The African bowed gracefully in response and resumed dressing.

Kosho took two steps into the room, politely removing herself from the lieutenant's way. "I require the assistance of Sho-i Ko-hosei Smith," she announced in an inflectionless voice. "The rest of you, as you were."

Everyone stared at her and not a few heads turned to look at the far end of the room. A murmur of noise carrying the midshipman's name flew down the walkway. The fencers were frozen en-pointe, the tips of their boken touching. Kosho saw Smith appear, hastily shoving a handful of pay chits into the hands of another midshipman, and hurry through the crowd toward her. As the baby-faced communications officer passed, the other junior officers relaxed and returned to very subdued, decorous activities. Kosho noticed, to her private amusement, two ensigns osculating on an upper bunk did not resume their extracurricular activities.

"Ma'am?" Smith made a futile effort to straighten his hair. "Is something wrong?"

"Come with me, Sho-i." Kosho turned smartly on her heel and left the JOQ. Eight-Deer was gone, having fled quietly while her back was turned. The hatchway closed behind them with a thud and the hiss of pressurized air. "There's something you should see."

The ride in the core-transit car to the bridge ring was very quiet, which did not discomfit Kosho at all. She believed in the benefit of learning to wait silently and was not averse to helping others – particularly junior officers – improve their skills. Watching Smith-tzin fidget out of the corner of her eye, the sho-sa reminded herself she had learned these skills at a younger age, when sitting motionless, clad in the elaborate drapery of one of Hannobu's juni-hitoe for five hours while listening politely to scratchy, ill-executed music was a matter of course. He does not have to wear four kilos of hair, golden pins and jeweled ornaments either. A good switching would improve his posture, though.

A chime signaled the arrival of their transit car at the command ring and Kosho pushed away from her seat and kicked off to fly through the widening iris of the door leading to the bridge. Smith followed, entirely at ease in z-g.

The bridge was quiet and dim, the lights having switched into nightcycle. Kosho nodded to the officer of the watch and swung herself over to the communications station. Smith's usual configuration had been entirely changed, with the broad work panel split into three sets of v-panes. The sho-i dropped into his shockchair while Kosho took a newly added second seat. Out of habit, Smith strapped himself in and tested chair integrity. The sight brought a brief, warm glow to Kosho's breast. Ah, but he does occasionally learn.

"Reconfiguration of the shipskin is complete," the sho-sa said quietly, tapping her half of the divided panel alive. A new set of blank v-panes and controls appeared. Her console shone a light green, indicating a standby status. Curious, Smith leaned over, checking the intermediate display, which was the fruit of Thai-i Helsdon's foregoing sleep for two days. While Smith's reduced primary panel showed the feed from the remaining, normally-configured sensor array, the intermediate display served as an amalgam of the two sets of data. At the moment, it showed the main battle plot from Smith's panel.

"Helsdon-tzin assures me," Kosho continued, "all of the new data feeds are online and the shipskin is properly reconfigured for g-wave detection."

Smith nodded, impressed, but he still looked a little puzzled.

"Your idea was a good one," Kosho continued in a low voice. Only a skeleton watch was on deck at the moment, so she felt safe enough to talk openly with this boy. The raven-wing of her left eyebrow curved up gracefully. "Did you feel slighted when Chu-sa Hadeishi tasked me to implement the concept, rather than you?"

"No!" Smith looked horrified – properly horrified – but Kosho could see a twinge of memory in the boy's pale eyes. "I'm only a junior officer," he said, almost stammering.

"You are correct," the sho-sa said quietly. "You are a junior officer. You've much to learn before Hadeishi-tzin is entirely comfortable with placing you in a lead role. But the day will come when he does, never fear." Avoiding the surprised look on his face, she activated the newly configured panel and handed him a v-pad already keyed to a set of security codes.

"Smith-tzin," Kosho said formally, "would you care to bring the new system online?"

The midshipman blinked once and then took the pad. Visibly gathering himself, Smith looked over the codes, then examined the g-scan panel. Kosho sat beside him quietly, keeping a very close eye on what he was doing. Taking a deep breath, Smith tapped open a comm channel.

"Bridge to Engineering."

There was an immediate, tired-sounding answer. "Helsdon here, Bridge."

"Are your crews clear of the outer hull?" Smith was searching frantically on the reconfigured display. Kosho continued to watch, an expression of mild interest on her face. "We are preparing to bring the g-scan array online."

"Wait one, Bridge." Helsdon's voice cut off with the squeak of a muted channel. A moment later, he came back on comm. "Bridge, we are clear. All crews are accounted inside the secondary hull. You are clear to activate the g-array."

Smith found the controls for the external point-defense system and toggled on a set of pattern cameras mounted on hard-points along the Cornuelle's hull. Kosho's eyes narrowed in interest as he woke them up and fed in parameters for a close-hull scan. A moment later the comp chimed to announce the area immediately outside the ship was clear of people in z-suits.

"Hull clear," Smith announced. "Stand by for live power to g-array."

"Standing by," echoed back from both Engineering and the watch duty officer on the bridge.

"Power." Smith tapped a glyph of a running man bearing a twisting flame atop a brick on his stylized head. The third section of the communications station lit and data began to feed into the system. A preliminary plot began to appear seconds later. At the same moment, a string of amber lights flared on the panel. Smith jerked as if struck in the face and immediately punched a shutdown. "We have a partial systems failure," he barked into the comm. "Engineering, systems check!"

"Got it," Helsdon grumbled and Kosho could hear him scratching a stubbly beard. "Power conduits show green…hull skin feedback shows nominal…no pressure drops, no hull rupture."

Kosho watched Smith with interest. The boy was sweating, the back of his uniform shirt sticking to narrow shoulders, but he did not freeze or balk in the face of an unexpected situation.

"Are we radiating?" he snapped at both Engineering and the ensign riding the weapons panel. "Is there hull leakage?"

"No," came the answer a bare second later from Weapons.

Helsdon in Engineering was humming a little tune, but he chimed in a heartbeat later. "I'm seeing some queer readings from the reconfigured sensors in grid two-even. There must be some kind of data-formatting problem in the sensor feed." The engineer sighed audibly. "I'll take a crew and sort this. Engineering, out."

Smith let himself breathe out in relief, then stiffened, glancing sideways at the sho-sa. He seemed both exhilarated and near dead with fright.

"You will get your turn," Kosho said, taking back the v-pad. She was not smiling, being a proper officer, but her eyes glittered a little in amusement at his excitement. "There are always problems like this when we bring a new system online."

"Yes, Kosho-tzin." Smith made a sharp little bow, just as he had been taught in the Fleet officers'calmecac. Her eyes narrowed a little, considering him. The boy stiffened again, expecting a rebuke of some kind.