Free The Sea Without a Shore by David Drake Page A

Cosmos dies .
    If you are part of a family, however, you have family obligations. Adele had spent her first thirty-one years alone, though until she was sixteen she had lived in Xenos with her parents and sister. When she met Daniel, she had joined a family: she had become a Sissie, a member of the crew of the corvette Princess Cecile , and through that fellowship a part of the vastly extended RCN family.
    Adele much preferred her current situation, and no one had ever accused the Mundys of avoiding their obligations.
    Besides, Adele liked Miranda. She was intelligent and was grounded in the real world: Miranda and her mother had lived in straitened circumstances since the death of her father, an RCN captain. Furthermore, Miranda was extremely tough, though there was nothing in her appearance to suggest that.
    Adele’s mouth quirked again, perhaps with a hint of regret. Toughness wasn’t the first attribute strangers thought of on meeting Adele Mundy, either.
    Miranda came up the three flights of stairs ahead of Tovera. It was an unusual display of Tovera’s favor that she did not interpose herself between her mistress and an approaching visitor.
    “Good afternoon, Miranda,” Adele said. “Put those chip files on the floor—”
    Or she could hold them in her lap as Daniel had. It was all one to Adele.
    “—and sit down.”
    Miranda entered, looking about with her usual bright interest. She wore a pantsuit of brown tweed under a short cape which was either tan or gold, depending on the angle of the light. She wore her perfectly tailored garments with grace, as she had done all things of which Adele was aware.
    Adele knew that Miranda and her mother, Madeline, continued to make their own clothing. She had never asked whether that was whim or a philosophy on the Dorsts’ part. It certainly wasn’t a matter of necessity anymore. Daniel was a notably openhanded man, and he wasn’t stinting his fiancée and her mother.
    “Thank you for receiving me, Adele,” Miranda said. She placed the files on the floor and sat without touching the chair with her hands. “I realize that you’re always busy.”
    Adele shrugged. “I’m transcribing logbooks,” she said. “I will often find useful information in primary sources which isn’t carried over into compilations. I need to skim the contents as I copy the logs, however, so that I have an idea of what is in each one. In a crisis, the real index is in my mind.”
    She smiled faintly. She saw no reason to pretend to Miranda that she wasn’t good at her job.
    Then she said, “What do you want from me?”
    Miranda looked blank for a moment, then clapped her hands in delight. She began to laugh.
    Adele’s lips stiffened. I was too abrupt . Well, people who knew her didn’t visit for small talk.
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” Miranda gasped through her gust of laughter. “Please, please—”
    The laughter got the better of her again. She stood and unexpectedly took Adele’s hands. Her firm grip was a reminder of Miranda’s comment that she played field hockey at school.
    Miranda straightened and released Adele’s hand. “I apologize,” she said. “I realize that was very impolite, but I’ve …”
    She backed into her chair again without taking her eyes from Adele’s. “Adele,” she said, “that’s the first time I’ve laughed in, well, since Master Sand came to Bantry in a flurry. I’ve been trying to pretend everything was all right so that Daniel wouldn’t worry about me and I’d make it worse.”
    She swallowed, then gave Adele a transfiguring smile. “And then I came here,” Miranda said, “and you were you , and I didn’t have to pretend anymore. About anything. It was such a relief.”
    Adele supposed she’d just been complimented. Others might not feel it was a compliment, but—she smiled as broadly as she ever did—that was rather the point of the statement, wasn’t it?
    “I can generally be expected to be me,” Adele said. “But since that