“After you, Sir,” she invited.

· · • · ·

It took several minutes to reach Foraker’s day cabin, despite the fact that the architects had deliberately placed it close to the lift shaft core. Of course, “close” was a relative term aboard something the size of Sovereign of Space. The superdreadnought was the next best thing to nine million tons of battle steel and armor. She was also the first unit of the biggest and most powerful class of warships the Republic of Haven had ever built, although it probably wouldn’t hold that distinction for long. The plans for the follow on Temeraire class were well into the final approval stage, and if things stayed on schedule, the first Temeraire would be laid down here at Bolthole within the next three or four months, for completion in another thirty-six. Which might have been a considerably longer building time than someone like the Manties would have required, but still represented an enormous decrease in construction times for Haven… much of which was the work of one Vice Admiral Shannon Foraker and her staff.

Still, they got to their destination eventually, and Foraker removed her cap and tossed it to Chief Callahan, her steward, as she and Theisman stepped past the Marine sentry and through the hatch into her cabin.

Chief Petty Officer Sylvester Callahan caught the airborne headgear with the ease of much practice and only a hint of a long-suffering sigh. Foraker was well aware that she owed that restraint to Theisman’s presence, and she grinned smugly at the steward. Not that she’d been quite so comfortable with him when he was first assigned to her. It had taken her months to get used to the very notion of having a “steward” of her own, admiral or no admiral, because such “elitist” institutions had been among the first casualties of Rob Pierre’s systematic efforts to eradicate all traces of the old Legislaturalist officer corps. A part of Foraker had rebelled against the restoration of the old officer corps’ privileges, and she was just as happy Theisman had refused to reinstate at least half of them. But she’d also been forced to admit that assigning stewards to commanding officers and flag officers actually made an awful lot of sense. Any CO had vastly more productive things to do with her time than to tidy up her own quarters or polish her own boots. Perhaps even more importantly, senior officers needed keepers who they could count on to keep their lives functioning smoothly while they dealt with the unending series of decisions and judgment calls which came with their own jobs.

And those of them who tended to be just a tad on the absentminded side needed keepers more than most, she admitted.

“The Admiral and I have some things we need to discuss, Sly,” she told Callahan. “Do you think you could scare up a few munchies for us while we do?”

“I’m sure I can, Ma’am,” Callahan replied. “How heavy did you have in mind?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. “Lieutenant Baker already commed about the change in plans,” he explained. “As I understand it, dinner is being moved back by about an hour and cocktails are being moved around behind it. So I simply wondered whether you and the Admiral would require a light snack, or something a little more substantial to carry you.”