David Weber - At All Costs

"Yes, My Lady. I'll send the dispatch to Brigadier Hill on the morning shuttle."

"Thank you," she said gently, touching him lightly on the arm, then turned back to Henke.

"I believe someone else is waiting to welcome you back," she said, and the hatch slid open to show a beaming James MacGuiness.

"So, Mike," Honor said fifteen minutes later, "just what induced the Havenites to send you home?"

She and Henke sat in facing chairs, Henke with a steaming cup of coffee, and Honor with a mug of cocoa. MacGuiness had seen to it that there was also a plate of sandwiches, and Honor nibbled idly on a ham and cheese, taking advantage of the opportunity to stoke her metabolism. Henke, on the other hand, was content with just her coffee.

"That's an interesting question," Henke said now, cradling her cup in both hands and gazing at Honor across it through a wisp of steam. "I think mostly, they picked me because I'm Beth's cousin. They figured she'd have to listen to a message from me. And, I imagine, they hoped the fact that they'd given me back to her would at least tempt her to listen seriously do what they had to say."

"Which is? Or is it privileged information you can't share with me?"

"Oh, it's privileged all right-for now, at least. But I was specifically told I could share it with you, since it also concerns you."

"Mike," Honor said, with just a trace of exasperation as she tasted the teasing amusement behind Henke's admirably solemn expression, "if you don't come clean with me and quit tossing out tidbits, I'm going to choke it out of you. You do realize that, don't do?"

"Home less than an hour, and already threatened with physical violence," Henke observed in tones of profound sadness, shaking her head, then cowered dramatically as Honor started to stand.

"All right, all right! I'll talk!"

"Good. And," Honor added pointedly as she settled back, "I'm still waiting."

"Yes, well," Henke's amusement faded into seriousness, "it's not really a laughing matter, I suppose. But put most simply, Pritchart is using me as her messenger to suggest to Beth that the two of them meet in a face-to-face summit to discuss a negotiated settlement."

Honor sat abruptly further back in her chair. Despite the dramatic nature of Henke's return, the unanticipated radicalness of Pritchart's proposal was almost stunning. Sudden glittering vistas of an end to the killing spread out before her, and her heart leapt. But then she made herself step back and draw a deep breath of reality.

"That's a very interesting offer. Do you think she really means it?"

"Oh, I think she definitely wants to meet with Beth. Just what she intends to offer is another matter. On that front, I wish you'd been the one talking to her."

Henke glanced significantly at Nimitz, who raised his head from his comfortable sprawl on the back of Honor's chair.

"What sort of agenda did she propose?"

"That's one of the odd parts about the offer," Henke said. "Basically, she left it wide open. Obviously, she wants a peace treaty, but she didn't list any specific set of terms. Apparently, she's willing to throw everything into the melting pot if Beth will agree to negotiate with her one-on-one."

"That's a significant change from their previous stance, at least as I understood it," Honor observed.

"I hate to say it, but you're probably in a better position to know that then I am," Henke admitted. She shrugged, with a slightly sheepish grin. "I've been trying to pay more attention to politics since you tore a strip off me, but it's still not really a primary interest of mine."

Honor gave her an exasperated look and shook her head. Henke looked back, essentially unrepentant. Then she shrugged again.

"Actually, it's probably a good thing you are more interested in politics and diplomacy than I am," she said.

"Why?"

"Because one specific element of Pritchart's proposal is a request that you also attend the conference she wants to set up."

"Me?" Honor blinked in astonishment, and Henke nodded.

"You. I got the impression the original suggestion to include you may have come from Thomas Theisman, but I'm not sure about that. Pritchart did assure me, however, that neither she nor anyone in her administration had anything to do with your attempted assassination. And you can believe however much of that you want to."

"She'd almost have to say that, I suppose," Honor said thoughtfully, her mind racing as she considered Pritchart's proposal. Then she cocked her head. "Did she say anything about Ariel or Nimitz?"

"No, she didn't... and I thought that was probably significant," Henke said. "They know both you and Beth have been adopted, of course, and it was obvious that they have extensive dossiers on both of you. I'm sure they've been following the articles and other presentations on the 'cats capabilities since they decided to come out of the closet."

"Which means, in effect, that she's inviting us to bring a pair of furry lie detectors to this summit of hers."

"That's what I think." Henke nodded. "I guess it's always possible they haven't made that connection after all, but I think it's unlikely."

"So do I." Honor gazed off into the distance, thinking hard. Then she looked back at Henke.

"The timing on this is interesting. We've got several factors working here."

"I know. And so does Pritchart," Henke said. Honor looked a question at her, and the other woman snorted. "She made very certain I knew they know about this business in Talbott. She made the specific point that her offer of a summit is being made at a time when she and her advisers are fully aware of how tightly stretched we are. The unstated implication was that instead of an invitation to talk, they might have sent a battle fleet."

"Yes, they certainly could have."

"Have we heard any more from the Cluster?" Henke asked anxiously.

"No. And we won't hear anything back from Monica for at least another ten or eleven days. And that's one reason I said the timing on this was interesting. On the chance that the news we get may be good, I've been ordered to update our plans for Operation Sanskrit-that's the successor to the Cutworm raids," Honor explained when Henke raised an eyebrow "-with a tentative execution date twelve days from tomorrow. Well," she brought up the date/time display in her artificial eye, "from today, actually, now."

"You're thinking about the way Saint-Just derailed Buttercup by suggesting a cease-fire to High Ridge."

"Actually, I'm thinking about the fact that Elizabeth is going to remember it," Honor replied, shaking her head. "Unless they've got a lot more penetration of our security than I believe they do, they can't know what our operational schedule is. Oh, they've probably surmised that Eighth Fleet was just about ready to resume offensive operations, assuming we were going to do that at all, when Khumalo's dispatch arrived. And if they've done the math, they probably know we're about due to hear back from him. But they must have packed you off home almost the same day word of our diversions from Home Fleet could have reached them. To me, that sounds like they moved as quickly as possible to take advantage of an opportunity to negotiate seriously. I'm just afraid it's going to resonate with Buttercup in Elizabeth's thoughts."

"She's not entirely rational where Peeps are concerned," Henke admitted.

"With justification, I'm afraid," Honor said. Henke looked surprised to hear her say that, and Honor shook her head, wondering if Mike knew everything about her own family's experiences with various Havenite r‚gimes.

"Well, I hope she doesn't get her dander up this time," Henke said after a moment. "God knows I love her, and she's one of the strongest monarchs we've ever had, but that temper of hers-!" It was Henke's turn to shake her head.