Harrington Freehold,
County Duvalier,
Duchy of Shadow Vale,
Planet Sphinx,
Manticore Binary System,
March 1860 PD.
“And aren’t you just the cutest little volcano!” Allison Harrington said as she laid young Honor back in the bassinet.
She removed the towel from her shoulder, congratulating herself on her foresight. Honor was an even-tempered baby, and indescribably cute. She also had her father’s metabolism, and when she ate, she did it with . . . enthusiasm. Enough enthusiasm that she sometimes ingested significant amounts of air along with her nutrition.
It wasn’t that big a problem when Allison was nursing, but she didn’t have the Meyerdahl mods, and she couldn’t possibly produce enough breastmilk to stay ahead of the adorable little black hole in the bassinet. And when it came to baby bottles—or, worse, to cereal—air got into the pipeline. And tended to come back up, accompanied by messy bubbles, when Honor was burped.
Of course, the messy bubbles coming up were less messy than what the other end of her alimentary canal produced. And with her appetite, she did a lot of producing.
Allison removed the soiled towel and bent over the bassinet, cooing to Honor, who gurgled happily and reached up with a tiny, perfect hand. Allison captured it and pressed a quick kiss to it, then tossed the towel into the laundry and checked the time.
Rebecca should be back from Yawata Crossing in another hour, at which point Allison would—regretfully—pass the Honor-watching duty off to her mother-in-law so that she could concentrate on some of the work she’d brought home from Queen Elizabeth’s. She’d been here on Sphinx for two days now, and she’d conscientiously spent at least a couple of hours each day on work.
She felt a little guilty—but only a very little—over taking a long weekend, but Rebecca and Alex hadn’t seen Honor in almost two T-weeks. Obviously it was Allison’s duty to take the extra day—she had almost a solid month of comp time banked—to deliver their baby fix! And, she reminded herself with a pleasant glow of virtue, she had brought an entire folder of case files to review. It wasn’t like—
“Incoming message from the tall guy,” her uni-link’s personalized AI announced, and she arched an eyebrow.
At the moment, Sphinx and Manticore were almost half a light-hour apart as they neared superior conjunction, and Alfred was supposed to join her here on Sphinx tomorrow. So what was important enough for him to burst-message her at this point? Unless something had come up at Bassingford and he’d be unable to get away after all.
“Play message,” she told the uni-link, and Alfred appeared on the small display.
“Hi, Honey,” he said, and her arched eyebrow came down as she frowned at his tone. “Look, I’m sorry I won’t be able to get home to Mom and Dad after all. Scepter just got back from Silesia. She picked up Jacques’s team from Pankowski. Manpower sent in a bunch of mercs, and there was an ugly firefight. We lost Lieutenant Shing, and Sergeant Major Brockmann doesn’t look good.”
He paused, and Allison’s hand rose to cover her lips. She knew—she’d known—Shing for years, and Brockmann . . . Brockmann had been the pilot on the shuttle that saved her and Alfred!
“I think we’ll pull Brockmann through,” Alfred continued. “But Jacques—” He paused again, then inhaled deeply. “Jacques got hit, too. He wants you to come to Bassingford. He . . . needs to see you, Love. I think you should get here as soon as you can. And bring Honor. He wants to see her, too.”