Fletcher turned just enough to see that Lord High Admiral Cook stood beside him. The older man was bigger than he was, with a shock of white hair under his cap. Cook wore his dress uniform and a great coat over that, protecting him from the winter chill.

“Can’t remember the last time someone just up and left in the middle of a meeting,” Cook said in his deep voice.

Fletcher frowned, realizing he should apologize. Instead, he raised a hand, letting it make a small, useless circle in the air.

“You’re my fire-breathing, fighting admiral,” Cook said.

“I was,” Fletcher muttered, “before…before losing half my command in Caria 323.”

He referred to a space battle in “C” Quadrant. The New Men had tricked him at Caria 323, outmaneuvering his ships and nearly destroying the entire Fifth Fleet. He had fled with the survivors through the void to the Tannish System. Those had been a terrible six months, knowing the rest of his ships would perish at the enemy’s hands. Then, Captain Maddox in Starship Victory had showed up, helping just enough so the remnants of Fifth Fleet had escaped back to Earth for refit and repairs.

“I’m not going to give you a speech,” Cook said. “But I will say a few words. The Commonwealth needs time, several years, at least. A good battleship takes at least two and a half years to construct. Add another six months to shakedown a new crew. We can’t let the New Men consolidate the planets of “C” Quadrant. We have to attack now that you bloodied them.”

“Not me,” Fletcher said, “but Maddox in that alien super-ship of his.”

“Victory helped you,” Cook said. “There’s no doubting it. But you set the stage so we still had a fleet to fight with.”

“Is Victory joining your Grand Fleet?” Fletcher asked abruptly.

“You know it won’t. The scientists need more time to reverse engineer the vessel’s neutron and disruptor cannons. If we had those systems—”

Fletcher faced the Lord High Admiral. “Listen to me. Victory is a fighting ship. We’re never going to reverse engineer those alien systems. I’ve read the reports. The Adok science continues to baffle our best people.”

“John,” Cook said, putting a big hand on the admiral’s forearm. “War is a gamble, you know that.”

“The New Men—”

“Let me finish,” Cook said, squeezing those big fingers.

The old man’s strength surprised Fletcher. He nodded.

“We regular humans have taken hammer blows these past few years,” Cook said. “The New Men have decimated Star Watch, smashing one battle group after another. What you did in Caria 323 was brilliant. What you did in the Tannish System with Captain Maddox’s help was pure genius. You’ve hurt the enemy’s invasion armada.”

“The alien Destroyer—”

“Yes, the Wahhabi Caliphate is disintegrating now that its home systems are gone. But the Destroyer is also gone, melted in our Sun.”