A Call to Vengeance (Manticore Ascendant Book 3)

by David Weber

  Breakwater glanced down at his tablet. Took a second look. Carefully picked up the tablet and held it a bit closer.

  And as he read, Elizabeth watched the color slowly drain from his face.

  It seemed a long time before he finally looked up. “This wasn’t me,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

  “I know that,” Elizabeth said. “But the guilty parties were your supporters. And you knew what they’d done.”

  “After the fact,” Breakwater insisted. “Only after the fact.”

  “Irrelevant,” Michael spoke up. “The point is that you knew, and you said nothing. No one should have profited from the Phobos disaster the way Castle Rock and Chillon did. Even worse, the very nature of their under-the-table deals strongly suggests they knew in advance about the sloop’s flaws, yet they said nothing. And a hundred thirty men and women died.”

  “They’ve been your close political allies for over fifteen T-years,” Elizabeth said. “A brush that tars them will also tar you.”

  Breakwater’s lip twisted. “So you blackmail me,” he bit out. “And for something I didn’t even do.”

  “Would you feel better if we blackmailed you for something you did do?” Michael offered. “I’m sure your long career includes deals and quiet profits you’d rather the Star Kingdom not hear about. But this is what we’ve got. So this is what we use.”

  Breakwater looked back down at his tablet. “I told them it was wrong,” he said quietly. “That’s the irony. I warned them to make restitution, and to immediately distance themselves from the people they’d made their deals with. But they wouldn’t listen.”

  “And then you let it lie,” Elizabeth said. “That’s the true irony, My Lord. You had the chance to hold the moral high ground, but you gave it away to further your own political agenda and power. And now you lose it all.”

  “All?” Breakwater challenged, looking back up at her.

  “All,” she said firmly. “But not all at once. I need you to remain in your current position, and to hold your peace when Joshua Miller brings up my resolution in the Commons. You don’t have to openly support it. You just have to not oppose it.”

  Breakwater shook his head. “You underestimate the Lords, Your Majesty,” he said. “Or else you overestimate the Commons.”

  “I don’t think so,” Elizabeth said. “On the contrary, I think you underestimate the people. Would you like to hear the speech I’ll be delivering after Mr. Miller announces the resolution?”

  Breakwater’s eyes had gone hooded. “A speech to Parliament?”

  “A speech to the entire Star Kingdom,” Elizabeth said. The image of a tiger in a corner, crouched and trapped, flicked to mind. “The core will go something like this.

  “This is the child of my late husband, the child we always intended to have. I’ve lost the man I loved; I will not give up his child, as well. I believe any fair minded person can understand the need to clear up the Constitutional ambiguity the recently introduced amendment will address. Whatever the outcome of that process, and whatever future political battles may have to be waged before simple sanity is allowed to rule, I will have this child, and its existence will in no way affect all the other legal arguments—for or against—my proposed solution to the Constitution’s ambiguity where the marriage of the ruling monarch is concerned.”

  She finished, and for a moment no one spoke.

  “You understand the language will probably be more elaborate,” Elizabeth said. “Certainly more formal. But I think the message speaks for itself.”

  For another moment no one spoke. Elizabeth wanted to look at her father, to try to get his read on Breakwater. But this was between her and the Chancellor, and she needed to face him down alone.

  Breakwater stirred.

  “And if I bow to your demands?”

  “Six T-months from now you’ll hand in your resignation from the Cabinet,” Elizabeth said, watching him closely. He had a whole repertoire of gambits to throw, everything from guilt to pity, and he was surely spinning up at least one of them. “You’ll be permitted to remain in the Lords, and wield whatever influence you still have.” She gestured toward his tablet. “But it won’t be as much as you’re expecting, because at approximately that same time this document will be revealed, and there’s a good chance Castle Rock and Chillon will be brought up on charges.”

  “But I’ll be left out of it?”

