close with a burst of applause prompted by the exec, and at his chivvying, the officers made their way around the room to congratulate Claire one by one and welcome her to the ship. The lieutenants and higher ranked officers asked after her pastimes at Saganami, course of study, and so on. They seemed to listen to each other's questions since they repeated questions only every fifth person or so.
The midshipmen and ensigns offered a simple congrats or sometimes welcome aboard and congratulations.
Rustin gave her a hug. Claire held her awkwardly and scanned the room for disapproval. That's when she first saw the Royal Manticoran Navy exchange officer, a leering man with the broad frame that came of extreme athleticism in school followed by a few years of carb loading without the sport to burn the energy. As a Grayson his rounded face might be just old enough to belong to a midshipman, but on the Mantie lieutenant commander it just meant he'd received the prolong life extension treatment. She reexamined the Mantie and decided his expression couldn't have actually been ill intended since the rest of the wardroom hadn't reacted.
Commander Greentree poked the exec in the ribs with his elbow. Too many side conversations muffled the words, but it was clear that the CO was celebrating having a second female officer onboard and chiding his exec for doubting that she and Rustin would get along like sisters.
Claire didn't have sisters or brothers. That was relatively rare among Grayson steaders, but it was well-nigh unheard of among the wealthy steadholder families. Unless of course, there was something very shameful going on, like infidelity leading to divorce and disownment or maybe a tragic death, or several.
The next well wisher in line must have caught part of the CO's comments. He paired his congratulations with a question on how her siblings would react to the news.
“I'm an only child, Sir.” Claire felt her smile freeze as she surrendered information about herself that she had managed to keep hidden on Ephraim.
The lieutenant gawked.
An uncomfortable silence spread around the room, until Rustin who was still only a few steps away spun around and injected a cheery, “Well, she's got me now, and I'm delighted.”
The edge of battlesteel in Rustin's voice was entirely surprising. Did Rustin really think she could protect anyone else when it seemed as if Rustin herself had spread her own whole life out for these people to dissect and judge?
Claire pushed the confusion aside for now, focusing on the next potential attacker in line. There would be time in private later to try to figure out Rustin's motivations and decide whether or not her apparent friend was actually capable of sealing her own shoes.
Lieutenant Loyd was up next. The crease between his eyebrows seemed to imply that he hadn't missed the wardroom undercurrent of speculation on sordidness in Claire's family past. His slight smile could either be anticipation of skewering her with his question or an attempt to put her at ease.
Claire tensed. If it was the second, he needn't have bothered. Claire no longer believed that it was possible to be at ease in a public setting.
Lieutenant Loyd made a joke about killing the Ephraim's tactics officer twice in the next fleet exercise in retaliation for failing in Claire's tactics training, which got their corner of the room chuckling again. It seemed that the Manasseh wardroom was proud of Lieutenant Loyd's prowess in the tactical simulations, and they didn't seem to think he was boasting beyond his ability to deliver.
The last questioner turned back and suggested that the group horse up Claire so that she could be the one to represent the Manasseh and take down the Ephraim.
That suggestion was greeted with howls of approval.
Claire flinched at little at the implication that her old ship was so far behind Manasseh that they thought they could send a just-passed ensign up against lieutenants and lieutenant commanders in the sims and fully expect to win. What did they do, live in the tactics simulators on this ship? Commander Greentree was a Protector's Own officer, sure, and those were known to be hard over on training time, but could it really make that much difference? Claire was pretty sure that Captain Ayres had made certain the lieutenants and lieutenant commanders did the fleet requirement of four hours in the simulators each week.
Lieutenant Loyd finished up his impromptu monologue on how Claire was going to shine as a tactician with a claim that she'd