A Rising Thunder

thousands of their people killed just to protect a bunch of neobarbs against their fellow Solarians!”

“You’re probably right,” Tsang agreed. “At the same time, let’s not let ourselves invest too much confidence in that theory.”

“Are you — Forgive me, Ma’am, but are you serious?” Takeuchi demanded, and she barked an unhappy laugh.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But this is Beowulf, Pierre. The rest of the League may see the Manties as neobarbs, but Beowulf’s right on the other side of their Junction. Beowulfers have been marrying Manties for centuries, and they do one hell of a lot of business with each other. That’s bound to shape how they see Manticore. Worse, they’re probably the only people in the explored galaxy who’re even more paranoid about Mesa than Manticore is! You know they’ve rejected Mesa’s version of Green Pines, and from what Caddell-Markham just said, their government officially buys this Manty fantasy about some kind of plot coming out of Mesa. So, yeah, I think it is possible — remotely possible — they might order their wallers to fire on us if we try to carry out our orders.”

“If you say so, Ma’am.” It was obvious from Takeuchi’s tone that he found it difficult to wrap his mind around the possibility that she might have a point. “If they do, though, what do we do?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, thinking about that secret clause yet again…and of the catastrophic consequences to the career of any flag officer who failed to carry out Fleet Admiral Rajampet Rajani’s orders at this juncture in the Solarian League Navy’s history, “given the disparity in combat power between the task force and the BSDF, there’s no way in hell they could actually stop us. They have to know that as well as we do. So if it looks like they’re genuinely contemplating forcible resistance, we’ll give them their choices: stand down or be fired upon. And if they choose not to stand down, then we will fire on them.”

Chapter Fifteen

“You know,” Elizabeth Winton said conversationally, “just the other day I was saying to Willie, ‘Willie,’ I said, ‘we need to get some regularization into this business of visiting heads of state.’” She shook her head. “Somehow I suspect we’re still behind the curve on that.”

“No! You think?” Honor replied with a grin.

She and the Empress stood watching a sting ship-escorted shuttle drop towards the Mount Royal Palace pad, and her smile faded as she brought up her artificial left eye’s telescopic function and zoomed in on the shuttle’s boldly emblazoned Bible and crossed swords. It was the first time that blazonry had ever been seen outside the Yeltsin System.

“Fair’s fair,” she said after a moment, turning back to Elizabeth. “At least this head of state didn’t just turn up totally unannounced.”

“Oh, heavens, no! Why, we had an entire day’s notice!” The empress rolled her eyes, but then her tone turned more serious. “Actually, I really do wish all these high-powered visitors would give us at least a little more warning, if only for security reasons. I hate to think how Grayson would react if we let anything happen to Benjamin and his family, Honor!”

“I agree that would come under the heading of a really bad thing,” Honor acknowledged. “Still, he obviously thought it was important for him to get here in person as quickly as possible. He must’ve put this together completely on the fly — I hate to think about the Keys’ reaction to the very notion! — but even though he’s enough of a schoolboy to enjoy teasing his security people, he knows how hard their job is. He’s not going to run any unnecessary chances, especially with Katherine, Elaine, and three of the kids along. And let’s face it, landing directly at Mount Royal is about the most secure thing he could do. He knows you have to’ve already ramped up Palace Security, when you’ve already got Eloise Pritchart and her delegation as houseguests. And last but not least—”

She waved at the discreet weather domes which simultaneously protected the powerful weapon emplacements around the Winton family’s official home from the elements and concealed them from the casual eye.

“Short of a planetary invasion, no one’s likely to crash this particular party,” she pointed out dryly.

“No,” Elizabeth agreed, watching the shuttle settle the last few meters. “And if I were really worried, I wouldn’t be standing here joking about it. But you do have to admit this is turning into the highest voltage summit meeting in the Star Kingdom’s — much less the Star Empire’s—history, and we’re making the entire thing up as we go along. We heads of state really prefer to have some sort of an agenda before we sit down at the high-stakes table, you know. All bad novelists notwithstanding, surprise and improvisation are not the best basis for successful diplomacy!”

“Oh, trust me, I do know,” Honor said. “Although organizationally speaking, at least, you’ve got it easier than some of the people involved, Elizabeth. Poor Arethea looks just about ready to drop!”

“I know!” Elizabeth chuckled, smiling fondly.

Dame Arethea Hart, Countess Middlehill, was Elizabeth’s senior seneschal. As such, she was responsible for the planning and execution of all major state functions under Lord Chamberlin Jacob Wundt’s general direction, and she’d taken on a distinctly harried look.

“I agree we’re wearing her out,” Elizabeth continued, “but she’s having the time of her life, too, Honor. And now she gets to manage the Protector of Grayson’s first ever extra-system state visit?” The two women looked at each other. “The only thing she’s looking forward to more than this is Roger and Rivka’s wedding, and you know it!”

“All right, I’ll grant that. But I still say she looks worn to a frazzle.”

Elizabeth started to respond, then stopped as the shuttle’s hatch slid open.

The pad was surrounded by Palace Security and the Queen’s Own Regiment of the Royal Manticoran Army. In addition, Grayson Palace Security and the Protector’s Guard were heavily represented, as well. The Grayson advance party, preceding Benjamin’s shuttle by six hours, had linked up smoothly with Colonel Shemais’ personnel. Now, as the hatch opened, a square-shouldered, weathered looking major with graying red hair stepped out. He looked around quickly, taking in every detail of the security arrangements, then moved to one side and came to attention.

Benjamin Mayhew stepped past the major, followed by Katherine and Elaine Mayhew, and Elizabeth felt a sudden pang. It was only seven T-years since her state visit to Grayson, yet Benjamin was perceptibly grayer. He stood just as straight as she remembered, but there were more lines on his face, and she wondered if it was only her imagination that he moved a bit more slowly.

He’s six years younger than I am, she thought. Thirteen years younger than Honor. But he looks older than either of us.

It was true. In fact, looking at Benjamin and Honor side-by-side, anyone from a pre-prolong society would have thought the age differential was reversed…and twice what it actually was.

For a moment, as she was brought face-to-face with the awareness that Benjamin Mayhew had never received prolong, she felt a presentiment of loss to come. The loss not simply of a valuable political ally, of a trusted military ally, but of someone who’d become a personal friend. Somehow, despite the regular messages they exchanged, despite the exchanged Christmas and birthday gifts, the personal recordings which had nothing at all to do with state occasions, her inner image of him hadn’t really changed until she saw him here, on these familiar grounds, in person.

Oh, stop that! she told herself. Yes, you’re going to lose him… eventually. And you’ve always known — you’ve both always known — you were. But it’s not going to happen tomorrow, and the last thing he needs — the last thing either of you need — is you getting all maudlin! Besides, she glanced sideways, quickly, at Honor, there are people who’re going to miss him even more than you are when that finally