“Everybody got the word to come to the ship instead of to Norfolk, sir,” Miller said with a shrug. “Usual cluster fuck.”

“Great,” Bill replied, crossing his arms. It was just a tad chilly for spandex bike shorts and an Underarmor top.

“Nice outfit,” Miller said with a grin. He was wearing a pair of cut-off desert BDU pants and a Hawaiian shirt.

“I was biking,” Bill replied.

“I was getting ready to have a family barbeque,” Miller said, clearly trying not to snarl. “My wife was less than thrilled.”

“How’s she handling your reactivation?” Bill asked.

“Not too happy,” Miller admitted. “But the nice thing about Glasses is that I can commute from Diego. And if she couldn’t handle the thought of me buying it on a mission we would have divorced decades ago.”

They pulled to a stop in front of the headquarters for the Blade project and went through the usual security rigmarole. It was a bit harder than getting on the base. There were four steel doors to negotiate and a guard station. From there, Miller led the way to Secure Room Four. Bill turned over his cellbud and PDA at the guard station, then entered.

The secure room had mostly familiar faces in it. Admiral Townsend was at the head of the table. He was in civilian clothes as well, wearing a polo shirt. Captain Steven “Spectre” Blankemeier, the ship’s CO, was wearing a T-shirt with an ace of spades on it and a squadron number. The new XO, Commander Rey Coldsmith, was the only one of the senior officers in uniform. Coldsmith was a submarine officer who’d come up through engineering. With degrees in both nuclear engineering and physics, he was a close second to Weaver in his understanding of the new drive. He did not, however, have Weaver’s background in quantum mechanics and astronomy.