“And now,” he said, “what’s all this ‘unofficial visit’ about, Hamish?”

“It’s about Basilisk Station,” Alexander replied, and Warner blinked in surprise. “More specifically, it’s about the possibility of finally getting our hands untied there. Interested?”

“Very. But where do I come in?”

“Well, Craig, it’s like this…” Alexander leaned back to cross his legs, and reported his conversation with his brother yet again. Warner listened intently, nodding his understanding of each point, then tipped back his own chair.

“So you and Admiral Webster want me to hang Young out to dry?” he said when Alexander was done.

“More or less—and very unofficially. How about it? Can you swing it for us?”

“I don’t know, Hamish.” Warner plucked at his lower lip, frowning in thought, then shrugged. “The thing is, I have to admit I’ve already been dragging my heels ever since word of Harrington’s activities started getting around, just to watch the little bastard squirm. He hasn’t been getting the work priorities he thinks he should, and he’s been in here every other day or so to complain.”

“Does that mean you’ve used up all your tricks?”

“I don’t know…” Warner thought some more, then turned to his terminal and punched up the work files on HMS Warlock. He frowned at them, whistling tunelessly between his teeth as he paged through the screens of data, and Alexander possessed himself in all the patience he could manage.

“Well, now!” Warner murmured after several minutes. “That’s interesting.”

“What?”

“When Warlock first arrived, Young wanted a complete overhaul of her forward Warshawski tuners. In fact, he was pretty strident about it, but as you know, BuShips—meaning me, in this instance—has to sign off on anything that big.” He looked up with a wicked grin, and Alexander smiled back with suddenly dancing eyes.

“And what was your decision, Admiral Warner?”

“I didn’t give him one, Admiral Alexander. From what I can see here, he’s good for another eight to ten months hyper time on the tuners he’s got before he even approaches mandatory replacement wear. I refused to give him an answer mainly just to be a pain in his arrogant ass, but I doubt I’d authorize it, under normal circumstances, with that much time left on the components.”

“Ah. But under these circumstances?”

“Why, I think I might just find it my heart to okay the work after all,” Warner said generously.

“Good! But will he bite, do you think? I thought you said he’s been in here trying to get you to expedite.”

“Oh, he has. And I’m almost certain he’ll say no thank you if I make him an offer at this point. But there are ways, Hamish. There are ways.”

“Such as?”

“Well—” Warner switched off his terminal and turned back to his friend “—I think the first step will be to hold the good news that I’ve decided to authorize his requested work until the end of this watch. Young’s been spending a lot of time dirt-side, hitting the Landing night spots while Commander Tankersley, his exec, does all the work—no love lost there, by the way—and while he’s out bar-crawling, he leaves his com link home and lets his message service handle any calls. So if we give him time to clear out, then authorize the work, we’ll have a full watch and a half, ten hours minimum, to hit our stride before he gets back. I imagine we’ll have his Warshawski sails spread all over the slip before he knows a thing about it.”