  “Provided you continue to cooperate, yes,” Elizabeth said. “As you said, this wasn’t you. But that’s the future. For now, just know that in two days Mr. Miller will bring the Constitutional issue before the Commons. You have until then to decide whether to maintain your reputation and dignity, or to allow the political landscape to devolve into war.”

  “Of course, if that happens this document will be released much sooner,” Michael added.

  “I’m sure it will,” Breakwater murmured. He blanked his tablet and for another moment he gazed down at it. Then, slowly, he raised his eyes again.

  “If there’s nothing more, Your Majesty?”

  The tiger in the corner had sheathed its claws.

  For now.

  “There’s nothing more, My Lord,” Elizabeth confirmed.

  “Then I take my leave,” Breakwater said, standing up and bowing. “Your Majesty.” He half turned and bowed to Michael. “Your Highness.”

  “Well,” Elizabeth said after the door had closed behind him. “That went more smoothly than I’d expected.”

  “Don’t believe it,” Michael said sourly. “He may be bowing on the outside, but he’s standing up straight and defiant on the inside. He’s going to be working this, just as hard and as fast as he can. You can bet on it.”

  “Oh, I am,” Elizabeth assured him. “But I’m also betting that part of his scheme will involve Susan Tarleton and his private back door into Prime Minister Harwich’s office and computer. Once Joshua has pushed through the bill, and Breakwater starts planning his comeback, I’ll be taking that back door away from him.”

  “That should crimp his style a bit,” Michael agreed. “Have you thought about who to suggest as Foreign Secretary?”

  “I have the perfect candidate,” Elizabeth said, smiling. This had actually been Joshua’s idea, but she’d enthusiastically agreed with it. “Baron Winterfall.”

  “Winterfall?” Michael’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

  “Can you think of a better way to mollify Breakwater’s supporters?” Elizabeth asked. “I doubt any of them knows of Winterfall’s defection, so it’ll look like I’m bowing to some unseen pressure.”

  “At least until the bottom drops out with his resignation,” Michael said thoughtfully. “And by then it’ll be too late to object to any of it. Not a very big bone to throw them, though.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. “With our increasing contacts with Haven and the ongoing regional pirate hunt, Foreign Affairs may someday become more than just a sinecure position.”

  “Maybe,” Michael said. “That would certainly be a change.”

  “Change can be good, Daddy,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  “Yes, it can.” Michael shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Travis had come home from long voyages before. But never one this long.

  And never one that held so much hope, anticipation, and pure terror for the two solid months that he waited nervously for Lisa to come home, too.

  But finally—finally—she was there. Safe and sound.

  And with an impressive story of her own.

  “I’m just hoping Massingill comes out of it okay,” she commented as Travis ferried dishes from her cupboard to the dining room table. “You remember Jean Massingill, right?”

  “Yes,” Travis said, carefully lining up the spoons with the knives. “Was there any improvement in her condition before you left?”

  “It’s going to be a long haul,” Lisa said. “But the look in her eyes—you should have seen it. If sh
e ever figures out who was behind her teams’ slaughter, and if you happen to be standing in her way, get to one side quick.”

  “Trust me,” Travis assured her, wincing a little as he smoothed out a wrinkle in her napkin. Jean Massingill on a blood-hunt was definitely an awesome and terrifying image.

  “She was talking about taking a leave of absence if she couldn’t get someone in Nouveau Paris to kick off a full and proper investigation—her words—and take it on herself and you’re being really quiet tonight.”

  “I know,” Travis said. “But you’re a little talkative, so it evens out.”

  “I’m talkative because you’re nervous,” Lisa said, eyeing him closely. “You being nervous makes me nervous. You’re not picking up incoming bogies, are you?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.” Travis took a deep breath. Frankly, he’d rather face an enemy task force. “Lisa…we’ve been friends for a long time. I really like your company, and you put up with me, so I guess you like mine, too.”

  “Yes, I do,” Lisa said solemnly. “Very much.” And then stopped.

