed off to talk to the pilot, who immediately punched him in the arm.

“Hey, I need that arm for writing!” Dusty said, still loud enough that Reinhard could hear.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Poplan asked.

And then the two vanished out of sight.

Annerose’s house was the same as he had left it, on the outside, and even standing in the doorway, he could hear Annerose happily chatting with Julian, the sounds drifting out the open window. He had arrived home by taxi, wanting to surprise her. She had known that he was coming back to Heinessen in general, but he hadn’t given a date. When he rang the doorbell, Annerose opened the door and blinked in surprise before wrapping him in the tightest hug she could give. This was rib-crushing, but he didn’t mind at all.

“Reinhard! What are you doing here?!”

“They kicked me out of my ship,” he joked, trying not to whack her knees with his luggage as she continued to hug him. “So, now that I’m homeless, I figured I’d come darken your doorstep.”

When she let go of him enough to run her hands down his arms and see his new captain’s pin on his collar, she raised her eyebrows.

“This is recent, isn’t it?” she asked, fingering it.

“As of this week,” Reinhard said. “I would have told you as soon as I got it if I thought I was going to be out in space for any longer, but I figured I could give you the news in person.”

“I half feel like I should be saluting you at the door.” But she was smiling.

“Please, don’t,” Reinhard said. “It’s not fair that you don’t have the chance to advance.”

“I don’t mind.” She took his jacket and hung it up on the hook.

Julian and Ingrid, having heard Reinhard’s voice, poked their heads out from the kitchen. Julian did salute, and Reinhard gave him one back, which made him grin. He had grown like a weed in the year that Reinhard had been gone, which didn’t surprise him, but it was odd to see him eye to eye, rather than as a child.

Ingrid was smiling, but her face belied some anxiety. “Welcome home,” she said. “Are you staying?” Her Alliance language had improved significantly, evident from the first words that she spoke.

“If you’ll have me,” Reinhard said to Annerose.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “We can set up your room easily enough.” She tugged his elbow, and the whole group proceeded back into the kitchen, where the smell of a roast cooking in the oven permeated the room. Julian had clearly been in the middle of cutting up vegetables for a salad. “You should have told me you were coming, but I guess you’re right on time. Walter’s coming for dinner tonight.”

“Is he?” Reinhard asked. He leaned over to Julian and in a stage whisper said, “Does he still do that a lot?”

Julian laughed. “Yes, sir.”

Annerose looked Reinhard over, pursing her lips. “Hm. Now that you’re both captains I hope that you don’t get any wrong ideas about how you should behave.”

“You should kick me out if you don’t think I can be a good dinner guest,” Reinhard said.

“I believe in the potential of your better nature. You saw him last time you were here, right?”

“Yes, and we got along just fine,” Reinhard said. He wandered over to the fridge and looked through it to find a snack, though he closed it again without pulling anything out. “When’s he going to be here?”

“About an hour,” Annerose said. “Do you have anything nice to wear?”

“Nothing but my dress whites,” Reinhard said. He had sold all the civilian clothes he had bought while on Phezzan, so that he wouldn’t have to carry them back, and while on board the Constantinople had worn little other than his uniform.

“Julian, don’t you have something that Reinhard can borrow--” She stopped when she saw the look on Reinhard’s face. “Oh, nevermind then.” He would just have to wear his shirtsleeves, though he didn’t think this was a problem.

“By the way,” Reinhard said, “I saw Dusty Attenborough when I was in the station. He’s on leave for the next few weeks. You should invite him for dinner.”

“Oh, he didn’t tell me. Of course I will. Fredrica’s planetside too, you know. We could have a little reunion.”

“Really? I thought she was still with the Sixth Fleet.”

“They’re rotating out for maintenance right now. She’s apparently helping coordinate it from the ground.”

“Oh-- I had assumed from her letter she was still on orbit.”

“She just came in last week. I think it’s some sort of political thing, trying to make it get done faster, that she’s planetside for.” Annerose shrugged. “She sounded stressed when I talked to her on the phone-- sounds like it’s been a mess for whatever reason.”

“I think everybody’s trying to rush everything,” Reinhard said. “Which I believe usually gums up the works.”

Annerose bit her lip and nodded.

“You on standby?” Reinhard asked.

