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than him? He had his request in, and maybe, if Hoberd got his promotion, he’d put in a good word for Tenn before he left. As long as Hoberd was running the battery, though, that wasn’t likely to happen. He didn’t want to lose the best CPO in the sector, so he said.
    Well
, thought Tenn,
it’s nice to be appreciated
. Still, he knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he could say he’d run the biggest and the best.
    Shift change was coming, and officers and crew filled thehalls on their way to their duty stations. Even though it would only be a drill, Tenn was looking forward to hearing the generators whine as the capacitors loaded, followed by the heavy vibrations and scorched-air smell as the ion cannons and lasers spoke, spewing hard energy across empty space to destroy the practice targets. To be able to reach out a hundred klicks or more and smash a ship to atomic dust was
real
power. And nobody was better at it than he was.
    Tenn got to the array five minutes early, as always. Fifty meters in diameter, the unit was quiet as shift change neared. He saw Chief Droot and nodded at him. “Chief. How’re we doin’?”
    “Shipshape, Gee.” The big Chagrian, one of the few aliens to rise to any kind of rank in the Imperial Navy, glanced around. “You know there’s a surprise drill at eleven thirty hours?”
    “Yeah.”
    “We cleared the decks, got the caps charged, ready to blaze.”
    Tenn grinned. “Thanks, Droot. I owe you one.”
    “Nah, I’m still two down—you had the station shining like a mirror on that last inspection. I got a smile out of the admiral himself that time.”
    Tenn nodded. Everybody kept track of who owed who what on a ship, and you didn’t let a fellow chief catch flak if you could help out. Even if it wasn’t your watch, it was your station, and what made one look bad made them all look bad. And vice versa, of course.
    “Station’s yours,” Droot said. “I’m gonna go get some supper. I hear the mess hall has some berbersian crab on the menu.”
    “More likely doctored soypro,” Tenn said.
    Droot shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s the navy, not the Yuhuz Four Star.” He left, ducking to make sure his horns cleared the hatch.
    The morning shift crew was already in place—CPO Tenn Graneet wanted his people onstation fifteen minutes early, and if you weren’t, you’d be sorry. Once, and you got your rump chewed like a starved reek was gnawing on it. Twice, and you were looking for another job.
    “Good morning, people,” Tenn said.
    “Morning, Chief,” came the echo from the crew.
    “Polish your buttons, boys,” the chief said. “I don’t want anything sticking just in case we have to shoot something today.”
    Most of the crew smiled. They all knew about the drill. They were all ready. None of them wanted to be the being who disappointed Master Chief Petty Officer Graneet. No, sir …
MEDICAL FRIGATE
MEDSTAR FOUR
, POLAR ORBIT, PLANET DESPAYRE
    “Captain Dr. Kornell Divini?”
    Uli nodded. “Yeah.”
    “Medical Technician Class Two Vurly, sir,” the man said. Human, as Uli was, or at least close enough that he couldn’t tell otherwise, and Uli was something of an expert on humanoid anatomy.
    “This way, sir.”
    The meditech led him down featureless gray corridors, deeper into the ship, to an office complex. Uli marked the route half consciously, knowing he could find his way around pretty quickly if need be. He had a good sense of direction, though it wasn’t anything he could claim credit for—he’d been born that way.
    Sure enough, it was the Medical Admin section he found himself in. Ships’ medical suites all looked alike; the same pale off-white walls, wide corridors, and color-coded luminescent floor stripes that led you to various departments.There were a dozen or so people working: secretaries, mostly, some biologicals, some droids. The hands-on medical stuff would be done elsewhere down the hall, he knew.
    “Commander Hotise, Dr.