House of Steel The Honorverse Companion - By David Weber Page 0,56

to acquiesce and make Parliament’s approval unanimous. The offer to make that approval unanimous in return for those selfsame face-saving concessions had been more than Roger and his ministers had been able to resist, given the emphatic way it had countersigned the Crown’s new policy where control of the Junction’s termini was concerned. Unfortunately, no one had repealed the law of unintended consequences, and the restrictions which had resulted had grown steadily more irksome over the past decade.

“The infrastructure in Basilisk—in the system itself, especially in Medusa orbit, not just on the terminus—is growing even faster than I expected,” Roger continued. “It’s more valuable to our economy and more tempting to someone like the Peeps—or Gustav—than I anticipated, too, and thanks to the way we pussyfooted around with Summercross and Lebrun, we don’t have the wherewithal in-system to look after it properly. So I think it’s time we stamp the entire terminus with a big, shiny Manticore.”

“In what way, Your Majesty?”

“I’m going to create a formal naval station in Basilisk. It’s going to be a standing naval presence.” Cromarty looked faintly alarmed, and the King shook his head quickly. “Oh, I’m not going to renege on our promise not to fortify the terminus, Allen! Not that I wouldn’t like to, you understand, but there’s only so much blood in the turnip, and if I have to choose between a few more ships-of-the-wall and fortifying the Basilisk Terminus, I’m afraid I’m going to have to opt for the wallers. But that doesn’t mean we can’t permanently station a division of cruisers and a squadron of destroyers or so in Basilisk to keep an eye on things. And on any ‘civilian Peep freighters’ that happen to pass through. And if people like Summercross and Lebrun happen to get the message that we’re through rolling over for the Peeps because we’re somehow responsible for being the ‘reasonable’ ones, I’m just fine with that, too.”

Cromarty managed not to wince, but it was hard as he contemplated the screams of protest bound to come at him from both left and right when he announced this little decision. On the face of it, it should have been a complete nonissue, but both the Conservatives and the Liberals were going to recognize Roger’s challenge, his warning that he was through deferring to their sensibilities, and that was going to guarantee an ugly reception. But over the past twenty T-years, he’d learned to recognize when there was no point trying to talk Roger Winton out of something.

Besides, he thought, he’s right. It is time we made that message of his crystal clear, and not just to the Peeps.

“Very well, Your Majesty,” he said aloud, “I’ll have a word about it with Abner and Admiral Styler this afternoon.”

May 1878 PD

“SO,” KING ROGER III SAID, reaching down to ruffle Crown Princess Elizabeth Adrienne Samantha Annette Winton’s feathery curls gently, “was it a good birthday?”

“Oh, yeah,” Elizabeth replied emphatically, leaning back against her tall, broad-shouldered father and smiling up at him. She was a slender, small-boned child—she took after her mother in that respect—but muscular, with a passion for soccer and horses. As far as he could tell that equestrian fixation was something every girl child ever born shared, but she seemed to have caught a more intense case than most.

“I missed Uncle Jonas this year,” she continued, “but everyone else was great. And I really liked the new grav ski. I can hardly wait to try it out!”

“Oh?” Something devilish glinted in Roger’s eyes. “Well, just be sure you take Sergeant Proctor along when you do.”

“Daaaddy!” Elizabeth rolled her huge, expressive eyes with a martyred expression. Her devastating eleven-year-old crush (well, twelve-year-old now, he supposed, if he was going to be accurate) on Sergeant Bynum Proctor of the King’s Own Regiment was something of a sore point with her at the moment.

“Roger,” Queen Consort Angelique said, never looking up from the forestry journal on her reader, “don’t tease your daughter. I believe we’ve discussed that.”

“Tease my daughter?” Roger looked at her with wide eyed innocence. “I am shocked—shocked, I tell you!—that you could possibly accuse me of such a thing, Angel! I’m innocent as the new fallen snow.”

“There is no new fallen snow in Landing, even in the middle of winter,” Angelique pointed out, looking up at last. “And if there were, you wouldn’t be as innocent as it . . . if that sentence makes any sense at all.” She furrowed her brow for a moment, considering it, then