Spectre, Captain Steven Blankemeier, though, was from the fighter tradition. No carrier ever shut down flight ops because they lost a bird. Hell, they wouldn’t shut down unless they took so much damage they couldn’t get planes on and off the deck.

On the other hand, at one point in the first mission, when they weren’t all that far from Earth and had taken some damage, he was ready to turn around. That was what carriers did if they got dinged. They headed into port to get the dings hammered out. They’d finish the mission, if at all possible, but they’d head for home just as soon as it was done.

Submariners, though, just kept going until they had to return to port. They’d keep the boat running with spit and duct tape if that was what was necessary.

Spectre, in many ways, had set the tone of the culture of the Space Navy, a combination of submariner and carrier. The mission came first, damn the platform, came from the carrier side. Sink the carrier if you have to to take out the enemy. Damn the damage or equipment failures, keep going until your cruise was done or you were actively sinking came from the submarine side. The chief of the boat had coined the new motto: “We don’t go home until we’re out of food or bodies.”

Prael wasn’t an entirely unknown item. He’d taken over the helm almost three months ago. But how he’d deal in deep space was going to be interesting to find out. In the meantime, though, Weaver was going to have to confess to failure.

“I can’t get supply to cough up any more 413, sir,” Bill admitted. “I tried but the clerk wants variances on budget and authorization to release her full supply. The latter is stupid, frankly, because we’re the only ship authorized to draw on that item.”

“Ran afoul of Clerk Click, did you, XO?” the skipper said, grinning. Prael was a large man with an easy manner that belied years spent on the nuke side. Nuke officers tended to be OCD to an annoying extent, but when you’re in charge of a nuclear reactor that is right on the edge of being a nuclear bomb, attention to detail is a survival trait. Prael had that in spades, but not the constant tension and didacticism that normally accompanied it.