As at Paraiso, it was the admiral who spoke first. His real pep talk would come weeks in the future, not long before battle. But meanwhile, before the weeks of simdrills in hyperspace, a few words from the Old Man should help prepare them-provide context and perspective-and a sense of team, of family.

And the new people needed to meet Charley.

"… We are now the 1st Commonwealth Fleet," Soong said. "Commos for short. With the arrival of you newcomers, we are a much more powerful fleet than when we bushwhacked the Wyzhnyny at Paraiso. A fleet with a toughness and assurance derived from a core of units with successful battle experience. And a fleet with the best battle master in the galaxy-Charley Gordon.

"You old hands know Charley's work. You know I don't exaggerate the advantages he gives us. When I've finished my own short spiel, Charley will speak to you himself. And during the next day or two you'll witness his ability personally, on cubes of the Battle of Paraiso.

"Still, some of you may remain skeptical. Few of you war-gamed till you entered the service, and you may not yet appreciate what Charley does, or what it takes. But we'll all be simdrilling his updated battlecomp programs all the way to Shakti. Perhaps even to Ivar Aasen. And if you're not convinced by then, you will be when you've experienced the cauldron."

He paused. "For those who don't know, a cauldron is a large iron kettle used in ancient times to boil things. You won't be in the cauldron; that's reserved for the Wyzhnyny. Your job will be to help stoke the fire without falling in it."

Another pause. "Meanwhile, we all have things to do before we generate hyperspace again, so I'll let you hear Charley Gordon now. Welcome to the family."

Charley gave basically the same introductory talk he'd given in the Paraiso System, though he used a new example. It had much the same effect on the newcomers.

Minutes later, on a secure channel, Soong accepted a call from Vice Admiral Carmen Apraxin-DaCosta. "Hello, Admiral," he said. Presumably his wariness didn't show on the screen, but it seemed to him she'd know. "What can I do for you?"

"Not a thing, Admiral. May I call you Alvaro?"

"You may call me Al if you'd like." She still looked great. No longer young-forty-two? forty-four?-but great. She made him conscious of his thickened waist. She probably still practiced aikido.

Her laugh was not as light as it had been, but it seemed genuine. "I'll settle for Alvaro," she told him. "You're my commander now, and two grades above me. Is Charley Gordon as good as he sounds?"

"Every bit as good."

"I didn't know savants could be so… intelligent, in the usual sense. Or is articulate the word?"

"I don't know if `the usual sense' applies to Charley. He's… superman in a box. But easy to work with. Likeable."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll have a chance to talk with him sometime."

For several seconds they sat without talking, looking at one another on their screens. "I suppose," Soong said at last, "you had something on your mind when you called."

"Yes, I did. I do. It's grown out of the life reviews some of us are guilty of in times like these." She paused, hesitated. "Not so many years ago you asked me to marry you. With good reason to expect a yes. But I had an opportunity to make a four-year patrol with B Squadron-as you had earlier, you'll recall. And I chose it over marriage."

Yes, you did, he thought. She'd been given command of a frigate, the largest class of warship the Admiralty boasted then. With Axel Tisza as senior captain-commodore-in charge of the squadron. He had no doubt Tisza and she had enjoyed each other's company on the occasional layovers.

"It was a great opportunity," he finished.

She looked at him mildly, but he had no doubt she saw through him.

"In a year this war will be over," she said. "One way or another. Then, assuming I'm still alive, I expect to leave the service. What about you?"

"I-hadn't thought about it." For a moment the realization surprised him, but it made sense. The prospect of surviving the war wasn't something he wanted to distract himself with. The odds seemed too poor.

"I can understand that," she said, and paused for a moment. "All I really called about was to invite you to ask me again when this is over."

He nodded slowly. "Thanks, Carmen. I'm surprised, and more than anything else, complimented. It's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me."

"Good. Now all we have to do is win the war." She paused. "We both have things to do. I'd better let us get at them."

Soong nodded. "Right. And Carmen, thank you very much for calling. I probably won't return this personal call till afterward."

They disconnected then, Soong wondering what he'd meant by "afterward." It had just popped out. He might survive the upcoming battle, but the war? He hadn't felt-and wouldn't feel-any concern at all about dying. His great fear was of losing, and associated with that, he feared that Charley Gordon might die. That, he told himself, would be a tragedy.

But if he did survive, and if Carmen did…

He resolved to lose weight.

The admiral seated himself in the chair indicated by Ophelia Kennah. It was always that chair, an AG chair set at 0.7 gee, large enough to accommodate his burly body comfortably. In front of him, the large wall window was set to a sky view within Terra's atmosphere. Judging from the elevation of Crux, it might be from somewhere near Rio de Janeiro, where Charley had lived most of his life.

Beside Soong's chair stood a small stand with several non-fattening hors d'oeuvres. No more goose-liver paste. Knowingly or not, Kennah was cooperating with his efforts to lose weight. Had she read his mind? With her that wasn't inconceivable, but more probably the command officers' chef had talked to her. He sampled one, washed it down with carbonated punch, then swiveled his seat slightly to face the life-support module and its occupant. "Good morning, Charley," the admiral said.

A tiny light-play danced briefly over Charley's sensorium, perhaps equivalent to an embodied human switching off a music or video cube, and swiveling his seat to face a visitor. "Ah, Admiral!" Charley said. "Since I completed our new battlecomp package, we seldom meet. What may I do for you?"

"I've called twice lately," Soong answered. "Each time, Kennah told me you were studying." Actually she'd said he was "studying deeply," whatever that meant. "And that unless it was urgent, she'd rather not waken you. But today when I called, she said you were listening to music, and suggested it was a good time to visit." He lifted an eyebrow. "And by now, of course, I'm curious about your studies."

"Ah." Charley paused as if considering how to put it. "I have been exploring another facet of my potentials, one I dabbled in occasionally when I was younger, without realizing I was merely dabbling. Actually I was being appropriately cautious. But now Ophelia acts as my security officer, an anchor to prevent my being… swept away. And though some risk remained, it seemed something I needed to do at this time. You see."

Risk? There was a pause of several seconds. He'd been jarred by Charley taking a needless risk, when his ability to function at a high level was so vitally important. "No, Charley," he said softly, "I don't see. You'll have to enlighten me."

Charley did, and he didn't. "I have," he said, "been visiting the Wyzhnyny grand admiral. At the… soul level you might say. It is not a matter of telepathy, but of… call it integration. At the level of souls, that is. Something the grand admiral is not aware of at the physical or personality level. Though his essence is."