"No!" Jared Mayhew surged to his feet, glaring at his cousin. "I will never break bread with a woman who spits on everything I believe!"
Benjamin looked at his cousin and hoped his pain didn't show. They'd always been close, despite their philosophical differences. The thought that those differences might force a breach between them at last twisted his heart, but he had to meet with the Manticoran captain. The survival of his planet required it, and he could feel the political structure of Grayson realigning itself about him. If he hesitated, neither his home world nor his chance to forge a new, progressive power base would survive.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Jared," he said quietly. "We'll miss you."
Jared stared at him, his face twisted, then wheeled and stormed out of the Council Room. A ripple of agitation washed over the councilmen at his flagrant breach of protocol, but Benjamin made himself ignore it.
"Very well, gentlemen. I believe that concludes our debate."
He turned on his heel and walked through the door to the private quarters of the palace. The frozen Council watched him go, and as the door closed behind him, they knew it had closed on their own control of the government, as well.
There was no image on the com in the small shop's back room. That was a security measure, yet it also meant the man who'd answered it could never be certain the blank screen wasn't a trap, and he drew a deep breath.
"Hello?"
"The Abomination of the Desolation will not be suffered twice," a familiar voice said.
"Nor shall we fear defeat, for this world is God's," the man replied, and his shoulders relaxed. "How may I serve, Maccabeus?"
"The time has come to reclaim the Temple, Brother. The Protector will meet privately with the blasphemer who commands the Manticoran squadron."
"With a woman?!" the shopkeeper gasped.
"Indeed. But this time sacrilege will serve God's Work. Word of his decision will be announced within the hour. Before that happens, you must mobilize your team. Is all in readiness?"
"Yes, Maccabeus!" The shopkeeper's horror had turned into something else, and his eyes gleamed.
"Very well. I'll com back within forty-five minutes with final instructions and the challenges and countersigns you'll need. After that, God's Work will be in your hands, Brother."
"I understand," the shopkeeper whispered. "My team and I won't fail you, Maccabeus. This world is God's."
"This world is God's," the faceless voice responded. Then there was a click, and only the hum of the carrier.
CHAPTER TWENTY
She was certainly a big woman.
That was Benjamin Mayhew's first thought as Captain Harrington was ushered into the sitting room, but he changed it almost instantly. She wasn't so much "big" as "tall." She towered over her Security escort, but though she was broad-shouldered for a woman, with the solid, well-muscled look of a heavy-worlder, she moved like a dancer, and there wasn't a gram of excess weight on her.
He watched Captain Fox, the head of his personal Security detachment, bristle like a terrier confronted by the tall elegance of a borzoi and felt an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh. Fox had been Mayhew's personal guardsman since boyhood, and laughing would have been an unforgivable insult to his utterly loyal henchman, but Harrington was twenty centimeters taller than he, and Fox was only too obviously irked by that.
He was also irked by the six-legged, cream-and-gray creature riding her shoulder. One didn't normally bring pets to formal state occasions, but then, the Protector had decreed that this wasn't a state occasion. Officially, it was simply a dinner invitation to a foreign officer. The fact that this horrible woman had issued an ultimatum to the entire planet to extort that "invitation" was beside the point—officially—but it certainly didn't give her a right to bring her horrid alien creature and God alone knew what off-world parasites or diseases into the Protector's presence!
Unfortunately for Fox, Captain Harrington was all done deferring to Grayson's tender sensibilities. She hadn't even discussed bringing the beast along; she'd simply appeared with it on her shoulder. Mayhew had used the palace surveillance system to observe her arrival, and he hadn't quite been able to suppress a grin as she ignored Fox's pointed hints that its presence might be unwelcome. When he'd tried to persist, she'd given him the sort of look nannies reserved for rambunctious boy children not yet out of the nursery.
Fox had surrendered, but the chemistry between him and Harrington should add a certain something to the evening's atmosphere.
Mayhew rose from his armchair as Fox escorted her across the room to him. Unlike his Security team's commander, he'd spent six years at Harvard University's Bogota campus on Old Earth. That gave him a degree of experience with off-world women virtually no other Grayson could match, yet even he was struck by Captain Harrington's assurance. Her height didn't hurt any, but neither that, nor her startling, unconventional attractiveness, nor even the gliding grace with which she moved, explained it.
She paused, tall and erect in her black-and-gold uniform with the snarling, scarlet-and-gold Manticore shoulder patch, and removed her white beret. Mayhew recognized the gesture of respect, but his Security men exchanged grimaces behind her as she bared her short, curly mop of close-cropped hair. Grayson women were spared the veils of their Masadan sisters, but none of them would have dared wear trousers in public, and tradition still forbade uncovered female heads in the presence of men. Besides, no Grayson woman would ever cut her hair so short.
But Captain Harrington wasn't a Grayson woman. One look into those dark, cool almond eyes made that perfectly clear, and Mayhew extended his hand as he would have extended it to a man.
"Good evening, Captain Harrington." He allowed himself an ironic smile. "It was so kind of you to come."
"Thank you, Protector Mayhew." Her grip was firm, though he had the impression its strength was carefully restrained, and her soprano voice was surprisingly soft and sweet. It was also admirably grave, but he thought he saw a hint of a twinkle in her dark eyes. "It was very generous of you to invite me," she added, and he felt his lips twitch.
"Yes. Well, it seemed appropriate, under the circumstances."
Her inclined head conceded him the match, and he gestured graciously for her to accompany him. She fell in at his side, her stride slow and unhurried to match his shorter legs, and he looked up at her.
"I thought I'd introduce you to my family before we dine, Captain," he went on. "My younger brother Michael is particularly interested in meeting you. He holds a bachelor's degree from Anderman University on New Berlin, but he hopes to pursue graduate work on Manticore if our negotiations prosper."
"I certainly hope he'll be able to, Protector." Harrington's tone acknowledged the implication that Michael, like Mayhew himself, had been exposed to independent-minded women. Of course, the Protector thought with an inner smile, that wasn't the only reason Michael wanted to meet her.
They passed down the hall to the dining room, and two of Fox's men peeled off to station themselves on either side of its door. The other four accompanied their captain and the Protector through it and moved to the corners of the large room. They were used to looking unobtrusive, and Harrington showed no particular awareness of their watchful presence. Fox gave her one last baleful look, then assumed his own position beside the Protector's chair as Mayhew's family joined him.
"Allow me to present my wives, Captain Harrington," he said. "This is my first wife, Katherine."
Katherine Mayhew was a small woman, even by Grayson standards; next to Harrington she was tiny. But she combined the graciousness of a traditional Grayson wife with a first-class mind, and her deplorably nontraditional husband had actively abetted her voracious pursuit of a course of private study which would have qualified her for half a dozen degrees at any off-world university. Now she looked up at their visitor and offered her hand without hesitation.