"So you've heard about it." Strike shook his head sadly. "My tactical astrophysicist warned me that Procyon A might go nova. I left my routine post and loaded up on colonists." He shrugged. "Wrong guess. No nova. I made an ass of myself and lost the Ganymede. Gorman gave it to his former aide. I got this."
Cob coughed slightly. "I heard something about Ley City, too."
"Me again. The Ganymede's whole crew ended up in the Luna Base brig. We celebrated a bit too freely."
Cob Whitley looked admiringly at his new Commander. "That was the night after the Ganymede broke the record for the Centaurus B-Earth run, wasn't it? And then wasn't there something about...."
"Canalopolis?"
Whitley nodded.
"That time I called the Martian Ambassador a spy. It was at a Tellurian Embassy Ball."
"I begin to see what you mean, Captain."
"Strike's the name, Cob."
Whitley's smile was expansive. "Strike, I think you're going to like our old tin pot here." He patted the Aphrodite's nether belly affectionately. "She's old ... but she's loose. And we're not likely to meet any Ambassadors or Admirals with her, either."