no apologies
no apologies for it, either." Harshly: "But that's neither here nor there, John. I wouldn't let that influence me anyway. You may not like my character, but don't make the mistake of thinking I don't have one."
"Oh, I won't make that mistake. I meant what I said. I can think of former presidents of the U.S.A. up-time I wouldn't want in your shoes now, making this decision. I wouldn't trust them—especially that worthless bastard—"
He shook his head. "Never mind. Of all the silly things I can think of, hauling in old partisan squabbles from another universe ranks right at the top."
He gave Mike a sharp glance. "You're inclined to go for it, aren't you? Use a knife in a knife fight—even if it's your own wife who's the blade."
Mike nodded. "Yeah, I am. So's Becky herself, by the way. Her own opinion was, ah, firm."
Simpson nodded. "Cowardly, the lady is not." He thought a moment further. Then:
"Do it, Mike." He glanced at the ironclads. "And for what it's worth, the Navy will back you up to the best of our ability."
"That's worth quite a bit, John. In fact, the time may come when it's worth a lot. And now, I'd better go. I'll have more than one message to send tonight."
After taking a few steps, Mike turned back around.
"Before I forget, one other thing."
"Yes?"
"As Admiral of the U.S. Navy, I expect you'll be getting a fair number of social invitations. You and your wife, both. Quite soon, in fact." He raised his fist and coughed into it. "Not to put too fine a point on it, I'll see to it. And I think it would reflect badly on the United States if you didn't accept them. It might give the aristocracy the notion that we don't have any manners, you know. Won't leave our houses because we're afraid we won't know which fork to use in polite company."
For a moment, Simpson's face almost turned puce. "Mary? She could—"
His shoulder heaved a little, suppressing a laugh. Then, smiling: "Thank you, Mike. I'd appreciate that."
Mike nodded and began to turn away.
"Mr. President."
"Yes . . . Admiral."
Simpson squared his
"Oh, I won't make that mistake. I meant what I said. I can think of former presidents of the U.S.A. up-time I wouldn't want in your shoes now, making this decision. I wouldn't trust them—especially that worthless bastard—"
He shook his head. "Never mind. Of all the silly things I can think of, hauling in old partisan squabbles from another universe ranks right at the top."
He gave Mike a sharp glance. "You're inclined to go for it, aren't you? Use a knife in a knife fight—even if it's your own wife who's the blade."
Mike nodded. "Yeah, I am. So's Becky herself, by the way. Her own opinion was, ah, firm."
Simpson nodded. "Cowardly, the lady is not." He thought a moment further. Then:
"Do it, Mike." He glanced at the ironclads. "And for what it's worth, the Navy will back you up to the best of our ability."
"That's worth quite a bit, John. In fact, the time may come when it's worth a lot. And now, I'd better go. I'll have more than one message to send tonight."
After taking a few steps, Mike turned back around.
"Before I forget, one other thing."
"Yes?"
"As Admiral of the U.S. Navy, I expect you'll be getting a fair number of social invitations. You and your wife, both. Quite soon, in fact." He raised his fist and coughed into it. "Not to put too fine a point on it, I'll see to it. And I think it would reflect badly on the United States if you didn't accept them. It might give the aristocracy the notion that we don't have any manners, you know. Won't leave our houses because we're afraid we won't know which fork to use in polite company."
For a moment, Simpson's face almost turned puce. "Mary? She could—"
His shoulder heaved a little, suppressing a laugh. Then, smiling: "Thank you, Mike. I'd appreciate that."
Mike nodded and began to turn away.
"Mr. President."
"Yes . . . Admiral."
Simpson squared his