"That much," Elizabeth conceded, "is true. And"—the queen's eyes narrowed shrewdly, and she cocked her head—"the fact that he's so strongly committed to stamping out the genetic slave trade probably helps just a tad where you're concerned, too, doesn't it?"

"I'll admit that." Honor nodded. "And, frankly, from what Stacey had to say, he's not taking the possibility of Manpower's involvement in what's going on in Talbott what someone might call calmly."

"No, I suppose not."

Elizabeth leaned back in her armchair, and the treecat stretched along its top purred buzzingly as the back of her head pressed against his silken pelt. He reached down, caressing her cheek with one long-fingered true-hand, and she reached up to stroke his spine in return.

"He's not exactly alone in that reaction, is he, though?" she continued.

"No."

Honor sighed and scooped Nimitz up. She gave him a hug, then deposited him in her lap, rolled him up on his back, and began to scratch the soft fur of his belly. He let his head fall back, eyes more than half-slitted, and her lips quirked as he purred in delight.

In point of fact, Elizabeth's last question was its own form of thundering understatement, and she wondered what the response on Old Terra was like. By now, their newsies had to have picked up the reports coming out of Manticore, and it wouldn't be very long before the first Solarian reporters started flooding through Manticore, trying to get to Spindle and New Tuscany to cover the story.

"I'm sure you have at least as good a feel for how people are reacting to all this as Stacey does," she pointed out after a moment.