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Jack’s first stop was the quarterdeck, where he quickly looked over the displays for a general sense of Roth’s status. He had dealt with too many of His Majesty’s shipyards in the past to take Lieutenant Seiler’s words at face value, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that Roth’s power plant was not cold. He stepped down to his quarters to drop off his valise and resynch his sextant, and when he returned to the bridge he found most of his line officers present, along with his carpenter and engineer.
As a group they walked down the starboard boat deck gangway and looked over the repairs: fresh steel, primed but not painted, by the forward hatch. The hatch itself was new, too, still wearing most of the protective white film it had left the factory with. “They just doubled our book value,” said the master, opening and closing the hatch noiselessly.
The hangar had seen similar repairs, and a late model, lightly used shuttle craft hung among the older craft, looking like a hawk trying to hide in a cluster of pigeons. “Well,” said Mister Lorre, “they left us the Richmond locks, but I don’t suppose we can complain. In all other respects they did us proud.”
“Yes indeed, Mister Lorre,” said Jack, feeling something like happiness wash over him. “Mister Greenstreet, I hope you and the rest of the wardroom will join me for supper this evening?”
“Yes, sir,” said the sublieutenant.
“Excellent. Signal for a pilot and tugs, please. By the time they respond the crew should have reported aboard. There is not a moment to lose.”
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