“Anyway, as it stands,” Alastair continued after a sip of tea to collect his thoughts, “the baton ceremony is going to be Friday forthcoming. I would love to watch Sir Damien Koyanagi in the eye as he is forced to hand over the keys of Admiralty to the one person he despises the most.”

His ice-blue eyes glinted mischievously.

“Well, almost the person he despises the most. I guess I might challenge Sir Hugh for that spot. Sadly, a beached officer on half-pay is still persona non grata, seniority be damned. I’ll have to settle for watching the stream.”

Chiang scoffed.

“You’re not far off the mark on the loathing part, I think. The fact that you actually have seen significant action, both in the Three Sisters and the Midwinter Intervention, not to mention the Spindle Thrusts, while Koyanagi was either a beachside staff officer or chained to his desk writing fiscal reports for the Department of Planning, that really sticks in his small-minded craw. Just look at how desperately he has tried to keep all of us who came up as junior officers under good old Duchess Grey Hill out of any significant postings at Admiralty for the two decades he’s been allowed by the Powers That Be to run the show.”

“Well, he used that time pretty effectively, I’d argue,” Alastair countered. “While I was out there in the fringes, most of the time being bored out of my mind, he was gathering support among the Conservatives and pushing his goddamn ‘First Strike School’ doctrine on politicians and anxious bureaucrats who’re somehow bred to have an innate fear of big numbers and break out in nervous sweats when they see the cost of a properly designed warship. I swear, sometimes I wonder how we’ve managed to retain our naval supremacy when our society allows such morons to climb to the top of the political and military food chain.”

Chiang blew air out of her nose.

“On the one hand, you’re absolutely right, and on the other you’re being more than a bit unfair. Sir Damien Koyanagi and his Admiralty administration certainly have made a lot of blunders, especially the whole ‘First Strike’ thing, which any field officer worth their salt could have told them was a bad idea from the start. No warship is ever going to carry enough chase weaponry to completely surpass the broadside, especially not when they latched on the idea of the ‘torpedo cruiser’, and just crammed as many torpedo launchers into as small a hull as they could manage. Thank the gods that Sir Morgan put the foot down and told Koyanagi and Acciari that the Aggressors are being mothballed indefinitely after their disastrous showing in the ’67 war games.

The flip side of the coin is that Koyanagi and his ilk has actually managed to expand and improve the Royal Navy’s infrastructure tremendously. It was Sir Damien’s idea to create HMSS Jutland in New Malta orbit, and the construction of HMSS Nile over Kitezh is coming along nicely, giving us an excellent base of operations in the south-west bordering the Alliance’s Lorelei Pocket. And you have to admit, it was damn insightful and mature of him to recognise Lady Ashwike’s talents and have her replace Charlotte Delaurier as Sixth Lady Admiral and head of Department of Research. I love Valentina, but my God is she a cantankerous one, so for Koyanagi to replace yes-woman Delaurier with Countess Valentina ‘Fireball’ Kirkland of Ashwike was actually damn impressive by Koyanagi’s usual standards. And he accepted Sir Morgan Mizushima’s appointment as Commander-in-Chief Fleet pretty gracefully all things considered, especially since it was a political decision pushed through by none other than Duchess Grey Hill in the Lords.”

Alastair absentmindedly scratched his beard.

“You’re making a lot of sense, and it is sort of making me uncomfortable. This is still the man who managed to convince the Naval Affairs Committee to commit forty per cent of our future line of battle to battlecruiser designs because they are, quote; ‘tactically, strategically and fiscally the warships of the future’, with no regards as to supporting them with heavy and light cruisers. He’s way too under the influence of Sir Noel Acciari and the ideas of the late Winston Shersterkin regarding the potential future of the line of battle, and the notion that the battlecruiser as a class is a sort of panacea that will realistically bridge the gap between cruisers and true battleships and at the same time fill the battlespace role of all these at once. The assumption is lunacy, and it might as well be…”

His thoughts were cut short as a squeal of recognition and joy grazed their ears.

“Lady Em!” a cheerful voice shouted suddenly. Chiang barely had time to get up from her chair to receive the heartfelt embrace of Adea Sophia Carlisle-St. Eiron, just returned from classes at Queen Marie’s Metropolitan University, still wearing her grey uniform.

