Nimitz made a sound suspiciously like a quelling sniff and she chuckled and handed him another stick of celery The bribe was accepted with becoming graciousness, and she returned her attention to her guests.
'The thing is, even after over three local years—almost sixteen T-years—on Sphinx, the colonists had made even less contact with the 'cats than the survey crews had. They were smart enough to stay out of sight and out of mind while they adjusted to the sudden intrusion of humans, and the settlers had more than enough other things to worry about. But that changed once they had their greenhouses in and started growing something besides staple food crops. Personally, I suspect the 'cats had been making reconnaissances of the homesteads right along—believe me, you don't see a 'cat in the wild unless he wants you to—and no one had ever considered the need to lock a greenhouse. Until, that was, every single head of celery started vanishing swiftly and silently away in the dark of night.'
'You're kidding me. They were stealing the stuff?' Neufsteiler laughed, and Honor nodded.
'Absolutely, though I doubt they thought of it that way. 'Cats don't have much sense of individual property. It took me years to explain the concept to Nimitz, and he still thinks it's one of humanity's sillier notions. But the Great Vanishing Celery Mystery caused a sensation, let me tell you! You wouldn't believe some of the theories the settlers came up with to explain the traceless disappearance of that plant and only that plant. Not that anyone came particularly close to the truth. I mean, think about it. Can you conceive of anything less likely—or more ridiculous on the face of it—than that a bunch of carnivorous, extraterrestrial arboreals should be staging commando raids on greenhouses in the dead of night just to steal celery?'
'No, I don't suppose I can.' Ramirez's deep voice rippled with amusement. Nimitz went to some lengths to ignore it, and Hibson laughed.
'I doubt even a Marine would think of that one, Ma'am,' the major agreed.
'Neither did anyone on Sphinx—until the night a ten-year-old girl couldn't sleep and caught one of them in the act.'
'So she blew the whistle on them?' Neufsteiler chuckled, but Honor shook her head.
'Nope. She didn't tell a soul.'
'Then how did the settlers find out what was going on?' Paul demanded.
'Oh, now, that's another story. If you're real nice to me, I may even tell it someday.'
'Ha! I bet you don't know the rest of it!'
'Nice try, Paul, but you're not going to goad me into telling. I will tell you one thing, though.'
She paused, eyes laughing while he glared at her in exasperation. But she knew his sense of curiosity too well, and he capitulated with a sigh.
'All right, I'll ask. What will you tell me?'
'The little girl in question?' Honor raised her eyebrows, and he nodded. 'Her last name was Harrington,' she told him smugly. 'You might say 'cats run in the family.'
'I might also say her present-day descendants questionable sense of humor will lead her to an evil end if she doesn't come clean.'
'We'll see about that. Maybe you can think of something to bribe me with.'
'Maybe I can, at that,' he murmured so wickedly Honor blushed.
'You're really not going to tell us, are you?' Neufsteiler asked. Neither he nor the two Marines seemed to notice Honors blush, and she shook her head at the prize agent with a grateful if teasing smile. 'Then maybe I shouldn't tell you why I wanted to see you.'
'Ah, but you and I have a fiduciary relationship. Unlike you, I can sue.'
'And probably would, too.' Neufsteiler shook his head at her perfidy, but he grinned, as well, and produced a small sheaf of hardcopy. 'Take a look at this,' he suggested, and slid it across the table to her.
Honor unfolded the sheets of printout, ran her eye down the neat columns of figures... and froze.
'You're joking!' she gasped, but Neufsteiler shook his head with a broad smile.
'I most assuredly am not, Dame Honor. The first quarterly income from your estates on Grayson came in just about the time the prize court made its official award on those dreadnoughts you and Admiral Danislav captured in Hancock. As of—' he glanced at his chrono '—six hours ago, your net worth was exactly what it says on that report.'
Honor stared at him in disbelief, almost numb, then slid the report to Tankersley. He glanced at the bottom line and pursed his lips silently.
'I wouldn't exactly say the major merchant cartels have to start worrying about you,' he said after a moment, 'but I've got some bottom land on Gryphon I'd like to show you.'
Honor smiled at him, but the reaction was almost automatic, and shock still rippled through her. She came of yeoman stock. Her parents were undeniably well off, thanks to the performance of their medical partnership, but the majority of yeoman families were land-rich and money-poor, especially on Sphinx. It had been hard enough for her to accept that her prize money from Basilisk had made her a millionaire, but this—!
'You're sure there's not some mistake, Willard?' she asked hesitantly.
'Dame Honor,' he said patiently, 'a dreadnought is valued at somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty-two billion dollars, and the prize court awards three percent of the value of a surrendered enemy ship to the task force which captured it, assuming the Navy buys the prize into service. Of that total, the flag captains of said task force split twelve percent among themselves, and there were only four flag captains in Hancock at the time Admiral Chin surrendered. The Admiralty survey judged two of her five surviving dreadnoughts too badly damaged for repair, but the Navy bought the other three in. Now, three percent of ninety-six billion dollars is two-point-eight-eight billion, and twelve percent of that is three hundred forty-five million, plus change. Which means, dear lady, that your share comes to a paltry eighty-six million four hundred thousand dollars—exclusive of the lighter vessels surrendered with them. Of course, they only added another six million to your total award, so I suppose we don't have to worry about them. Believe me, those figures are correct. In fact, if you look at page three, you'll see that the most junior enlisted person serving under you will receive almost fifty thousand dollars.'
Honor hardly even heard the last remark. She'd known she was bound to receive a hefty award, but she'd never imagined one this hefty. Why, it almost quadrupled her total net worth! The thought of that much money was frightening, and especially since prize money was untaxable. She got to keep every penny!
She shook her head numbly.
'What in God's name am I going to do with all this?' she asked almost plaintively, and Neufsteiler chuckled.
'I'm sure you'll think of something, Milady. In the meantime, you can leave it in my hands, if you wish. I've got my eye on several promising opportunities, but I don't want you to rush into anything. Give yourself a few days to adjust to the idea, then let me show you some annual reports and projected returns before you decide where to put it.'
'I—' Honor shook herself again and grinned crookedly. 'I think that sounds like an excellent idea, Willard.'
'So do I. After all, I get five percent of net for managing your interests. Although,' Neufsteiler managed to produce a mournful expression, 'the Exchequer does get a cut from my share.'
'Poor fellow.' Honors eyes twinkled as she came back on balance. 'I guess that means you're going to stick me with the check after all.'
'The first lesson a banker learns, Milady.'
'Well, in that case I—'
Honor broke off as someone called her name. She twisted around, and her face lit as she recognized the three men walking toward her table.
'Alistair!' She shoved up out of her chair and reached out to shake hands. 'And Andy and Rafe, too! What are you three doing here?!'
'Well, we checked with Captain Henke, and she told us where you were, Ma'am,' Andreas Venizelos explained, 'so Captain McKeon said he'd pick up the cover charge to come looking for you.' Honor laughed, and Venizelos grinned. 'It was only right, Ma'am. He is the senior officer, after all.'
'A point you'd better remember, Commander,' McKeon observed darkly.
'Aye, aye, Sir!' Venizelos snapped a sharp salute, and Honor laughed again, her eyes bright and happy as her waiter did his materialization trick again, producing chairs for the new arrivals.
'Don't worry about it, Alistair. I just discovered that I've become a woman of substance, and this is my
