by David Weber
"I am Justin Zyrr."
"Captain Adderson told me I might find you out here." The man's voice seemed too deep to come from such a slim chest. "I decided to make `might' a certainty."
He paused to wipe sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
"I'm Daniel Chou."
"With the Security Ministry, Captain Adderson implied."
Chou grinned. "Captain Adderson must have liked you. I don't suppose I'm violating any rules by confirming your guess. After all, you will be the Prince Consort—and, more importantly, Queen Elizabeth trusts you."
Oddly, Justin felt himself coloring. There was something about the little man's brash manner that made him feel like a boy at his grandfather's knee. Given the changes of the last twenty-four hours, the feeling was not at all unpleasant.
"Shall we hoof it back to the landing strip?" Chou said. "Or do you need to do more looking about?"
Justin glared at the blue salt as if it was deliberately trying to hide the truth from him.
"I'm not certain there's anything to look for," he said.
Chou nodded. "Not here, although we had to look. We may have more luck inspecting the remains of the grav ski."
"Why should we do that?" Justin asked, reluctant to take anyone into his confidence without Elizabeth's express permission.
"For evidence," Chou answered. His grey eyes had stopped twinkling. "Evidence to prove King Roger was murdered. Certainly you don't believe his death was an accident, do you?"
Everyone rose and bowed as Queen Elizabeth III entered the council chamber. Tellingly, to a long-time political observer like Duke Cromarty, she accepted the monarch's homage as her due. The fact that she'd been Crown Princess all of her life might explain part of that calm demeanor, but the Prime Minister thought there was something more here.
She might be a girl of eighteen, but she was savvy enough to know that those who had raised her might find it difficult to recall that she was their ruler now. By accepting the homage as offered, she was reminding them all who made the final decisions.
After the Queen had greeted them, Dame Eliska brought the informal regent's council around to business.
"This morning's coronation went well. My polls, formal and informal, show that support for the Queen is high in both houses of Parliament. The sooner the matters of Regent and Regency Council are resolved, the more likely they are to be resolved easily and in the Queen's best interest."
Elizabeth nodded. "I have reviewed your recommendations for Regent and I think they are all sound." Even her voice was different, Cromarty thought. She spoke with a deliberate precision, an air of maturity which was new to her yet far too natural, too . . . inevitable, to be feigned. "Duke Cromarty, do you have anything to add?" she asked, and he cleared his throat.
"Yes, actually, I do. Apparently, there's some resistance to the idea of having either your mother or your aunt serve as Regent."
The Queen Mother started. "I protest! There is a long tradition of—"
Elizabeth interrupted her mother with a gentle hand to her arm.
"I need to hear what the Prime Minister has to say," she said in that same, new voice. "Allen, I am intrigued by your use of the words `mother' and `aunt' to describe two of the candidates for Regent. Normally, you observe protocol to a fault. Is there a reason?"
The Prime Minister nodded. "Yes, I chose those words because they reflect precisely the scuttlebutt I've heard. The concern being expressed is that someone as close kin to the Queen as the Queen Mother or Duchess Winton-Henke might not be in a position to advise but might try to rule in your stead."
"Bluntly put," Elizabeth said, "the concern is that I will be dominated by my mother or my aunt."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"A pity," Elizabeth mused. "I had just about made up my mind that Aunt Caitrin would be an ideal Regent. No offense, Mother, but I do think it would be difficult for us to distance ourselves from our established roles."
The Queen Mother looked hurt for a moment, but then she smiled.
"I agree. It might indeed be hard for me to stop thinking as your mother—and as Roger's wife. You don't need a Regent who might be inclined to say `But your father would have done it this way.' "
Elizabeth squeezed her mother's hand. "Thank you for understanding. I have reviewed this council's other suggestions and, while I have nothing personal against any of the Crown Loyalist candidates you indicated, I would prefer to have Aunt Caitrin. Your Grace, do you think the Henke holdings can spare you?"
Caitrin Winton-Henke nodded. "They can. The Earl of Gold Peak is quite able to discharge his responsibilities without me."
"Very good."
Elizabeth thoughtfully stroked Ariel for a moment before continuing.
"I haven't forgotten the concern Duke Cromarty reported." Her smile became impish. "I believe the only way to defuse it is to nominate a candidate who would be unacceptable to Parliament for some reason. When the fuss over the first candidate has died down and Parliament has been reluctantly forced to reject my suggestion, then I can nominate Aunt Caitrin. If Dame Eliska is correct, the general desire of Parliament is to support me. Rejecting a second Regent—especially one so well-trained for the job—would go against that general impulse."
A moment of silence fell while the council digested both the plan and the new Queen's willingness to indulge in political manipulation. Duke Cromarty raised a hand.
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"That is very clever, Your Majesty, but what if Parliament confirms your first candidate?"
"There's a simple way to handle that possibility," Elizabeth answered. "I make certain that whomever I nominate is someone who can function in the role—and someone who will be willing to step down for Aunt Caitrin after a bit of time has passed."
"You would need to trust that person a great deal," Duke Cromarty warned. "I expect you have someone in mind."
