Lt. Leary, Commanding by David Drake

“Oh, sorry, Lieutenant, very sorry!” the fellow said, patting Daniel’s shoulder with a calloused hand. “If you’re down at the Harborside Tavern this evening, come on over and have a drink on me!”

Daniel grinned and walked on. Apparently somebody’s business with the Navy Office had gone to his liking.

Room 14 faced the end of the hallway. The door—closed—read Chief of the Navy Board.

Daniel could hear voices through the glass. He paused again, completely at a loss, and then tapped on the door.

“Enter,” someone called. Daniel turned the knob and stepped into another waiting room, though this one was paneled in lustrous black hardwood. There were three cushioned chairs for visitors and, behind a desk that matched the paneling, a wholly colorless middle-aged man.

“Admiral Anston brought the ensemble back after his capture of High Meyne,” the man said. “The decor of the governor’s private office there took his fancy.”

“Ah,” said Daniel, nodding to show that he’d heard what the clerk said. He offered the slip in his hand. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Can you direct me to the correct office, sir?”

The clerk glanced at Daniel’s routing slip. “There’s no mistake, Lieutenant Leary,” he said. “But if you’ll have a seat, please? The admiral is still engaged.”

The door to the inner office was open. A captain wearing a 1st Class uniform sat on the visitor’s side of the desk, leaning forward intently. From where Daniel seated himself, very carefully not staring into the office, Admiral Anston on the other side of the desk was merely two neat hands holding a sheaf of documents.

“All right, Palovec, so much for the extrusions,” the admiral said. It was his voice Daniel had heard through the outer door. “Now, tell me why you’re recommending thruster nozzles from Kodiak Forges? Why is Kodiak even being permitted to tender?”

The hands slapped the papers down on the desktop of petrified wood. Another trophy of the admiral’s active service?

“I believe they’ve sorted out their quality control problems, Admiral,” the captain said with a bubbling good humor that didn’t ring true in Daniel’s ears. “I’ve made a personal inspection of their plant, you know. And the quote was very attractive, as you see.”

The outer door opened without the formality of a knock. Daniel turned. A servant closed the door behind himself. He was far too senior to wear livery, but at his throat was a cravat in Anston’s black-and-maroon colors.

“I’m here to collect the admiral, Klemsch,” the servant said. His eyes flicked over Daniel the way light glances from a mud puddle. “Will you inform him, or shall I?”

Daniel’s smile froze. He could take orders without hesitation or complaint; the RCN was no place for anyone who had a problem with hierarchies. But Daniel didn’t expect ever to meet the house servant he considered his superior in any pecking order.

“Hold them for now, Palovec,” the admiral said, shoving the papers across the figured stone surface. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

“I’ll inform the admiral that you’re here, Whately,” the clerk said. “This is the Navy Office, you’ll recall, not Stamhead Square.”

Captain Palovec rose and straightened his documents with a pensive expression. “I’ll do what I can to convince them to hold the price, Admiral . . . ” he said.

There might have been more to follow, but Admiral Anston stood and, with a hand on his elbow, ushered Palovec to the door. Anston was a short man with trim features even now, but either he’d gained twenty pounds since the last picture Daniel had seen of him or he wore a corset during formal appearances.

Daniel jumped to his feet, barely restraining himself from saluting. By tradition born of necessity, no salutes were offered within the Navy Office; otherwise nobody’d be able to walk down the hallway without stopping in the middle of each stride to exchange salutes.

And as heaven and his Academy tutors knew, saluting wasn’t a skill Daniel could ever claim to have mastered.

“Come along, Admiral,” Whately said as soon as Anston appeared. “Your wife sent me to fetch you. You’re an hour late as it is.”

Anston looked at Daniel, then to Klemsch with a raised eyebrow. Captain Palovec opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind and strode out of the office, clicking the outer door behind him.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *