“Um.” Foraker frowned, then glanced at Theisman. “Admiral?”

“I’m still on Nouveau Paris time,” the Secretary told her. “Which means I’m about two hours overdue for lunch right this minute. So I think ‘a little more substantial’ is a pretty fair description of what I’d like.”

“Hear that, Sly?”

“I did, Ma’am.”

“Then make it so,” she told him with a grin, and he bowed slightly and withdrew in the general direction of his pantry.

She watched him go, then turned back to Theisman once more, and waved at one of the comfortable chairs.

“Please, Admiral. Have a seat,” she invited.

“Thank you.”

Theisman settled into the indicated chair and gazed about himself thoughtfully. This was his first visit to Foraker’s shipboard quarters, and he was impressed by the simplicity of the furnishings with which she’d surrounded herself. She seemed to have overcome her aversion to “pampering” herself at least to the extent of acquiring proper powered chairs, and the wet bar and liquor cabinet in one corner of the spacious compartment looked promising. But aside from that, she seemed to have settled for standard Navy-issue furniture and carpet, and the handful of art pieces on the bulkheads, while pleasant to the eye, were hardly high-ticket items. Which was pretty much in keeping with the woman he’d selected to head Project Bolthole for him, and he was pleased to see that she was still with him, despite the power and authority Shannon Foraker had come to wield.

A few of his initial appointees had disappointed him in that respect, succumbing to the temptation to regard themselves as the new masters of the Republican Navy, and not as its stewards and servants. Some of them had responded to his subtle promptings and gotten themselves reorganized. Those who hadn’t had been quietly but firmly shunted aside into duties which still let him make use of their undeniable talents but took them out of any position to put their imprint on his Navy.

“Tell me,” he said, bringing his gaze back to Foraker as she sat in a facing chair, “why do you call Captain Anders ‘Five’?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Foraker replied. “I started out calling him William, and he politely but firmly informed me that he preferred ‘Five.’ I’m not sure where the nickname came from, but I’m guessing it was some disreputable event in his lower-deck past. On the other hand, I don’t really care what he wants to be called as long as he goes on doing his job as well as he does.”

“I can live with that,” Theisman told her with a chuckle. Then he sobered slightly. “You know, much as I loathed and despised the Committee of Public Safety, I have to admit Pierre and his cronies actually accomplished some good. Like the way they eventually managed to turn the economy around for one, and the way they broke the Legislaturalists’ stranglehold on the officer corps, for another. Under the old regime, someone like Anders would never have gotten a commission. Which would have been an enormous loss.”