“I’ll look forward to it,” Bachfisch assured him, still looking at Honor, and Cardones smiled just a bit crookedly and stepped back to make room for his Admiral.

“Captain Bachfisch,” she said softly, reaching out her own hand. “It’s good to see you again, Sir.”

“And you… Your Grace.” He smiled, and there was an entire universe of satisfaction and regret behind that expression. “You’ve done well. Or so I hear.” His smile grew broader, losing some of its hurt.

“I had a good teacher,” she told him, squeezing his hand firmly, and he shrugged.

“A teacher is only as good as his students, Your Grace.”

“Let’s just say it was a joint effort, Sir,” she said, relinquishing his hand at last, and nodded her head at Cardones. “And let me repeat Captain Cardones’ welcome. I hope you’ll be good enough to join us for supper and allow me to introduce you to the rest of my senior officers?”

“Your Grace, you’re very kind, but I wouldn’t want to impose, and—”

“The only imposition would be for you to decline the invitation, Sir,” Honor interrupted firmly. “I haven’t seen you in almost forty T-years. You’re not getting off the ship without dining with me and my officers.”

“Is that an order, Your Grace?” he asked wryly, and she nodded.

“It most certainly is,” she told him, and he shrugged.

“In that case, of course, I accept.”

“Good. I see you still have a firm grasp of the tactical realities, Sir.”

“I try,” he said with another small smile.

“In that case, why don’t you accompany me to my day cabin?” she invited. “We have a lot of catching up to do before supper.”

“Indeed we do, Your Grace,” he agreed softly, and followed her into the lift car, while Andrew LaFollet trailed along behind.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“IT really is wonderful to see you again, Sir,” Honor said quietly as she ushered him into her day cabin and waved for him to seat himself in one of the comfortable chairs around the beaten copper coffee table. She saw him glance down at the table and watched the corners of his eyes crinkle in amused pleasure as he saw the bas-relief Harrington Steading coat of arms which adorned it.

“It was a gift from Protector Benjamin,” she half-apologized, but he only shook his head.

“I was only admiring it, Your Grace. And reflecting on just how well you truly have done… not on the vainglory of putting your monogram on a simple piece of furniture.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” she said dryly, and she was immensely relieved by the sparkle of mischievous humor which accompanied his words.

“To be perfectly honest,” he said more seriously, “the galaxy would probably cut you at least a little slack if your head had gotten a bit too big for your beret. On the other hand, I’d have been surprised if the midshipwoman I remembered had let that happen.”

“I try to remember I’m merely mortal.” Her attempt to make it come out humorously wasn’t entirely successful, and she felt her cheekbones heat slightly. He glanced at her sidelong, then shrugged.