Chapter 15
The Second Saxon
12th of Sixthmoon, 6 Charles 9
Gloston Bay, Neveland

The Junker Jorg was hovering over a tanker while it was being refueled in order to make the final leg of her journey to Vlatoska. Many airships were designed to be capable of water landings and takeoffs, but it was generally reserved for emergencies. Airships were rather expensive to risk decorating the ocean floor.
While the refueling was going on, Root decided to assemble the military liaison. There hadn't been much for them to do the past several days, but once they reached Gavrilgrad, they were going to find themselves busier, even if they'd just be standing there while Sir Armand and the civilian diplomats sussed out their negotiations.
"Alright, people, listen up," Root began. "We'll be entering Vlatoskan airspace tomorrow and should arrive in Gavrilgrad by nightfall. Remember that we're mostly here for appearances, so make damn well sure your appearing to standard. Don't speak unless spoken to. Maintain OPSEC at all times. Don't go anywhere alone. Pair up, triple up, or better yet, don't stray from the group at all. Mind what you eat; mind what you drink even more. Never forget that you're representing the Kingdom of Byrandia, His Majesty the King, His Majesty's Armed Forces, the flag, the uniform, all that good stuff. Any questions?"
Silence.
"Alright then. On your feet!"
They sprang up and stood at attention. They would have saluted, but it was decided that they would stick to Navy protocol on the Jorg and refrain from saluting indoors.
As the assembled members were filing out of the briefing room, Root was knitting his brows in annoyance. There were three notable absences Root hadn't seen even once ever since they left Saintcharles. Supposedly they had come down with the shingles and were being kept in isolation until the contagious period ended. Root wondered why they weren't just offloaded before they left Byrandia, but the ship's doctor didn't want to risk spreading the infection by moving them. He insisted they would be fit for duty within a month's time. By then the mission might be over, though.
Root then found himself in Sickbay confronting the doctor. When he walked into Sickbay, he found himself remembering the last time he was there. Dr. Melanc with the Fiebre Sisters helping him out. Root wondered if the pious old doc ever succeeded in saving those two poor unfortunate girls' souls.
Dr. Badreau, the current ship's doctor, didn't have the same wizened sacerdotal air about him as Dr. Melanc. In fact, he was thoroughly unremarkable. I felt like Root would forget his face the moment he walked out the door.
"Oh, ah, Colonel Maartens," the Doctor said. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Feeling a little under the weather, are we?"
"You know what this is about, Doc," Root replied. "The three that're down with the shingles, Sub-Lieutenant Detrois, Sergeant Eisenborg, Corporal Pardot. I want to see them."
"But, Colonel, the contagious period—"
"I've already had the chicken pox," Root said. "It'll be fine."
"You risk spreading it to others who haven't."
"I'll take a shower afterward."
"Colonel, you—"
"Lieutenant Detrois," Root said firmly. "Now."
"I can't possibly—"
Root slung his arm around the Doctor's shoulder and pulled him in close, saying, "The water's damn cold outside, Doc. Unless you feel like going for a swim, you'll take me to Lieutenant Detrois."
Using the strong-arm approach wasn't usually Root's style, but his patience had worn thin. He didn't want to land down in Vlatoska with three people on his team whose faces he'd never seen. It seemed rather convenient for them to all come down with an illness that'd keep them out of sight until they were well past the point of no return. He had to consider the possibility of infiltrators seeking to sabotage the mission. For all he knew, Dr. Bardeau was in on it. Root would feel less guilty about threatening to chuck him overboard if that were true.
"I refuse to be held responsible if you spread the infection," Dr. Bardeau said.
"I'll be sure you won't take the rap for it, Doc."
"They're in their quarters, Colonel. I trust you know the room assignments."
"Yeah. What do I do if they have the door locked?"
"You can speak with the Officer of the Watch and he can send an MA with the master key."
"Alright," Root said. "Thanks, Doc."
"Um, sure."
Now, the ordinary approach would be to first go to the rooms and only go bother the Officer of the Watch if they didn't let him in, but if Root did that, they could make a point to be elsewhere by the time he came back with the key. It would pretty well expose their game, but they might have had something planned for that scenario as well. Root's best chance was to take them by surprise, so he went to the Officer of the Watch first. He only hoped the Doctor didn't have some way of communicating with them. It might have been a good idea to get some people on the case, but he didn't want to tip his hand. It was a calculated risk he had to hope would pay off.
