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"I'm sorry if I sounded pushy, Captain," he began, "but—"
"Don't apologize, Lord Mayhew," Harrington said as she took her seat. A servant placed a tall, backless stool beside her at a gesture from the Protector, then retreated with more haste than dignity as she coaxed her treecat down onto it. "I'd be honored to show you around her personally, if circumstances permit. I'm quite proud of her."
"I'll bet you are!" Michael said enviously. "I've read everything I could get my hands on about her class, but Cousin Bernie says—"
He broke off, happiness suddenly quenched, and Harrington smiled sadly at him.
"I regret that I never got to know High Admiral Yanakov very well, Lord Mayhew, but Ambassador Langtry tells me he and Admiral Courvosier had become very close. I believe Admiral Courvosier had the greatest respect for him, and I hope we'll have the chance to welcome you on board so you can judge Fearless's capabilities for yourself."
The Protector sat back to let the servants pour wine and nodded to himself. Harrington's voice held none of the stridency or challenge he'd been half afraid of when he first learned of her "ultimatum." He'd suspected—or hoped, perhaps—that the Council's fear she might truly abandon them had been exaggerated; now he was certain of it.
The servants finished placing the appetizers before each diner, and Mayhew bent his head to offer thanks ... and not for the meal, alone.
The last of Honor's i
Yet aside from the guards, these people seemed amazingly unthreatened by her presence. The Protector was younger than she'd expected—at least ten years younger than she, she suspected, allowing for the absence of prolong on Grayson—but his disarming conversation hid neither his self-assurance nor his authority. His brother, on the other hand, was something Honor understood perfectly. She'd met scores of youngsters like him at Saganami Island.
But it was the Protector's wives who truly surprised her. She'd known Benjamin and Michael Mayhew had attended off-world schools, but it didn't take her long to realize Katherine Mayhew was far better educated than she herself, in nontechnical fields, at any rate. Elaine was younger and tended to defer to her tiny fellow wife—she was clearly the more traditional of the two—yet she was just as articulate. That was heartening after Honor's own experiences, and though she had no idea how typical the Protector's household might be, she began to suspect how Admiral Courvosier had become so close to Admiral Yanakov despite the high admiral's stiffness with her.
Clearly her host had decided business, and any potential unpleasantness, could wait until after supper. Conversation flowed amiably as they worked their way through the sumptuous meal, but it was restricted largely to discussion of the differences between Grayson and Manticore, and Lord Mayhew and Elaine Mayhew were fascinated when she requested a plate for Nimitz. The Security captain looked ready to burst, but Lord Mayhew and his sister-in-law took turns slipping Nimitz tidbits ... which he accepted as his just due. He was on his best behavior, though. Even when Elaine discovered his fondness for celery, he managed to devour the crunchy sticks neatly despite his carnivore's teeth, and his obvious comfort with these people was the most reassuring element yet. Honor had brought him along partly to make a point, but even more because of his empathic sense, for she'd learned to rely on him as a barometer of others' emotions long ago.
The meal ended at last. The servants withdrew, leaving the Protector's family alone with their guest and their guards, and Mayhew leaned back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully.
"Why do I suspect, Captain Harrington, that the, um, persuasion you used to `request' this meeting was a bit ... overstated, shall we say?"
"Overstated, Sir?" Honor asked i
Captain Fox wore the wooden expression of a man accustomed to hearing sensitive discussions which were none of his business, but his mouth twitched.
"You found one, I assure you," Mayhew said dryly. "Now that you have it, however, what, precisely, can I do for you?"
"It's very simple, Sir," Honor said, grasping the nettle firmly. "In order to employ my squadron effectively in defense of your planet, I need the cooperation of your high command. However able and determined, your commanders simply aren't sufficiently familiar with my ships' capabilities to make best use of them without the closest coordination."
"I see." Mayhew regarded her for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow. "Should I assume from your statement that you've been denied that cooperation?"
"Yes, Sir, you should," she said flatly. "Admiral Garret has assigned me a fine liaison officer in Commander Brentworth, but I have only the most incomplete knowledge of your surviving naval strength, and he's issued orders for the deployment of my vessels which make very poor use of them."
"Issued orders?" There was an ominous note in Mayhew's voice, and Honor didn't think it was assumed.
"Yes, Sir. In fairness to him, I believe he assumed I meant to place my ships under his command when I informed your government through Ambassador Langtry of my intention to assist in Grayson's defense."
"And did you mean to?"
"I suppose I did, to the extent of tying them into an integrated defense plan. The plan he evolved, however, is far from ideal in my opinion, and he declines to discuss it with me."
"After all Admiral Courvosier and Madrigal already did for us?!" Lord Mayhew burst out. He glared at his brother. "I told you Garret didn't know his ass from his elbow, Ben! He knows how badly we need Captain Harrington's ships if we're going to stand a chance, but he's not going to admit it if it means he has to take orders from a woman. Cousin Bernie always said—"
"Yes, Mike, I know," Mayhew interrupted, and looked squarely at Honor. "I take it, then, Captain Harrington, that the real reason for this meeting was to ask me to order Admiral Garret to cooperate with you?"
"Yes, Sir, more or less," she said.
"You mean `more' more than `less,' I suspect." The Protector propped his right elbow comfortably on the arm of his chair. "If I direct him to cooperate, I expect he'll accept the order—officially, at least—but he's not going to forget that you went over his head to get it, Captain."
"Protector Benjamin," Honor said evenly, "what you do within your own navy is no business of mine. My sole concern is to protect this planet in accordance with what I believe to be my Queen's desires. To accomplish that, I need the cooperation I've requested. If Admiral Garret can give it to me, I'm entirely prepared to work with him."
"But he's not prepared to work with you. My impetuous, big-mouthed brother's right about that, I'm afraid—which means I'll have to relieve him."
Honor hid an i
"Yes, I do, and it's a pity he's so set in his ways." The Protector rubbed his cheek, then nodded. "Very well, Captain. Admiral Garret will cease to be a problem." He looked at his brother. "You're the one who's so informed on naval affairs, Mike. Who's the next most senior officer we've got left?"