“Always,” Annerose said. “Even though we just got back.” The Rosenritter had had a relatively brief deployment to Capche-Lanka, to provide extra support for destroying two Imperial bases there. It had gone well, but the fleet higher-ups had not wanted the regiment to remain there for an extended period of time.

“It’s not like you’re useful, sitting around in the capital.”

Annerose picked one of the baby carrots out of Julian’s salad bowl and threw it at him. Reinhard caught it, stuck out his tongue at her, and ate it.

“Go shower before Walter gets here. You smell like a space station.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Reinhard said, laughing.

He headed upstairs, abandoning his suitcase in the cluttered bedroom that was still mostly being used for storage-- he really would have to clean that out-- and went to go shower and change into a fresh uniform. When he was standing in the foggy bathroom with his towel wrapped around his waist, blowdrying his long hair as quickly as he could, there was a timid knock on the door.

“You need the toilet?” he called. “I can get out.” This was the problem with Annerose’s small house, he remembered.

But the door cracked open and Ingrid stepped inside, closing it behind her.

“You’re lucky I’m decent,” he said.

“You’re going to work for Trunicht?” she asked, getting straight to business. Helpfully, Reinhard turned the blowdryer all the way to its maximum, so that there was less chance of being overheard over its deafening roar, especially by the too-observant Julian.

“Theoretically,” Reinhard said. “I got the transfer order to his department, but no start date. It’s not exactly clear where he intends to fit me in.”

“Have you spoken with him?”

“No.”

“Do you know… what’s going to happen?”

Reinhard looked into her face. She was biting her lip, meeting his eyes.

“I’ll let you know when I find out,” he said. “I’m not going to keep you in the dark.” He transferred the hair dryer to his other hand. “To be honest, I’d been hoping you could tell me what’s going on.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything.”

“Not even when Julian eavesdrops on bishops for you? Or through my mom and her, uh, connections?”

“Nobody seems to know what’s happening on Odin.”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” Reinhard said. “Civil war, or the start of it.”

Ingrid squeezed her eyes shut. “The news that comes in through Phezzan--”

“Don’t trust anything it says,” Reinhard said flatly. “The Imperial papers have their own interests, and I’m sure there’s a communication breakdown of massive proportions happening over there.” He dropped the hair dryer to the counter, still running, and ran a brush through his hair so he could start to braid it. “Their fleet can issue statements all it wants when its only enemy is us,” Reinhard said. “But when it’s becoming factional?” He shook his head. “Probably the best sense we’ll have of who’s winning is by what refugees start flooding through Phezzan.”

“What will happen to Erwin?”

Her voice was steady, but it was that steadiness that belied how miserable she was. Reinhard looked at her for a second, then put a comforting hand on her arm. “I think the best news you can hope for is that you don’t hear anything about him. That will mean the Earth Church is protecting him, like they promised they would. No one will say anything about him until he becomes important. And we can only hope that he won’t. Not now, at least.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I promise-- as soon as I do hear anything from Trunicht about what the plans are, you and Annerose will be the first to know.”

She nodded. “You should get dressed. Captain Schenkopp will be here in a minute.”

“I wanted to ask, how’s that--” But Ingrid was already leaving the bathroom. Annoyed, Reinhard turned the hair dryer off, leaving himself in the hot and sticky silence of the bathroom.

He took his sweet time getting dressed, dawdling in his room until he heard Annerose loudly greet Schenkopp at the door. She made very sure he could hear her say, “And guess who showed up at my doorstep this afternoon?”

Schenkopp’s low voice was less audible through the floor, but Reinhard finished doing his red tie and opened the door in time to hear: “--didn’t think you were entertaining some other captain.” He must have seen Reinhard’s jacket hanging up by the door.

Annerose laughed. “No, Reinhard got promoted.”

“I should congratulate him.”

By this time, Reinhard had appeared on the stairs, looking down at where he and Annerose were loitering in the entryway, her hand on his scarf. “Thank you, Captain,” Reinhard said.

He looked up at him with a smirk. “I suppose your punishment is over, then?”

“I wasn’t being punished.” Reinhard descended the stairs with as much grace as he could muster.

“And I’m next in line for the Imperial throne,” Schenkopp said. “Being assigned to a ship as old as the one you were on is like someone was trying to get you killed.”

“The Constantinople was a good ship,” Reinhard said. “Lucky, too.”

