Crown of Slaves

are simply private citizens-who don't have to account to the government for their whereabouts. Erewhon is a free star nation, after all.'

'Sorry, yes, I know it's all very inconvenient.'

'Sorry.'

Jabber, jabber, jabber. The long-suffering adopted brother reflected that Haven's Ambassador Guthrie, while he was less arrogant than Countess Fraser, was also a lot more long-winded and given to pointless verbiage.

Finally, though, even Guthrie managed to get to the point.

'Yes, Ambassador, I understand that. Whatever might be the involvement of certain citizens of Haven by the names of Victor Cachat and Virginia Usher-and all I know is what you do, what's in the press, that they seem to have somehow been caught up in the mayhem in orbit-they are simply here as private individuals and their actions do not in any way reflect upon, or reflect-or even refract, if that will make you happy-the policies of the government of the Republic of Haven. And now, we still have a crisis on our hands. So, good day.'

* * *

On the bridge of HMS Gauntlet, Captain Michael Oversteegen was having a face-off of his own with Erewhon's authorities. But, in his case, the exchange was at least civil. Partly, because Oversteegen wasn't being arrogant and overbearing; but, mostly, because-polite or not-Oversteegen had considerably more power at his immediate disposal than did Countess Fraser.

All the power of a heavy cruiser, to be precise. And one which, though hopelessly outweighed by the sheer mass of the Erewhonese fleet in orbit around the planet, had a well-deserved reputation in that part of the galaxy for being deadly in naval combat. True, in the encounter which had earned her that reputation she hadn't triumphed without suffering horrendous casualties of her own. But that fact, far from reassuring the Erewhonese, simply added extra caution. Michael Oversteegen had already proven once that he would not flinch from what he perceived as his duty simply because of a ruinous butcher's bill.

'I say again, Sir,' Oversteegen stated firmly at the image of the Erewhonese admiral in the bridge's display screen, 'that I am not questionin' Erewhon's jurisdiction in the matter. But I will also be damned if I intend t' stay here simply twiddlin' my thumbs.' He gave a cold glance at another display, this one showing the tactical situation in the vicinity of The Wages of Sin. 'If that so-called 'freighter' so much as starts warmin' up its impellers, I shall see t' it that it's so much vapor. Be sure of it, Sir. You may choose to play the fools, but I shall not.'

The admiral began to say something, but Oversteegen-the first time he'd been a bit rude-chose to override him. 'Enough, Sir. All due respect, you know and I know-anyone but a complete imbecile knows, and I do hope you fire the imbeciles you've had workin' on your so-called 'orbital security'-that that 'freighter' has no business bein' there. It's part of the plot, whatever the plot may be. What is certain, is that Manticore will be no part of it. If the Princess dies, such be fortune. The Star Kingdom and the House of Winton will grieve, but they will not fall, or even shake. Indeed, Sir-I know the woman personally, she's a relative of mine-Queen Elizabeth would be the first t' condemn me for allowin' her house t' be used as a hostage against her nation.'

Again, the admiral began to speak, and, again, was over-ridden-but, this time, not by Oversteegen. Someone-someone with impressive authority-had simply overridden the Navy's broadcast with their own.

Oversteegen found himself staring at a man he didn't know. Which didn't necessarily mean very much, since- again, he cursed them silently-the High Ridge Government had not seen fit to provide him with the in-depth political background he'd requested when he'd been sent him on this deployment.

Fortunately, Oversteegen had very good Communications and Tactical departments.

'This signal's coming from the space station itself, Sir.' Lieutenant Theresa Cheney said. The com officer tapped a query into her panel and shrugged. 'It carries their normal Navy protocols and signal encrypt, though, so it's definitely government sponsored.'

'Betty here has him IDed, Sir,' Commander Blumenthal put in, and nodded to his assistant.

