“Sir,” said Donal. “I understand Elvine asked you if I couldn’t continue to be assigned to your household during the upcoming business we talked about with Patrol Chief Lludrow earlier today.”

“That’s right. She did.”

“I did not know of it,” said Donal, meeting the older man’s eyes. “It was not my wish.”

“Not your wish?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh,” said Galt. He drew a long breath and rubbed his chin with one thick hand. Turning his head aside, he gazed out through the screen of the control booth at the experimental ship. “I see,” he said. “I didn’t realize.”

“No reason why you should.” Donal felt a sudden twist of emotion inside him at the expression on the older man’s face. “I should have spoken to you before, sir.”

“No, no,” Galt brushed the matter aside with a wave of his hand. “The responsibility’s mine. I’ve never had children. No experience. She has to get herself settled in life one of these days; and . . . well, I have a high opinion of you, Donal.”

“You’ve been too kind to me already, sir,” Donal said miserably.

“No, no . . . well, mistakes will happen. I’ll see you have a place with the combat forces right away, of course.”

“Thank you,” said Donal.

“Don’t thank me, boy.” Abruptly, Galt looked old. “I should have remembered. You’re a Dorsai.”

STAFF LIAISON

“Welcome aboard,” said a pleasant-faced Junior Captain, as Donal strode through the gas barrier of the inner lock. The Junior Captain was in his early twenties, a black-haired, square-faced young man who looked as if he had gone in much for athletics. “I’m J. C. Allmin Clay Andresen.”

“Donal Graeme.” They saluted each other. Then they shook hands.

“Had any ship experience?” asked Andresen.

“Eighteen months of summer training cruises in the Dorsai,” answered Donal. “Command and armament— no technical posts.”

“Command and armament,” said Andresen, “are plenty good enough on a Class 4J ship. Particularly Command. You’ll be senior officer after me—if anything happens.” He made the little ritual gesture, reaching out to touch a close, white, carbon-plastic wall beside him. “Not that I’m suggesting you take over in such a case. My First can handle things all right. But you may be able to give him a hand, if it should happen.”

“Be honored,” said Donal.

“Care to look over the ship?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Right. Step into the lounge, then.” Andresen led the way across the small reception room, and through a sliding bulkhead to a corridor that curved off ahead of them to right and left. They went through another door in the wall of the corridor directly in front of them, down a small passage, and emerged through a final door into a large, pleasantly decorated, circular room.