“If he was really being punished, he wouldn’t have been promoted twice in a year,” Annerose said. “Come on-- Julian made dinner.”

Julian and Ingrid said their hellos to Schenkopp in the other room, and Schenkopp commented on how good Julian’s cooking looked.

“Are you the youngest they’ve ever made someone a captain?” Schenkopp asked as they sat down at the table. Julian listened with interest.

“I don’t know,” Reinhard said, feeling rather miffed that Schenkopp was bringing up his age. “I don’t know if they keep track of these things.”

“I feel like you have to be.” Schenkopp tilted his chair back on two legs. Since Annerose was out of the room getting the bottle of wine, she couldn’t glare at him, but Ingrid looked faintly worried that he was about to fall backwards into the wall. “You graduated the academy two years early, and they made you a lieutenant commander to start out with-- I don’t know how anybody could be faster.”

“I’m sure someone has,” Reinhard said. “If you’re at the front and lucky, you can get promoted quickly. That’s what I’ve been told.”

Annerose reappeared with the wine bottle. “Maybe one of the 730 Mafia has you beat,” she said. “I’d have to look up their service records.”

“Doubt it,” Schenkopp said. “It’s impressive, I will admit that at least.”

“Oh, you don’t have to begrudge him, Walter,” Annerose said.

“What in the world gave you that impression?” He was silently laughing.

Annerose just pursed her lips as she sat down.

Julian handed around the roast and mashed potatoes, and Reinhard was forced to pass the roast to Ingrid without taking any himself. He took more than his fair share of potatoes in his stead. When Julian raised an eyebrow, Reinhard pointedly ignored him. No one had bothered to explain Reinhard’s lie about being a vegetarian to Julian before, as when Schenkopp had come to dinner when Reinhard before, Annerose had always just asked him to cook something meatless. Reinhard didn’t think Schenkopp noticed Julian’s expression, but he did notice Reinhard’s mound of mashed potatoes.

“Still a vegetarian, I see,” Schenkopp said.

“Yes,” Reinhard said. He hoped that none of the other people at the table would give the game away.

“I would have told Julian to make something you could eat if I had known you were going to be here for dinner,” Annerose said, though it was with a tone of fatigue from Reinhard’s stupid, years-old lie.

“What do you eat, when you’re out in space? I don’t think I’ve met many vegetarians in the fleet, and I certainly haven’t had dinner with them.”

“There’s usually something,” Reinhard said. He ate some potatoes so that Schenkopp would stop asking him questions. Of course, that was not destined to be the case.

“So, where are you being assigned now?” Schenkopp asked.

“Job Trunicht’s advisory staff,” Reinhard said. “I don’t know if it will be a permanent position, or what it’s going to involve.”

“Helluva time to be assigned there.”

Reinhard just smiled. “How has life been with the Rosenritter?” Reinhard asked. “Did you like Capche-Lanka?”

“Like? No, not at all,” Schenkopp said. “I don’t like the snow.”

“Really? I figured after Cahokia that you’d all have had your fill of the heat.”

“I didn’t like that place, either, now that you mention it. But at least when you sweat on that planet, it doesn’t freeze to your face. That’s all that matters to me.”

“I liked Capche-Lanka better,” Annerose said. “Not having a breathable atmosphere on Cahokia was very annoying. And the sand I could have done without, too.”

“I hope the next place we go is lush and tropical,” Schenkopp said. “I wouldn’t mind a jungle.” He grinned at her. “You’d think there has to be some planet where I can swing through the trees.” He raised his arms to illustrate, and though Annerose pursed her lips, it was still clear that she was entertained rather than annoyed.

“I think you were born in the wrong century, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Annerose said. “I don’t think there are any tropical planets in the Iserlohn corridor.”

“Ah, but when we break through into the Empire-- there has to be at least one planet with a jungle.”

“It’s a nice fantasy,” Reinhard said.

“Phezzan’s tropical, now that I think about it. At least the capital is, near the elevator.” He tapped his chin. “You said you liked that climate, didn’t you?”

Ingrid looked down at her plate, and Julian glanced between Reinhard and Schenkopp, listening carefully.

“You planning to take a vacation there?” Reinhard asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“I don’t think I would be the one to plan it, no,” Schenkopp said, the corner of his lips twitching. “I don’t have much of a head for that kind of logistics.”

