Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

22 | The Rise of Uncertainty

Bardarian knew.

It was there in the depth of his irises, the curl of his fingers on the desk. It was in the set of his jaw, down to the muscles under his eyes. Bardarian knew, and yet he said nothing about it. Not yet, at least.

"Word travels fast here, Kingsley," the Captain said, voice calm and smooth. He was leaning back in that huge chair, ocean eyes steady.

"I'd blame it on the tight quarters, sir," Archer replied, not quite meeting his gaze. He couldn't help it; when he got nervous, he got witty.

Bardarian glanced over. He was older than Archer by more than a decade, but his appearance was youthful at the same time as it was authoritative. He was easy to be jealous of, with his surety and his size. He was even easier to be afraid of, with the scars on his hands and the entire crew of loyal killers under his control.

He regarded Archer carefully as he said, "You're a brilliant man, Kingsley."

"Oh, that's hardly my best joke, sir." He couldn't help it.

Bardarian lifted his chin, threatening him with that grin again as he leaned back in his chair. "Do you know where we put brilliant men, lad?"

It eased him to realize that while he may not be brilliant like Silta, he was at least smarter than Bardarian. Conversations with the strategists made him think, made him plan his words and predict theirs in order to keep up. Here, though, he knew exactly what Bardarian was going to say long before he said it—that's why he wasn't exactly paying attention to what was being said, but rather what was being implied, like the avoidance of the general word 'people' in favour of the word 'men.'

He remembered the crew's story of Adrian Everson, the man who'd have made Silta first mate. Having a female first mate wasn't a good look, but if it were Silta, with her status, it wouldn't necessarily harm the ship's reputation. Archer was hardly a modern thinker, but he did believe in giving a position to the most qualified individual.

He guessed the pushback from Bardarian regarding Silta's promotion wasn't really because she was a woman, but rather because it threatened him. Because she was already smarter, quicker, even better at fighting, and giving her more power would only minimize his own.

Archer cleared his throat and answered the question, "In strategy, I'd assume, sir."

Bardarian tilted his chin down again, just short of a real nod. "I've yet to announce this to Silta and Britter, but I doubt the idea will be new to them," he said. "You know these strategists—they're always a step ahead. I'd like for them to introduce you to the position."

A deep breath, then, "All due respect, sir, but don't you doubt my competence? I've been on this ship for only two months."

He'd decided his course of action on his way in. Being strategist was a good thing, because it allowed him insight into the plan near the Kingsland, but if he was right in assuming Silta had told Bardarian about what happened—because he didn't seem smart enough to know it just by looking—then he needed to reduce himself as a threat in Bardarian's eyes. Act tentative and insecure, very traits Silta would despise.

Bardarian smiled. "You act as though I know only what I see with my eyes, boy." He brought both of his hands to the surface of the table, letting the candlelight shine off a gleaming gold band on his finger, his left ring finger.

It was bait. It was testing to see if he would react. Silta wasn't even wearing hers last he saw. He resisted the urge to reply to the 'boy' insult by pointing out that the four years between him and Silta were half the gap between Bardarian and her, and instead said cautiously, "I'm just not sure I've done much to deserve the position."