Chapter Forty-Two
The alarm buzzed in the darkness, and Honor Alexander-Harrington sat up in bed, reached out a long arm, and pressed the acceptance key.
Nimitz had rolled off of her chest when she moved, and his green eyes glowed like molten emeralds in the come terminals' reflected light as he blinked sleepily. She felt his mind glow nestled close to her own, and she gave him a quick caress with her free hand as the display came fully alive with the wounded lion of HMS Invictus ' wallpaper.
"Yes?"
She hadn't slept well over the three months since the attack on the home system. She'd hoped that might change once she got back aboard her flagship here at Trevor's Star, but it hadn't. Yet there was no sign of that in her crisp acknowledgment as she accepted the com request audio only.
"Your Grace," Captain Rafael Cardones' voice replied, "I think we need you on Flag Bridge. Now."
Honor's eyebrows rose as Cardones' strained tone registered. She'd seen him in the midst of combat, seen him cradling broken ribs while he continued to man his station, seen him in the most stressful situations she could imagine, and yet she'd never heard that note in his voice before.
"What is it, Rafe?" she asked sharply.
"Your Grace, we've just picked up a hyper footprint. It's a single ship, about four light-minutes outside the system limit. It's quite near one of the FTL platforms, and it's squawking its transponder code."
"And?" she prompted a bit sharply when he paused.
"And it's a Havenite ship, Ma'am. In fact, according to its transponder, it's Haven One ."
* * *
"All right, Hamish, what's this all about?" Elizabeth Winton demanded irritably as she sat down in front of the com. The two T-weeks since her defiant speech hadn't been restful, and the anticipated arrival of Admiral Filareta's fleet within the next week to ten days wasn't likely to improve things one bit.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. It isn't Hamish," a voice said, and Elizabeth's eyebrows rose in surprise. She punched the key to bring the visual on line and stared in plerplexity at the white-bereted woman looking back at her as the Admiralty House wallpaper disappeared.
"Honor?" The queen shook her head. "What are you doing on this channel? Or even here, instead of at Trevor's Star, for that matter? I thought you weren't due back until the middle of next week!"
"There's been a slight . . . change in plans," Honor said. "Something came up rather unexpectedly. I decided I'd better come home to discuss it with you personally, and I got Hamish to tap me in through Admiralty House's secure channels. That's why his identifier showed on your com."
Elizabeth frowned. Something about Honor's expression perplexed her, and she wondered why the other woman had gone to such obvious lengths to wake her up in the middle of the night to sit down in front of a secure com.
"What 'came up rather unexpectedly'?" she asked.
"It seems we have an unanticipated visitor," Honor said simply, and expanded her own com's field of view.
For a moment, it failed to register. But then Elizabeth Winton's jaw dropped as she recognized the platinum-haired, topaz-eyed woman standing at Honor's side.
"I apologize for waking you up in the middle of the night, Your Majesty," President Elizabeth Pritchart said calmly, "but I think we need to talk."
Chapter Forty-Three
The pinnace which docked with HMS Invictus ' forward boat bay was Duchess Harrington's personal small craft. As such, it had priority over any other auxiliary assigned to her flagship, although it was just a bit unusual for even her pinnace to be accompanied—one might have said "escorted"—by a pair of Royal Manticoran Army trans-atmospheric sting ships.
The flight operations officer in charge of Invictus ' small craft movements didn't seem surprised to see them, however. He simply acknowledged their presence and assigned them berthing slots on either side of Duchess Harrington's craft.
But if he'd been warned what to expect, it quickly became evident that the boat bay officer of the deck (who, at this extremely late hour of Invictus ' shipboard day, was an extremely junior ensign with red hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, rejoicing in the name of Hieronymus Thistlewaite) hadn't been. That young man had spotted the duchess' arrival and mustered the proper side party for an admiral of her towering seniority. He looked just a bit nervous, since there were no older and wiser heads looking over his shoulder this time, but Ensign Thistlewaite seemed reasonably confident he had the situation under control.
Until, that was, Elizabeth Adrienne Samantha Annette Winton, Grand Commander of the Order of King Roger, Grand Commander of the Order of Queen Elizabeth I, Grand Commander of the Order of the Golden Lion, Baroness of Crystal Pine, Baroness of White Sand, Countess of Tannerman, Countess of High Garnet, Grand Duchess of Basilisk, Princess Protector of the Realm, and, by God's grace and the will of Parliament, Queen Elizabeth III of the Star Kingdom of Manticore, and Empress Elizabeth I of the Star Empire of Manticore, swung lithely out of the boarding tube at Duchess Harrington's heels.
None of the side party had expected their monarch's sudden arrival, and not even naval discipline was enough to hide their astonishment.
"Eighth Fleet, arri—" a voice began over the boat bay speakers, then chopped off abruptly as the petty officer behind it realized who else had just appeared aboard his ship.
The smooth efficiency of the side party's formalities slithered to a halt, and Ensign Thistlewaite's jaw dropped. Then it closed with an almost audible snap, his face turned a considerably darker red than his hair, and he stared appealingly at the duchess.
"Manticore , arriving!" the speakers said suddenly as the petty officer recovered abruptly, and the bosun's pipes began to twitter again while three additional side boys came dashing up from somewhere.
"Permission to come aboard, Sir?" Elizabeth said gravely, managing not to smile, as the twitter of pipes came to an end. The first two bodyguards who'd emerged from the tube behind her, wearing the uniform of the Queen's Own, appeared rather less amused than she obviously was, but Thistlewaite's blue eyes looked back at her with desperate gratitude.
"Permission granted, Ma'am—I mean, Your Majesty!"
Honor hadn't believed the young man could turn even redder, but she'd been wrong.
"Permission to come aboard, Sir?" she repeated as Elizabeth stepped past her.
"Permission granted, Your Grace." Thistlewaite's relief at getting back to something familiar was obvious as she returned his salute, and she smiled slightly.
"My apologies, Ensign," she said. "We organized this on the fly, as it were, and we didn't want the newsies getting word of Her Majesty's visit. Apparently you didn't get the word in time, either."
"Uh, no, Ma'am," he admitted, blushing a bit less blindingly.
"Well, it happens," she said philosophically while another passel of armsmen and bodyguards appeared behind her and the queen, then nodded to him and turned to Elizabeth. "This way, Your Majesty," she said.
"Thank you, Admiral,"Elizabeth replied. She nodded smilingly to Thistlewaite in turn, then headed towards the lift banks at Honor's side, accompanied by three Grayson armsmen, six members of the Queen's Own, one plainclothes officer from Palace Security, and two treecats, who appeared inordinately amused by the two-legs' antics as they rode their persons' shoulders.
* * *
Elizabeth's amusement at poor Thistlewaite's reaction had dissipated by the time the door to Honor's day cabin slid aside in front of her.
The queen paused with extremely atypical hesitation as the door opened. Her spine was absolutely straight, her lips were tight, and she visibly braced herself before she continued into the cabin.