“I suppose that’s why you’re a Rosenritter.”

Schenkopp just grinned. “Precisely. And why you’ll be stuck somewhere behind a desk, while we see all the action that’s coming.”

“I’m not sure what action you think is about to happen,” Reinhard said. “I think the Imperial fleet is going to be busy chasing its own tail for the foreseeable future.”

“Why should we have to wait for them to come knocking? I’m tired of playing the game on their terms.”

“It’s not as though Iserlohn will be any less well defended--”

Schenkopp barked out a laugh. “That old thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that Iserlohn Fortress had become a trifle, suddenly.”

Schenkopp nudged Annerose with his elbow. “Don’t you think if someone could do the job of getting us inside those fortress walls, we could take the whole inside ourselves?”

Annerose laughed, though Reinhard didn’t think the joke had been particularly funny. “Maybe,” she said. “I think I’d like to try.”

“It is the getting inside the walls that has historically been an issue,” Reinnhard said, voice dry.

“You aren’t going to proudly proclaim that you could take it, if you had a fleet?” Schenkopp asked.

“Overconfidence is the mother of disaster,” he said and ate some more mashed potatoes.

“You’ve got plenty of time in your life left to capture Iserlohn,” Annerose said. “But I don’t think you can pretend that you haven’t thought about how to do it.”

“Of course I’ve thought about it. But I’m not going to boast about something I haven’t done yet.”

“What do you think, Julian? Could Captain von Müsel take down Iserlohn?” Schenkopp asked, completely unfazed by Reinhard’s dig.

“Of course,” Julian said, without any hesitation, which made Annerose shake her head, hiding her smile with her hand. “But maybe you should work together.”

“Right,” Schenkopp said. “We’d make a great team. I get along so well with your sister, after all, and you’re not so different.”

“Maybe someday,” Reinhard said.

Schenkopp leaned back in his seat. “Well, I’ve heard that we aren’t likely to be taking a jaunt to Iserlohn any time soon, so I won’t be in a rush for that.”

“And how have you come into possession of intimate knowledge of the top level plans for our fleets?”

Schenkopp just smiled and turned to Julian. “How’s the end of your school year been going?”

“Very good, sir,” Julian said. “I’m looking forward to it being over.”

The conversation was light after that, though Reinhard couldn’t help but be annoyed at Schenkopp for having insinuated that he knew more about the plans for Phezzan than Reinhard did. He hated feeling like he was missing information. Although he had asked for the posting at the front, he had still been completely out of the political loop in the capital for more than a year. And a commander of a single old battleship was rarely privy to much strategic gossip, especially when he spent much of his time on a communications blackout on patrol.

He was suddenly anxious to get moving with his new posting; he wanted some real detail about it. Schenkopp could brag about the Rosenritters’ occasional bouts of excitement all he liked, but Reinhard did want to get his hands onto the real plans.

Schenkopp didn’t know anything, Reinhard decided, watching him make Annerose laugh. No one would have told the captain of the Rosenritter anything; they weren’t trustworthy in the eyes of the fleet higher-ups. That was why Schenkopp wasn’t going to become a commodore any time soon. Schenkopp was as in the dark as anyone else at the table was, and he was just trying to figure out if Reinhard knew anything. That realization relaxed Reinhard somewhat, though he couldn’t shake his annoyance that Schenkopp was able to pretend to be carefree about being in the dark. Ingrid couldn’t-- and Reinhard was twisting his napkin around his fingers underneath the table. Julian hung onto every word.

It was only Annerose and Schenkopp who were relaxed; they were amused by each other to the point of caring about very little else. Reinhard stopped paying attention to what they were saying, at some point, but he couldn’t help but notice the way they touched each other, how Annerose’s hand would linger on Schenkopp’s when she took his wine glass to refill, or how he tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she leaned across the table to grab the salad bowl, or the way his hand very clearly made its way to her thigh underneath the table when she sat back down. And he couldn’t help but see the way she smiled at his touch, and hear the way her voice turned up with a sweet interest in everything he said, even if it was silly or mundane.

He didn’t begrudge her her happiness, intellectually. But he couldn’t help but notice it, and it was that noticing that set him on edge. He could be polite, though, and he could hold up his side of the conversation for the rest of the meal.

