Honor smiled at him, but the reaction was almost automatic, and shock still rippled through her. She came of yeoman stock. Her parents were undeniably well off, thanks to the performance of their medical partnership, but the majority of yeoman families were land-rich and money-poor, especially on Sphinx. It had been hard enough for her to accept that her prize money from Basilisk had made her a millionaire, but this—!
"You're sure there's not some mistake, Willard?" she asked hesitantly.
"Dame Honor," he said patiently, "a dreadnought is valued at somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty-two billion dollars, and the prize court awards three percent of the value of a surrendered enemy ship to the task force which captured it, assuming the Navy buys the prize into service. Of that total, the flag captains of said task force split twelve percent among themselves, and there were only four flag captains in Hancock at the time Admiral Chin surrendered. The Admiralty survey judged two of her five surviving dreadnoughts too badly damaged for repair, but the Navy bought the other three in. Now, three percent of ninety-six billion dollars is two-point-eight-eight billion, and twelve percent of that is three hundred forty-five million, plus change. Which means, dear lady, that your share comes to a paltry eighty-six million four hundred thousand dollars—exclusive of the lighter vessels surrendered with them. Of course, they only added another six million to your total award, so I suppose we don't have to worry about them. Believe me, those figures are correct. In fact, if you look at page three, you'll see that the most junior enlisted person serving under you will receive almost fifty thousand dollars."
Honor hardly even heard the last remark. She'd known she was bound to receive a hefty award, but she'd never imagined one this hefty. Why, it almost quadrupled her total net worth! The thought of that much money was frightening, and especially since prize money was untaxable. She got to keep every penny!
She shook her head numbly.
"What in God's name am I going to do with all this?" she asked almost plaintively, and Neufsteiler chuckled.
"I'm sure you'll think of something, Milady. In the meantime, you can leave it in my hands, if you wish. I've got my eye on several promising opportunities, but I don't want you to rush into anything. Give yourself a few days to adjust to the idea, then let me show you some annual reports and projected returns before you decide where to put it."
"I—" Honor shook herself again and grinned crookedly. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea, Willard."
"So do I. After all, I get five percent of net for managing your interests. Although," Neufsteiler managed to produce a mournful expression, "the Exchequer does get a cut from my share."
"Poor fellow." Honors eyes twinkled as she came back on balance. "I guess that means you're going to stick me with the check after all."
"The first lesson a banker learns, Milady."
"Well, in that case I—"
Honor broke off as someone called her name. She twisted around, and her face lit as she recognized the three men walking toward her table.
"Alistair!" She shoved up out of her chair and reached out to shake hands. "And Andy and Rafe, too! What are you three doing here?!"
"Well, we checked with Captain Henke, and she told us where you were, Ma'am," Andreas Venizelos explained, "so Captain McKeon said he'd pick up the cover charge to come looking for you." Honor laughed, and Venizelos grinned. "It was only right, Ma'am. He is the senior officer, after all."
"A point you'd better remember, Commander," McKeon observed darkly.
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Venizelos snapped a sharp salute, and Honor laughed again, her eyes bright and happy as her waiter did his materialization trick again, producing chairs for the new arrivals.
"Don't worry about it, Alistair. I just discovered that I've become a woman of substance, and this is my party. Are you three hungry?"
"Not really. We ate before we went looking for you aboard Nike." Some of the humor faded from McKeon's eyes, and he shook his head. "I wish to hell you'd be a little more careful. Just once I'd like to see you take a ship over without getting it—and you—shot to bits."
"So would I," she said softly as she heard the concern in his voice. Then she shook herself. "Before I completely forget my manners, let me make the introductions. I think all three of you know Colonel Ramirez and Major Hibson?"
McKeon nodded and extended his hand, first to Ramirez and then to Hibson. "I see congratulations are in order," he said, indicating their rank insignia. "Looks like the Corps recognizes talent when it sees it."
"It certainly does," Honor agreed, and gestured to Paul. "This fellow is Captain Paul Tankersley, Hephaestus' newest deputy constructor, and this is Willard Neufsteiler, my agent. Paul, Willard, these are Captain Alistair McKeon, Commander Andreas Venizelos, and Lieutenant—no," she corrected herself, "Lieutenant Commander Rafe Cardones." She gave Cardones an approving smile and tapped the new half ring on his cuff as Tankersley reached across the table to shake hands with the new arrivals in turn. "Congratulations, Rafe!"
"Thank you, Ma'am—I mean, Dame Honor." Cardones colored slightly, and Honor swallowed a chuckle. Rafael Cardones was very young for his rank. He'd earned it the hard way, but there were still traces of the awkward puppy of a junior-grade lieutenant she'd first met five T-years before.
"Well!" She leaned back and looked from face to face. "May I ask what brings all three of you here together looking for me?"
"Oh, this and that." McKeon accepted a wineglass from the waiter and waved it at his two companions. "Andy and I are assigned to Home Fleet, and both our ships are currently docked at Hephaestus, so it seemed like a good opportunity to pay you a call."
"And you, Rafe?"
"Me?" Cardones grinned. "I'm Nike's new tac officer, Ma'am."
"You are? That's wonderful, Rafe! But when did that happen?"
"About six hours ago, Ma'am."
"Well, welcome aboard, Guns!" She slapped his forearm with a grin, then frowned. "But no one said anything about Commander Chandler leaving. I'm delighted to see you, but I hate losing her."
"You're not, Ma'am. Things are still pretty confused at the moment, but I brought Captain Henke a general list of transfers and replacements when I reported aboard. From what I understand, BuPers is bumping Commander Chandler over from Tactical to replace Captain Henke when they move her to Agni. I'm afraid you're stuck with both of us, Skipper."
"I can stand it," Honor told him, and turned to McKeon and pointed to the four gold cuff bands on his sleeves. "They told me you were getting your fourth ring, Alistair. I think that shows remarkably good judgment on someone's part. Congratulations."
"I think some of your reputation rubbed off on me," McKeon said wryly, enjoying the delicate blush on her cheeks.
"So what did they give you?"
"Prince Adrian." McKeon's pleasure was obvious, and Honor nodded in approval. Prince Adrian might be smaller than one of the newer Star Knights, but the two-hundred-forty-thousand-ton heavy cruiser was still a powerful unit. She was, in fact, an outstanding prize for a junior-grade captain... and no more than Alistair deserved.
"Is Scotty still with you?"
"Indeed he is," McKeon said, then chuckled.
"What?" Honor asked.
"Someone else came aboard right after he did. I believe you know him. Senior Chief Petty Officer Harkness."