Lt. Leary, Commanding by David Drake

“I’ve met your sort before, Leary,” the commodore continued. “Well-born wastrels whose political connections put them on a fast track to honors despite their manifest incapacity for command. Professional officers soon learn to work around them.”

Pettin was wearing a utility uniform, technically acceptable since he was aboard a warship on active duty but a studied insult when welcoming the captain of a vessel recently posted to his command. Daniel had finally settled on his grays for the interview, knowing that whatever choice he made would be grounds to damn him—for a popinjay in a dress uniform or because his utilities lacked respect for his superior officer—if Pettin chose to take it that way.

As Pettin certainly was going to do.

“Any comment to make, Lieutenant?” Pettin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, sir,” Daniel said to the cloisters.

With the exception of astrogation—and there because of his skill in practice rather than on theory—Daniel’s Academy scores had been toward the lower limit of adequate. Even that degree of success probably owed less to Daniel’s efforts than to the fact that a naval career didn’t appeal to many grinding intellectuals. Still, there was more to being an RCN officer than your academic record.

But to protest to Pettin now? Daniel Leary had made a fool out of himself many times, and not always over a woman; but he’d never been so great a fool as that.

Pettin continued, looking vaguely displeased at Daniel’s lack of reaction, “The portion of the squadron that accompanied me from Cinnabar will require three days to refit. No doubt the Princess Cecile will be ready long before that since you’ll have taken advantage of your early arrival.”

Pettin raised his eyebrow again. It was hard to distinguish the expression from a scowl, but Daniel decided a response was the better choice. “Yes, sir,” he said.

He’d wrung the Princess Cecile out, no question about that, but she’d come through the test with flying colors. Parts of the rigging needed replacement, and one of the triply-redundant pumps feeding the antimatter converters had lost its impeller in spectacular fashion, but all this would be classed as normal wear and tear for a run of such length.

With the exception of a turnbuckle that wasn’t in store on Sexburga, the repairs were already complete. Tally and her assistant were machining that last part out of bar stock; they’d have it in place by mid-afternoon.

“Fine,” Pettin said with heavy irony. “Then that frees you to undertake a survey of ruins on the south continent here. I understand they’ve never been properly catalogued. A local resident, the Captal da Lund, has kindly offered the use of his aircar and a guide. They’ll be ready by ten hours thirty local time, and I expect you and your support personnel to be ready also.”

He paused with an expectant smirk.

“Yes, sir,” Daniel said. The aircar he’d seen in the Captal’s compound would hold twenty people, but there’d be gear to carry as well. He’d take ten crewmen plus Hogg—a worthy scion of generations of poachers and outdoorsmen—and Adele if she wanted to go.

Disappointed again, Pettin continued, “You’ll turn over command of the Princess Cecile to your first lieutenant and report back in seventy-two hours for liftoff with the rest of the squadron. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Daniel said. In the RCN, carrying out a superior’s order always took precedence to wondering why the sanctimonious jackass had chosen to give the order in the first place.

“Leary . . .” the commodore said, leaning back in his chair as his fingers writhed on the desk before him. “I don’t imagine that removing you from the high life of Spires is going to make an RCN officer of you—I doubt anything could do that—but it’s as much as I can do at present. Do you have any comment to make?”

“Yes sir,” Daniel said to the hologram. “Am I dismissed to prepare for the expedition, sir?”

“Dismissed!” Commodore Pettin said.

Daniel saluted, turned, and strode out of the office as smartly as he could manage. To his back Pettin shouted, “And I only wish I could dismiss you from the service as well!”

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