After dinner, Annerose asked if anyone wanted to watch a movie, clearly just trying to find a way to kill time with Schenkopp there until it was an acceptable hour for everyone to go to bed. Ingrid assented, knowing exactly how this usually played out, but Reinhard found sitting in the armchair and half paying attention to some schlocky action flick unbearable, and so he wandered out of the living room after just a half an hour, standing in the kitchen and sneakily eating some of the roast he had not been able to partake in while Schenkopp was in the room.

Absentmindedly, he looked at his phone and he realized he had a text message-- one from Dusty Attenborough, of all people. He was apologizing for having had to run when they had met in the station.

The noise of the movie from the other room was muffled, and Reinhard twirled the end of one of his braids around his finger. He didn’t really want to go back in there, and he couldn’t stay in the kitchen all night, and going up to his room would have felt like some kind of defeat. He texted Dusty back.

Reinhard: No worries. Did you just arrive planetside?

Dusty: no-- i got in a few hours ago. been with my family

Reinhard: Are you busy right now?

Dusty: nah. I’m hiding in my bedroom so my mother can’t pester me about whatever she has on her mind

Dusty: if they keep me on Heinessen I am going to have to get my own place-- i can’t bear too much of this haha

Dusty: with my luck i’ll be back at the front though

Reinhard: Feeling like your rumored posting with Bucock is not going to happen?

Dusty: no, i think it will, i just think that bucock will have the bad luck of leaving the capital as soon as i’m with him

Reinhard: Still want to get a drink? I don’t really feel the need to stay here while my sister is entertaining Captain Schenkopp.

Dusty: lol of course!

Dusty: there’s a great little bar in the brownstone district if u want to meet me there

Reinhard: Sure. Be there in half an hour.

He stuck his head back into the living room enough to catch Ingrid’s eye. She was sitting next to Annerose on the couch, the enormous fluffy cat stretched out across both their laps. Schenkopp had his arm wrapped around Annerose’s sounder. Reinhard silently beckoned to Ingrid, and she eased herself out from under the cat’s weight.

Annerose looked up at her as she got up, but then noticed that it was Reinhard who had gotten her attention and just smiled.

“Let’s go out,” Reinhard said, once Ingrid had joined him in the kitchen. “I don’t want to stay here.”

Ingrid glanced back to the living room. “I don’t really want to leave…”

Reinhard crossed his arms. “She’s not going to miss us if we go. Come on.”

“Where are you going?”

“Have you met Captain Attenborough?”

“No.”

“He’s one of Annerose’s school friends. He wants to get drinks.”

“Shouldn’t Annerose--”

“She’s busy. Let’s go.” His tone was the same one he had often used with his junior officers aboard the Constantinople , and it seemed to work on Ingrid just as well.

She sighed, but assented and went to get her shoes from near the door. As she did, Reinhard stuck his head back into the living room. “Ingrid and I are going out. We won’t be back until late.”

“Have fun,” Annerose said. He could have done without the weird relief in her voice.

Julian looked up. “Can I come?”

“No,” Reinhard said. He left so that he wouldn’t have to see Julian’s disappointed expression. He found the keys to Annerose’s car hanging on the side of the fridge, and pulled on his uniform jacket. “Ready?” he asked Ingrid.

They headed out. Ingrid stared dolefully out at the scenery as Reinhard drove, his window down and the cool night air fluttering the pieces of his hair not tucked inside his braids. He liked driving quickly. Annerose, if she had been in the car, probably would have been annoyed at the speed at which he took corners.

The bar that Dusty had invited him to was fairly busy, and it took a minute for Reinhard to find a place to park. It was easy to spot Dusty once they made it inside, though. He was already at the bar, leaning on it with both his elbows and chatting animatedly with the bartender as he fixed a drink for someone else. He looked up when Reinhard slid onto the barstool next to him.

“You made it!” Dusty said. His eyes were bright, and in the neon glare of the beer advertisements above their heads, his freckles stood out on his face like dark constellations.

“I’m glad you could provide an excuse for me to get out of the house on such short notice,” Reinhard said.

“Feeling’s mutual, honestly.”

Ingrid was hovering behind Reinhard’s shoulder, and Reinhard turned to her. “I should make the introductions-- Dusty, this is Ms. Ingrid Roscher. Ingrid, this is Captain Dusty Attenborough.”

