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out at the men and women in the room. He felt a tug at his heart at the sight of them.
    "Never, for God sake never, let your people get inside your heart, for your job is to use them, and if need be kill them," a voice whispered to him. It was his old mentor Banbridge's classic piece of advice.
    I guess that's what separates me from him, Geoff thought. With Clara and the boys gone this is my family. It was something he never let show, no matter what. He knew that behind his back he was "the old man," which was the gentlest of epithets; usually it was far worse and ofttimes even angry. They never really knew how he felt, especially when he looked into their eyes just before a strike went out, knowing that he was ordering some of them to their deaths. Well, at least that's finished for the moment.
    He clicked a comm button which opened the public address channel for the entire ship.
    "All hands, all hands, this is Admiral Tolwyn," his deep baritone voice, clipped with the refined touch of an Oxford education, echoing through the ship.
    "I have just received the following communication from C-in-C ConFleet, it reads, 'To Tolwyn, commanding, Task Force 45. Armistice agreement and cease fire has been reached with Kilrathi Empire, to be effective upon reception of this signal. All offensive operations to cease immediately and to withdraw to navigation point detailed below Repeat, all offensive operations to cease at once. Fire only if fired upon. Signed Noragami, commanding, Confederation Navy.'"
    He hesitated as if wanting to say something and then lowered his head
    "That is all," and clicked off the comm channel.
    He looked back up at his officers who stood incredulous. In the corridors outside the conference room distant cheering could be heard.
    "I'm only going to say this once," Tolwyn said quietly. "I'm proud of all of you for the job you've done. In the seven years I've been in command of Concordia we've taken out eight carriers, a score of capital ships, countless fighters and bombers, and fought in nine major fleet actions. Concordia is not just steel, guns and planes, in fact it is you, it is your flesh and blood and the spirits of all those who've served on her, living and dead."
    He hesitated for a moment.
    "When it comes time for her to fight again, I hope and pray that I'll be able to count on you all in our hour of need."
    "Dismissed."
    He started for the door, the room silent.
    "Damn, we're going home!" somebody shouted and the room erupted in cheers. Tolwyn stiffened his shoulders and walked out.
    He passed down the corridor, ignoring the cheers and the momentary lack of discipline, retreated to his office, closed the door, and for the first time in months poured a good stiff drink of single malt Scotch. Settling back in his chair he started to review the first holo tapes of the strike mission.
    The timing was masterful, the strike crews the finest professionals he had ever served with, nearly every Broadsword gaining lock and launching simultaneously. A successful strike like that was even more intricate than the most finely crafted ballet, and in his eyes even more beautiful.
    Damn it.
    A knock on the door disturbed him and he set his drink down on the table behind his desk.
    "Come."
    The door slid open and he could not help but allow a slight flicker of a smile to light his features at the sight of Captain Jason "Bear" Bondarevsky standing at attention in the corridor.
    "Come on in, Bear. What brings you over here anyhow."
    Jason came into the room and stood nervously in the middle of the room.
    "We'll wave regs and at least let you have a sip," and he poured out a thin splash of Scotch in a tumbler and passed it over.
    "Thank you, sir."
    "Have a seat."
    Jason went over to the proffered chair by the admiral's desk and settled in . He sniffed his glass and tasted the Scotch.
    "Not bad, sir."
    "The best, saved for special occasions."
    "Like this one?"
    "No, not really, I just felt a need for it."
    Jason looked down