The Queen nodded, a hint of a grin twitching the corners of her mouth.
"I do indeed." She gestured across the table. "My Lord Chamberlain, Lord Wundt."
"Your Majesty!" Jacob Wundt exclaimed. "I am not fit for the role of Regent!"
Elizabeth smiled at the thin old man.
"You are more fit than many," she said. "As Lord Chamberlain you served and advised both my father and my grandmother. You are a valued asset to the House of Winton. Moreover, I can convincingly speak both of my trust in you and in your irreproachable loyalty to the Kingdom."
"But—!"
The Lord Chamberlain's new protest was cut short by Dame Eliska. She looked up from the figures she had been entering into her computer pad and her smile was broad.
"I believe that Queen Elizabeth's choice will function just as she hopes. I've done some preliminary demographic analysis and the Lord Chamberlain should be rejected, but only after sufficient debate that Duchess Winton-Henke would be confirmed easily."
"And," Duke Cromarty said, "if Lord Wundt is confirmed, he would be a sound Regent. After some months of service, he could claim that his advanced years make him unable to continue. If we wait to make that announcement until some minor crisis requires that the Queen have a Regent in place quickly, then Duchess Winton-Henke should be confirmed without protest."
The Lord Chamberlain's mouth was opening and shutting, but no noise was coming forth.
"Without some gambit like this," Duke Cromarty continued, "I'm uncertain that either the Queen Mother or the Duchess would be confirmed as Regent. I'm at a loss to explain this sudden surge of anti-nepotism—anyone who knows the Lords knows that nepotism is the way of the aristocracy—but it is present."
Elizabeth stroked Ariel, her own features schooled to polite neutrality, but the 'cat's loud purr gave away his own satisfaction.
"Then this is how we will proceed," she said. "As for the Regent's Council, I would like to nominate those here present, the Prime Minister, the Majority Leader for the Commons, and at least one of the Crown Loyalists you suggested earlier."<
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Paderweski made a note. "When you say the Majority Leader for the Commons, you mean whoever holds that position rather than Rosanna Wilson?"
"Yes. I don't plan for the Regent's Council to meet over-frequently," the Queen replied. "Therefore, the added duties should not be onerous."
"And," Caitrin Winton-Henke said, "since the Regency Council will already have the Prime Minister, we don't need another noble to balance the representative from the Commons, yet we can keep the suggestion that this is a private cabal to a minimum."
Queen Elizabeth arched her eyebrows. "And why shouldn't it be a cabal? This is a monarchy, after all. My father was no figurehead, and I certainly don't intend to be one."
A soft chuckle fluttered around the council table. Elizabeth joined in, then continued.
"I realize that I may not have made myself clear," she said. "I would like Duke Cromarty to serve on the Regent's Council whether or not he is serving as Prime Minister."
Allen Summervale came from an ancient line of Manticoran aristocracy, otherwise he might very well have given some indication of how very pleased he was by this sign of the Queen's favor.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, bowing slightly. "I will endeavor to serve you well."
Dame Eliska changed something on her note pad. "So I should indicate that the Prime Minister will be expected to serve on the Regent's Council."
"Yes."
"Very good." Paderweski smiled. "Perhaps their Graces could make some discrete inquiries—check with LeBrun—to see which of the Crown Loyalists would be best for the post."
Cromarty and Winton-Henke both nodded.
"I'm willing to bet that Howell will be their choice," the duchess said. "He's been rising steadily within the party."
"We shall see," Elizabeth said. "Now, are we ready to adjourn? Any more business for now?"
Heads shook around the table.
"Very well. We all have far too much to do. I'm certain that I'll see some of you at the viewing this evening." She gestured for them all to remain seated when she rose. "Until then."
Ariel in her arms, the Queen departed the council chamber. When the door slid closed behind her, Jacob Wundt spoke softly, reverently:
"Long live the Queen!"
"Amen to that," Cromarty affirmed. "Amen to that."
Once Justin's air car was aloft, Chou chose to elaborate on his earlier comment.
"We always investigate the death of a monarch, even when, as with Queen Samantha, the cause of death is apparent and easy to confirm."
"She died from heart failure, didn't she?" Justin asked.
"Everyone dies from heart failure," Chou said with an odd, wry grin. "In Queen Samantha's case, the immediate cause of her heart's failure was deterioration of her circulatory system beyond the point that regeneration therapy could effectively repair the damage. However, even that is too specific. She died of old age, which is not a bad way to go."
Justin nodded, thinking how the concept of old age was changing with the advent of the prolong therapies. The man seated in the passenger seat would probably die of old age some time early into his first century. If Justin died from the same cause, he would be closer to three hundred years old.
Did those born just the wrong side of the prolong acceptance barrier resent those who were young enough to accept the treatment or did they rejoice that their children's lives would be extended?
Certainly the dangers of prolong went far beyond the over-population that was often cited as the greatest implication of the extended life span. Commoner born, Justin tended to look at the aristocracy from the outside. The idea of some of the more hidebound members of this most-privileged class being able to extend their influence for centuries made him shudder. And what would their children do while they waited to assume their inheritance?