If these three were spies, it was likely that their given ranks didn't reflect their actual standing, but Root decided to go from the top down. With the MA dispatched by the Officer of the Watch in tow, he made his way to Sub-Lieutenant Detrois' room.
Knocking on the door, he said in a loud voice, "Sub-Lieutnant Detrois, this is Colonel Maartens. Open up!"
There was no answer, so he knocked again.
"Sub-Lieutenant Detrois, this is Colonel Maartens. If you're in there, open the door."
Still no answer. Root nodded to the MA and he unlocked the door. It was a four-man room for junior officers. Sub-Lieutenant Detrois was supposed to be the only one there, but three of the bunks (racks, whatever) were occupied. All three were covering themselves with their blankets so you couldn't see them. It might have been the old pillow trick, but if Sub-Lieutenant Detrois had snuck out, why would she make it look like there were three of them?
"Sub-Lieutenant Detrois, this is Colonel Maartens," Root said. "I'm coming in."
"You should stay out, sir," a woman's voice from the top-left bunk (rack, whatever) said. Her voice had that sort of raspy sound you'd use when you were faking being sick. "We're still contagious. I don't want you to catch this."
'We'? That was interesting. Did that mean the whole bunch of them were in here? But wasn't Sergeant Eisenborg supposed to be a male? One thing at a time...
"I appreciate your concerns, Lieutenant," Root replied as he stepped into the room, "but you don't need to worry about that. I was wanting to let you know that we've had to turn back for repairs. We'll be able to offload you in Calorman so you can recover in more comfortable accommodations than this. A damn sight better'n this, right?"
"What!?" she exclaimed, albeit without turning to face him like most people would. "We're going back!? You can't—!"
Root went over and took hold of Sub-Lieutenant Detrois' blanket and said, "Didn't your momma teach you that it's rude not to look at a person when he's talkin' to you?"
"No, wait! I haven't got any clothes on!"
"Like I'm fallin' for that!" Root balked as he yanked back the blanket.
He was greeted by the sight of a woman's bare back. She screamed. Someone delivered a swift kick to the back of his knee, causing his leg to buckle. A strong arm slammed him down on the deck and although he couldn't possibly have seen it, something within him drove him to cry out.
"Azuki, stop!"
The scene around Root was so ridiculous he didn't want to believe it. A man was being held in a headlock by a naked Azuki, who was only a half-second from snapping his neck. Then there was the equally naked (or at least topless) young woman on the top bunk (rack, whatever). Root thought he recognized her voice when she dropped the sick act and now that he could see her face, sure enough, it was none other than Princess Anne. It was going to take him a moment to process all this.
Before he could do that, though, he told the MA, "Sailor, I want you to close the door. We have some things to sort out here."
"But, sir, I—"
"That's an order, sailor."
"A, aye-aye, sir."
The MA slowly closed the door. Root closed his eyes and drew in a long breath.
"Your Highness, would you like to cover that up?"
"God..."
"Azuki, would you let go of that gentleman?"
When Root opened his eyes, Azuki had complied. So had the Princess for that matter. As Root expected as he put the pieces together, the man who attacked him was Sir Willem, who had been hiding in the lower right bunk (rack, whatever). The question how they all got to this point.
"I'm going to get up," Root said, "and when I do, I'm going to expect an explanation, starting with you, Anne."
Root picked himself up. Maybe because Root didn't address the Princess as 'Your Highness' or maybe because he figured any move might get Azuki on him again, Sir Willem made no move to help.
Once he was on his feet, he turned to the Princess and said, "Well?"
Princess Anne sighed.
"You know how Daddy—"
"His Majesty the King," Sir Willem corrected.
The Princess rolled her eyes and ignored him.
"You know how Daddy would go all over the kingdom in disguise back when Aunt Clair was Queen?"
Root remembered how he was first introduced to King Charles, during the Benefide Expedition when he was going around in the guise of the ship's XO, Captain John Saxon. He also remembered when then-Prince Jeancharles revealed his identity to save Root from the Blackamoors and indeed saved the whole world from the Empire's wrath when he prevented them from launching an attack on the downed Imperial science vessel that started it all.
"I've heard the stories," Root replied.
"Oh, come on, Root. I know you and Daddy were on this ship the first time the Imperials were here. This ship."
"And you thought you'd follow in Daddy's footsteps, huh? Do you have any idea how stupid that is?"
