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will be. As soon as I get a chance to clean myself up. How about you?”
    She shook her head. “This is a mess.”
    Korie followed her forward, catching her in the hall outside the sick bay. He lowered his voice. “How bad?”
    â€œTwelve dead. At least six more we don’t expect to make it. Two of the Quillas, the rest are in shock. I’ve sedated all of them. They’re in bad shape; they’re going to need extensive rehabilitation. Probably we all will. I’ve never seen injuries like this before. I thought we were better shielded—”
    â€œIt wasn’t a beam. It was a ripple effect.”
    â€œBetter if it was a beam. We can treat disruptor wounds.”
    â€œI’ll remember that for next time.” Korie lowered his voice. “How’s the doctor?”
    Fontana shrugged. “Indestructible.”
    â€œHave you got enough help?”
    â€œNo . . . but we’ll manage. To tell the truth, there’s not a lot we can do. Either you get better . . . or you don’t.”
    Korie allowed himself to ask the question he’d been avoiding. “Captain Lowell?”
    Fontana’s expression said it all. She looked Korie straight in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, sir. You’re going to have to bring us home.”
    Inside himself, Korie marveled that he didn’t feel anything at all. He felt guilty. I should be feeling something right now, shouldn’t I ? “I, uh . . . I was afraid of that.”
    â€œWant some free advice? It’s worth exactly what you paid for it.”
    Korie met her eyes. “Say it.”
    â€œGo to your room. Clean yourself up. Put on your sharpest uniform. And then make another inspection of the ship. Be seen by as many crewmembers as you can. And let them know that everything is under control— even if it isn’t .”
    â€œThat’s good advice,” said Korie. “And as soon as I have time—”
    â€œNo. Do it now,” said Fontana. “This ship isn’t going anywhere. There’s nothing happening that needs your immediate attention. There is nothing happening that is as important as the morale of this crew. They know the captain’s hurt. They don’t know what state you’re in. You need to show them that you’re ready to bring them home.”
    Korie stopped himself. He looked at Fontana and realized what she was saying. It was straight out of the Academy. First year. The first machine that has to be fixed is not the ship, but the crew. Fix the crew and everything else takes care of itself. And remember what Captain Lowell said. “You have to be straight with them . . . It’s all about trust .”
    â€œYou’re right,” Korie said to Fontana. “Thanks.” He patted her affectionately on the shoulder and pushed himself forward. Her remarks echoed in his consciousness.
    He remembered the seminars at the Academy. The real crisis is not the crisis. The real crisis is what you do before it and after it.
    Right.
    What did you do or what did you fail to do beforehand that turned the situation into a crisis?
    What did you do or what did you fail to do afterward that prolonged the crisis-ness of the situation?
    All the classes, all the simulations, all the seminars and discussions, all the endless analyses and recaps and debriefings—this was all of that all over again. He could hear the voices of his instructors, as if they were standing right behind him, judging his every move, his every decision.
    Ask yourself three questions: What do you want to do? What are you capable of doing? What are you actually going to do? Be clear that these may be three different things.
    â€œWhat I want to do,” Korie said to no one in particular, “is take this ship home, fill it up with missiles, and then come back out here and kick some Morthan ass.”
    â€œWhat am I capable of doing—?” He considered the question. He