She tried to settle back into the pillows and return to her memory of Jacques, but the mood had disappeared.
“Damn it all!” she swore.
***
“Her servant has informed me that the lady is indisposed, Captain,” said Griggs.
Captain Belis allowed herself a slight smile. “How unfortunate for the lady. Well, let us hope she will see theArgusanother time.”
Griggs nodded and slipped away.
Belis made sure no one else was close by then murmured to her executive officer, “Miles, we have a diva on our hands.”
“You could be right,” replied the XO. “If only she knew what her father had said about the whole thing! ‘First and utmost priority must be given to the safe care and delivery of the mandalum. And, of course, my daughter.’”
Belis shook her head. “The man’s not a fool. What we carry in our hold is the product of five years of careful mining. This voyage either makes his family’s fortunes or sinks them beyond recovery.”
“I will confess this notion has been bothering me, Captain. Whyus? I mean, Lord Gryffin could easily have afforded a military escort or persuaded his new friends in government to provide one for free. And yet, here we are.”
“Have you ever heard of the Plate Fleet?”
“Plate Fleet? No, ma’am,” stammered the XO.
“History, Miles. Ancient Earth. What they called the Golden Age of Piracy. The Spanish Empire would ship gold from their colonies back to Spain. They feared pirates, not surprisingly, since they were a force to be reckoned with. So, different ships would set out from different ports at the same time—some filled with gold plate, others with heavily armed soldiers. So the stories go anyway.”
“Ah,” said the XO, with an expression of understanding. “So we are not the only ship leaving Palamar today.”
“Indeed, we are not.”
“But what if someone should discover we have a member of Lord Fallon’s family on board?” pressed the XO.
“We are not even the only ship to be so blessed,” replied the captain. “Indeed, other ships have Lord Fallon’s wife, his firstborn son…and we, Miles, only have Fallon’s second-born daughter.”
***
For the next few days, the voyage of theArguscontinued without incident. Lady Aria graced the captain’s table for meals when she chose, and, when she did so, the officers of the ship were on their very best behavior. On those occasions when the lady pled illness, or simply disinterest, the level of merriment at the table was considerably higher.
The greatest burden of hospitality was on Supervisor Griggs. He was starting to hear the comm signal that heralded Fitzjohn, Lady Aria’s majordomo, in his dreams. During his waking hours, the calls were no less regular, and insistent.
The wrong scented lotions for Lady Aria’s bath. Substandard towels. Unacceptable delays in the delivery of carefully curated meals for her cabin. A disrespectful exchange between the lady’s servants and the ship’s workers. And on and on. During his infrequent breaks, Griggs was online, researching jobs with the Interstellar Marine Corps, where at least they did not have to deal with demanding second daughters of planetary aristocracy.
His comm sounded yet again. Griggs sighed and activated it.
“Griggs? Fitzjohn here,” came the unctuous voice the supervisor had come to loathe in a very short time.
“Yes, Majordomo,” Griggs acknowledged. “How can I help you this morning?”
“The Lady Aria has asked me to inform you—that she is no longer able to contact her home on Palamar.” Griggs closed his eyes and rubbed at a spot on his forehead.
Griggs frowned. “No communications at all?”
“So milady informs me,” said Fitzjohn primly.
“Understood, majordomo.” Griggs turned and headed for the ship’s comms center. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”
“Milady wonders if you might have a time estimate for when the situation might be rectified.”
“I’ll let you know the moment I find out what’s wrong.” Griggs ended the call.