“Oh my,” the admiral barely managed to eke out before suffering the powerful vice of the much younger woman’s embrace, “you’ve certainly grown, little Aditsa! It feels like just a few years ago you were riding your first horse and taking your first tentative lessons on astrophysics.”

Extricating herself, Chiang held Adea by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye, examining Adea like only a sometime relative or family friend could.

“And here you are, wearing a university uniform. My, how the years sometimes seem to just fly by. The precocious little girl is all grown up now, I see”

The physical discrepancy between the two was certainly astounding; Adea was visibly more muscular and a fair bit taller, while Chiang looked like she had been born in the black-and-gold uniform she wore. About seventy years separated the two, Adea having just turned nineteen a few months ago and Chiang was about to celebrate her ninety-first birthday soon. Still, Chiang didn’t look very much older than her mid-thirties. Medical science had evolved a lot over the centuries following humanity’s exodus from their cradle; slowing the decay of the body’s cellular structure was a routine medical procedure that was even available in pill form these days. Most people could expect to live at least past two-hundred, and pushing past three-hundred was common enough. Of course, there were worlds in the settled galaxy with extreme religious ideologies that decried modern medicine as the product of devilry, but these were thankfully, from a moral point of view, few and far between.

Yet despite the age gap, the two were still magically almost on the same wave-length, and Chiang quickly picked up on the energy the much younger woman was emanating.

“Hm, I see,” Chiang said at length, mouth curving into a lop-sided smile, “you have some news to tell your father.” She waved a hand as Adea made a face to protest and leaned in closer, whispering almost conspiratorially. “I won’t pry, and you should trust your auntie to keep her secrets. Just remember if you can’t tell your Mama, or your friends, you always have Lady Em to call if things get complicated.” Chiang winked mischievously and Adea swallowed hard, very uncomfortable and very cognizant of the fact that her father was present.

“Thank you, Lady Suncrest,” Adea said very formally while making a courteous bow, “I will surely take that into consideration.” She turned toward her father, who was wearing a half-smirking expression, legs comfortably crossed.

“But in the meantime, father, I have something to tell you.”

“I am bracing myself for the most egregious of news,” Lord Alastair said while making an overly exaggerated impression of falling unconscious in his chair, to which his daughter responded with a sarcastic guffaw.

“You’re not nearly as humorous as you think you are, dear Papa,” she said in an icy tone and crossed her arms over her chest, while Alastair put a hand to his chest in faux-injury.

“Oh dear daughter of mine,” he said in such dramatic tones to make both Chiang and Adea chuckle, “how could you conspire to wound me such? Have I not provided you with everything one could desire? What more could a youth of a mere nineteen want from her old father?”

Adea smirked and put her hands behind her back.

“Well, I have been invited out onto the town tomorrow by Valerio Greco and a few other friends…”

She noted the sudden squint in her father’s eyes.

“Not to worry, I told the lot I’m willing to pay for the drinks, you won’t have the tabloid sites going ‘estranged son of shadow defence secretary paying for Lord and Lady Sélincourt daughter’s tabs; personal solvency on the horizon?’ I’m not stupid enough to fall for that sort of trap, and you should know better.”

The last sentence was delivered with a bit of acid.

“Well, money shouldn’t be a problem,” Lord Sélincourt said, now serious and sitting forward in his chair, “unless ‘a few other friends’ refers to the whole damn campus.” His eyes turned milder. “Actually, with the allowance that me and your mother give you, I think you perhaps could have paid the tabs for your whole cohort…”

Adea drew in a sharp breath.

“Certainly not, Papa,” she protested, “and you know I am being quite frugal with my allowance. I have only spent, oh I don’t know, forty per cent of what I got last month.”

“You are aware,” Chiang shot in while smiling lopsidedly after a sip of now lukewarm tea, “that forty per cent of that princely sum you both refer to as an ‘allowance’ would house, feed, and clothe a regular Auroran family of five for a year?”

“Oh pish,” Alastair countered, “that’s an exaggeration. Certainly, it is most unbecoming of a peer’s daughter to not be able to live accordingly to the means of her family. The Sélincourt estate in New Devon was created more than six centuries ago, the Darkmoor estates in New Ontario five-and-a half; both retained in their respective families for the entirety of the period. The stipend Adea receives should reflect that at least.”

