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what I did that cost me the job.”
    “Yes,” Harrison agreed flatly. “And that’s why you had your pick of enlisted spacers for Tornado . Some Captains tried to hold their people back, but there wasn’t a Chief in the Force who wasn’t going to back the woman who saved Bowman’s people from that sick bastard.
    “I don’t know if you’ve been advised, but my Alpha Squadron’s battlewagons have picked up the first wave of stopgap upgrades,” the Admiral told Annette. “I’m going to need to pick your brain on interface missiles and compressed-matter armor when you have a free hour later. I’ll even buy the beer.”
    “I don’t drink beer,” Annette pointed out. Certainly, after everything that had happened, she wasn’t going to drink with Space Force officers.
    “Then I’ll buy tea,” Harrison said calmly. “We’ll talk later, Captain. I hear a buffet table calling my name.”
    With a firm nod, Alpha Squadron’s Admiral moved on, leaving Annette Bond gazing after her in confusion. She didn’t know any of the Force’s Admirals except Villeneuve by anything more than reputation, but Harrison was not what she’d expected of the Canadian contribution to the UESF Admiralty.
    If she hadn’t been distracted by Harrison’s surprising charm, she’d probably have been able to dodge the reporter. As it was, she turned around and found herself facing down the stereotypically perfect, immaculately coiffed features of a tall black-haired woman in a long black dress and a media headset.
    The headset faked being a decorative headband well, but not perfectly enough to fool a practiced eye that could identify the “stones” that were actually cameras. Everything the woman saw and heard was recorded, though probably not transmitted live.
    If it was being transmitted live, Annette would make sure heads rolled.
    “Captain Bond, the people of Earth need to hear from the woman of the hour,” the reporter said fiercely, her eyes flashing conviction. “Many have questions as to how a woman who hasn’t been a Space Force officer in over four years now holds what we are told is suddenly the premier command in the Force!”
    “Technically, I have always been a reserve officer,” Annette pointed out, swallowing her anger. Recorded or live, punching out a news reporter on camera was a bad idea. “Who are you?” she demanded.
    “Jess Robin, Global News Network,” the woman replied crisply. “Reserve or not, you haven’t been an active duty officer in years, and have suddenly leapt past officers with years of experience to command this unique vessel. Many of our viewers wonder just how a woman such as yourself got the role.”
    Annette stepped forward into Robin’s space, pushing the taller and more conventionally attractive woman back a step.
    “Are you really going there, Miss Robin?” she asked. “Last time I checked, this was the twenty-second century. Isn’t it a little out of date to imply I’m sleeping with someone to get my job?”
    The reporter, to her credit, actually looked embarrassed. That stinker had to have been fed to her in advance, and she’d managed it with aplomb.
    “Then explain to our viewers why you were selected for this command over so many experienced officers?” she finally managed to recover and ask.
    Annette sighed. Her options had narrowed down to punching the woman or answering her question. Annoying as the affair was, she couldn’t gracefully extract herself now.
    “As you said, Tornado is unique,” she said quietly, forcing Robin to give up some of the personal space she’d defensively reclaimed to guarantee her recording. “Many details of her specifications are classified, but the key point is one that isn’t: Tornado possesses an interface drive.
    “Interface drives are reactionless and inertialess—they’re giving physicists a headache across the entire star system. The skills necessary to handle one are entirely different from a fusion torch ship—the