Mission of Honor

Chapter Forty-Two

The alarm buzzed in the darkness, and Honor Alexander-Harrington sat up in bed, reached out a long arm, and pressed the acceptance key.

Nimitz had rolled off of her chest when she moved, and his green eyes glowed like molten emeralds in the come terminals’ reflected light as he blinked sleepily. She felt his mind glow nestled close to her own, and she gave him a quick caress with her free hand as the display came fully alive with the wounded lion of HMS Invictus‘ wallpaper.

“Yes?”

She hadn’t slept well over the three months since the attack on the home system. She’d hoped that might change once she got back aboard her flagship here at Trevor’s Star, but it hadn’t. Yet there was no sign of that in her crisp acknowledgment as she accepted the com request audio only.

“Your Grace,” Captain Rafael Cardones’ voice replied, “I think we need you on Flag Bridge. Now.”

Honor’s eyebrows rose as Cardones’ strained tone registered. She’d seen him in the midst of combat, seen him cradling broken ribs while he continued to man his station, seen him in the most stressful situations she could imagine, and yet she’d never heard that note in his voice before.

“What is it, Rafe?” she asked sharply.

“Your Grace, we’ve just picked up a hyper footprint. It’s a single ship, about four light-minutes outside the system limit. It’s quite near one of the FTL platforms, and it’s squawking its transponder code.”

“And?” she prompted a bit sharply when he paused.

“And it’s a Havenite ship, Ma’am. In fact, according to its transponder, it’s Haven One.”

“All right, Hamish, what’s this all about?” Elizabeth Winton demanded irritably as she sat down in front of the com. The two T-weeks since her defiant speech hadn’t been restful, and the anticipated arrival of Admiral Filareta’s fleet within the next week to ten days wasn’t likely to improve things one bit.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. It isn’t Hamish,” a voice said, and Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She punched the key to bring the visual on line and stared in plerplexity at the white-bereted woman looking back at her as the Admiralty House wallpaper disappeared.

“Honor?” The queen shook her head. “What are you doing on this channel? Or even here, instead of at Trevor’s Star, for that matter? I thought you weren’t due back until the middle of next week!”

“There’s been a slight… change in plans,” Honor said. “Something came up rather unexpectedly. I decided I’d better come home to discuss it with you personally, and I got Hamish to tap me in through Admiralty House’s secure channels. That’s why his identifier showed on your com.”

Elizabeth frowned. Something about Honor’s expression perplexed her, and she wondered why the other woman had gone to such obvious lengths to wake her up in the middle of the night to sit down in front of a secure com.

“What ‘came up rather unexpectedly’?” she asked.

“It seems we have an unanticipated visitor,” Honor said simply, and expanded her own com’s field of view.

For a moment, it failed to register. But then Elizabeth Winton’s jaw dropped as she recognized the platinum-haired, topaz-eyed woman standing at Honor’s side.

“I apologize for waking you up in the middle of the night, Your Majesty,” President Elizabeth Pritchart said calmly, “but I think we need to talk.”