“No ‘but.’ Sir Reed may bring his fiscal concerns to me.” Jenks looked at Matt, Courtney, and Gray. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
Matt wanted to bring Chack along so the Governor-Emperor could meet a representative of his people, but that would have to wait. For now, leaving him aboard ship with his Marines was the better course. Courtney was the de facto ambassador for the Alliance, and Gray… well, Gray would go regardless.
Flanked by a squad of Imperial Marines, their lieutenant leading, the small party marched through the curious throngs of brown-eyed female yard workers. As on Respite, most were strikingly attractive, at least until reaching a certain age, apparently. Their exotic beauty left them then, but they retained a sturdy handsomeness that Matt, at least, had rarely seen, and that he suspected lingered for the rest of their days. Bradford removed his hat and beamed all around at young and old alike. They continued beyond the waterfront and into what looked like the business district of the city.
“This way, gentlemen, if you please,” the lieutenant said.
“I know where Government House is,” Jenks retorted.
“Of course, sir.”
They strode on in silence for a considerable distance, through crowded streets full of staring people. There were more men now, most in uniform, but a few women drifted along behind them in their brightly colored, shapeless gowns.
“Jeez, Skipper,” Gray whispered at his side. “You go from feastin’ your eyes to famine around here. What’s with the dead balloon suits?”
“I guess they’re practical, sort of,” Matt replied. “Now pipe down. What is it with you? Every time we meet new folks, you’re always saying something that’ll make me crack up and get us killed.” Gray looked at him curiously.
Ahead was a broad square with an impressive columned building. Matt was struck again by the strange attempt at a classical style of architecture. The Governor’s Palace on Respite had reflected it as well. This building was much larger, though, and four stories high, with a shining metal observatory dome perched on top. Matt was fascinated to see the large telescope protruding through a pair of open shutters, pointed at the harbor, not the sky.
More red-coated Marines with yellow facings and heavy gold lace received them at the massive door of the structure and took charge of them from the Marine lieutenant.
“Your arms, sirs,” one of them said, “if you please.” It wasn’t a request.
Jenks looked at Matt uncomfortably. “I’d forgotten,” he admitted. “One gets as accustomed to wearing weapons as to clothing. Forgive me-it is required.”
Matt nodded. “Of course,” he said, unbuckling his belt, which supported his Academy sword and holstered 1911 Colt.
Gray grumbled, but handed over his own belt and the Thompson he’d been carrying on his shoulder. “Don’t monkey with them things, fellas. You’ll shoot both your feet off.”
“Your arms will not be tampered with, sirs.”
The Marines escorted them into a large, ornate reception hall furnished in an understated Queen Anne style. A bulky man in an elaborate black-laced green frock met them.
“Commodore Jenks!” he exclaimed. “How nice ye have returned! I must say, we despaired of ye some time ago!”
“Andrew,” Jenks acknowledged, smiling. “I assume His Majesty spied our approach?”
“Aye! He was quite animated. More than he’s been fer… Well, he’ll be anxious ta see ye!” He paused, looking at Matt and the others. “Bringin’ visitors, though… Most irregular.”
“Unprecedented,” Jenks conceded.
“Ye vouch fer ’em, I assume? There’s restrictions, as ye know,” the man stated.
“I know. I will bear any consequences.”
Andrew shooed the Marines back to their posts. “Carry on,” he told them, then gestured at the visitors. “This way. His Majesty awaits ye in the library.”
“Yeah,” Gray said to the Marines. “As you were. Nice, ah, muskets, fellas.”
Matt glared at him.
Matt assumed Andrew was a butler, or something of the sort, but when they reached a tall hardwood door at the end of the hallway, he opened it and preceded them inside, moving slightly to the left to stand before a massive overburdened bookcase. Jenks had told him that every book aboard the “Passage Squadron” of ancient East Indiamen was in Imperial custody. The printing press existed here, and other books-copies and new works-were available to anyone who could afford them, but the originals received the same protection as the Governor-Emperor did.
The library was big but cozy, even cluttered in an absentminded, professorial fashion. Books (reprints, by the look of them) were scattered about, lying open. Strange machines stood on shelves, and on virtually every surface. The wood decor was dark, but the vast windows at the far end of the room permitted ample light to see and even work by, reflected by the almost universally white architecture outside. In the center of everything was a big, graying man, probably as powerful as the Bosun. He was in shirtsleeves and weskit, and a pair of spectacles rested on his nose. His silver-streaked hair was gathered in a queue with a black ribbon near the nape of his neck, and he regarded them with a magnifying glass in his left hand. Matt hadn’t really known what to expect. Jenks had described the man, but at first glance he seemed a decade older than Jenks had led him to believe. Apparently, by Jenks’s quickly concealed expression, he was surprised as well.
“Commodore Jenks!” the man exclaimed, rising to stand nearly as tall as Matt. “Harvey!” He strode across the decorative rug and embraced Jenks long and hard. “I feared you were lost as well!”
“Not lost, Your Majesty,” Jenks replied, “but considerably inconvenienced for a time. May I present my friends?”
“Of course. You must, in any case.”
“Indeed. Your Majesty, Governor-Emperor Gerald McDonald, sole sovereign, by the grace of God, of the Empire of New Britain Isles and all her possessions…”
“Yes, yes, Harvey, do get on with it,” the Governor-Emperor said with a slight grin. “And no more ‘Majesty’s,’ if you please. It has always been ‘Gerald’ between us.”
“Very well. May I present Captain Matthew P. Reddy of the United States warship USS Walker. His preferred rank of ‘Captain’ does not reflect his full authority. He is, in fact, the Supreme Commander of all military forces united beneath the Banner of the Trees. I will explain all that implies in due course, but suffice for now, in this company, he has become my particular friend.”
“An extraordinary achievement, surely,” the Governor-Emperor commented wryly, but without sarcasm. “There must be quite a tale behind that.”
“Yes, sire,” Jenks agreed, dispensing with “Majesty,” but refusing to go further. “I must also present His Excellency Courtney Bradford, Esquire; scientist, naturalist, and plenipotentiary at large for the aforementioned Alliance. Accompanying them is Chief Bosun’s Mate Fitzhugh Gray. He’s more than he appears as well, despite his best efforts to conceal it.”
The Governor-Emperor forced a chuckle. Matt could tell there was one question he wanted answered before any other. Still, he faced Matt and offered his hand. “A pleasure, sir,” he said. “And please accept my profound admiration for your unusual, splendid ship. I’ve never seen her like!”
Matt bowed slightly. “Thank you, sir, and the pleasure’s mine. Your city here is beautiful, and most impressive.” He paused, glancing at the commodore. “And before saying more, I’m compelled to note that it’s my understanding that Commodore Jenks might face some… difficulty for having supposedly brought us here.”
“It’s not ordinarily done,” the Governor-Emperor confirmed.
“Well, then, let me put that issue to rest. It should be obvious to anyone that he didn’t bring us, we brought him. You see, we pretty much knew where you were without a word from him. Like your ancestors, we come from another world, and we’ve got it mapped out reasonably well. Through historical accounts, conversations with another of your subjects, and a process of elimination, we knew… these islands were the only place your civilization could be.”
Governor-Emperor McDonald gazed intently at Matt. “What subject?” he practically whispered.
“A brave, beautiful, and intelligent young lady named Rebecca Anne McDonald, sir.”
