Sabatine rubbed her brow with the heel of her left hand, managing to avoid touching her eye and leaving it stinging for the next several hours. She was beyond rung out and was working hard to keep from trembling.

“Sit,” Kaiden directed, making an off handed gesture to one of the seats. Sabatine gratefully sank into the uncomfortable chair, grateful to be off her feet. The conference room of the Bureau’s facility was converted from what must have been an old longue or bar, still faintly redolent of tobacco and beer despite countless steam cleanings. It offered a view out over the lunar landscape, a broad vista of grey white dust and rock. Here and there mining vehicles, rusted behemoths on caterpillar treads, rumbled to and fro on unknown errands. The mining hub had been built in a crater to protect it from meteor damage and the looming kilometer high lip of the crater was visible in the distance, the lights of the massive freight elevator that took vehicles took and from the lunar surface glittering against the stone..Both the Vickie and the K-21 had landed at the docking facilities meant for much smaller mining vessels and were now taking on reaction mass from melted ice deep beneath the mantle.  Tilda, acting as a proper servant for once, produced a bottle of something and poured a measure of liquor into two plastic glasses. Sabatine was so grateful for a drink that she momentarily forgot her dislike for the former reporter and nodded her thanks.

 

“Thank you sir,” Sabatine responded formally, lifting her cup to clink against Kaiden’s before sinking most of it in one pull. It was a bourbon of some kind, and pretty good for a station here at the end of nowhere. She wondered if Tilda had scrounged it locally or if it had come from Kaiden’s stocks. Probably the former, nothing but the best for the Prince afterall.

 

“As for how they took Herculaneum, I’ve been thinking about it since we bolted,” she admitted.

“And?” Kaiden pressed, sipping at his own drink and gazing out at the lunar landscaped. Sabatine shrugged her shoulders.

“Dammed if I know. Maybe the locals sold us out, most of the aristocracy was pretty solidly RCN but there is always someone out of power who thinks they can do better under a different master. Bring troops in on merchantmen a few at a time and seize the control centers in the dead of night? They must have caught the Hamptor on the ground, maybe some other ships too. Hold out long enough to bring in the rest of your fleet lurking on the edge of the system,” she mused, finishing her drink and holding it out for Tilda to refill. The loss of a base like Herculaneum with its defenses intact, even out here in the sticks, was a calamity. Heads would roll when Navy House investigated what had gone wrong, assuming of course those heads hadn’t rolled when the Alliance moved in.

 

“They took Kostroma that way a few years back, briefly anyway, before Leary took it back with Admiral Jessup,” she continued. That had been different of course. Kostroma was a Cinnabar ally but a wog was a wog and what could one expect? But an RCN base? It was unthinkable.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” a lean looking man in the uniform of an RCN Lieutenant announced as he stepped through the door. He was in a set of grays that had seen better days, probably been second hand when he bought them and since picked up numerous grease stains. He had a commo helmet under one arm and the pimpliest midshipman Sabatine had ever seen in tow. The midshipman’s neat fatigues clashed jarringly with his superior’s dilapidated appearance.  Both Sabatine and Kaiden pretended not to notice. It was a fact that even under the best of circumstances an RCN officer without private means could find himself in financial straits, particularly if he had a family to support and no access to prize money, something that certainly wouldn’t come to the commander of a supply ship. RCN convention at least at their level, demanded they not acknowledge it.

 

“Lieutenant Hickoring this is Lieutenant Rachet, commanding the supply ship Whitehall,” Kaiden announced formally. Sabatine stood up, managing to avoid swaying and shook hands with the greasy officer.

“Charmed, I was in the class behind you in the academy, saw you shoot once, topping!” Rachet gushed with friendly bonhomie.” Sabatine smiled and relaxed slightly, sinking back into her seat. Rachet had done well to earn himself a command so early in his career, even if it was a clapped out supply barge like the Whitehall, but at least that left Kaiden in command by virtue of his commissioning date. The last thing they needed now was some barge driver looking to take command and make a name for himself. That was uncharitable, but Sabatine was too tired to be polite in her thoughts as well as her words.

 

“I suppose the how of it doesn’t matter that much,” Sabatine said, taking a more measured sip of liquor. The warmth of the bourbon was already spreading through her and if she wasn’t careful she was going to fall asleep.

 

“The question is what should we do about it?”