A strange expression crossed Dusty’s face for a second, but he covered it up as he extended a hand to Ingrid, who shook it. “Pleasure to finally meet you,” he said. “The other Müsel’s told me all about you in her letters.”

“Likewise,” Ingrid said. “I’m happy to make the acquaintance of Annerose’s friends.”

“What brings you out here with Captain Reinhard tonight?”

“I dragged her along,” Reinhard said as Ingrid took a seat. Dusty flagged the bartender over to get them all a round of drinks. “I figured Annerose’s house was a little crowded with so many people in it.”

Dusty laughed. “I can imagine.” When the bartender passed them a round of beers, Dusty raised his. “To mutual acquaintance.”

Ingrid smiled and raised her glass.

“You know, it’s funny to me that she’s managed to stay with Schenkopp for so long,” Dusty said. “I thought it was a fine relationship while the three of us were in school, but it didn’t seem destined to last, from what I heard of it back then.”

“My sister and I are both tenacious people,” Reinhard said.

Dusty laughed. “I can imagine. I suppose she’d have to be to stand being, what, one of five, ten women in her regiment? And I think the only female officer the Rosenritter have ever had.”

“I don’t think it bothers her,” Ingrid said.

“No, of course not,” Dusty agreed. “But it makes sense.”

“Are you like your siblings at all?” Reinhard asked.

“Hah, maybe,” Dusty said. “I guess we’re alike in being the baby brother, you and me. But my older sisters--” He shrugged. “I think my mother would say that we’re all equally ridiculous, but they never had the burden of my parents’ expectations.”

“Do you stand to inherit?” Ingrid asked.

“What? Oh, no.” Dusty laughed. “I guess you do come from the Empire-- we don’t really do that here. No, I don’t inherit, unless you count that my grandfather’s dying wish was that I join the military. As much as I would have preferred not to.”

“You’re a reluctant soldier, who’s still going to become the youngest flag officer the Alliance has had?” Reinhard asked. “It says something about you.”

A strange smile touched Dusty’s lips. “Something good, I hope.”

“Of course,” Reinhard said. “It’s almost a shame that Bucock is going to take you in his staff-- I wouldn’t mind working with you at all.” Despite the friendly atmosphere between them at the bar, and the briefness of their encounters up until now, the part of Reinhard’s brain that was always paying attention to other people’s strengths and weaknesses couldn’t help but slot Dusty neatly into his most interesting mental category: people who could be useful to him in the future.

“Hey, it won’t be forever,” Dusty said. “We both seem to get shuffled around often enough-- it’s only a matter of time before we end up in the same place, I bet.” He took another sip of his beer. “But I have to say, I’m glad I won’t be working so closely with Mr. Trunicht.”

“You don’t like him?” Reinhard asked.

“I’ll say I didn’t vote for him, at the very least.”

“Any reason?”

“He is a conservative,” Dusty said. “ I am not a conservative.” He paused and looked at Reinhard with a more searching expression. “Are you trying to get me to badmouth your future boss?” Dusty leaned one elbow on the bartop. “I suppose it’s not likely that any of his spies are around this kind of place.”

“Spies?”

“Unless you count as one,” Dusty said, laughing again.

“Secretary Trunicht has an interest in my career, as I said,” Reinhard reiterated. He wasn’t sure what Dusty was implying. “I’m trying to get a more complete picture of what kind of man I’m going to be working with. That’s all. I’m not a spy.”

Dusty held up his hands, disarmed. “I know! He just has a reputation.”

“Of what kind?”

“You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

Dusty did look around again. The bar was crowded, but no one was paying attention to them, not even the bartender. “It surprises me that you haven’t heard the rumors.”

“I’ve been in space for the past year, and on Phezzan for the year before that.” Reinhard tipped his beer glass around in his hand, watching the foam stick to the side of the glass. “I haven’t had the time or the ability to keep up with the capital gossip.”

“That’s fair. Don’t repeat this, if you’d be so kind. Or, if you do, it wasn’t me that told you.” He chuckled.

“Of course not.”

“You know the Patriotic Knight Corps?”

“No,” Reinhard said.

“Yes,” Ingrid said at the same moment.

