Well, you won't , he told himself. By the time they come along, you'll have enough emotional scar tissue to keep you from losing any sleep. And, be honest with yourself, Albrecht—you'll be damned glad you do .
"We'll be docking with the station in about thirty-five minutes, Sir," Genesis ' captain told him.
"Thank you," Detweiler replied, suppressing the urge to smile. Hayden Milne had been his yacht's skipper for over three T-years, during which time he'd been firmly trained to never—ever—refer to him by name. He'd been simply "Sir" to every member of the crew for as long as anyone could remember, and Detweiler's temptation to smile faded as he thought about that. He was doomed to stay in the shadows for at least a while longer, after all.
At the same time, there was no point hiding from the men and women of the MAN. Every one of them knew Benjamin was their commander and that Albrecht stood behind Benjamin, although the fact that the two of the were Detweillers had been carefully concealed even from most of them. They knew Benjamin and Albrecht as their leaders, however. Which, after all, was the reason both he and those orbiting Sharks were in the same star system this afternoon.
"I suppose I should wander back to my quarters and tell my wife," he continued out loud.
"Of course, Sir."
Detweiler nodded to the captain, then turned and headed for the lift, followed even here by Heinrich Stabolis, his enhanced bodyguard.
They stepped into the lift car, and Stabolis pressed the proper destination code, then stood back with his hands folded behind him. Detwiler couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd seen Stabolis standing in exactly that posture over the years, and it was amazing how seeing that familiar sight always helped bolster his confidence.
"So far, so good, Heinrich," he said.
"As you say, Sir," Stabolis agreed, and Detweiler grinned.
"You know, Heinrich, you don't say a lot, do you?"
"I suppose not, Sir." There might have been the faintest glimmer of an answering smile on the bodyguard's face.
"But you're always there," Detweiler continued more seriously. "If I haven't mentioned it lately, I appreciate it."
Stabolis ducked his head in mute acknowledgment, and Detweiler reached out to rest one hand lightly on his shoulder for a moment. Then they reached their destination, the doors opened, and Stabolis stepped out into the passage, glancing both ways before he moved to allow his charge to leave the lift. They walked down the wide, tastefully decorated passageway to Detweiler's private suite, and he pressed the admittance buttoned himself.
"Yes?" a pleasant soprano voice said after a moment.
"It's me, Evie," he said. "Time to go in about thirty minutes."
"Then should I assume Heinrich's managed to get you down here without any gravy on your shirt?"
The door opened, and Evelina Detweiler looked out at her husband. Behind her, Albrecht saw Ericka Stabolis, Evelina's bodyguard, trying hard not to smile at her principal's comment. Ericka had been with Evelina almost as long as Heinrich had been looking after Albrecht, and she had the same black hair, blue eyes, and regular features—a bit more delicate in her case—as her brother. Indeed, people were often struck by the extraordinarily close physical resemblance between the Stabolis siblings. They shouldn't have been; Ericka and Heinrich were clone twins. She was every bit as deadly as her brother, and the only significant difference between them was that she had two X chromosomes.
"No," Albrecht said now, mildly, as his wife inspected him. "I not only managed not to spill the gravy, but I've actually had two cups of coffee without dribbling any of it down my chin."
"I am impressed," Evelina told him with a chuckle, then stood back to let him through the doorway. He smiled and touched her lightly on the cheek. The Long-Range Planning Board had known what it was doing when it paired the two of them, he thought. Sometimes the LRPB's choices resulted in pairings that couldn't stand each other. Officially, that didn't happen, of course, but unofficially everyone knew it did. Fortunately, mistakes like that could usually be fixed, and in the case of an alpha line pairing like any of the Detweilers, the Board's members put special effort into trying to pick compatibles.
"Just let me change my jacket," he told her.
"Fine. But not the red one," she said firmly.
"I like the red one," he protested.
"I know you do, dear." She shuddered. "On the other hand, I'm still hoping they can do something about your taste in clothing in our grandchildren."
* * *
"Attention on deck!"
The command rapped out as Albrecht Detweiler, his wife, and his son Benjamin stepped out onto the stage at one end of the spacious compartment.
In one sense, there was no real pressing need for them to be here. Albrecht could have addressed the senior officers of the returning Oyster Bay fleet electronically, and he doubted they would have minded or felt slighted. But they deserved better, and whether they ever actually realized it or not, he knew they would never forget that he'd come all the way out to Darius to greet them on their return. It wasn't exactly a trivial trip from Mesa, even with the streak drive, but that wasn't what they were going to remember.
He walked across to the podium, flanked by Evelina and Benjamin, and stopped, looking out across the assembled faces of the men and women in the maroon and green uniforms of the MAN. He stood there for the better part of a full minute, taking the time to look at each of those faces, then, finally, he nodded.
"Please, be seated."
Feet scuffed on the space station deck as the naval officers obeyed his invitation, and he let them settle themselves once again.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said after several seconds, his voice quiet, "I came out to Darius to greet you and to tell you how extraordinarily well each and every one of you have performed. I can tell you now that Oyster Bay was a complete success."
No one actually seemed to move, yet a stir went through his audience. Shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly, eyes brightened, and he nodded again.
"All three major Manticoran space stations were totally destroyed," he told them. "They've been less forthcoming about the damage to their dispersed yards, but there was no way they could conceal what had happened to Hephaestus and Vulcan , given how many witnesses there were. Weyland 's destruction has also been confirmed by official Manticoran sources. As I say, there's been no official word on damage to their dispersed yards, but all unofficial sources indicate near total destruction there, as well.
"The attack on Yeltsin's Star was equally successful. Their Blackbird Yard was totally destroyed, along with virtually its entire workforce. We have confirmation that every ship under construction at Yeltsin's Star was also destroyed or too heavily damaged to be repairable. Given that the Manties' missile production was concentrated in their space stations and that Grayson's missile production was concentrated at Blackbird, we've succeeded in destroying their ability to replace ammunition expenditures for the foreseeable future."
He could actually feel the satisfaction of the assembled officers, and they deserved it. Still—
"The only aspect of the entire operation which can be considered less than a hundred percent success was no one's fault," he said gravely, and the bodies shifted slightly. "We'd hoped to destroy the Manties' entire next generation of capital ships still in the yards. Unfortunately, it appears we'd underestimated their construction speeds. You did, indeed, destroyan entire generation of capital ships, but the one before it had already been launched, and the majority of their new construction was safely at Trevor's Star, working up, at the time of your attack."