Page 25 of Skinwalker's Bane
She looked presentable and no one could take offense at an implied lack of respect.
The lieutenant in charge of the gate nodded at her and raised the gate for her. “Do you know your way to the Captain’s office?”
“I’ve only ever done the public Bridge tour,” Devin confessed. “It went straight to the Bridge itself.” If she remembered properly, the Bridge was far forward from here, in the very tip of the ship’s nose. There were layers and passages of offices and facilities between the gate and the Bridge, only the tour had gone straight through the main corridor and that was all.
The lieutenant nodded and beckoned to one of her people. The young guard hurried over and nodded. “Show Devin to the Captain’s office, would you, Everett?”
Everett nodded. He was dewy with youth, his cheeks flushed and the skin clear. He stepped to one side and moved forward, then looked over his shoulder as if he expected her to follow.
Devin caught up with him and walked alongside as he led her through the corridors. She was glad he was showing her the way. She would have quickly become lost with the swift changes of direction. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps it was an indirect path to the Captain’s office just to discourage anyone who might try to access her without explicit permission.
The young guard was silent as they walked, which made Devin feel even more nervous than she had been feeling already. She cleared her throat and he glanced at her, as if she had been about to speak.
Devin spoke, barely without thought. “Do you like your job, Everett?”
“I like it well enough.”
Improvements, she thought to herself. “What would you change, if you could change anything about it?” she asked him.
Everett frowned. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Maybe, I’d like it if the rest of the ship didn’t treat us as though we were shunned, when we’re in uniform.”
“They do that? Shun you?” Devin asked, startled.
He nodded. “Until they need us for something. Mostly, it’s like we’re in their way. We work hard, us Guards, only sometimes I don’t think anyone sees that at all.”
“I’m sure the Captain does.”
“She doesn’t come down to see us very often.” He shrugged. “Least, not when I’m on duty. I’ve only ever seen her once.”
“You’ve never spoken to the Captain directly?” Devin asked, even more surprised.
“She’s a busy lady,” Everett said stoutly, as if he had just realized that he was saying negative things about the Bridge and the Captain to a complete outsider.
“I know she is,” Devin assured him. “I’m surprised I got an appointment myself today.”
Everett didn’t talk after that. Devin didn’t push the conversation any further. He had given her a lot to think about.
Was everyone on the ship like Everett? Did everyone have ideas about how their lot could be improved? Surely, yes, they must. It was impossible for someone to be blissfully, completely happy about every single aspect of their lives. It meant that every single person Devin spoke to, if she asked the right questions, would be able to give her at least hints and clues about how their lives would be better if certain changes were made.
The doors to the Captain’s office were double-facing and slid apart as they got closer. The guard didn’t go in. He just nodded and waved her toward the doors.
Devin thanked him and stepped through into a big area filled with desks and active screens and people. None of the people was Captain Owens. There were several doors leading off the room and any one of them could be the Captain’s office.
There was one face in the room Devin did recognize. The man who came toward her had tanned skin from too much time in the Palatine fields, silver hair and brows and a narrow face. His eyes seemed far younger than his hair would indicate and Devin wondered what was the true indicator of his age. Was he old, with young eyes, or just prematurely gray?
She knew who he was, of course. Magorian was just as recognizable as Captain Owens. He gave her a small smile and a nod. “Devin Bronson, yes?”
“I am.”
“Masud Magorian,” he told her. “I’m the Captain’s Chief of Staff.” He said it in a way that implied he did not expect she would know that, which was almost laughable. Everyone knew who Magorian was. Devin didn’t smile though. She nodded acknowledgement of his introduction. “It’s good to meet you,” she added. “I have seen you around the ship, of course. Also at the soiree last year. We’ve never spoken directly.”
“A condition that should have been corrected a while ago, I suspect. You’re stirring waves, Devin Bronson.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“No? Then Bishan Frost isn’t in your employ?”
“He is, but this thing about the shard…that was quite spontaneous.”