“Good-- you pay attention.” He nodded at Ingrid. “They’re, well, my father would go as far as to call them a terrorist organization. But they’re a political group, or secret society, or private army, depending on who you ask. They’ll show up in costume at the houses of liberal candidates, or journalists who have been a little too critical of certain people or policies, and they’ll make a lot of noise, do some vandalism… That sort of thing.”

“That doesn’t really sound like terrorism to me. Is your father overreacting?”

“It makes too big of a stir if you kill a politician,” Dusty said. “But if a politician’s mistress is killed by a hit-and-run driver, that’s the kind of thing that stays out of the news. And a paper’s offices might be too big to target, but if a reporter’s house is robbed, and then the police refuse to investigate…” Dusty shrugged expressively. “A string of the kind of incident that sends a message, anyway. Maybe it’s not terrorism to the masses, but it tells a certain group of people that they need to be afraid.”

“And you’re sure that those things are connected to the PKC?”

“They do their best to obfuscate it, but…” He shrugged. “I believe my dad about this, if not much else. He’s worried about it.”

Reinhard nodded. “And what does that have to do with Trunicht?”

“It’s somewhere between an open secret and a rumor,” Dusty said. “Trunicht is heavily involved with them.”

“I find it hard to picture him dressing up in a costume and going out to stir up trouble,” Reinhard said. “I think that would look very bad if he got unmasked.”

“Oh, yeah, no, I doubt it’s anything like that,” Dusty said. “It’s more of-- well, it’s Trunicht’s enemies that find themselves getting harassed, more often than not. And the PKC seems to sometimes have information that they shouldn’t, and they’re clearly well funded…” He trailed off. “I don’t know if he directs them-- maybe even that would be too close of an association-- but he’s involved.”

“I’m hearing a lot of speculation and not a lot of fact.”

“Hey, you don’t have to believe me,” Dusty grumbled. “I’m trying to do you a favor.”

“I believe you,” Ingrid said.

“Hah, I appreciate it.”

Reinhard thought for a moment. “Who’s in this PKC?”

“They wear masks for a reason,” Dusty said. “And they don’t tend to get arrested, even when they make noise. So I don’t know. People with connections, I’d guess. Probably a lot of ex-fleet-- they’re well trained, possibly even current fleet stationed on Heinessen. Some police, probably-- I’m sure you know the type.”

“Why are you warning me?”

Color touched Dusty’s cheeks. “It would be terrible for you to make a wrong step and end up on Trunicht’s bad side.” He paused. “Or, worse, make the right ones and end up in too deep.”

Reinhard nodded. “I appreciate the warning.”

“Any time,” Dusty said with a smile.

“If you need anything from me, let me know,” Reinhard said.

“Hey, I’m not here to try to make an exchange.” He didn’t seem that offended; he was just smiling. “Besides, I don’t know how much clout you’re really going to have over there in Trunicht’s office. I wouldn’t want you to make me a promise that you’ll have trouble fulfilling.”

“I don’t think that would be an issue.”

“I like your confidence.” He grinned. “But really-- this is information between friends. I’d hate to see you walk in there blind.”

“Why?” Reinhard studied Dusty’s face, which was earnest and open. Dusty just looked at him for a second, considering, then shook his head, his floppy hair falling into his face.

“You know what?” Dusty said, finishing his beer. “I changed my mind. I do want something from you.”

Reinhard silently raised an eyebrow.

“Buy me a drink,” Dusty said.

“That, I can certainly do,” Reinhard said. Nothing he knew about Dusty told him that he was being manipulative, so the free offer of information probably was just a gesture of friendship. He tried to relax as he flagged down the bartender to get them some more drinks. Focusing on Trunicht’s political machinations, and the loud bar with the jukebox jangling away, and Dusty’s smiling face, and Ingrid’s shoulder bumping his-- it was enough to push thoughts of Annerose out of his mind for a while, at least. He and Ingrid had come here to have a good time out of the house: he resolved to do just that.

When he had been out at the front, on the Constantinople , in command, there had been no reason for him to feel this way. There had always been the next step to take, some order to give or carry out, a clear and direct sense of his place in the moment. He had a good rapport with his crew because he was confident and knowledgeable on the bridge, clear when speaking, and friendly in the moments that duty allowed him to be friendly in. It all was easy to understand and act upon. But outside of that context, when things were personal , he was perpetually disarmed.

He pushed his discomfort about Annerose and Schenkopp to the back of his mind, as well as the lingering feeling that he didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing here, and said to Dusty, “So, your father’s a journalist? Where does he write for?”