"Sir Rutger, I'm going to have to warn you to refrain from overstepping your bounds," Sir Willem said. "Regardless of how familiar you are with her, you are speaking to Her Highness."
Root jabbed his finger at Sir Willem's chest, snapping, "You shut up. You're supposed to be her bodyguard. Maybe you haven't realized, but we've got a war brewing. We've got a big damn target on our backs 'cause we're siding with the Imperials and we don't know who our allies are. And even if we're in allied territory, there's no guarantee we won't get hit. And you let her get right in the middle of it? You'll be lucky if the King doesn't execute you on the spot for this."
"Her Highness' heart was set on this, Sir Rutger," Sir Willem replied stiffly. "If I tried to prevent her, she would find a way to slip out and go anyway. At least this way I can be by Her Highness' side. If I must pay for this decision with my life, I will gladly do so."
"Daddy's not going to have you shot, Will," Princess Anne said.
Root's attention turned to the lower left bunk (rack, whatever), which had yet to be revealed.
"If you and Sir Willem are here..."
Root pulled back the blanket to see the blushing face of Miss Duvet.
"Corporal Pardot, I presume?" Root said.
Noting the tops of Miss Duvet's shoulders, he didn't pull the blanket back any further.
"Is there any particular reason why none of the females in this room have any clothes on?" he asked in annoyance.
"I figured a gentleman wouldn't pull back the blanket," the Princess said.
"I'm no gentleman," Root replied.
"You have made that abundantly clear, Sir Rutger," Sir Willem said.
"I don't want to hear anything from you," Root growled. "And what the hell're you doin' in the Princess' quarters anyway?"
"My mission is to protect Her Highness. I cannot do that from quarters on the other side of the ship."
"You don't have anything to worry about, Root," the Princess said. "Unlike some people, Will's a perfect gentleman. Also, he's not my type."
A slight twitch of Sir Willem's eyebrow didn't escape Root's notice. Did the Princess' comment just chafe against his pride as a man or was there something more to it? More importantly...
"Ladies! Clothes! Now!"
Apparently Princess Anne and Miss Duvet had their bedclothes squirreled away under the covers. While they were dressing themselves, Root turned his attention to Azuki, who was just standing there.
"How long have you been following me, Azuki?"
"From the start," Azuki replied, "or close to it."
"And how have you managed that? You standing here like that must mean you were skinchanging, but I think I would've noticed a big-ass bird flapping around."
"I can take other forms now."
"Oh, I see. And do you... do you have anything to cover up with?"
Azuki looked down at herself and then back to Root and asked him, "Do you not like looking at me, Mr. Root?"
"What I like and what's appropriate are two different things."
"As you wish, Mr. Root."
There was a small dot on her neck you might have mistaken for a mole at a passing glance. When she touched it, something like ink spilled down her body solidifying into something like surgical rubber. The way it hugged all the curves of her body, it wasn't that different from her being naked.
"Uh, do you have anything more, ah, concealing?"
"Oh my God, Root," Princess Anne grumbled, hopping down from the bunk (rack, whatever). She pushed past Root and opened up her wall locker, pulling out a white dress shirt and offering it to Azuki.
"Here."
Azuki looked at the Princess, then at Root before accepting the shirt. Azuki being quite a bit smaller than the Princess (with a particular obvious exception), especially in the sleeves. It had the opposite effect from what Root was intending. Princess Anne elbowed Root in the ribs and gave him a thumbs up. Root gave an exasperated sigh and tried to get things back on track.
"So, Anne, you thought you could play the same game your daddy did—"
"His Majesty the King," Sir Willem interrupted.
"Shut up or I'm gonna have Azuki snap you in half," Root growled. Then to the Princess, "—the same game your daddy did at about the worst possible time. You went so far as to forge records and lean on I don't know how many people—the doc at least—so you could get by until we passed the point of no return."
"So much for that," the Princess said, "since we're going back."
"We're not going back," Root said. "I had to get a rise outta you."
"You knew?"
"I suspected. Or rather, I suspected what the plan was. I was expecting saboteurs. Not everyone's on board with this, after all. You're not meanin' sabotage, are you?"
Princess Anne crossed her arms.
"I won't say I like any of this, but Daddy's right. This is the best we can hope for and we've got to get everyone on the same page or else we're all gonna burn like the damn Pallies."
That would have to do. Not that Root could imagine the Princess acting against her father.
"Alright. I want the three of you to keep layin' low until I get this sorted out. We clear?"
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm gonna tattle on you, of course."
