so they’d know about the Caliphate group for sure. Tomorrow he’d check on that, but for tonight, there was Scotch to find and consume.
Looking inside a large open courtyard to their left, they heard music and saw many women who were dancing, and as usual, the XO smiled and said, “Shall we, lads?”
The XO led the way inside half-shouting, “We drink, and we dance for the RIM Navy,” and the partying mood went up greatly.
Hours and hours later over a quiet Scotch, Tanner sat at the bar and could still see his ensign dancing with that girl from Madrigal who was nude to the waist as per their normal attire. Cold worlds breathe airy dress, he figured, and nodded to the barman to give him just one more double. Craig, his XO, was over at a table of five girls chatting them all up, and Bram stood just a few feet off, watching the byplay like a referee watches a boxing match. Wonder, Tanner thought, if he’s trying to find a match for Craig—or himself. He sputtered and almost laughed out loud.
He eased his lips with a touch of Scotch and realized that he’d told himself earlier that this was it. He’d taken his officers out for the evening under orders and had meant then that this was his last time to ever have a drink.
Back on Juno at Navy Hall, Admiral McQueen had told him that either he beat the alcohol on Halberd or he’d be cashiered out of the Navy. Here, the rear admiral had embarrassed him greatly by bringing up that same story in front of some of his men, and he meant it too.
Wish there was a simple pill to take to get Scotch to lose its hold on me, Tanner thought and shook his head. But there wasn’t. We have FTL, we have mind readers, but not a simple pill to get away from the addiction that alcohol could have on anyone ... on me. He waved once more to the barman, who moved down the bar, reached to the back bar for a bottle, and poured another double in the same glass. He looked at Tanner and then shrugged and left the bottle on the bar.
Earlier in another lifetime, inwards in the Earldom, a mistake he’d made in the assault on an alien invader had caused his ship then to crash into a friendly and had killed hundreds and hundreds of the Earldom’s Navy men. That, he well knew, was the start of his reliance on Scotch for help, to get over the feelings of being the captain who had murdered crewman and had lived.
Guilt he supposed could do that. Guilt stared him in the face with every new crewman who faced him, from ensigns to privates, from lieutenants to the ship’s Provost Guard. He wondered if they thought he would sacrifice them to save the mission and himself. He wondered as he sipped.
Bram said quietly, “Sir, permission to speak?” and stood rock still at Tanner’s elbow.
Tanner nodded.
“You think that others under you back in the Earldom worried because you might need to make a decision only a captain can make—and it might cost them their lives. Is that it, Captain? Because that’s totally missing what is true here—that is that each of us Navy men sign up for the duty, and that means that we know that our lives are at risk at all times, Captain.” He smiled at Tanner and laid his hand on his shoulder.
“Sir, you should know that didn’t happen. That not a single Navy man in anyone’s Navy would feel like that. Course then you can always remember that your assault on that alien ship, even though it cost you crewmen, killed the alien vessel, and is that not what your captain’s mission called for? Success, Sir. Yes, at a cost ... but such is how that battle went. Sir,” he said one more time and then turned to walk back to the XO who was now arm wrestling one of the girls and losing.
Across the bar against the far wall, a group of citizens was sitting, and it took him a moment to realize they must be Caliphatians, as they were extremely tall in their chairs around the big table. As he watched them for a moment talking, partying, and conversing, he noted that one of them
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