grimaced. “Not the happiest of outcomes, I agree, but scarcely disastrous. And I told the FO when I took the job that it was only temporary. As a matter of fact—" he grinned slyly “—I believe I may have slipped up and packed a uniform or two along with all these civvies.”
“But, Raoul—!”
“Are you saying you don’t want me along?” Courvosier asked in hurt tones.
“Of course I do! But the possible repercussions—"
“—are far outweighed by the probable benefits. If a Queen’s ship fights alongside you against your traditional enemy, it can only be a plus for the ratification of any treaty, don’t you think?”
“Of course it would,” Yanakov said, but the words cracked around the edges, for he knew it wasn’t diplomatic considerations which shaped the offer. “Of course,” he went on after he got his voice back under control, “you’re senior to any of my other officers. Hell, you’re senior to me!”
“I’ll certainly waive seniority,” Courvosier said wryly. “After all, my entire ‘fleet’ consists of a single destroyer, for God’s sake.”
“No, no. Protocol must be observed,” Yanakov said with a tired smile. “And since this is all a sneaky diplomatic ploy, not a spontaneous and generous offer to help people who have done their best to insult your senior subordinate and half your other officers, we might as well play it to the hilt.” He held Courvosier’s eyes warmly and extended his hand.
“I hereby offer you the position of second in command of the Grayson-Manticoran Combined Fleet, Admiral Courvosier. Will you accept?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
An admiral’s vac suit looked out of place on HMS Madrigal’s cramped bridge,