“Remind me,” Chiang said somewhat icily, “Marquess Sélincourt, Earl High Cross, Baron Charleroi, how much land do you actually own and what is the revenue from all the tenants, industry, and agricultural output from those lands, and the pay-off of your considerable Cordelia Exchange investments?”

Alastair had squirmed a bit when Chiang had started listing off all his titles, very cognizant of how it sounded, and opted for answering her question with only half the truth. This was for several reasons. Alastair Carlisle was an old-fashioned aristocrat, part of the more socially conservative breed and for him and those likeminded, it was simply not done to speak of money; it was vulgar and reflected materialism that was unbecoming. Flaunting wealth obscenely was just as frowned upon, but it was also expected that the peers maintained themselves respectably and at a certain standard. Many of the up-jumped jeune noblesse were obsessed with wealth, earning them the scorn of the commoners, the country esquires and, somewhat paradoxically, the ones with senior pedigrees and both more and older money. This was a necessity in order to preserve the political balance and good conduct of the Kingdom, but had a tendency to create social ice-fronts. In terms of behaviour, the esquires of the country –considerably less affluent than the proper aristocracy– had much more in common with the upper crust like Sélincourt. The other reason why said lord was unwilling to divulge his exact income, was for the simple reason that he didn’t want his daughter to exactly know since she was a second child, and not the first in line to inherit the vast Sélincourt estates.

“I actually do not know, it sort of blurs together a bit, but it certainly exceeds a few hundred million pounds a year. Mind you, large part of that is taxed and reinvested into the estates themselves. I’ll have you know I am the main contributor to the new general hospital in High Cross. I do not cash out everything, quite far from it, so don’t go wagging your finger at me, My Lady. Besides, it’s not like you yourself are short a bob or two.”

Sipping tea, Chinag was unperturbed.

“That is irrelevant to the conversation; I merely wished to point out the vast difference between your family’s station and the other citizens of this kingdom.”

“My Lady, you own estates on both Aurora and Angevin, including a massive vineyard and distillery that I know for a fact is the cornerstone industry in the town of Athton-sur-Mere in Findias. You’re in the same boat as the rest of us.”

Chiang smirked slightly and put down her now empty teacup, while Alastair sighed.

“Back to you, my dear,” he said, turning to his daughter who had pulled up a chair and joined them, but did not opt for tea, “what other people than Lord Howeland’s youngest are you going out with?”

“Sandy, for one,” she answered, “and certainly a few of Valerio’s friends, and since we’re going to the Pale Peacock, there’s bound to be a few more from my circle there. I believe Georgiana and Narissara were thinking of joining. And then there’s this one boy that I met during classes today that I sort of roped into joining to even out the numbers a bit. Plus he seemed passably agreeable.”

“Please, remind me,” her father interrupted, “who were Narissara’s people again? And this new acquaintance’s for that matter.”

Adea fidgeted a bit with her skirt.

“Narissara is the daughter of the New Lucknows, I don’t believe you’ve met her directly, but we got to know each other during the Season at Athelney three years ago. Georgiana Assiotis-Percy you of course remember, but as for Edward… Well, he’s a commoner, from outside Persephone on Amaranth, and taking a major in classical piano.”

“Oh-ho,” Chiang exclaimed, “he has exquisite taste, and quite brave choice of programme in this current climate. I wish him luck finding steady work after completing his studies; not many orchestras are hiring soloists these days.”

“I defer to your superior knowledge on that subject, Lady Emily,” Alastair said before focusing on Adea again, “but are you sure you want to go out on the town alongside a boy you’ve just met, and a commoner at that?”

He was rewarded with a withering glare from Adea, and he held up his hands defensively.

“I do not mean anything disparaging by that, like it is beneath your station, you know me far too well for that. I jostle elbows with people from all standings and worlds all day in my line of work, your new friend’s lack of pedigree does not bother me one bit. What I meant to say is that the Pale Peacock isn’t exactly your usual pub, and he’ll be surrounded by people you just mentioned, young Lady New Lucknow, Assiotis-Percy, the third son of Lord Howeland, the same Howeland who will in all likelihood become Secretary of Defence come next election…”

“He acquitted himself admirably when faced with Lady de Vere earlier today, so I believe he’ll at least have a fighting chance of pulling through alright.”

