Sally Pike smirking, and thought he might be right. Relieved, he grabbed a few things, waved a vague farewell, and got out of there before Ozzie or one of the other hangers-on could decide to walk him to the diplomats' suite.

When Michael arrived, Lawler was pacing back and forth, barely containing his excitement.

'A notice just came from the bridge,' he said, thrusting hard copy into Michael's hand. 'There is at least one Peep ship in system.'

'Doesn't the People's Republic have an embassy here, just like we do?' Michael asked.

'They do,' Lawler agreed. 'However, an embassy is no reason for the Peeps to station a heavy cruiser here, is it?'

Michael felt his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. Intransigent was a light cruiser, and Beth had considered sending her on a diplomatic mission a rather heavy-handed move. Apparently, the Peeps were less subtle.

'It's the Moscow, Prince Michael,' John Hill added. 'Not one of their newest models, but not one of the oldest either.'

'Has she been here long?' Michael asked, feeling odd, as he always did after existing within the Navy's rigid command structure, to be back among those who subtly deferred to him.

'Not long enough to state that Moscow is stationed here,' Hill replied, with the vaguely exasperated note in his voice that Michael had learned was reserved for correcting Lawler's more extreme statements. 'Nor would I say that Moscow was sent in anticipation of our own arrival, though that isn't impossible. Mr. Lawler's coming with new instructions has not precisely been kept a secret.'

There was no real reason Lawler's arrival should have been, Michael knew, but he had a feeling that Hill was the type of man who kept secrets by reflex. Hill probably thought it would be a breach of basic security if he knew the color of his own socks.

'Ambassador Faldo is most impatient for our arrival,' Lawler interjected happily, 'but Captain Boniece tells me we cannot be shuttled planetside until tomorrow morning. That leaves us ample time to review.'

For the next several hours, Michael tried not to think wistfully of the engineering sim he hadn't completed, nor about the trauma team drill Surgeon Commander Rink had promised to run for the middies. When the twittering of the com broke into Lawler's nearly uninterrupted lecture, Michael realized he'd been all but dozing.

'Ambassador Faldo wishes to speak with you and your shore party,' the duty communications officer announced. 'If you are free.'

Lawler smothered a look of mild annoyance, then nodded.

'Please patch the Ambassador through.'

'Just a moment, Mr. Lawler.'

Cayen had leapt to his feet the moment the com chimed and, by the time the call came through, he had modified the desk unit so that the ambassador's face was projected on one of the cabin's bulkheads, sparing them the need to crowd around a terminal.

Ambassador Faldo, like Mr. Lawler, was a first-generation prolong recipient. Unlike Lawler, who managed to project incredible vigor, Faldo looked tired. His hair had apparently once been blond, but had now faded to a muddy gray with just enough of the original color left to make him appear molting. His eyes, sunk beneath puffy lids, were a washed-out brown, but their gaze remained direct and penetrating.

'The reaction,' the ambassador began after minimal polite greetings had been exchanged, 'to the presence of Prince Michael aboard Intransigent has been—to speak mildly—beyond my greatest expectations. Not only has the Chief Elder expressed a desire to meet Mr. Winton, but the Senior Elders are to be included in the reception. In fact, as far as I can tell, everyone who is anyone as well as everyone who wants to be thought anyone is attending some enormous conclave of Elders that the Faithful have 'coincidentally' announced will be happening at this time.'

'That's wonderful, Sir,' Lawler said.

'I suppose so,' Faldo agreed. 'However, it means I want to move up the time for our meeting tomorrow. We're to join the Chief Elder at precisely noon, and I want time to prepare for such an important event. The Chief Elder has honored us by putting at our disposal a meeting room at the Hall of the Just.'

Doesn't want us talking where he can't try to overhear us, Michael wondered with inbred cynicism. Probably. He knows that'll mean Faldo won't be able to give me too detailed a list of do's and don'ts. Maybe figures he'll be able to trip me up somehow. 

Michael listened attentively as plans for the next day's meeting were made, but nothing more significant was said, doubtless because of fear that either the Peeps or the Masadans would hear something they shouldn't. Tight-beam communications were good, but as a communications officer Michael knew all too many ways their security measures could be circumvented.

After the connection had been cut, Lawler resumed pacing, rubbing his hands together with vigorous enthusiasm.

'Well, that's very interesting, very interesting . . .' he was beginning, but Hill interrupted.

'It is indeed,' he said. 'There have been some rumblings of discontent regarding how Chief Elder Simonds has been making policy. I wonder if this is his way of demonstrating to his own people how integral he is, and of convincing them that they do not want another leader.'

'Mountain coming to Mohammed, and like that,' Lawler said. 'Yes. Well, we can let him play his games.'

'In all deference, Sir,' Hill replied, not sounding deferential at all, 'I wouldn't use that particular analogy. The Faithful have rejected even the New Testament of the Christian bible. They view the Islamic faith—if they recall it at all—as a heresy.'

Lawler looked momentarily nonplussed. Then he resumed his hand-rubbing.

'Right! That's why these briefings are so important. We don't want to make any mistakes.'

Michael raised one hand, feeling more than ever that he was in school.

'Mr. Lawler, I really should report this change in schedule to Lieutenant Dunsinane.'

Lawler waved his hand in a wide, breezy gesture.

'Do so, Mr. Winton. I shall write her myself requesting that you be freed from your more routine shipboard duties during this crucial moment in Manticoran diplomacy.'

As Michael moved to com the ATO, he found himself wondering precisely what tomorrow would bring and hoping against hope that it would not include a very pissed-off Lieutenant Dunsinane.

Carlie looked at the memo from Mr. Lawler first with disbelief, then with anger. She continued staring at it for so long that at last the two emotions blended into a generalized confusion.

' . . . requests that Mister Midshipman Winton be relieved from a portion of his shipboard duties in order to be better able to serve the needs of Her Royal Majesty at this crucial diplomatic juncture.'

There was more of the same, all soothing, all vaguely pompous, and all boiling down to what had already been clearly said in that first line. Midshipman Winton was being given a holiday from his responsibilities as a member of Intransigent's crew so that he could go play prince.

She'd known that Michael would be going down to the planet with Mr. Lawler's contingent, but she hadn't considered that Mr. Lawler would be so bold as to think that a midshipman's shipboard responsibilities could be superseded by anything else. She'd figured that Midshipman Winton would fit his trips planetside into his free time. He'd managed his numerous meetings with Lawler and company then, hadn't he?

Her first reaction was to refuse. Then she thought again about that phrase 'crucial diplomatic juncture.' It was no secret that there had been a Peep presence in system. The Havenites weren't being either coy or subtle. The fact that the Peeps—like the Manticorans—were demonstrating an armed presence indicated their own awareness of how touchy the situation was.

Could the presence of Crown Prince Michael make a difference in how the Masadans felt about the Manticorans? Would she be doing something foolish if she stuck to regulations? Reluctantly, for she very much wanted to go by The Book, Carlie commed Captain Boniece and was granted his first available appointment.

Tab Tilson gave her a lazy wave as he exited the captain's briefing room, and Carlie had a moment to wonder if the communications officer was also present on Michael Winton's business. Then she was summoned into the captain's presence.

'Yes, Lieutenant?' Abelard Boniece looked amused as he motioned her to a seat. 'Your call said you

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