"God, I hate this kind of stuff," she muttered.
"I know you do. Sometimes I wish you were the sort who ate it up with a spoon, instead. But then you wouldn't be you, I suppose."
"Then Nimitz would cut my throat in my sleep, you mean!" Honor laughed. "You have no idea how a ravening mob of newsies affects a treecat's empathic sense!"
"No, but I've been basking in the reflected glow of your glory enough lately for Samantha to give me a shrewd notion the effect isn't good."
"To put it mildly."
The limo banked, and she frowned, looking out the window.
"Where are we going?"
"I'm afraid we're going to Admiralty House," Hamish told her.
"No!" Honor said sharply. "I want to see Emily and Katherine!"
"I know you do. But Elizabeth wants-"
"I don't give a damn what Elizabeth wants!" Honor snapped. Hamish blinked, sitting back and looking at her in astonishment. "Not this time, Hamish!" she continued angrily. "I want to see my wife and daughter. The Queen of Manticore, the Protector of Grayson, and the Emperor of the Known Universe can all get in line and wait behind the two of them!"
"Honor," he began carefully, "she wants to congratulate you, and she arranged to do it at Admiralty House, not Mount Royal Palace, because she wants all the rest of the Navy to be part of it. And she scheduled it originally to give you at least five hours at Jason Bay before the ceremony."
"I don't care." Honor sat back and crossed her arms. "Not this time. I'm going to hug our daughter before I do one more thing. Elizabeth's hung all these honors and rewards and presents on me, but I've never asked her for a thing. Well, today I'm asking. And if she doesn't want to give it to me, then I'm telling, instead of asking."
"I see."
Hamish gazed at her for a moment, remembering the diffident, focused, professionally fearless yet personally unassertive young captain he'd first met in Yeltsin so many years before. That Honor Harrington would never have dreamed of telling the Queen of Manticore to get in line behind her infant daughter. This one, however....
He pulled out his personal communicator and activated it.
"Willie?" he said. "Hamish. I told you not rescheduling was a bad idea. She's really, really pissed, and I don't blame her."
He listened for a moment, then shrugged.
"You're the Prime Minister of Manticore. I think dealing with situations like this is part of the job. So you trot into your office, screen Elizabeth, and suggest, ever so respectfully, that we reschedule. Personally, I think she'll see the wisdom of the suggestion. I hope she does, anyway."
He paused, listening again, and Honor could taste his amusement. She could also actually hear Baron Grantville's raised voice rattling the receiver pressed to Hamish's ear.
"Well, that's your problem, brother dear," he said with a grin. "Personally, I'm not stupid enough to argue with my wife-either of my wives-over something like this. So, we're going home. Have a nice day."
He deactivated the com and dropped its back into his pocket, then rapped on the partition between them and the pilot's compartment. It opened, and Tobias Stimson looked back at him.
"Yes, My Lord?"
"Jefferson Bay, Tobias."
"Very good, My Lord," Stimson said with obvious approval, and Hamish smiled at Honor as the air limo banked again.
"Better?"
"Yes," she said, just a bit darkly. "And the fact that you came around so quickly means you'll live to see another day despite the fact that you were going to drag me off to Admiralty House in the first place."
"Um." He rubbed the side of his head for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. In my defense, I'll only plead that the schedule was set yesterday, before you ran late. I'd gotten the timing into my head then."
"Hmph." She looked at him, then gave her head a little toss. "Fair enough, I suppose," she agreed grudgingly. "Just... don't let it happen again."
Katherine Allison Miranda Alexander-Harrington was a red-faced, scowling, beautiful baby, Honor thought. And her opinion was, of course, completely unbiased. After all, Raoul Alfred Andrew was at least equally beautiful, even if he was an older man.
She sat with Katherine in her arms, parked in her favorite lounger on the terrace, overlooking Jason Bay. Umbrellas kept the direct sunlight off the babies, and Emily's life-support chair was parked beside her.
They weren't exactly alone. Sandra Thurston and Lindsey Phillips had been waiting with Emily when Honor arrived. Sandra had been cuddling Katherine until Honor and Hamish got there, and Lindsey still had Raoul in her arms, with his sleeping face pillowed on her shoulder. Nimitz and Samantha had draped themselves across the umbrella-shielded table, basking in the children's mind-glows, and Andrew LaFollet and Jefferson McClure had been keeping an eye on Emily and the babies. Tobias Stimson and Honor's three-man personal detail had joined them, and now the six of them stood along the outer edge of the terrace, not exactly unobtrusively but giving them a protected bubble of privacy.
"We do good work," Honor said, smiling as she sampled the still uninformed mind-glow of the blanket-wrapped infant in her arms. She reached out, stroking the impossibly soft cheek with the tip of her right index finger, then looked up at Emily.
"Well, Dr. Illescue and his people had a little something to do with the mechanics," Emily replied with a huge smile of her own. "And your mother's willingness to kick me in the posterior played a part, too. Still," she continued judiciously, "I'd have to say, on balance-and only after due and careful consideration, you understand-that you have a point."
"I only wish I'd been there when she was born," Honor said softly.
"I know." Emily reached out and patted her on the thigh. "I guess not all aspects of technology are really progress. I mean, once upon a time the only people who had to worry about not being there when babies were born were the fathers. The mothers were always there."
"I hadn't really thought about it quite that way," Honor said.
"I had," Hamish said, coming out of the house behind them. James MacGuiness, Miranda LaFollet, and Farragut followed him, and Hamish raised his right hand, flourishing the beer steins in it proudly.
"Had what?" his senior wife asked as he reached them and bent to give each of them a quick kiss.
"Thought about whether or not it was really progress," he said, plunking the steins down and watching as MacGuiness carefully poured them full of Old Tilman.
"I got to be there for both of them," he continued, "and that was good. But I was really pissed at the Admiralty for sending Honor off at that particular time. In fact, I was so pissed I decided to take it up personally with the First Lord. The conversation was a little confusing."
"You're always a little confused, dear," Emily told him, watching as he and Honor sampled their beers.
"Nonsense!" he said briskly. "I'm always a lot confused."
"Well, don't confuse the babies," Honor advised.
"Lindsey won't let me," Hamish pouted, and Honor looked across at the nanny in surprise.
"Lindsey won't let you? That sounds suspiciously like she's become a permanent fixture!"
"I have, Your Grace," Lindsey said with a smile. "Unless you'd rather not, of course. Your mother told me you were going to need help, especially with your schedule, and since-as she rather charmingly put it-she had me 'nicely broken in,' she'd feel better if I was available to you and Lady Emily."
"Well, of course I'd rather! But can Mother really spare you from the twins?"