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returned — one of those rare occasions with everyone together in the house, and breakfast was an entertaining talkfest in the big dining hall and adjoining kitchen with a similarly grand view as his bedroom. No one asked him about the war, for which he was thankful, and Katerina’s young children were fun and happy. Her husband was a scandalously self-made man, builder of his own network business before meeting Katerina, and having no holdings beyond that. But Mother had been pleased, surprising some, because her new son-in-law Diego was smart, skeptical and driven — something that those born into wealth too often lacked, she said. ‘Your mother cares more about genes than portfolios,’ Walker had explained to Erik in a vidmail. ‘Diego’s got those, and she’s delighted.’
    Erik was quizzing Lisbeth on her latest boyfriend (Mother disapproved) when the house minder alerted his uplink that Fleet Admiral Anjo would like to come and talk to him, would half-an-hour’s time be suitable? Erik put fingers behind his ear, the universal sign to indicate he was uplinked, and formulated an affirmative reply.
    “Who was that, darling?” Alice asked when he resumed eating.
    “Fleet Admiral Anjo wants to come and visit. In half-an-hour, I said yes.” Because he’d really rather it was later, but you couldn’t tell the third-in-command of the entire war that breakfast with family was more important.
    “Really?” asked Diego, eyes wide. “Fleet Admiral Anjo comes to you? You don’t have to go to him?”
    “Of course,” said Lisbeth, with droll humour. “Who exactly did you think you were marrying?”
    “Don’t gloat Lisbeth,” said Alice, helping her grandson Paul to butter his bread. “Erik dear, did the Admiral say who he was coming to see?”
    “Me,” said Erik.
    “Oh,” said Alice, a little surprised.
    “She doesn’t like that,” Cora observed with a grin around her cereal.
    “Oh stop it,” Alice reprimanded, smiling. “Erik is a very important man now. I just thought, since we do build a quarter of all the Fleet’s ships, he might have wanted to say hello.”
    “I’m sure he’ll say hello, Mother,” said Erik. “Now I’d better rush if I’m going to dress in time.”
    “Surely it doesn’t take you half-an-hour to put on your uniform?” Lisbeth teased.
    “It does too,” Erik retorted. “I haven’t worn it in so long, I’m out of practice.”
----
    S ure enough , Alice Debogande greeted Fleet Admiral Anjo in person before the lower doors of the big rear study, and Erik gave her the full five minutes to go through her list of concerns about ongoing projects. Then he entered, polished shoes clicking on the floorboards, and walked to the door to rescue the Admiral from his mother.
    “I’m sorry about that Admiral,” he said ruefully while inviting the man to sit. “She does like to do business in person, and she always complains about the lack of facetime with Fleet.”
    “That’s quite alright, Lieutenant Commander,” said Anjo. He was African-dark, broad but not tall, and no longer all that fit. With military augments and upgrades, you had to seriously abuse the diet to get rotund like that. It was the sign of an officer who hadn’t seen line duty in a long time. “You Debogandes have it down to an art. But it’s always a pleasure to speak with your mother.”
    They sat, while the Admiral’s two aides waited in the garden outside, and a robot butler brought them drinks. Anjo admired its flowing, graceful movements as it poured green tea. “That’s an ANX-50 series, yes?” he said.
    “That’s right. He’s called Toby. My little sister Lisbeth’s idea,” Erik explained to the Admiral’s frown. “He’s been in the family about fifty years, so she figured he deserved a name. Thank you Toby.” As the robot awaited instruction after pouring the tea, and now retreated.
    “You’ve had him inspected?” Anjo asked.
    Erik nodded. “He’s within parameters. A long way