'That's Walter Imbesi, Sir,' Lieutenant Gohr said. 'He's officially nothing in the government, but he's more-or- less the recognized head of the Opposition. Which, as I told you, works a bit differently here on Erewhon. And since I'm pretty sure Fuentes and Havlicek and Hall were on that shuttle that docked not long ago, I think you can figure he's speaking for all of them. They'd be using him as their 'cutout.' '

Oversteegen absorbed all that with one part of his mind while he listened to Imbesi's opening words with the rest. Imbesi was, thankfully, brief and to the point. Oversteegen's never-too-lengthy patience was by now strained to the breaking point.

'If I'm understandin' your proposal correctly, Mister Imbesi, you want me-me personally, yes?-t' come aboard the space station? I'm sorry, Sir, but I would be derelict in my duty were I t' abandon my command at a time like this, when-pardon my bluntness-we may be on the verge of hostilities.'

Imbesi sighed. Then, with a little ironic smile: 'Your stubbornness is not simply a matter of reputation, I see. That's a compliment, by the way. All right, Captain Oversteegen. Can you be certain this exchange can't be unscrambled by anyone on that freighter? Or anyone else, for that matter?'

Oversteegen's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Cheney, who nodded vigorously.

'We're usin' Alliance technology here, Mister Imbesi. On both ends,' Oversteegan said, turning back to the face on his com… and careful to substitute 'Alliance' for 'Manticoran.' Imbesi would probably notice his choice of adjectives, but one had to be polite. Especially with an ally who was already pissed off with one's government.

Again, his eyes moved to the tactical display. And an ironic little smile came to his own lips.

'I imagine those Solarians have an inflated notion of their own technical abilities-and what is a Solarian flotilla doin' in this system, anyway?-but I can assure you that not even they stand a chance of eavesdroppin' on this exchange.'

Imbesi nodded. 'All right, then.' His smile widened and became, oddly enough, even more ironic. 'Let me introduce you to someone.'

A moment later, a young woman's image came into the display.

'Hello, Michael,' she said, and Oversteegen frowned. The face on his screen was obviously Berry Zilwicki, yet there was something about that voice… something he couldn't quite put his mental finger on.

'Pardon me, Ms. Zilwicki,' he said, after a moment, 'but I don't believe we've been formally introduced.'

'No, you and Berry Zilwicki haven't,' that maddeningly familiar voice agreed. 'But I'm not her. I'm Ruth Winton, Michael.'

Oversteegen stiffened. As a distant relative of the Queen (and one who had been in much better odor at Mount Royal Palace before his relative had become Prime Minister), he was one of the very small number of people who had actually met the reclusive princess. Who didn't look much at all like the young woman on his display. But the voice, now… He strained his memory, and his frown deepened.

'That's… an interestin' announcement, 'Your Highness,' ' he said a bit slowly. 'Under the circumstances, however, I trust you will agree that it behooves me t' be certain that you are, indeed, who you claim t' be.'

The girl smiled. 'Of course I agree. Unfortunately, I don't have any secret code words and-' Her smile faltered abruptly. '-I'm afraid none of my protective detail have survived to verify my story.' She inhaled deeply, then shook herself. 'All I can offer is that I do remember we were introduced once, though I can't remember anything about the occasion except it was big, and formal, and boring beyond belief.'

Oversteegen's memory of the event was far better, naturally, since it wasn't often that a relative as distant as himself was invited to a royal family gathering.

'It was the christenin' of your cousin Robert, Your Highness,' he said, and the face on his screen flashed another brilliant smile.

'Oh, very good, Michael!' she congratulated. 'It most certainly wasn't Robert's christening-I was home with the flu that afternoon. But now that you've jogged my memory, I recall that it was my cousin Jessica's christening, wasn't it?'

Oversteegen felt himself relax, and he cleared his throat. 'So it was, Your Highness. I take it that reports of your abduction were, ah, somewhat exaggerated, then.'

The princess shook her head. 'Not all that highly, Captain. They did, in fact-yes, it was Masadan fanatics, that part's all true-abduct Berry Zilwicki, whom they thought was