  Travis took another deep breath. Did she already know where this was going? Probably. She was a much better judge of people and emotions and facial expressions than he was. She probably knew exactly where this was going.

  But she was going to make him go through the whole thing anyway.

  Typical senior officer.

  “The thing is, I had a lot of time to think while we were on the Silesia mission,” he continued. “And you were at Haven; and if I’d had even a hint that the rest of Gensonne’s mercenaries were heading your way, I’d have been worried sick. Was worried sick once we found the computer files about Danak.”

  “Likewise,” Lisa said, her voice still not giving anything away. “If I’d known they’d left a force where you were…but I wouldn’t have been so worried.”

  Travis felt his heart plummet into his gut. “You wouldn’t?”

  “No,” Lisa said, a small smile finally touching her lips. “Because I’ve seen you in action. I know what you can do. I’d have known that, whatever you came up against, you would find a brilliant plan that would win the day.”

  “Well…sometimes,” Travis said. Wishing like hell that he had a brilliant plan for this one.

  And then, finally, she took pity. “You’re right, Travis, we know each other pretty well,” she said, reaching over and taking his hand. “If you have something to say, you don’t have to be clever. Just say it.”

  Travis took one final deep breath. “Lisa Donnelly,” he said, impulsively dropping to one knee. That was the correct form, wasn’t it? “Will you marry me?”

  * * *

  Deep inside Elizabeth’s abdomen, the baby kicked again.

  “Goodness,” Elizabeth said, leaning back from her desk, wincing as she clutched at her silken robe. She winced again at the sight and feel of her newly spherical figure. You can dress up a balloon, she thought dryly, but it’s still just a balloon. “Patience, please. You’ve still got three months to cook.”

  The baby—David—took no notice. He kicked once more and then went silent again. Elizabeth waited a moment, then readjusted herself in her chair. It was getting increasingly difficult to find comfortable positions, and she suspected it was only going to get worse.

  Her intercom pinged, and she tapped the key. “Yes, Martine?”

  “Your Majesty, Prime Minister Harwich and Defense Minister Dapplelake are here to see you. Lord Harwich says it’s urgent.”

  Elizabeth felt a stirring in her gut that had nothing to do with her fidgety baby. Had they dug up something fresh about Gensonne? Or worse, was there new evidence that the battles at Walther and Danak hadn’t fully eliminated him as a threat?

  “Send them in,” she said.

  Across the office, the door swung open and the two ministers stepped inside. “Please come in, My Lords,” Elizabeth said, waving them forward. “What can I do for you?”

  “Our apologies, Your Majesty,” Harwich said as they crossed to her desk. His expression was grim, the same way he’d looked just before the threatened Constitutional crisis passed with more of a whimper than a bang.

  Was Breakwater making fresh trouble?

  “We’re sorry to intrude on short notice,” the Prime Minister continued. “But we’ve just received some information from SIS that we thought needed your immediate attention.”

  Elizabeth inclined her head. “Of course. Please continue.”

  “Lady Calvingdell’s team has been going through the records her agents obtained from the Volsung base at Walther,” Dapplelake said. “There are a number of layers, plus an unknown number of hidden files that could take months or even years to dig out and decrypt. But we have ascertained three very important points.

  “First: the force that came briefly into Manticore space three weeks after Gensonne’s attack was indeed units from the Free Duchy of Barca.”

  “Are you sure?” Elizabeth asked, frowning at Dapplelake. “I thought we’d concluded they were more of Gensonne’s ships running false IDs.”

  “We’d assumed that, Your Highness,” Dapplelake corrected. “But we never had any data either way. But the Volsung records confirm without a doubt that the Barcans were involved.”

  “But why?”

  “Apparently, the same reason the Volsungs were involved,” Harwich said grimly. “Money. Lots and lots of money.”

  A chill ran up Elizabeth’s back. “Money from whom?”

