by David Weber
“Which he won’t,” Elizabeth said. “He wouldn’t dare risk looking like he was bullying the Queen.”
“Not directly,” Michael said. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t try an end run of some sort. I’d look for him to try to tarnish your image somehow with either the Parliament or the people. Maybe try to hang some fiasco or perceived fiasco around your neck.”
Elizabeth swallowed. SIS, and its complete disconnect with ONI, most of the Navy, and even Parliament. If Breakwater ever got wind of what Calvingdell was doing, he would have an absolute field day with it.
And if he managed to connect it with Casey’s upcoming trip to the Silesian Confederacy…
“I gather there is something going on that he could use against you?”
Elizabeth snapped her thoughts and attention back to her father. “What do you mean?”
He had a disturbingly knowing expression on his face. “Oh, come on, sweetie,” he protested. “Just because I’m out to pasture doesn’t mean I can’t sniff out the piles of manure.” He considered. “That didn’t come out nearly as clever as it sounded in my head. Forget that. The point is that I can feel when something’s going on. Somebody suddenly seems to have misplaced all the money that was allotted to them. Someone starts gathering people around them with no clear announcement as to the whys or wherefores. Or someone who’s been loud and critical suddenly shuts up.”
“I was unaware that anyone out there was shutting up,” Elizabeth said dryly.
“There are a couple,” Michael said. “Joshua Miller, for instance, used to get up in the Commons all the time to rail at the Lords. Lately, though, he seems to have gone strangely quiet.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm, grateful as always that the ebony Winton skin was way too dark to show any actual blushing. She’d officially seen Miller only twice: that one exploratory luncheon, and then a week later when he brought by some honey for her from his farm in Friedman’s Valley.
But there’d also been that secret meeting, the one where Elizabeth had sent Adler to bring him in late at night through the service tunnel where no prying eyes might catch a glimpse of him.
Adler wouldn’t have talked, of course. Miller definitely wouldn’t have. Still, Elizabeth would have to double her efforts to make sure their future meetings were kept even quieter.
“I’ve told you before that I want to stay hands-off on all this,” Michael said quietly. “You need to be the queen, and you especially need to run the Star Kingdom without me hovering behind you. That’s why I haven’t asked to sit in on security briefings and have resisted my penchant for prying into the affairs of mice and men.”
“I appreciate that, Dad.” Elizabeth forced a smile. “Though if they’re going to hoist you on their shoulders and carry you back to the Throne—”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Michael growled. “That’s absolutely not going to happen.”
“Got it,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you for the warning.”
“No problem,” Michael said. He stood up, again moving carefully. “I’m heading back to the Tower. Please remember that you can call on me any time.”
“You have to go right now?” Elizabeth, automatically standing as well. She didn’t have to, but it felt right. “You could stay for lunch.”
“Tempting.” Michael stood up, again moving carefully. “But people go all nosy and speculative even when I just visit you for a few minutes or stop to play with my grandchildren. Something momentous like lunch is bound to get tongues wagging.”
“And we certainly don’t want anyone misinterpreting things,” Elizabeth agreed. “But we could have lunch served in here. No one else would have to know.”
“I suppose we could,” Michael said. “I don’t know, though. Is there anything more we need to talk about?”
Elizabeth’s mind flashed to Joshua Miller. She so wanted her father’s advice…and if there was one person in the Kingdom she could trust, it was surely him. “Nothing we need to, no,” she hedged. “But there’s a topic or two you might find interesting.”
“Really.” Michael studied her face, then resumed his seat. “In that case, yes,” he said, smiling up at her. “I’d love to have lunch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lisa had finished setting the table, and was doing a final check on the chicken casserole when the doorbell chimed.
She frowned. Travis hadn’t said anything about possible visitors tonight. And he wasn’t the type to have friends who dropped in without screening first.
Could he have forgotten his key? That was even more unlikely than unannounced visitors.
The chime came again. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled off her apron, draped it over the kitchen desk, and headed across the apartment. Still hoping it was just Travis with a misplaced key, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
She’d never officially met the man standing outside. But she knew his face. Knew it very well. “Yes?” she said guardedly.
“Hello, I’m Gavin Vellacott,” he said, his forehead creasing as he looked at her. Obviously, he hadn’t expected to find anyone except Travis in Travis’s apartment. “Travis’s half-brother.” His frown flicked over Lisa’s shoulder to the living room behind her. “Is he in?”
“No,” Lisa said shortly. Travis hadn’t talked about his brother much, but she knew enough to suspect that an impromptu meeting between them wasn’t a situation he would greet with enthusiasm. “Perhaps you could screen him later, My Lord.”
“Please; just Gavin,” Winterfall said, a tentative smile trying to gain a foothold on his lips. “This isn’t anything like official business. Do you expect Travis soon, ah—?”
Lisa sighed. She didn’t mind being firm, but she really shouldn’t be rude. “Lisa,” she identified herself.
“Pleased to meet you,” Winterfall said with a polite nod. “Yes; Travis’s special friend. I’ve heard of you. Do you have any idea when he’s due back?” He sniffed. “Dinner time, for example?”