"Root, you can't! We've made it this far!"
"Anne, you don't get it. You may have jeopardized this entire mission. The whole damn world's at stake here. If anyone else finds out, you might become a target. Don't you think I've got enough on my plate as it is?"
It finally seemed to dawn on the Princess how dumb her little plan was.
"Root, I'm sorry. I just—"
Root held up his hand to stop her.
"Save it. If you're really sorry, you're gonna do exactly what I say until I can get you back to Saintcharles. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Root," the Princess replied, sounding chastened like the little girl she was from back around the time they first met.
"Good. Sir Willem, we're gonna set aside any talk about lapses in you doing your duty up until now. You just make damn sure you do it from here on out."
"I do not need to be told by you, Sir Rutger," Sir Willem replied.
"Azuki, whatever you need to do to disappear, do it."
"Yes, Mr. Root," Azuki said.
She unbuttoned the shirt the Princess had given her and transformed, taking the shape of a mouse. Root didn't have much of a head for science, but he wondered where all of her mass went. It was a less of a question when she would transform into a large eagle, but was this mouse some super-dense 40-some-odd-kilogram ball? She crawled up Root's pantleg (from the outside of it, thankfully) and Root let her perch in the palm of his hand. Heavy for a mouse, yes, but nowhere near her normal weight. Apparently it was just some kind of magic. Sure, why not?
When Root turned, he realized that none of the other three people in the room had ever seen a skinchanger in action before. Even the stone-faced Sir Willem couldn't hide his amazement. Root picked the shirt up off the floor (deck, whatever) and handed it to the Princess.
"Thanks for that," he said. "Remember. Lay low."
"Uh, sure..." the Princess mumbled distractedly, her attention more on the golden-eye mouse in Root's hand.
Root opened the door and closed it behind him. The MA was standing there awkwardly.
Root held up Azuki and said, "Rodent problem. You should get a cat."
The MA stared at him blankly.
"You're dismissed, sailor," Root said.
Having the good sense to leave well enough alone, snapped to attention, said a curt "Sir," did an about-face, and expeditiously got himself somewhere else.
Root went back to the Officer of the Watch to find out where Lieutenant Grenelle the Communications Officer was. Once he found Lieutenant Grenelle, he was taken to the 'phone box', a tiny room with specialized radio equipment for sending encrypted transmissions on the so-called red channel.
"Where do you want to connect, sir?" the radio operator asked.
"Get me in touch with Lemaire," Root said.
"Aye-aye, sir."
The radio operator went about establishing the connection. Byrandia had a series of radio posts along the coast of the Neveland that carried the signal back to the homeland. Once they got in touch with Lemaire, the radio operator on the other end said, "Juliette Juneau, this is Crystal Chandelier. Over."
The radio operator handed the receiver to Root, who then said, "Crystal Chandelier, this is Billiards calling for Steady Seas. We've got a Saxon kitten on our doorstep. Advise. Over."
Root deliberately didn't use his callsign for the mission so that the King would be sure to get the meaning of his message. The quite clearly confused the radio operator on the other end.
"Uh, Billiards, this is Crystal Chandelier. Hold on this channel over."
"Crystal Chandelier, this is Billiards. Wilco. Out."
It was about half an hour before the reply came in.
"Juliette Juneau, this is Crystal Chandelier. I have a message for Billiards from Steady Seas. 'Take good care of that kitten.' Uh, and... 'Mind your balls.' I repeat, 'Take good care of that kitten. Mind your balls.' Over."
"Crystal Chandelier, this is Billiards. I copy. Out."
Root motioned for the radio operator to cut the connection. When he did so, he looked back to Root and said, "Sir, if you don't mind my asking, what in the blue hell was that all about?"
"How long have you been doin' this, sailor?" Root asked.
"About two years, sir."
"Then you oughta know that if you gotta ask, you shouldn't. Right?"
"Ah, yes, sir."
Root patted the radio operator on shoulder.
"Good man."
So King Charles figured the best thing was to just ride this out. The couldn't very well turn back at this point without drawing suspicion and apparently leaving the Princess at the embassy wasn't going to fly. The last thing he needed was further complications, but that was the hand he was dealt.
Once he was in the hallway (passageway, whatever), he held out his hand and mouse-Azuki crawled out from his jacket sleeve.
"I'm going to need your help on this, Azuki," he told her. "Can I count on you?"
She nodded. Now they would see if it was true what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men.