"What's wrong?" Roger asked.
"Christ, Your Highness," Catrone said in an anguished voice, dropping his face into his hands. "Now she's coming on to me! That bastard. That stinking bastard!"
"Pock!" Roger leaned back and grabbed his ponytail.
He stared at the older man for several seconds, then inhaled deeply.
"Tomcat, I know how hard this is for you. But you have to stay with her. You have to stay with us!"
"I will," Catrone said. He raised his head, tears running down his face. "If I leave, who knows what she'll latch onto? But, God! Roger, it's hard!"
"Be her paladin, Tomcat," Roger said then, his face set. "If needs be, damn it, be more than her paladin."
"Roger!"
"You just said it yourself. If you're not there for her, someone else will be. Someone who's not as good a man as you are. Someone I can't trust like you. Someone she can't trust like you. You're on this post until relieved, Sergeant Major. Is that understood? And you'll do whatever it takes to stand your post, Marine. Clear?"
"Clear," Catrone grated. "Order received and understood, and I will comply. You bastard."
"That I am." Roger grinned tightly. "Literally and figuratively. The last bastard standing. The flag of the Basik's Own wears a bar sinister proudly. We carried it across two continents, and to Old Earth, and into this very damned Palace, and we did anything necessary to complete the mission. Welcome to the Regiment. Now you know what it means to be one of us."
"And I think we should inform Mistress Tompkins that I'll need a new dress, don't you?" Alexandra said softly.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lady Russell agreed.
They sat in a gazebo, watching cold rain fall beyond the force screen. Lady Russell was expertly sewing a tapestry, while the Empress mangled a needlepoint of a puppy in a basket.
"I'll never know how you do that so well," the Empress said, smiling politely.
"Years of practice, Your Majesty," Lady Russell replied.
"I'll have many years to practice—
"—two carrier squadrons to the Marduk System," Alexandra said, her face hard. "Given what Roger's said about—"
She stopped, and looked around, frowning.
"Where am I?" she asked in a voice which was suddenly cold and dead.
"The gazebo, Your Majesty," Lady Russell said softly, and looked at her half-fearfully. "Are you well?"
"I was in the conference room," Alexandra said tightly. "I was in a meeting!It was sunny!Where's the meeting?Where are the people?Why is it raining?"
"That—" Lady Russell swallowed. "Your Majesty, that was two days ago."
"Oh, my God," Alexandra whispered, and looked at the material in her lap. "What is this?"
"Needlepoint?" Lady Russell asked, reaching unobtrusively for her communicator.
"It's bloody awful, is what it is!" Alexandra spun the hoop across the gazebo. "Get me Sergeant Major Catrone!"
"Sit, Sergeant Major," Alexandra said, and pointed to the seat Lady Russell had vacated.
"Your Majesty," Tomcat said.
At Roger's order, Catrone had once more donned the blue and red of the Empress' Own, at his old rank of sergeant major. He wore dress uniform, and the golden aiguillette hanging from his shoulder indicated Gold Battalion, the personal command—and bodyguard—of the reigning monarch. Empress Alexandra VII, in this case.
"What happened in the meeting, Sergeant Major?" Alexandra rubbed her face furiously. "I was in the meeting, and then I was here, in the gazebo. What happened to me? Who's doing this to me?"
"First of all," Catrone said carefully, "no one is doing anything to you, Your Majesty. It's already been done."
She stopped rubbing and sat still, her hands still over her eyes, and he continued.
"Your Majesty, you have two mental states, as we've tried to explain to you before." He waved a hand at her. "This state. Alexandra the Seventh, Empress of the Empire of Man. Fully functional. As good a sovereign as I've ever served. Twice the sovereign her father ever was."
"Thank you for the soft soap, Tomcat," Alexandra said mockingly, eyes still covered. "And my other... state?"
"The other," he said even more carefully, then paused. "Well, Your Majesty, in the other you're... pliable. You still occasionally ask for your 'good friend,' the Earl of New Madrid, and refer to Prince Jackson as 'Our loyal Prince Jackson.'"
"Oh, God," she said.
"Do you really want it all?" Catrone asked. "Face facts, Your Majesty. You're still in a pretty delicate condition."
"I want it all." She sighed, lowering her hands at last. Then her face firmed, and she met his eye levelly. "All. What happened?"
"In your other state—"
"What do you call that?" she interrupted. "If you call... this one Alexandra. Do you call it Alexandra, Tomcat?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said firmly. "This is the Empress Alexandra. The woman I gave my service to long ago."
"And the other?"
"Well," Catrone winced. "We just call it la-la-land. The doctors have a long technical name—"
"I can imagine," she said dryly. "Do I know I'm Empress?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Catrone's swallowed. "But, frankly, we just ignore anything you tell us to do. You generally don't give any orders, though."
He paused.
"What do I do?" she asked.
"Whatever you're told," Catrone said, his face hard. "About the only positive contribution you make is to ask when your very special friend will be back. And if he's not around, you hit on me, Your Majesty."
"Oh, Christ, Thomas." Her face went blank, and tears formed in her eyes. "Oh, Christ. I'm so sorry!"
"I'm not." Catrone shrugged. "I'm not happy that this has happened to you, Your Majesty, but I'm glad it's me. I've never seen you do it to any other male..." He paused again, then shrugged. "Except Roger."
"What?!"
"You think he's New Madrid," Catrone said. "You said all."
"And I meant it," Alexandra ground out. She inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, and leaned back in her chair. "You said I was out for two days?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. We just left you with your ladies. You were... monitored by the guards to make sure none of them started giving suggestions."
"Good," Alexandra said firmly. Then she softened, and looked at him oddly. "Thomas?"
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
Her voice was much softer, and he watched her expression carefully, wondering if she'd wandered off again.
"I'm me," she said, and astonished him with a grin. "I could see the question in your eyes. But I have a very serious question of my own, one I'd like an honest answer to. What did my son tell you to do? About my come-ons?"
Catrone's hands worked on the arms of his chair, and he stared out at the rain for several long moments. Then he looked back at her and raised his eyes to meet her gray ones.
"He ordered me to do whatever was necessary to keep you from finding some other... gentleman companion," he said bluntly. "The doctors all agreed that any such... gentleman companion could tell you to give any order he thought up when you're in your la-la state."
"My God, he is a bastard, isn't he?" There was actually a bubble of delight in Alexandra's voice, and she shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I'm having a hard time framing this next question, Thomas. Did he do that... ?"