"Sir," Rose piped up, "are you the same officer Harrigan that Dad mentioned during the First Campaign? He was Master Navigator on the old 'Cometeer.'"
"I certainly am." Harrigan smiled broadly. "'Red' Rose was the best navigator I ever had. He could plot you half way around the Galaxy and land you in your barracks just in time for supper. How long has it been now, six years, seven?"
Rose looked at the floor. "Seven, sir. He was hunting Kalabs on Callisto when the landslide caught him."
"I'm sorry, deeply sorry."
Footsteps sounded in the passageway and the lieutenant, Sanderson, came in, followed closely by O'Brien. The lieutenant tucked his cap under his elbow, smoothed back his thick hair and saluted.
Harrigan gazed at the man for a long moment.
"Lieutenant, perhaps the seriousness of our circumstances has not impressed you fully. But the Albion, carrying this inexperienced crew, stands in imminent danger of being overwhelmed by the League fleet, or at best, being cut off from Terran base. Therefore I think it.... Oops!" Harrigan had knocked his water pitcher to the floor. The plastic didn't break, but water splashed. Sanderson jumped back convulsively, his face white. O'Brien motioned an orderly to mop up the mess, and the admiral went on. "You are a seasoned junior officer, Sanderson. Your record is excellent, otherwise some form of punishment would be in order. I shouldn't need to repeat that it is your duty to keep your crew on the alert until we are out of danger. Dismissed."
The lieutenant saluted and turned to leave.
"Oh, Sanderson, one more thing." Harrigan rose and walked around the desk.