“I really don’t know,” Lisa said. “As I said, you’d do better to screen him.”
Winterfall shook his head. “I’m sorry to intrude, Commander. But what I have to say needs to be said in person.” He hesitated. “I’m walking on thin ice here as it is.”
It was probably a ploy, Lisa knew. Almost certainly a ploy. Winterfall was in the Lords, and was one of Breakwater’s allies on top of it. Both of those strongly implied he was a master of manipulation.
But recognizing a ruse wasn’t the same as resisting it. And she’d already conceded to herself that she didn’t want to be rude. At least, not without a good reason.
And so far, at least, Winterfall hadn’t given her one.
“Fine.” She stepped out of the doorway and gestured him inside. “He should be here soon. And to answer your implied question, no, I’m not Travis’s special friend. I’m just a friend.”
“My mistake.” Winterfall walked past her, glancing around as he headed for the couch. “Nice place. I wouldn’t have thought my brother had such good taste.”
“There are a lot of things about Travis you don’t know,” Lisa countered. In point of fact, Travis didn’t have much taste, at least when it came to home furnishings. The basic furniture here was his, dating from before they’d gotten to know each other, but she was the one who’d suggested most of the handful of pictures and accent pieces.
Which she had a strong suspicion Winterfall had already figured out. Damn him.
And Travis wasn’t a special friend. He just wasn’t.
“Touché,” Winterfall admitted. “I’m sure you know that he and I haven’t been…well, close.”
“Some might put it even more strongly,” Lisa said. “You haven’t exactly been there for Travis, you know. And don’t even get me started on your mother.”
“I’m painfully aware of that,” Winterfall said heavily. “Though I’ll admit that it was just…well, just before we lost the King, in fact, that I really understood how distant they’d b
ecome.”
“You took your time.”
“I’m aware of that, too,” Winterfall said. “Sadly, I can’t do anything about our mother. But I’m hoping Travis and I, at least, can rebuild some bridges.”
“Really.” Lisa studied his face. His expression wasn’t nearly as open as it might have been. He might pretend he was bridge-building—might even believe it—but the manipulation was still lurking beneath the surface. “Starting tonight?”
Winterfall’s lip twitched. “Well, no, probably not,” he said reluctantly. “Tonight’s conversation may not be—”
He broke off at the sound of a key on the lock. Lisa stood up, taking a deep breath.
The door opened and Travis walked in.
He spotted Lisa first, and his face softened in the small but deep smile he always greeted her with. It was a smile of calm and closeness, an expression that told her that in her presence he had everything he needed: friend, confidante, and ally against the turmoil of the world outside.
And then Winterfall stood up, and Travis’s eyes shifted to his brother.
The smile vanished.
Travis’s eyes flicked again to Lisa as he stepped inside the apartment, then back to Winterfall as he closed the door behind him. “Hello, Gavin,” he said, his tone the one Lisa had heard him use with unknown or unfriendly superior officers. “This is a surprise.”
“I know,” Winterfall said, “and I apologize for dropping in unannounced. But as I was just explaining to Commander Donnelly, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Something very much private and off the record.”
“I see.” Travis hesitated another moment, then continued toward them. “How off-the-record are we talking about?”
Winterfall’s eyes flicked to Lisa. “No one has sent me, if that’s what you mean,” he said, looking back at Travis. “In fact, no one even knows I’m here.”
“Okay,” Travis said. “Our dinner’s almost ready, so keep it brief.”
Winterfall inclined his head. “Of course. In ten days you and Casey are scheduled to leave Manticore for a mission to the Silesian Confederacy. I’ve come to ask you, for the sake of the Star Kingdom, to make sure that mission fails.”
“What do you mean?” Travis’s voice was calm enough, but to Lisa’s eye it looked like his face paled a little.
“I know about your agenda,” Winterfall said. “But you have to understand that trying to set up those kind of facilities will drain away resources that are vital to rebuilding the Star Kingdom’s defenses. Not just the Navy and MPARS, but also—”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Travis interrupted, looking thoroughly confused now. “What facilities? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about drumming up enough ship orders to justify creating our own impeller industry,” Winterfall said. “You don’t need to play coy—I’ve seen the report. I know it sounds good on paper, and it might even be something we’ll want to do some day in the future.”
“But not now?” Travis suggested. His face, Lisa noted, had regained its color.
“Exactly,” Winterfall said. “Right now, all our military resources need to be focused on rebuilding the Navy, MPARS, our fixed defenses—the stuff we’ll need in the next few months or years. With all due respect, having our own impeller factory isn’t part of that list.”
“And you got all this from secret Parliament files?” Travis asked.
“Yes, I already said that,” Winterfall said, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Look, I know you can’t confirm or deny—” He broke off, his face going rigid as his eyes swung to Lisa. “Oh,” he murmured.
“Indeed,” Travis agreed. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to have access to that information, Gavin. But Commander Donnelly here definitely isn’t supposed to have it.”
“No, no, of course not,” Winterfall said, his face rigid. “Damn it.”
“Okay, relax, it’s not as bad as you think,” Travis said, holding out a calming hand. “I think we can all agree to forget this ever happened. I won’t tell; you certainly won’t tell; and since reporting it could get Commander Donnelly bounced from her own upcoming mission, she won’t tell.” He nodded behind him. “But I think you’d better go.”
