A second ship was descending; one of the squadron’s destroyers, Daniel assumed, though he couldn’t see from where he stood within the corvette. The thruster pulses were audible, though it would be some minutes before the sound smothered normal conversation.
Though “normal conversation” didn’t describe what was going on here.
“Sir, the duty officer was obviously drunk!” Pettin said.
“With respect, sir!” said Adele Mundy in a hard voice without a hint of respect in it. “I believe I was eating dinner at the time the Winckelmann announced its arrival, but I most certainly am not drunk.”
Daniel blinked in surprise, then choked back a laugh when he realized that Adele’s statement was literally true. She stood ramrod straight on the companionway from C Level. She’d changed into her utility uniform, and he knew without question that the ship’s log now would indicate she’d been on duty all night.
Pettin looked as though he’d been sandbagged. Admiral Torgis proved he understood as well as Woetjans did that the first rule of brawling is that you always kick your opponent when he’s down.
“And if she isn’t, that’s a violation of my instructions to Lieutenant Leary, Captain,” the admiral said. “I made it as clear as I knew how that every member of his crew should have a good time at my expense tonight. I may be retired, but there’s still people in the Navy Office who’d listen if I told them the RCN doesn’t need Goody Two-shoes for commanding officers. There’ll be no Alliance attack here with the satellite defenses in place.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” Adele said in ringingly aristocratic tones, “but my sobriety is entirely a personal choice. I would be unsuitable as a commanding officer for other reasons as well.”
“I see,” said Commodore Pettin. He shuddered like a man lifted from freezing water. His tongue touched his lips. “Lieutenant Leary, report to me at ten hundred hours tomorrow.”
He looked at Torgis and added in a voice that would have been venomous if it had more life, “If that meets with your approval, Admiral?”
The destroyer was within three thousand feet, slowing to a near hover as the captain steadied her for landing. Admiral Torgis, raising his voice to be heard over the throb of plasma, said, “I’m retired, remember, Captain. In any case, I wouldn’t interfere with another officer giving proper commands to his subordinates.”
Daniel had been standing at attention from the moment of the commodore’s arrival. “Sir!” he said, throwing another salute. It wasn’t nearly as crisp as the first; maybe despair was what he needed to perform drill and ceremony properly. “Ten hundred hours tomorrow, sir!”
Commodore Pettin turned and stalked off across the gangplank without returning the salute or further acknowledging the Resident Commissioner. His subordinates followed, each with a surreptitious salute to the former admiral.
The Princess Cecile’s crew must have heard the entire exchange; now they began to cheer. They were so loud that Daniel could hear them until the destroyer licked the harbor into a roar of steam.
The cheering wasn’t going to help matters tomorrow morning; but even before there hadn’t been much doubt about how Daniel’s formal interview would go.
Chapter Fifteen
“Enter!” Commodore Pettin called through the open hatchway to his office.
Daniel took two strides and halted before Pettin’s desk. He was well aware of the three clerks in the outer office, staring at his back, but Pettin continued working at the holographic display between him and the lieutenant he’d summoned.
Daniel took an Academy brace and saluted. “Lieutenant Leary, reporting as ordered, sir!” he said.
Pettin thumbed the display to lower intensity and looked through it sourly. He touched his forehead in a perfunctory salute and said, “At ease, Leary. Pretending you were an honor graduate isn’t going to fool me. The only respect you’re owed is for your uniform, however much you may disgrace it.”
Daniel stepped sideways to parade rest, keeping his eye on the corner of the holoprint of a vaulted cloister behind the commodore. It was the only portion of the compartment’s furnishings that wasn’t RCN issue. Granting that Pettin wasn’t a wealthy man, this was still an unusual degree of asceticism in an officer of his seniority.