“Thank you.” He took her hand and clasped it firmly. “It’s good to be back… Skipper.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

FAT flakes of snow fell like silent, feathery ghosts in the windless sub-arctic night beyond the window. Hamish Alexander stood watching them through the thick, double-paned plastic and felt the welcome heat of the fire against his back. His study was in the oldest part of White Haven, the sprawling Alexander family seat, and the walls of native stone were over two meters thick. Unlike some commodities, rock had been plentiful when White Haven was first built, and enough of it worked just as well as more esoteric off-world insulation would have.

He turned back to the huge fireplace and added another log. He adjusted it with the poker, settling the native hemlock (which, in fact, bore very little resemblance to the Old Earth tree of the same name) into the bed of coals, then straightened and replaced the poker in its stand as he checked the wall clock again. It was twelve past comp, well into the twenty-seven-minute midnight “hour” officially called Compensate that adjusted Manticore’s 22.45-hour day to permit use of Standard Reckoning time units, and his eyebrow rose again. Even allowing for the time zone difference, it was unusual for his brother to screen him this late—and even more unusual for him to specify the exact time at which he would call.

The com terminal on his desk beeped as if to punctuate his thoughts, and he walked briskly over to answer it. He sat in the huge, padded chair his great-grandfather had commissioned from the craftsmen of the Sandalwood System over a T-century before and signaled acceptance of the call.

The screen lit with his younger brother’s face.

“Hi, Hamish,” the Honorable William MacLeish Alexander said.

“Hello, Willie.” Alexander tipped the chair back and crossed his legs. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your Commander Harrington,” William replied, coming to the point even more quickly than usual.

“My Commander Harrington?” Alexander arched both eyebrows, and William grinned from the screen.

“Don’t take that surprised tone with me, Hamish! You’ve gloated enough over what she’s been up to.”

“ ‘Gloat’ is such a crude word,” Alexander protested. Then he grinned back. “Still, I suppose I have alluded to her achievements a time or two.”

“And usually as rudely as possible, when there’s a Liberal or Progressive in the vicinity,” William agreed.

“A family trait. But just what was it you wanted to say about her?”

“Actually, I’m acting in something of the role of an emissary for my esteemed prime minister.” William’s words remained light, but there was an undertone of seriousness in his voice. “Were you aware that Klaus Hauptman went out in person to browbeat her into backing off?”

“No, I wasn’t.” Alexander made no effort to hide his disgust. “I suppose I should have expected it. I doubt he succeeded, though.”

“No, he didn’t—but I’d like to know why you seem so confident he wouldn’t have.”