“Yes,” Winterfall said. He took a deep breath. “But think about what I said, will you? It doesn’t have to be anything blatant or overt. Just a little nudging the wrong direction—”
“Good-bye, Gavin.”
Winterfall pursed his lips, then nodded. “Good-bye, Travis.” He nodded to Lisa. “Commander Donnelly. Safe voyage to you.” He looked at Travis. “To you both.” Walking past Travis, he opened the door and disappeared out into the night.
“Well, that was different,” Lisa said as Travis closed the door and locked it.
“And you thought we were just having a regular dinner and normal conversation,” Travis agreed dryly. “He just pop in on you?”
“A couple of minutes before you got here,” Lisa said, bracing herself. If there were going to be recriminations for letting him in, this would be the time for it. “I’m sorry if I handled it wrong. I didn’t think I just should slam the door in his face.”
To her relief, Travis just nodded. “No, no, you did fine,” he assured her. “I was just…really surprised to see him.”
“I was, too, if that helps any,” Lisa said. “Uh…that thing he was talking about. I know I’m not supposed to know the details of Casey’s mission. But since he was the one who talked, can you at least tell me if was he right about this being a shipbuilding mission?”
“You heard what he said,” Travis reminded her. “I really can’t talk any further about it.”
“Right,” Lisa said. It had been worth a try, anyway.
And it wasn’t like she didn’t have secrets of her own. Damocles’s upcoming trip, after all, wasn’t just the good-will mission that Cazenestro had pitched to Parliament and the public. Captain Marcello was taking some of the battle debris to Haven, with the hope of persuading them to do an off-the-books analysis.
But there was more even than that. The secret Parliamentary files the Cabinet ministers could access included all of those details. What they didn’t include was the fact that if the Haven analysis pinpointed Tamerlane’s true identity and location, Captain Marcello was authorized to open discussions on a joint Havenite/Manticoran military response.
It wasn’t like the two star nations hadn’t worked together before. What made this different was that it would be an official agreement, documented and signed, as opposed to something thrown together on the spur of the moment in the face of imminent need.
The tricky part was that, for the moment at least, the Queen and Prime Minister Harwich had decided that it would he handled on a purely military level, with the rest of Parliament cut out of the loop. Even Foreign Secretary Susan Tarleton, who was supposedly in charge of such matters, was being kept in the dark.
To Lisa, the whole thing seemed like a ticking bomb. She could understand Harwich’s desire to keep politics out of this, especially given Breakwater’s all-but reflexive opposition to anything involving the Navy. But if an agreement was reached, the ex post facto revelation would create an outraged backlash that might sweep away even some of Harwich’s strongest supporters.
But the decision had been made, and far above Lisa’s rank and authority. As Damocles’s XO, her duty was to support it, and her captain, and let the chips fall where they may.
At least the mission had gotten her out of that frustrating MPARS academy. Another few months there, and she’d have been ready to claw her way straight through the classroom wall.
“But I can confirm that dinner smells wonderful,” Travis continued. “Your chicken, rice, and broccoli casserole, right?”
“Right,” Lisa said, putting thoughts of missions and politics and relatives aside. In ten days, she and Travis would be leaving Manticore in different ships, heading in not-quite opposite directions, and they wouldn’t see each other
again for at least a year, possibly more. This might be their last quiet time together, and she was determined to make the most of it. “And if I don’t get it out of the oven soon, it might start smelling not so wonderful.”
“Got it,” Travis said, resting his hand on the small of her back as they headed together toward the kitchen.
They were halfway there when another thought suddenly occurred to Lisa.
“Those secret files,” she said. “Is your brother supposed to have access to those?”
“I doubt it,” Travis said. “As far as I know, only the Cabinet ministers get to see them. Breakwater must have given him access.”
“Is that legal?” Lisa asked.
And instantly wished she could call back the words. Travis’s long-standing reputation for strictly following the book…
“Probably not,” he conceded, and she could hear the fresh tension in his voice as the fingers resting against her back went stiff. “In fact, almost certainly not.”
“He probably looked it up for Breakwater,” Lisa said quickly. “He’s kind of an appendage of the Exchequer these days, anyway. Or maybe he was reading over Breakwater’s shoulder.”
“Maybe.”
“What I’m saying is that it’s nothing you need to report.”
Travis was silent for another couple of steps. Lisa held her breath…and then, she felt his hand relax a little. “I suppose,” he said. “Civilian matters. None of our business, really. Besides, he’s totally got the wrong end of the stick.”
“Really,” Lisa said, intrigued. “So which end is the right end?”
“Don’t you start, too,” Travis chided. “You’re Navy. You I’d have to lock up.”
“And then you wouldn’t get any dinner, because I’d take the casserole with me.”
“And you wouldn’t get any salad,” he countered. “Because I think that’s my job tonight.”
“It would only be trouble,” Lisa concluded.
“Exactly,” Travis said. “So you don’t ask about mine, and I won’t ask about yours. Did you remember to grab extra croutons when you were out?”
