Page 324 of Commander’s Mate

That mattered to me more than I expected.

A month earlier I had been taken off a street and told my choices were over.

Now I helped hand out slates so people could make one.

Admiral Degatu explained Julconi, the missing dreadnoughts, and the transport problem. Zared explained the risk of continuing deeper into Sargus territory. No speeches about glory. No promises that everyone would survive.

Then he said, “Anyone who wishes to go toward Farseek or another safe Consortium world will be transported as soon as we can arrange it. Rescue creates no debt. You do not owe us service because we freed you.”

I felt something warm and fierce inside me.

That sentence had not existed when I came aboard.

Now it was policy.

People asked questions for almost an hour.

How long might the search take?

Could non-warriors help?

Would families be allowed to remain together?

Could the registry search the Julconi data before a mission?

What if another dreadnought never answered?

Finally Degatu called for a vote among those choosing to remain under Farseek protection.

Continue the rescue mission, or turn toward Farseek and begin rebuilding now.

The result was not unanimous, but it was overwhelming.

Continue.

Some wanted Farseek. They were not shamed. Their names went onto a transport-priority list.

Most wanted their missing people first.

Afterward I stood near the registry table and looked at the new columns Tivid had added: pilot, engineer, medic, law enforcement, logistics, agriculture, communications, teaching, construction.

On Earth I had carried mail.

I had thought that meant I had no useful skills in space.

I understood now that what I had really done was manage routes, names, exceptions, addresses, priorities, and people who became angry when systems lost them.

Apparently, the universe had found a larger route.

Zared came to stand beside me.

“You are smiling.”

“I think I finally know what my job is.”

“Registry director?”

“That sounds terrifyingly official.”