“Aye,” said Aussarenes as Lady Aussarenes surreptitiously tugged his arm. “I hear you learned astrogation from him, boy. That’s well and good, but mind that you stand your watches too!”
They passed into the chapel. Daniel continued to smile as he offered thanks and a remembrance ring to the next person in the receiving line, a man whose firm supplied antennas and yards to Bergen and Company. Perhaps a smile wasn’t the proper expression for a funeral, but it was more natural to Daniel’s ruddy face than a solemn frown.
Besides, the turn-out for the event was remarkable both for the number and the rank of the attendees. Commander Stacey Bergen was the greatest pathfinder and explorer in Cinnabar history. He hadn’t gotten the recognition he deserved during his life, but the splendor of his funeral made up for that—at least for his nephew.
“Senator Pakenham and her husband, Lord William Pakenham,” Daniel’s earpiece whispered. Daniel wouldn’t have recognized the hatchet-faced woman with a rotund, very subdued man in tow, but he recognized her name as that of the chair of the Senate’s committee on external relations. Pakenham wouldn’t have known Uncle Stacey from Noah’s bosun, but she was here paying her respects in company with quite a number of the Republic’s other top political figures—because they wanted to please Corder Leary.
Speaker Leary hadn’t attended the funeral of a man he’d always treated as a poor relation—which Uncle Stacey was, truthfully enough, for all that their partnership Bergen and Associates ran at a profit. Perhaps he was avoiding the awkwardness of meeting the son who hadn’t spoken to him in the seven years since their violent argument ended with Daniel enlisting as a midshipman in the RCN. Nevertheless, he’d used his influence to add luster to the funeral of the brother-in-law he’d despised in life; and for that Daniel would thank him if they chanced ever to meet again.
“Captain-of-Space Oliver Semmes,” said the undertaker’s woman over the radio link. “Naval aide to Legislator Jarre’s delegation.”
For a moment Daniel’s mind failed to grasp the implications of the unfamiliar rank and the green-and-gold uniform of the trim little man bowing to him. His first thought was: Some wealthy landowner wearing the comic-opera uniform of the company of fencibles he commanded by virtue of his rank in his borough.
No, not comic at all: this was the dress uniform of the Fleet of the Alliance of Free Stars. Daniel didn’t know his enemies’ honors well enough to identify most of the medals on Semmes’ tunic, but he recognized the lavaliere dangling from a white and silver ribbon as the Cross of Freedom, which was neither a trivial award nor a political one.
“Captain Semmes, it’s a pleasure to see a distinguished member of your service,” Daniel said. “Commander Bergen would have been deeply cognizant of the honor.”
He cleared his throat while his mind groped for the correct words. It wasn’t a situation he’d envisaged dealing with. Uncle Stacey had indeed viewed all Mankind as a single family striving together to rediscover and populate the universe . . . but that wasn’t the official position of the RCN, nor the personal opinion of Lieutenant Daniel Leary; and it certainly wasn’t the viewpoint of Guarantor Porra, who ruled the so-called Alliance of Free Stars with an iron fist and a security apparatus of legendary brutality.
“Ah . . . may I offer you a ring in remembrance of Commander Bergen?”
Semmes picked up a ring between thumb and forefinger, moving with the precise delicacy of an automaton. “I was privileged to meet your uncle once, Lieutenant,” he said, cocking his head sideways to see how Daniel took the revelation. “On Alicia that was. My brother and I were aides to Frigate-Captain Lorenz, and Commander Bergen was surveying routes from Cinnabar to the Commonwealth.”
“Ah!” said Daniel. Lorenz was a man whose reputation had spread well beyond the Alliance, a swashbuckling officer as renowned for feats of exploration as he was notorious for greed and utter amorality whenever he wasn’t under the direct eye of his superiors. “Yes, that would have been almost thirty standard years ago, would it not?”
“Twenty-seven,” Semmes agreed with a nod, fitting the ring he’d chosen onto his finger and holding it out to examine it critically. “We were most impressed by Commander Bergen’s skill—as an astrogator.”