“Yessir,” said Daniel, sitting very stiff on the edge of this damned soft chair.
“They were on the verge of declaring war when we lifted from Harbor Three, Leary,” Lieutenant Feininger said. “Speaker Leary was blaggarding Legislator Jarre up one side and down the other in front of the whole Senate. We signed the armistice on the basis of status quo ante, and here the Alliance was shifting a squadron to Radiance where they bloody well hadn’t been at the beginning of the last war.”
“Speaker Leary . . . ,” Britten said as a new thought crossed his mind. He frowned. “Related to you, Leary?”
“I suppose so,” Daniel said. “We’re not social acquaintances, if that’s what you mean.”
That was literally true: he and Corder Leary hadn’t spoken in seven years, and their last interview had been of the sort that would’ve ended with pistols at dawn if they hadn’t been father and son.
Daniel preferred that the relationship not come up when he was talking to fellow officers. In order to prevent misapprehensions, he’d have to say a great deal more about his personal life than he or any other gentleman wanted to do.
Feininger leaned toward Britten and whispered into his ear, her eyes on Daniel. Britten grunted and said, “Right, I’d forget my head if it weren’t screwed on. There’s too bloody much work to do in a year, and they’re giving us two weeks!”
He lifted the attaché case on the floor behind him and slammed it down on the sheets already on the table. He lifted the lid, rooted through the contents, and came out with a document on parchment with ribbons and red wax seal.
“There you go, Leary,” he said, handing the document across the table. “We’ve got a bale of blank commissions as you might imagine, but Admiral Anston himself signed one for you. You reverted to active duty. . . .”
Britten turned the document around to read the date.
“Seventeen days ago, I make it. When you get back to your command, be sure to swear your crew in, will you?”
“I, ah . . . ,” Daniel said. His mouth was dry. “Yes sir.”
“What condition’s the spars and rigging, eh, Leary?” asked the engineering officer. His nametape was illegible, bleached by the chemicals which had failed to clean some of the stains out of the fabric. “Your log says you lost three antennas in action.”
“Ah, yessir,” Daniel said. “And we expended a quantity of cables in circumstances that prevented their recovery. But we were able to replace all missing spars, sails, and rigging from the Bluecher before we dropped the wreck onto Gehenna.”
The engineer nodded, then turned to Britten and said, “Beggars can’t be choosers, Commander, but it seems to me she’d be a good choice regardless. She was surveyed at a million four-seven-five as a prize two years ago, and I see no reason to court a writ when we get back home by offering less now.”
“Lieutenant Feininger?” Britten said, looking to his right. She nodded.
He pulled a form out of his briefcase, scribbled down figures, and signed it before handing it to the engineering officer to sign. “Done!”
“Now understand, Mr. Leary . . . ,” Feininger said as she signed in turn. “We don’t carry specie. This is a draft on the Treasury, but that doesn’t mean money in your pocket until God knows how many faceless clerks on Xenos countersign the proper documents. You’ll be waiting years to see money, likely, unless you go to a discounter.”
“I’ve had experience with prize money, Lieutenant,” Daniel said, piqued at the lecture but aware that it was well-meant. Most officers didn’t have experience with prize money. “That raises a question, if you don’t mind. Is it permissible for me to divide this money among my crew in shares as if it were prize money?”
“She’s not a prize,” said the engineering officer. “You didn’t capture the Princess Cecile, you bought her. That’s what the bill of sale says, anyway. Doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but . . . ,” Daniel said; and stopped, because he wasn’t sure how to go on.
Commander Britten snorted. “You can do any bloody fool thing you want with your money, Leary—that’s what spacers do, generally, piss their money away like bloody fools. But you don’t need to give away three-quarters of what’s all yours.”