A Matter of Oaths (13 page)

“You wanted to see me, sir.” Elanis bowed as he stepped
through the door.

“Yes. Sit down, please.” Formality was the right note for
this interview; Elanis would respect nothing else.

“Thank you.” Elanis sat back in the chair, either not
nervous or hiding it well.

“I talk to every new member of the web-room after they’ve
had some time to settle in, about their work and their adjustment to a new
ship. Most Webmasters do, so you’ll have been through similar interviews
before.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you satisfied with your work in the web?” Elanis’s
chance to make his excuses, if he had any.

“Yes, sir, quite satisfied.”

“You’re not aware that there have been complaints about it?”

“No, sir. May I ask who has complained, and on what grounds?”

“Several members of the web-room have expressed doubts about
your commitment, both in the web and out of it. I believe that they discussed
the problem with you before coming to me because they were unhappy with your
response.”

Elanis shrugged. “I’m not accustomed to being criticized by
juniors with less experience than me.”

“They may have less experience, but they’re entitled to an
opinion about your performance, and to more respect from you than they
received,” Joshim said sharply. “Their opinion is shared by the two seniors who
web with you regularly, and confirmed by my own observations. Your work is not
satisfactory.”

“In what respect?”

“You’re lazy, you’re inconsiderate, and you overestimate
yourself,” Joshim told him bluntly. “You expose the rest of your web-shift to
needless risk.”

“My previous Webmasters had no complaints,” Elanis said
stiffly.

“I can see that from your record.” See it, but not
understand it, Joshim added silently. “
Bhattya
’s
requirements are more stringent than the requirements of a surveyship or a
passenger carrier. If you feel unable to meet them, you should consider a
transfer to a less demanding berth.”

“Is this a formal warning?”

“Yes.” Joshim had not intended to make it formal, but it was
plain that an informal warning would have no effect. “You have the right to
enter a defence into your record, if you wish.”

“If a formal warning goes into my record, I shall certainly
enter a defence,” Elanis said calmly. “Although it would be better for both of
us if neither entry were made. And for Rafe.”

“In the face of statements from every member of
Bhattya
’s web-room who has complained
about you, an accusation of undue influence is not going to be much of a
defence for you, or a problem for Rafe and me,” Joshim said softly. “You have
the right to know that I will be entering an account of this conversation in
your record, in support of my existing request for your transfer out of my
web-room. I am also giving you formal warning that, if there is no lasting
improvement in your work starting with your next web-shift, you will be barred
from my web for wilful negligence.”

“You would certainly regret that,” Elanis said smoothly. “I
have friends who would make sure that you did.”

“You could be pillow-friend to the entire Guild Council
without gaining enough influence to get a Webmaster removed from their ship,”
Joshim said scornfully.

“Enter that warning in my record, or bar me from the web,
and you’ll never be anything but the Webmaster of a passed-over patrolship,”
Elanis sneered. “No Guildhall berth when your web starts to fail you. No future
at all.”

“The warning stands,” Joshim told him icily. “You may enter
your defence when you wish. I suggest you also submit a request for a voluntary
move, if you do not want your record sullied with a compulsory transfer. And if
your work does not improve immediately, the charge of wilful negligence will
also be entered and you will be barred from the web.”

“You
will
regret
this,” Elanis promised.

“You may go now.”

So that was the explanation for Elanis’s blameless record,
Joshim thought angrily as the door closed. Influence, or the threat of it. Rafe
had suggested as much when he commented on
Avannya
’s
failure to get rid of the lazy aristo. How close to retirement from the web had
Avannya
’s Webmaster been, and how
intent on getting a Guildhall berth? Close enough to worry about Elanis’s
threats, probably, and close enough to dread a future outside the Guild.

Joshim called Elanis’s record onto his screen and started to
word the new entry. The record of their conversation had to be made at once,
while his memory of it was still fresh, and to defer the warning, even for a
few hours, would be seen by Elanis as a sign of weakness. He was determined
that the arrogant junior would not have the pleasure of even a few seconds
mistaken triumph.

One thing influence could not achieve was the alteration of
a webber’s record; once made, Joshim’s entry would haunt Elanis until he
retired. It would not stop him getting a berth as a junior; only a judgement
that he was totally unfit to web could do that. However, it would make it
difficult for him to get a prime berth and impossible to gain promotion to
senior. Unless, of course, he set his friends to work on the problem, but if he
had enough influence to get himself a senior’s berth, he would already have
done so. It was doubtful that there was enough influence anywhere in the Twin
Empires to get Elanis promoted to senior, Joshim decided cynically.

The door alert sounded again, quickly followed by Vidar’s
head around the door, his red hair still damp from his shift in the web.

“Busy?”

Joshim shook his head. “Just let me finish this.” He added
his identity-code and stored the record, remembering to grant temporary access
to Elanis so that he could enter his defence.

“A good morning, from the way Churi is grinning from ear to
ear,” Vidar commented, dropping into the empty chair and putting his feet up on
Joshim’s desk.

“He did well, and so did Magred.”

“But not Elanis?”

“Have a look at his record.”

“I’ve been watching you update it.”

Joshim was not surprised. An observer from outside
Bhattya
’s web-room might be fooled by
Vidar’s pretense to be interested only in sex and ship systems, but there was
nothing that went on in the web-room that he did not make his business. And
nothing that he and Rallya would not bet on.

“Who won?” he asked.

Vidar laughed. “I did. Rallya said you’d think you had to be
gentle with him because Rafe doesn’t like him. I’m looking forward to
collecting when she comes back from the escort Commanders’ conference.”

Joshim grunted irritably. “She deserves to lose if she doesn’t
know me better than that.”

“True.” Vidar dropped his feet off the desk. “It’s a pity
you didn’t make a reck of the interview.”

“You think I’ll need one?” Joshim asked in surprise.

“I’d be happier if you had one.”

“Elanis probably thinks bedding one member of the Guild
Council once counts as influence,” Joshim said drily.

“You aren’t worried?”

“However much influence he’s got, I’m safe until I retire
from the web. Or until the other members of
Bhattya
’s
Three throw me out,” Joshim teased.

“Which I won’t do, and Rallya won’t do, and Rallya’s
successor won’t do,” Vidar prophesied slyly.

“Rallya will be with us for years yet.”

“How many years? I may be Captain and not Webmaster, but I
can tell when somebody’s reflexes are slowing. She isn’t the webber she was ten
years ago, Joshim.”

“None of us are.”

“But you’re thinking ahead to Rallya’s replacement,” Vidar
guessed. “Why else were you so choosy about our new First? You’d never been so
difficult to please before.”

“Pure lust?” Joshim suggested.

Vidar made a rude noise. “That came later.”

Joshim knew that Vidar would press until he got the answer
he was certain was there. “The thought of Rallya’s retirement did cross my
mind. I haven’t discussed it with her though,” he warned.

“So how long?”

“Five years,” Joshim said reluctantly. Vidar had the information
and the experience to work it out for himself. “That’s my best guess. I can’t
be more accurate without doing a full recalibration.”

“And you can’t do that without telling her why, and the
resultant explosion would breach the hull,” Vidar said sympathetically. “Have
you heard the rumours that she won’t get a station post?”

“Yes, before I joined
Bhattya
.
Rumours that she won’t get a station post, that
Bhattya
is down on somebody’s hate-list, that nobody from
Bhattya
’s Three has ever risen higher.”
Joshim shrugged. “If it’s true, she must have made some powerful enemies. Forty
years is a long time to keep a vendetta going.”

“Would Rallya make any other kind of enemy?” Vidar said in
amusement.

“Well, if I’m damned already, it’s one more reason not to be
scared of Elanis.” Joshim frowned, remembering something the junior had said. “He’s
certainly heard the rumours. Called
Bhattya
a passed-over patrolship.”

Vidar stroked his moustache with one finger thoughtfully. “We
could be,” he remarked. “Only one assignment to the Disputed Zone in forty
years? Never assigned to the Imperial Zone? With our reputation, we could
expect a few of the prestige assignments to come our way.”