Alastair’s shoulders tensed a bit.

“You met Trewellynshire’s child again? How did it go this time around?”

“About as well one could expect,” Adea shrugged, “she made an ass of me in front of the class in ‘Post-Exodus Political History’ because I in the heat of the moment forgot to mention the creation of the monarchy.”

“A bit of an oversight,” Chiang said, her tone playful, “wouldn’t you say?”

Adea shrugged again.

“I was going to get to it eventually, but little Miss Punctilious had to have her pound of flesh, so to speak. Anyway, we had a brief encounter outside the history building, which Edward was an awkward witness to, but he had the good graces to not pry. Altogether he seems like a likeable fellow, and Sandy certainly likes him, which are credentials enough for me.”

“Speaking of the monarchy,” Alastair said, “have you talked to Her Royal Highness recently? How is she doing?”

“I was talking to her just before said class today actually. As to her condition, she still looked dreadfully pale to me, but that might just be to lack of exposure to the sun. She insisted she was going to take part in the next interuniversity show jumping against University of New Toronto, and apparently have had extensive training on both Rhododendron and Morgana while recuperating. If she’s as fit as she claims, Valerie might be getting back to something approximating full health, at least by her standards.”

“Poor girl,” Chiang shot in, “she has not had an easy go of things so far in life, despite being born into such circumstances. For the sake of her health and well-being, I’m almost glad she’s fourth in line to the throne, with three healthy and capable elder brothers.”

“Indeed,” Alastair agreed, “the strain of the crown might have broken her in the end. I don’t doubt Valerie’s mind and spirit, but she has always been a frail child.”

Emily Chiang fished out her handcom from an inner pocket in her black-gold tunic, tapped it to life and sighed.

“As lovely as this has been, I am afraid I have to be going. I need to return to orbit for a Home Fleet staff meeting.”

“Are you still flying the flag from Resolution?” Alastair asked, getting up as Chiang was starting to stir, civility ingrained into his muscle memory. The other admiral shook her head while smiling.

“No, I changed it to Warspite last week. I don’t know how you could stand the small flag quarters on Resolution, the new Warrior classes are so much larger and capable, not to mention having some proper decent admiral quarters. I even have my own small bar and a lounge for entertainment of guests. You should visit some time.”

Alastair chuckled.

“Sir Hugh has to reinstate me to active duty before I’m allowed back on board one of His Majesty’s fighting ships. And before you know it, Aditsa here will be joining us both, she’s joining King William’s Academy after she gets her degree.”

Adea straightened up in her chair at that, puffing out her chest ever so slightly and Chiang chuckled.

“With how time seems to fly, I’m sure it won’t be long before I see you out there in the void, Aditsa.”

“Speaking of entertainment,” Alastair said as Chiang put on her brimmed cap and straightened her uniform, “you’re more than welcome to join our box at the Royal Cordelia Opera this Sunday, if you aren’t detained in orbit. Adea will be there as well, along a few others.”

“Who?” Adea shot in in a worried tone, “because if it’s the Keyes again, I might jump off the balcony and onto stage headfirst. Zachary Keyes might be the most boring twenty year-old in the entire Kingdom, and he has next to no manners.”

“Very much unlike present company, I assume,” Alastair said while grinning, “but no, it’s the Mortimers, which means you can relax and enjoy the opera.”

“Thank you,” Chiang said, on her way out the lounge door, which had been opened by a hitherto invisible footman in black livery, “I might take you up on that offer, just to meet your new ward. She’s rumoured to be quite the handful.”

Adea sprang up from her chair.

“New ward? She? What is this, Papa?”

Alastair Carlisle looked like someone had slapped him, and akin to a deer in headlight he turned back to his daughter.

“Ah, Aditsa, there’s a little thing that I have forgotten to tell you. You’re going to have a live-in sister of sorts from now on.”

Emily Chiang affected a hasty retreat out the door and down the hallways as the footman closed the lounge door to block out the sudden angry teenage protestations. They carried on for a good while.