Adele stood and walked to the door. She would attend the Admiral’s Ball tonight; and after that, who knew?
Warehouse 17 was one of nearly eighty in the fenced naval compound. The walls were brick with wooden trusses supporting a tile roof. The bunting and strings of colored glowlamps along the walls couldn’t hide the big building’s origins, but at any rate it was sufficiently large for the crowd of officers and their consorts.
Besides, the acoustics were good. The seven-piece string band playing from a dais opposite the buffet was pleasantly audible without amplifiers, despite conversations and the dancers’ feet.
“I think I’ll find a vantage point,” Adele Mundy said. She bowed to Daniel and moved off toward a corner. He watched her leave with mixed emotions. Part of him felt that he needed to protect the librarian in what passed on Kostroma for a sophisticated social setting.
Another part of him was certain that unsophisticated or not, Adele could take care of herself. Daniel had no evidence to support his belief, but he’d have bet any amount of money that folk who touched her unasked would be lucky to get their hands back.
In any case, she’d promised Daniel that she wouldn’t get in the way of his hunting tonight and she was showing herself as good as her word. He squared his shoulders beneath the slightly-too-tight tunic of his Full Dress uniform and looked around the gathering.
The Kostroman navy was of considerable size, but many of its ships were a century old. Some hadn’t lifted to orbit in a decade, and a few were in danger of sinking in the Navy Pool where they were anchored.
While the ships were laid up, their stores and equipment were transferred to warehouses and the vessels themselves were sealed. As surely in the Kostroman navy as in any other body, public or private, the amount of material in storage had increased to overflow the available volume. Ancient records, damaged and obsolete equipment, and containers whose contents were unknown to any living being, stuffed the thick brick walls.
Walter III was giving particular emphasis to these Founder’s Day celebrations, the first under his electorship. One good result had been the clearance of Naval Warehouse 17. Equipment and stores for the Princess Cecile were reloaded when the corvette was commissioned, and Grand Admiral Sanaus ordered enough of a housecleaning in the rest of the complex to clear one warehouse completely as a site for his ball. The material removed had gone to the estates of naval officers if it appeared to have value, and straight into the sea if it didn’t. Most of it went into the sea.
“Daniel, my man!” called Lt. Candace from near the buffet. “Come have a drink and tell these cretins how a properly handled corvette like our Princess can do a better job of defense than a dozen overage battleships like the Erebus and Terror!”
Candace was one of the Kostroman navy’s brighter lights. He had an active-service appointment as second lieutenant of the Princess Cecile, had a good grasp of astrogation theory, and had made several voyages in his family’s trading vessels before he received a commission.
Despite those virtues, Daniel found Candace more a personable companion than a naval officer as the term would be understood on Cinnabar. For the past fifty years of increasing prosperity and trade, the Kostroman navy had been the choice of young men of good family who either lacked a talent for commerce or had an overweening desire for the comforts of Kostroma City. Candace was perhaps the best of the lot, but it was a bad lot.
“Now, I didn’t say that,” said Welcome, one of the other two lieutenants present. The taller one was Parzifal. “What I said is that we need real battleships. If we had a navy in proportion to our merchant fleet, we’d have twenty battleships in commission. Walter Hajas knows the navy—he’s a commander himself in the reserve. I shouldn’t wonder if he makes defense a priority.”
He coughed. “Expansion will mean promotion for trained officers, you know. It stands to reason.”
All the officers in the warehouse were in uniform, but again the word meant something different in Kostroman terms. Daniel was wearing the full dress uniform of the RCN: white silk with gold braid on every seam. It made a dazzling array in most gatherings, but here it seemed as dull as the building’s brick walls.