Dreadnaught

“Aboard your ship? After what you and he did? You disgraced your position and should have been relieved of command and called to account for—” Other members of the crew had halted to watch the scene, and now a low growl arose from them, menacing enough to draw Paol Benan’s attention and choke off his words.

A chief petty officer stepped forward, speaking in a firm voice. “Sir, if there had been any grounds to question the honor of our captain, we would have been aware of it. She and the admiral never violated their duties or responsibilities.”

“Their honor is not stained,” an ensign added.

Whatever Benan might have replied was cut off by Victoria Rione, who pushed past Desjani to stare at him, then in a low, furious voice spoke to her husband. “We will talk. In private. Now.”

A flush spread across Benan’s pallor. “Anything you have to say—”

“If you still care about me at all, you will not proclaim in public anything regarding my honor or my actions,” Rione said in a voice that seemed to physically force Benan back.

That got through to him. Benan swallowed, then nodded, suddenly subdued. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Vic.”

“Come with me. Please.” Rione faced not Geary, but Desjani. “If you will excuse us, Captain. My . . . thanks,” she got out in a strangled voice, then spun and led her husband away.

Desjani watched them go, then focused on her crew members, who were standing about, uncertain. “Thank you.”

They nodded or saluted or smiled and moved on as Desjani beckoned to Geary. “Let’s keep moving. That was close.”

“What was close? What was Benan doing that you interrupted?”

She stopped in midstep to stare at him. “You really don’t know what he was doing?” Desjani asked. “He was about to challenge you to an honor duel.”

Geary wasn’t sure that he had heard right. “A what?”

“An honor duel. To the death, usually.” They reached her stateroom, and she gestured him inside. “Hopefully, you can spend five minutes in here without anyone assuming we’re acting like rabbits in heat.” Desjani flopped down on a chair in an attitude very different from her usual rigid posture, her face troubled. “Honor duels started, I don’t know, thirty years ago maybe. Fleet officers calling each other out on matters of honor. We couldn’t beat the enemy so we started eating ourselves alive.” Her gaze locked on his eyes. “Matters of honor, like accusations of unfaithfulness.”

“That happened in the fleet?” Geary demanded.

“You know what we’re like even now! Honor is all that matters, displays of courage are all that matter.” Desjani made a disgusted face. “Challenged officers couldn’t back down without being accused of cowardice. We didn’t have enough officers as it was, and those we did have were killing each other in a frenzy of misguided zeal. Finally, fleet stepped in with very harsh regulations mandating serious penalties for anyone making a challenge. It took a little while to stick, and more than a few firing squads; but by the time I entered the fleet, honor duels were just stories told by the few who were still alive from those days. But the regulations are still on the books. We had to memorize them in officer training. If that idiot had finished stating his challenge to you, I would have been forced to have him arrested and locked in the brig, pending court-martial upon our return.” She gave him a speculative look. “Unless you decided on a summary execution in the field, which is permitted under the regulations.”

Geary looked around. He couldn’t remember ever being in her stateroom before. Choosing a seat, he sat down facing her. “That’s not funny.”

“I didn’t think it was. He almost challenged me as well, or didn’t you notice?”

He stared at her. “That bit when he began to say something about how you should have been relieved of command?”

“Yeah. That bit,” Desjani spat out.

“Your crew defended your honor,” Geary pointed out.

“That’s because they don’t know how dishonorable my feelings were,” she said, bitterness growing in her words. “You could have had me for the asking. You knew it then, and if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit to that. Don’t pretend I’m this model of honor when I would have done anything you asked of me even though you were my superior officer.”

“You didn’t—Tanya, you believed I had a vital mission to carry out. Even our harshest critics could never point to anything you did—”

“I am my harshest critic, Admiral Geary!” She glowered at him. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“I suppose I should have.”