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Stephen had taken supper ashore last night, due to his visit to the admiral, so this was his first meal in the wardroom. He knew enough about the space-faring navy, and about men in general, to know that seating was likely to be habitual, if not rigidly assigned, and he hovered in the corner as the other officers entered, waiting to see which seat was left empty.
“Have a seat, Doctor,” said the carpenter, indicating a spot on the bench in front of Stephen’s own cabin.
“Thank you,” said Stephen, sitting where Mister Lorre had pointed. Stephen looked up once he had sat, thinking perhaps to engage the carpenter in light conversation, but Mister Lorre seemed preoccupied, and Stephen said nothing.
To Mister Lorre’s right, Mister Greenstreet sat at the head of the table, staring down at his hands, looking unnaturally tall even when sitting. Marine Sergeant Strasser climbed into the seat between Stephen and the sublieutenant, smiling at Stephen as he did so and smelling slightly of whiskey. He wore the only red coat in a sea of navy blue.
On Stephen’s other side sat a balding, corpulent, almost spherical man, pouring over a spreadsheet and doing sums on his fingers. Looking closely, Stephen saw columns for lamps, yards of duck, and batteries, among other sundries. The man felt in his pockets but did not find what he wanted, so he climbed back over the bench and almost collided with a slim, dark-haired woman coming to take her seat on his other side. She had a middle-eastern look to her and was exceptionally pretty.
The seat at the foot of the table was empty, but across the table from the young woman sat Mister Veidt, the gunner, engaged in conversation with a woman on his right, who wore a young face but grey hair. Stephen caught the phrase six-phase power and guessed they were discussing the morning’s discovery about the guns.
Between the grey-haired woman and Mister Lorre, across the table from Stephen sat Mister Humphries, the engineer. Stephen knew him reasonably well from Humphries’ visits to sickbay while Franklin had remained inpatient. The smile the engineer wore expanded as he saw Stephen, but before he could say anything eight bells began to ring and the table fell silent.
The last bell had not faded into silence before Stephen’s right-hand neighbor reappeared, sheepishly clambering into his seat and wiping his glistening forehead with a handkerchief. Mister Greenstreet lifted his hands to the table - Stephen now saw that he had been watching the clock on his phone - and glared at the balding man, but merely said, “grace.”
Around the table everyone closed their eyes and took on a respectful expression, so Stephen did the same; Mister Greenstreet said a formulaic prayer. Then he served himself from the soup bowl in front of him, passed the bowl to the right, and began to eat.
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