Imbesi sighed. Then, with a little ironic smile: "Your stubbornness is not simply a matter of reputation, I see. That's a compliment, by the way. All right, Captain Oversteegen. Can you be certain this exchange can't be unscrambled by anyone on that freighter? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

Oversteegen's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Cheney, who nodded vigorously.

"We're usin' Alliance technology here, Mister Imbesi. On both ends," Oversteegan said, turning back to the face on his com... and careful to substitute "Alliance" for "Manticoran." Imbesi would probably notice his choice of adjectives, but one had to be polite. Especially with an ally who was already pissed off with one's government.

Again, his eyes moved to the tactical display. And an ironic little smile came to his own lips.

"I imagine those Solarians have an inflated notion of their own technical abilities—and what is a Solarian flotilla doin' in this system, anyway?—but I can assure you that not even they stand a chance of eavesdroppin' on this exchange."

Imbesi nodded. "All right, then." His smile widened and became, oddly enough, even more ironic. "Let me introduce you to someone."

A moment later, a young woman's image came into the display.

"Hello, Michael," she said, and Oversteegen frowned. The face on his screen was obviously Berry Zilwicki, yet there was something about that voice... something he couldn't quite put his mental finger on.

"Pardon me, Ms. Zilwicki," he said, after a moment, "but I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

"No, you and Berry Zilwicki haven't," that maddeningly familiar voice agreed. "But I'm not her. I'm Ruth Winton, Michael."

Oversteegen stiffened. As a distant relative of the Queen (and one who had been in much better odor at Mount Royal Palace before his relative had become Prime Minister), he was one of the very small number of people who had actually met the reclusive princess. Who didn't look much at all like the young woman on his display. But the voice, now... He strained his memory, and his frown deepened.

"That's... an interestin' announcement, 'Your Highness,' " he said a bit slowly. "Under the circumstances, however, I trust you will agree that it behooves me t' be certain that you are, indeed, who you claim t' be."

The girl smiled. "Of course I agree. Unfortunately, I don't have any secret code words and—" Her smile faltered abruptly. "—I'm afraid none of my protective detail have survived to verify my story." She inhaled deeply, then shook herself. "All I can offer is that I do remember we were introduced once, though I can't remember anything about the occasion except it was big, and formal, and boring beyond belief."

Oversteegen's memory of the event was far better, naturally, since it wasn't often that a relative as distant as himself was invited to a royal family gathering.

"It was the christenin' of your cousin Robert, Your Highness," he said, and the face on his screen flashed another brilliant smile.

"Oh, very good, Michael!" she congratulated. "It most certainly wasn't Robert's christening—I was home with the flu that afternoon. But now that you've jogged my memory, I recall that it was my cousin Jessica's christening, wasn't it?"

Oversteegen felt himself relax, and he cleared his throat. "So it was, Your Highness. I take it that reports of your abduction were, ah, somewhat exaggerated, then."

The princess shook her head. "Not all that highly, Captain. They did, in fact—yes, it was Masadan fanatics, that part's all true—abduct Berry Zilwicki, whom they thought was the princess."

Oversteegen didn't need Lieutenant Gohr to explain what was now obvious to him, but that didn't keep the lieutenant from muttering under her breath. " Zilwicki! Him and his tricks! He must have switched the identities of the girls and—oh."

The captain fought down a smile. It wasn't often that his ATO lagged behind his own calculations.

" Oh," Gohr repeated. "The Queen must have been part of the deception from the beginning. We're swimming in deep waters here, Sir, if you'll pardon my saying so."

"Deep waters, indeed," Oversteegen murmured.

Princess Ruth continued: "But the thing is, you see, they didn't really manage to abduct her either. Because—with some help from—oh, lots of people—she escaped. She's quite safe, at the moment. And now—"

Oversteegen suspected that he was witness to an unusual event. Princess Ruth seemed at a loss for words. Something which, he was almost certain, happened very rarely to the young woman.

Where military protocol seemed no longer quite applicable—and with Manticoran diplomatic niceties in the complete mess which High Ridge and his crew had left it—Oversteegen decided to fall back on old-fashioned aristocratic chivalry.

"Would you like me t' come and pay a personal visit then, Your Highness?" A quick glance at the tactical display. The freighter was giving no signs of life at all. "So long as you can assure me—"

The princess' loss of words was momentary. Firmly, even regally: "Yes, I would, Captain. And I can assure you there will be no—what did you call it?—outbreak of 'hostilities.' " Her slender jaw set. "Not the kind you meant, anyway. Forget that freighter, Captain. That slaver ship, I should say, because that's what we're sure it really is."

The princess glanced aside, as if studying someone not visible in the display image. Her jaw seemed to tighten further, and she almost hissed the next words.

"I shall be very surprised, Captain, if any guilty party on that ship is alive for very long. If they are alive, they'll certainly be in custody—and might very well wish they were dead."

Oversteegen now found himself as curious as he was relieved.

"You must have met some interestin' people lately, Your Highness. I do hope you'll see fit t' introduce me. In any event, I'll be over as soon as my pinnace can bring me. We'll consider the matter a family visit."

He cocked an eye. "Armed, or unarmed, Your Highness? And with or without a military escort? Naturally, I'd normally come unarmed and unescorted into your presence, on such an occasion."

Princess Ruth's smile was now royal graciousness personified. "Oh, I don't think arms will be necessary, Captain, other than your own personal sidearm. As for an escort, I'd simply recommend your ATO. That's Lieutenant Gohr, I believe. Betty Gohr. My—ah, Captain Zilwicki—has a high regard for her."

"Done, Your Highness."

The image vanished, and Oversteegen glanced at Gohr. The lieutenant's face looked simultaneously pleased and—very, very apprehensive.

"I don't know Anton Zilwicki, Sir!" she protested. "How the hell—sorry, pardon the language—how would he possibly know me ?" Almost wailing, now: "I'm just a lieutenant!"

For some peculiar reason, the young officer's distress cheered Oversteegen up immensely.

"Deep waters, indeed, Lieutenant Gohr. Though it's said, y'know—granted, mostly by a lot of disreputable rascals—that Captain Zilwicki is the shrewdest fish in those waters."