  “That, we still don’t know,” Dapplelake said. “But that leads to point two: even with just the money trail we’ve been able to track it’s clear that a huge amount of money has already been spent on the goal of destroying the Star Kingdom of Manticore. That implies deep pockets, and people with deep pockets aren’t likely to give up just because the Volsungs are out of the picture.”

  “And point three,” Harwich said. “The money trail Dapplelake mentions unfortunately fades out too soon for us to track it back to its source. But we’re fairly confident that it extends all the way back to the Solarian League.”

  The chill grew even colder. “The League wants us destroyed?”

  “Or someone inside the League,” Harwich said. “Some star nation, perhaps, or possibly a transstellar corporation.” He shrugged. “Theoretically, it could even be a group of wealthy individuals who for some reason don’t want Manticore to succeed.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth said, forcing calmness. “So what we know is that someone’s out to destroy us, but we don’t know who or why. We can also assume that, whatever the answers are to those questions, the attacks will continue.”

  Harwich and Dapplelake exchanged looks. “Yes, Your Majesty,” Harwich said. “That’s the situation as we read it.”

  Elizabeth nodded, freshly aware of the baby growing inside her. Her job as the Queen was to protect the Star Kingdom’s people. Her job as a mother was to do everything she could to make sure this particular problem was resolved here and now, and not get handed over to her son.

  “In that case, we had best get to it,” she said. “Have Lady Calvingdell redouble her efforts to dig into the Volsungs’ records. You’re to see she has all the resources she needs.”

  “Understood, Your Majesty,” Dapplelake said. “Calvingdell is already doing all that she can, and we’re working together to get her whatever resources and personnel she can use.”

  “Good.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “We’re standing on a precipice, My Lords. We need to know exactly how close we are to the edge, before our unknown enemy pushes us off.”

  EPILOGUE

  “…which is one of the many reasons I find it difficult to evaluate this officer’s efficiency without permitting personal opinion to color my judgment.

  “Having said that, and making all due allowance for the clashes between our personalities, I continue to believe this officer is far too conscious of the exact letter of the regulations. This makes him, in many ways, a less than ideal leader during routin
e shipboard operations. He is clearly not comfortable dealing with subordinates outside the strictest interpretation of regulations and standard operating procedures, and one cannot avoid the impression that he takes refuge behind them rather than seeking opportunities to generate a sense of rapport. In addition, he is often awkward in social situations with civilians when serving as a formal representative of Her Majesty’s Navy. It has also been my observation, from personal experience, that he is not always articulate or possessed of an appropriate sense of timing in presenting contrarian points of view to his superiors.

  “These are significant faults in any Queen’s officer, and, as his commanding officer on the deployment just concluded, my relations with him were frequently strained. I also found him perversely impetuous, for one so enamored of regulations, and on many occasions he clearly formed opinions and judgments on the flimsiest of evidence and with minimal time to consider all implications of the matter in hand.

  “In short, he was not an easy officer for me to command.

  “He is also, however, fundamentally incapable of giving less than his best to any task to which he may be assigned. He does not appear to know even the definition of the term ‘dereliction,’ and despite his obvious preference for clearly defined hierarchies and the social insulation of regulations and SOP, he excels at identifying and correcting weaknesses in the training of his own subordinates. Nor does that preference for defined rules prevent him from thinking quickly, clearly, and concisely or from conceiving inventive, original, unconventional, and highly successful tactical solutions, even under severe pressure. And while I would be far more comfortable with his judgment if he could bring himself to spend an additional few minutes before reaching his conclusions outside immediate tactical problems, he almost invariably reaches the proper conclusion, however haphazard his reasoning must appear to any outside observer.

  “Perhaps most importantly, this officer possesses the intellectual integrity and moral courage not only to shoulder responsibilities which should never have been assigned to someone of his relatively junior rank, but also to accept the potentially disastrous personal consequences of exercising his judgment in meeting those responsibilities.