But then, how could she expect him to? She was having trouble believing it herself.

A bright red holographic sign shimmered before her as she approached the door at the end of the corridor, driving all thought of the morning's happenings from her mind: JAMES RENFORD, ADMIRAL-COMMANDING OFFICER, FEDERATION FLEET. The sign vanished and the door irised open, then hissed closed behind her as she stepped through. She sank an inch into the waiting room's plush Fleet-red carpet.

Lieutenant Philip Krueger sat behind a large wooden desk, paging through a six inch thick stack of computer printouts. He was broad of shoulder, large boned, blond, with clear blue eyes-an extremely good looking man of approximately twenty-five, dressed in Fleet red.

Susan had had considerable contact with Lieutenant Krueger during the past few years. Not only was he Renford's administrative assistant, but he also served as liaison with the Admiral's Earth-side staff. He had taken Susan to dinner a few times when he was Earth-side, but he was definitely not her type; although he was always a good dinner companion, he was a bit too impressed with himself for Susan's taste.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," she said as she approached his desk.

The young lieutenant looked up and frowned. "The Admiral's waiting, and he's not happy. You'd better hustle your butt on in."

Fighting down her anger, Susan stepped to the door beside Krueger's desk. He had been too near power for far too long, she decided. So long, in fact, that he was beginning to believe he held the reigns of that power.

And perhaps, in a sense, he did. One thing was certain: Krueger was not a man to cross; Susan had seen many a higher ranking officer dash a promising career on his hard personality.

The door irised open and she stepped through, into the huge office beyond.

Nearly a dozen Rembrandts, El Grecos, Monets, and Renoirs hung on the walls, along with the works of a few artists Susan had never seen before. She knew all the paintings were authentic, and she also knew that the Admiral had twice again as many hidden away somewhere; paintings were rotated to the available wall space on a semi-regular basis.