House of Steel: The Honorverse Companion by David Weber Read Free Book Online Page A

Sir William just decided out of a clear blue sky that BuWeaps was the ideal place to put you. And that suggests to my naturally suspicious personality that someone else might have suggested to him. Which, Commander”—she eyed him very levelly—“brings me back to you .”
    Roger Winton didn’t need the tip of the treecat’s tail brushing very gently against his lower back or the true-hand resting lightly on the top of his head for balance to realize he’d underestimated Admiral Lomax rather badly. He thought hard for a moment, then shrugged.
    “I suppose there’s some fairness in your point, Ma’am.” He smiled briefly. “I didn’t call in any favors to get what I wanted, but I did . . . suggest BuWeaps to Sir William after the Prime Minister pointed out to my mother that the Star Kingdom can’t really have me gadding about the Confederacy any longer. And I’ll admit I had a bit of an ulterior motive.”
    “Wonderful,” Lomax sighed. “Another one.”
    “I beg your pardon, Ma’am?” Roger said a second time, but she only shook her head and punched a combination into her desktop com.
    “Yes, Admiral?” a baritone voice with an obviously foreign accent said from the com.
    “Come in here, Jonas. I’ve got someone you need to meet.”
    “Yes, Ma’am.”
    Lomax sat back once more, regarding Roger with a somewhat odd expression. A few moments later, her office door slid open and a tallish, dark-haired, gray-eyed commander—obviously at least a few years older than Roger, without prolong—stepped through it. He glanced at Roger without apparent recognition, then came briefly to attention before Lomax’s desk.
    “Yes, Ma’am?”
    “Commander Winton, I’d like you to meet Commander Adcock,” Lomax said a bit dryly. “I think you’re going to be working for him. Jonas, Commander Winton. I’m sure you’re likely to recognize him from the HD and the ’faxes, but we’re not supposed to know who he is. Or, since we actually have working brains, we’re supposed to pretend we don’t know who he is.”
    Her expression was humorous, but something in her blue eyes made it plain she was serious, and Adcock nodded. Then he turned to Roger and extended his right hand.
    “Welcome aboard . . . Commander Winton,” he said.

    “Have a seat,” Adcock invited, waving at the two bare-bones chairs sitting in front of his equally bare-bones desk in his small cubicle of an office.
    Roger inspected the chairs for a moment, carefully removed the box stuffed with chip folios from the less cluttered one, and settled into it. Monroe hopped down from his shoulder and started rummaging curiously through another box—this one full of discarded folios—and Adcock smiled.
    “First time I’ve actually met a treecat,” he admitted. “He’s bigger than I expected.”
    “Monroe’s one of the larger ’cats I’ve ever met myself, Sir,” Roger replied. “I hope there’s nothing critically important in that box, but he won’t damage them. He just likes to play with them. He’s got half a dozen sets of building blocks at home, too.”
    “I see.” Adcock studied him for a moment, then sighed. “I see you’re serious about military formality, too. I appreciate that, but I have to tell you I’m not entirely comfortable with your calling me ‘Sir.’ I know that’s been the tradition with your family for a long time, and I can appreciate it, but I didn’t grow up on Manticore. I’m finding it’s a bit difficult for me to pretend you aren’t a prince.”
    “It’s a problem sometimes,” Roger acknowledged. “But the Navy’s a military hierarchy, Sir.” He emphasized the rank title very slightly. “That’s the seniority that has to be observed, at least on the Navy’s clock.”
    “I see,” Adcock repeated, sitting back in his own chair. “Then I’ll just have to learn to live with it.” He smiled. It was a fleeting expression, but the twinkle in his eye seemed genuine to Roger. “I’m sure it