a bone if that’s what it takes,” Roger replied. “So I’m willing to specifically not claim sovereignty over the planet Medusa itself, to recognize the Medusans as the original inhabitants and rightful owners of the star system, precisely as the Ninth Amendment recognizes the treecats on Sphinx, and to set aside, say, five percent of all revenues generated by traffic through the Basilisk Terminus for the benefit of the Medusans. At the same time, however, we’re going to assert sovereignty over the star system as a whole, and directly—officially—annex the terminus itself.”
“I’m . . . not certain how that would stand up under interstellar law, Your Majesty.” Nageswar’s eyes were half-slitted in intense thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone claiming a star system while specifically not claiming the only habitable planet in it. I doubt there’s any precedent to support it.”
“Then we’ll make precedent,” Roger told her.
“Lebrun will argue that it’s easy to promise not to take over the planet now,” Cromarty pointed out. “Then he’ll trot out that aphorism about power corrupting and suggest that while, of course you wouldn’t do any such thing, Your Majesty, that’s not to say some future Manticoran government wouldn’t.”
“He can suggest anything he damn well wants,” Roger said flatly. “We’re going to do this, and in case anyone thinks we’re not, I’m taking advantage of Beth’s birthday to make a statement . . . and apply a little pressure of my own.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?” Paderweski looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Is this something that simply slipped your mind the last time you were discussing plans with, oh, your chief of staff?”
“I discussed it last night with the only person who’d actually have a veto right over it, Elisa.” Roger smiled crookedly at her. “Angel said it’s all right with her.”
“I see. And just what did you have in mind for Beth’s birthday, Sir?”
“Oh, it’s very simple.” Roger showed his teeth. “I’m going to exercise one of the Crown’s—and Commons’—prerogatives. We’re going to make Elizabeth Duchess of Basilisk.”
Despite decades of political experience, Cromarty’s jaw dropped, and Nageswar’s eyes widened. Roger tipped back in his chair, listening to the buzzing purr from the treecat draped over its back.
“Between the Centrists and the Crown Loyalists, we have a clear majority in the Commons,” he pointed out, “and patents of nobility are created by the Crown with the Commons’ approval, not the Lords. I intend to make Beth Duchess of Basilisk—not Medusa—and I intend to enfeoff her with a percentage of all transit fees through the terminus. Only a tiny one, just enough to give her a personal claim on the terminus. But when we draw the patent of nobility, we’ll include the entire star system except for Medusa. The Lords can’t reject the patent, although they might theoretically refuse to seat her as Duchess of Basilisk, I suppose, if they’re feeling really stupid. But since they can’t, as far as everyone here in the Star Kingdom is concerned, the baby princess they adore will be the rightful duchess of the star system in question. Now,” he looked around the conference room with that same, thin smile, “does anyone sitting around this table really think even Summercross would be stupid enough to buck that kind of public attitude? Lebrun might, but Summercross’ advisers will insist he drop the issue like a hot rock.” He shook his head. “I imagine we’ll still have to do some horse trading, make some concessions to assuage the Liberals’ concerns over the Medusans, but tell my daughter she can’t have her first-birthday present when everyone else in the Star Kingdom wants to give it to her?”
He shook his head again, his smile positively sharklike.
“Nobody’s going to want to come across like that kind of Scrooge, people. Nobody.”
May 1870 PD
“JONAS!” An obviously pregnant Queen Consort Angelique Winton threw her arms about her brother. “Roger didn’t tell me you were coming, the stinker!”
She turned her head to glare at her husband and the treecat bleeking with laughter on his shoulder, and Roger grinned.
“I shouldn’t have had to tell you, Angel. He is your brother, and you know how he dotes on Elizabeth! Besides, it’s barely a forty-hour hop on one of the regular shuttle flights. Did you really think he was going to miss her fourth birthday party?”
“He could’ve told me he was coming, though!” Angelique pointed out. “And you could’ve told Beth when she was worrying about whether Uncle Jonas was going to make it.”
“I told