Dusty was more than happy to tell him all about his family-- the contentious relationship he had with his father, the way his bevy of older sisters babied him despite that being completely inappropriate, his mother’s conviction that he was the reincarnation of his grandfather. It was nothing like Reinhard’s childhood or family life, and so he was interested despite the mundanity of the subject. When Dusty asked about him, Reinhard didn’t feel like talking about his family, so he instead gave a few funny anecdotes about his time working on Phezzan, which Dusty was appropriately amused by.

Ingrid listened to the conversation passively. Reinhard tried to include her in the conversation a few times, but she clearly wasn’t interested, and after a while got up to go pick some music on the jukebox in the back. Reinhard kept one eye on her across the room, but no one bothered her as she leaned against the wall and put coin after coin into the machine.

Dusty glanced over at her after she had been gone for a while. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Did Ms. Ingrid over there come to be your chaperone, or your date?”

Reinhard laughed. “Neither. She’s just a friend, and Annerose doesn’t baby me like your siblings do. No, I made her come, like I said. I figured she would enjoy getting out of the house while Captain Schenkopp was there.”

“It’s never exactly been clear to me from your sister’s letters what’s going on with anyone other than Captain Schenkopp.”

Ingrid had her eyes closed and her head tilted back against the wall. She wasn’t paying Reinhard and Dusty any attention at all. “I don’t think I could explain it to you,” Reinhard said. “I don’t even know if Annerose herself could.”

Dusty laughed. “I think we’ve all been there, at one point or another.”

Reinhard’s hand crept up to his locket, but when he realized what he was doing, he dropped it back to the bartop. “Yeah.”

The song playing on the jukebox ended, and they both watched Ingrid fish around in her pockets and purse for coins and come up dry at last. Reinhard sighed, and Dusty raised his eyebrows.

“I should probably take her back home. I don’t know if I’ve succeeded at keeping her cheerful.”

“I’m afraid I probably didn’t help as much with that as much as I might have. Did I keep you cheerful at least?”

Reinhard had not been expecting the question, and he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Although it wasn’t your responsibility, I think you did.”

Dusty grinned. “Then I’ll consider it an evening well spent. We should do this again.”

“Of course. And I wasn’t kidding before-- I will have Annerose invite you to dinner.”

“And put more people around her table?” He laughed. “But sure, just let me know when. I’m free, until I’m not.”

Reinhard stood. It had been a long time since he had last casually gotten drinks with someone directly outside of work-- he thought the last time might have been with Fredrica, ages ago-- and he thought about expressing that to Dusty, but changed his mind as he opened his mouth. “I’ll see you around, then?”

Dusty stood as well. He offered Reinhard his hand. Reinhard took it, and Dusty grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Absolutely. Have a nice night, Reinhard.”

It took a moment before Dusty let him go, and by that time, Ingrid had noticed them both standing and had sidled over.

“Ready to go?” Reinhard asked.

“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain Attenborough.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Roscher.” They nodded at each other, and Reinhard walked Ingrid out.

The night was much cooler now, and it was late, after midnight. He hadn’t realized just how long he had been talking to Dusty for. They would probably be able to sneak back into Annerose’s house without any further awkwardness, so that was a success, too.

They were both silent as Reinhard drove them home, feeling mellower and taking the roads more slowly this time.

When they were just a few miles from Annerose’s house, Ingrid spoke up. “Are you going to see Captain Attenborough again?”

“Why do you ask? Do you not like him?”

“He seems nice,” Ingrid said. “He likes you a lot.”

Reinhard hit the brakes a little too hard at the next red light. “It’s good to have friends. Annerose is always telling me I should make more.”

Ingrid just let out half a sigh and shook her head, resting her forehead on the cold glass of the window. “I agree with her.” She didn’t say anything for a bit longer. “But I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

Reinhard was silent for a while. “He’s nearly eight years older than me. I don’t think I need to be worried about--”

“You’re the same rank.”

He was grateful that she didn’t bring up the fact that Schenkopp was that much older than Annerose, approximately. But she wouldn’t do that. His fingers were tight on the steering wheel, so he couldn’t reach for his locket. “It’s not like that. We hardly know each other.”

She just shook her head again, and they drove in silence the rest of the way.