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and on their way to the ballet that was the evening’s occasion.
    “It’s just business, my mother,” Nimisha said with a shrug.
    “A business that an admiral comes in person to collect is not
just
business, Nimisha.”
    “It is, however, Fleet business, my mother, and I may not discuss it, even though I know you to be the soul of discretion. However, I would like to prevail on your financial acumen to take a look at the Ship Yard records. I may know a nanosecond from a femtosecond, but achieving trial balances and projections of what percentage our profits are above last year’s is totally beyond me.”
    “I should be delighted to look them over, my daughter. When had you in mind?”
    “Would the day after tomorrow be convenient?”
    Lady Rezalla had no real need to consult her delicate wrist pad, but she did. “Quite suitable.”
    Showing good sense as well as filial respect, Nimisha brought her mother in to her executive office to peruse the Rondymense Ship Yard financial records while she busied herself with minor but necessary executive tasks. Halfway through the inspection, Lady Rezalla closed the file she was studying and sat back in the chair.
    “Tionel knew very well what he was doing. And so do you, my dear girl, in spite of that famo-neto-second gibberish you gave me the other day. I shall leave your Fleet discretions and secrets, since you’re in them as deeply as dear Ti was. Obviously he trained you to take his place and so you must, restoring the name Rondymense to the honor it deserves.”
    Neither remarked on the fact that Lord Vestrin had finally returned to Acclarke but was keeping a very low profile, generally taking himself off-planet to hunt with those of his acquaintance who did nothing but divert themselves with whatever foible or folly took their wayward interests.
    “I don’t believe that I had any idea of exactly the scale of dear Ti’s Yard, nor how much construction is currently under way. How can you possibly find time to do little tasks for the Fleet? Much less spend so much time completing that yacht he was enamored of.” Lady Rezalla’s final tone bordered on the critical despite the good impression the extent of Rondymense’s enterprises had given her.
    “He trained Jeska Mlan at the same time he trained me.”
    “He did?” That startled her mother, who hastily reviewed that young woman’s behavior but could find not the least trace of unbecoming or pushy manners.
    Nimisha laughed. “Ti used to say that Jeska had the ninety-nine percent of perspiration it takes to invent something new and I’d supply the one percent genius that shot us into a new dimension. Actually, we’re a very good team. I always have Jeska check my calculations. She’s accurate to the exact limits of the data. I might be right in my guesstimate most times, but she makes sure it’s substantiated by hard figures.”
    “Really,” Lady Rezalla said faintly, in a mild state of shock.
    “Actually, we do more design than administration anyway, since Tionel has always had excellent executives like Jim Marroo, Efram Dottlesheim, and Ferman Miles-Zynker. You met them at the obsequies and I remember you commenting on how impressed you were with their dignity and genuine grief.”
    “That is true. I was impressed.” Lady Rezalla had been, but for reasons other than those quoted by her daughter. She had learned all she could about the men who were—nominally, it now appeared—in charge of her body-heir’s inheritance. She would ruthlessly have dismissed any that had not met her high standards, but they all had. Which made dear Ti’s dreadful body-heir all the more a tragedy.
    “I have no qualms at allowing them to continue in their current responsibilities,” Nimisha told her mother, smiling, “doing the bread-and-butter work that supports the icing on the particular piece of cake Ti wanted so to finish. It’s mine now, and I’m continuing the work in progress. Some of it, I spin off to the