His father looked at him quizzically. "Have you forgotten about the special mail box for SS men?"
The younger man looked astounded. "You mean, even a thing like this merely goes in there?"
Newton nodded. "However, in this case, since I would have been the one to pick it up, I'll take it to Base and transmit it to the Council. Incidentally, future reports should be marked on the envelope 'Report to Federated Council'."
A couple of hours later Admiral Hawarden called Hanlon at the hotel, where he had just finished making arrangements for Philander's operation and treatments.
"Your father and I want you to come to Base at once, sir."
When he arrived in Hawarden's private office, the admiral handed him a pair of silver bars. "These are yours now, Captain Hanlon."
The young man looked up in surprise.
"You were told promotions were swift in the SS—for those who produce," his father chuckled. "The Council was very gratified with your report, and ordered the promotion."
Hanlon looked at the two insignia, and his fingers stroked them almost tenderly.
"You miss the uniform, don't you, Spence?" sympathetically.