Socrates stood in the office of the Admiralty. He was personally acquainted with First Naval Lord Milne, but the man was in India, and his second-in-command demanded that forms be filled out before he released a ship. Mr. Socrates filled out the requisition forms as quickly as possible, Tharpa standing silently behind him. His frustration built with each stroke of his pen. He no longer cared whether his writing was legible. “How many more forms?” he barked at the secretary, a thin man who had probably never been to sea. “There are several more, sir,” the secretary said, delivering a large stack. “In triplicate.” “Triplicate? Time is of the essence here! I told you that! I demand to see Second Sea Lord Hornby at once.” “Sir, he is engaged until this evening. He will sign off on the papers then.” Bureaucracy! Mr. Socrates wanted to shout. “For want of a piece of paper the kingdom was lost,” he hissed. The secretary stared at him blankly. Ah, it was pointless! He had hours of paperwork ahead of him.
