1633

From the other end of the hallway, leading into the main ballroom, Mike could hear a rising swell of sound. Suddenly, he realized that was the sound of a crowd breaking into celebration. A wild hope came to him.

"Eddie," Simpson choked out. "Lieutenant Cantrell, I mean." Then, taking shaky control of himself, lifted his head and gazed at the opposite wall. "God knows how, but he must have gotten off the boat before it hit. The Danes were all over the area, picking up their own, and they fished him out too. He was badly hurt-lost a leg, they say, or part of it-but he came through it. He's conscious again."

He swallowed, visibly trying to regain his composure. "Hypothermia would have been a blessing to him, actually. Kept the blood loss to a minimum. How in hell he survived the impact on the water, though-at that speed…"

Despite his own swelling heart, Mike forced himself to think. Coldly and clearly.

"John… Look, I hate to raise this. But is there any chance-"

"A Danish subterfuge? A trick?" Suddenly, Simpson started laughing. The laughter, like the earlier weeping, had a semi-hysterical quality to it. Again, as if the man who laughed had no real experience at it. Or, at least, none for many years.

"Not a chance!" he cried, holding up the message slip. "No, it's Eddie all right. Can't possibly be a Danish ploy. He's already pissed off the king of Denmark. Apparently he lectured Christian on something called the Geneva Convention and refused to tell him anything except his name, rank, and serial number."

Mike started laughing himself. Truth be told, perhaps even semi-hysterically.

"It gets better!" whooped Simpson. "Christian is most disgruntled. He tells us-no fool, that man, he's already figured out he'd better not burn any more bridges behind him-he's willing to go along with whatever this Geneva Convention business means but-"

Now, the admiral was almost dancing a little jig.

"-but not unless we quit cheating."

Weakly, still shaking with laughter, Simpson handed the sheet to Mike. "See for yourself."

Mike's eyes ranged down the page until he came to the end.

- CANTRELL CLAIMS FORGOT SERIAL NUMBER. WE ARE MOST SUSPICIOUS. WILL KEEP HIM AS PRISONER, FOLLOWING WHAT HE CLAIMS ARE YOUR RULES. BUT MUST INSIST HIS SERIAL NUMBER BE GIVEN TO US. ABSOLUTELY INSIST.

CHRISTIAN IV, KING OF DENMARK

"Of course," chuckled Simpson, "he's just covering the Old Bastard's ass. Navy takes care of its own. He didn't forget his serial number. I never thought to provide people with any."

Mike stared at him. Simpson shrugged. "What can I say? I screwed up. Guess we'll have to figure out a serial number system. Can't use social security numbers, of course, the way the old Navy wound up doing."

"To hell with a 'system,' " proclaimed Mike. "Later for that. Right now, we'll just have to wing it. Eddie needs a number right away."

The cheering crowd in the ballroom was starting to spill into the hallway. Mike knew he'd be surrounded by well-wishers in seconds, burying him.

Think quick.

He did. But-

Is Eddie bright enough? Stupid question.

Will he get reckless? That's the real problem. Ah, what the hell. He's lost a leg, what can he do?

Um. Eddie? Stupid question.

Piss on it, Mike. Go with the ones who got you here.

Just do it.

Pulling his ever-present notepad and pen from the inside pocket of his fancy clothing-another reason he'd insisted on his own modifications-Mike hastily scrawled a message. He just had time to hand it to Simpson before the mob swept him back into the ballroom. Dignitas be damned. Let's have a party!

Simpson didn't read the message for perhaps half a minute, until he was sure he had himself back under control. When he did read the message, however, he promptly burst into laughter again.

LT CANTRELL DECORATED NAVY CROSS. CONGRATULATIONS.

LT CANTRELL REPRIMANDED FORGETTING SERIAL NUMBER.

INSIST REPRIMAND BE GIVEN HIM. WITH SERIAL NUMBER.

THUS NO EXCUSE REPETITION OF INCIDENT.

LT CANTRELL SERIAL NUMBER 007

Afterword

by Eric Flint

It is one of the pieces of accepted wisdom in fiction writing that stories written in collaboration are almost invariably weaker than stories written by authors working alone. Since I enjoy sticking my thumb in the eye of accepted wisdom, I like to think I've done it again with this book-as well as a number of others I've written in collaboration with several different authors.