King Roger had seen that Manticoran society faced death by stagnation, which was one reason he had pushed for Prince Michael to enter the Navy despite the boy's hesitancy. Would other aristocratic parents be so farsighted? Silently, Justin resolved that his and Elizabeth's children would not be trapped by their parents' longevity.
Daniel Chou interrupted his revery.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Change," Justin said honestly, "and how with King Roger's death Beth could very well be Queen for centuries to come. It's strange to realize that between her youth and prolong she could reign for nearly as long as the entire Star Kingdom has been in existence."
"A slight exaggeration," Chou said, "but not by much. That's one of the reasons she would make such a valuable pawn."
"Pawn?" Thinking of his strong-willed, assertive fiancée, Justin chuckled. "Not Beth!"
"Perhaps not," Chou agreed, "but you forget that most of the Kingdom doesn't know our new Queen as well as you do. The news media's polite forbearance regarding the monarch's private life has meant that although the Heir was often in the public eye, those occasions were official, not private."
"I see what you mean," Justin said, "and I begin to understand what you're leading up to."
"If we are to assume murder," Chou said, "then we must look for motive. True, the King had made enemies, but his death does not strike me as a crime of passion."
"If it was murder," Justin cautioned.
"For the sake of discussion, let us assume it was." The impish grin on Chou's weathered features made it seem as if he was suggesting a party game.
"Very well," Justin said, less comfortable with the idea.
"King Roger III was well-loved, but his decisions were not always popular. Correct?"
"Correct—especially in the area of foreign policy."
"Now, what if you didn't approve of King Roger's policies? How would you feel about his continued reign? Remember, he was our first monarch to receive prolong."
"I would be terrified," Justin admitted, getting into the spirit of the game. "With prolong, King Roger would be in a position to continue those policies for at least another two hundred years."
"And he would most certainly strongly influence his heir," Chou said. "Therefore, King Roger must be eliminated."
"You're so cold!" Justin protested.
"Only practical and paranoid. They're required traits for my job."
"Go on, then."
"Obviously, if eliminating the King is to do any good, it must be done within a narrow window of time."
Chou paused, inviting Justin to pick up the thread.
"Elizabeth," Justin spoke slowly, "must be young enough to need a Regent, but not so young that the Regent would effectively rule in her stead."
"Precisely!" Chou applauded. "And she must need that Regent for some years, enough years that her views on policy could be influenced and that influence expected to last."
"When you look at the situation that way," Justin said, appalled yet excited, "King Roger's death becomes not a random accident or a spur-of-the-moment assassination, but the result of a carefully developed course of action. Still, I'm not certain we aren't being too paranoid."
"Very well," Chou said. "Let us look at this from a slightly different angle. When would you say would be the earliest time that conditions would have gained our hypothetical conspirators what they wanted?"
Justin thought for a moment, weighing the various elements.
"Perhaps when Elizabeth was sixteen. Before that she would have been too easily dismissed as a child."
"Did anything happen to the royal family when Elizabeth was around sixteen?"
"I'm not sure," Justin mused. "I didn't meet her until that very year. I'd never been much interested in the royal family, to be honest. That's why we hit it off so well. Beth was on a tour of the research lab where I work and wandered into a restricted area. I was giving her hell when her bodyguard hurried in. When he addressed her as `Your Highness' I suddenly realized why this pretty girl seemed so familiar."
Justin felt his face grow hot at the memory and he chuckled.
"She wrote me the prettiest apol
ogy letter. It crossed in the mails with my apology. Beth thought that the coincidence was so funny that she screened me."
"I imagine you were surprised." Chou laughed.
"Was I ever!" Justin agreed. "We talked for over an hour, just like old friends. Her father was ill and she really needed a friend."
"Think about what you just said," Chou prompted.
"She needed a friend?" Justin answered, puzzled.
"Right before that."
"Her father was ill." The implications hit Justin all at once. "King Roger was ill—very ill! Not many people knew that, but Beth told me. I guess she knew I wouldn't let the news out to the media."
"And you didn't."
"But the King recovered!"
"From a viral infection." Chou was no longer laughing. "The Star Kingdom of Manticore takes its good health for granted. Most infectious diseases were conquered centuries ago. We were never as isolated as many colonies. Mutated diseases like those that ravaged Artemis and Raiden never were a problem for us—especially since we did not let up on the strict quarantine and decontamination procedures from our expedition days."
"We had our own Plague," Justin reminded him, fearing that the old man had made such an art of paranoia that he saw conspiracy where there was none.
"Check your history books," Chou said. "The Manticoran Plague most likely evolved from a small family of viruses the original survey team missed—or that evolved during the six centuries between the initial survey and the arrival of the colonists. Whatever the case, Manticore is not prone to sudden, unexplained viral infections—and I find one that strikes the King alone particularly suspect."
"Maybe so," Justin said. "I suppose you have copies of the medical records on his illness."
"I do, and you're welcome to review them."
"I will, but before I trouble Elizabeth with these theories of murder and conspiracy, I want to take a look at that grav ski."
"Are you saying that the Queen does not share the suspicions that brought you to the Indigo Salt Flats?"