Although almost everyone invited was there, the chamber was silent for some time already. No one was talking, as it was pointless to start the discussion before everyone was present. Admiral Davis cleared his throat and it echoed throughout the silence. The Fleet Admiral took a glance at her watch. It had just started counting seconds after eight.
A soldier entered the chamber and exclaimed after closing the door: "Admiral Sir George Richard Hall!" "Let him in", the Fleet Admiral responded, slightly stressed.
A caffeinated, rugged wretch in a lavish ceremonial uniform, with tidily arranged dark green Norfolk Fleet emblems, probably by someone else, creeped from the doorway. He handed his admiral's hat to the soldier and rose proudly, irradiating the chamber with his vanity. His eyes made contact with the Fleet Admiral's.
"Precisely on time, Fleet Admiral. Good morning."
He bowed his head slightly. There was some jesting tone in his words, enough to defy his superior, but not enough to earn him anything more than a stern look. Almost as if he was speaking to a child playing fleets in a bathtub.
There was obviously some bigotry between O'Brien and Hall. O'Brien was a thirty year old girl, who was also Hall's boss. He doubted her leadership abilities, and was convinced that she had reached the position by using her other abilities while spending nights with the previous Fleet Admiral in a romantic and perhaps very drunken manner. The fact that the previous Fleet Admiral was a woman did not disturb him, but the fact that she had more in common with a cat than a woman in terms of appearance did.
These, however, were not the main causes. It was that Hall wanted the position for himself. Doing anything to undermine O'Brien's reputation and authority, and increase his own, was an attractive option. He did not revise about his fleet status during the evening. Instead, he rewinded Commander Dagon's (unintentional) recordings of O'Brien's quarters to prepare some aces in his sleeve. Actually, he spent more time studying O'Brien and other Admirals and Commodores than his own forces. And he finished on time. The cardamine in his genes helped his mind run faster. He could have arrived much earlier if he wished, but what he really wanted was to show everyone how foolish they were to sacrifice their sleep to arrive earlier and humbly serve a bawdy girl. He observed everyone's reaction to his relative delay and the slightly joking tone so he could calculate how likely they would be to vote O'Brien down from the position, if there arose a chance, and elect, perhaps, him.
He stood there for a moment, with his thoughts completely hidden behind the expressionless mask, unscrupulously waiting for the Fleet Admiral's welcome to her (for now) chamber and the approval to take a seat.