Joshim raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to fight in the
Disputed Zone?” he challenged. “Or to do ceremonial escort duty for the Old
Emperor’s favourite aristos?”

“No more than you do. Which is why I approve of your choice
of Rallya’s replacement.” Vidar smiled widely. “Nobody is going to give an
Oath-breaker any prestige assignments. Just the hard and necessary jobs, the
ones we get now.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” Joshim warned.

“Justified assumptions,” Vidar said smugly. “You can’t
convince me that you don’t want Rafe as our next Commander. I’ve no objections,
and he’ll never get a better offer. The only question is whether Elanis can
stop the Council from ratifying his promotion to Commander.”

Joshim scowled. “He didn’t threaten Rafe, not after the
initial accusation of undue influence.”

“Doesn’t know how vulnerable Rafe is,” Vidar suggested. “If
he finds out…”

“The Council has never refused to ratify a promotion into a
Three,” Joshim pointed out. “Blue hell would break out if they did. The
autonomy of each Three is one of the foundations of the Guild. Nobody is going
to jeopardize that for the sake of Elanis’s spite. And if Elanis has any
influence worth having, what’s he doing aboard a passed-over patrolship anyway?”

“I wonder if Rallya made the same sort of misjudgement when
she made her enemies,” Vidar commented.

“Knowing Rallya, she knew exactly what she was doing and
went ahead out of sheer stubbornness.”

Vidar put his head back and laughed. “Maybe. Going to ask
her advice about protecting your back, and Rafe’s?”

“Without mentioning that I’m worried about Rafe’s promotion
to Commander?”

“Difficult,” Vidar conceded. “Does Rafe know you’ve got his
career planned for him?”

“We haven’t discussed it.”

“He’s no fool. He’ll have guessed,” Vidar predicted.

“His brevet rank has to be made substantive before anything
else can happen,” Joshim said heavily.

“Elanis won’t have time to prevent that,” Vidar objected. “The
approval will be ready by the time we get back to Aramas. All it will need is
our signatures.”

“True.”

Vidar looked quizzically at Joshim. “What’s the problem?”

Joshim sighed. “The problem is, I don’t know if there is a
problem.”

“But you think there may be. Any connection with swapping
Rafe’s web-shift and keeping him out of the key-position?” Vidar asked
shrewdly.

“Yes.” Joshim hesitated, knowing he had to ask but not
wanting to hear the wrong answer, which was why he had not asked before. “Tell
me, when you were in the web with him while we were in combat with that raider,
did you notice anything odd?”

“About Rafe’s performance? Apart from the fact that he
handled himself like a veteran, no.”

“No sign that his concentration was disturbed?”

Vidar shook his head. “Not a thing, and I was watching him
damned closely. It’s not too comforting, going into combat with somebody in the
key-position who’s never been in combat before.” He frowned. “Had he been in
combat before?”

“It’s possible,” Joshim said cautiously. “After he came out
of the shub, he was as sick as a first-timer through jump. It might have been
caused by the conditioning that goes with identity-wipe.”

“Whatever it was didn’t hit him until he came out of the
web,” Vidar said positively. “I was monitoring him so closely I was almost
inside him. Emperors, I was monitoring him so closely I probably
was
inside him,” he said sheepishly.

Joshim tutted automatic disapproval. Shadowing somebody in
the web so closely that you experienced everything they felt and did was
dangerous. At best, it could damage their control. At worst, with the potential
that it introduced for circular feedback, it could cause permanent burn-out of
both webbers involved.

“I don’t think he registered that I was doing it,” Vidar
volunteered. “And I’m not good enough to shadow perfectly. If I didn’t disturb
him, nothing else would.”

“I hope not.” Joshim chewed his lip. Vidar’s comments were
encouraging, but they were not conclusive.

“If he were any other First who’d never been in a patrolship
before, you’d be watching him carefully but you’d let him take the
key-position,” Vidar said reasonably. “Especially when he’s sharing a web-shift
with you. There’s nobody better qualified to take control if anything does go
wrong. And he’s one of the best webbers in
Bhattya
’s
web-room. Almost as good as you or Rallya. He’s wasted as a permanent number
two.”