Free Mission of Honor-ARC by David Weber

breach, although he'd been known to use the fact that he was officially "off" for the day as a cover from time to time. And it would appear this was one of those times. Events were building towards the formal birthday celebration later this evening, but Matthews was among the inner circle who'd been invited to arrive early. He would have found himself in that group anyway, given how long and closely he and Benjamin had worked together, but there'd obviously been other reasons this year.
    The high admiral regarded his protector thoughtfully. This was Benjamin's fiftieth birthday, and his hair was streaked progressively more thickly with silver. Not that Matthews was any spring chicken himself. In fact, he was ten T-years older than Benjamin, and his own hair had turned completely white, although (he thought with a certain comfortable vanity) it had remained thankfully thick and luxuriant.
    But thick or not, we're neither one of us getting any younger , he reflected.
    It was a thought which had occured to him more frequently of late, especially when he ran into Manticoran officers half again his age who still looked younger than he did. Who were younger, physically speaking, at least. And more than a few Grayson officers fell into that same absurdly youthful-looking category, now that the first few generations to enter the service since Grayson's alliance with Manticore had made the prolong therapies generally available were into their late thirties or—like Benjamin's younger brother, Michael—already into their early forties.
    It's only going to get worse, Wesley , he told himself with an inescapable edge of bittersweet envy. It's not their fault, of course. In fact, it's nobody's fault, but there are still a lot of things I'd like to be here to see .
    He gave himself a mental shake and snorted silently. It wasn't exactly as if he were going to drop dead of old age tomorrow! With modern medicine, he ought to be good for at least another thirty T-years, and Benjamin could probably look forward to another half T-century.
    Which had very little to do with the question the protector had just asked him.
    "May I ask exactly which of our esteemed steadholders are likely to be raising the questions in question, Your Grace?"
    "Well, I think you can safely assume Travis Mueller's name is going to be found among them." Benjamin's smile was tart. "And I expect Jasper Taylor's going to be right beside him. But I understand they've found a new front man—Thomas Guilford."
    Matthews grimaced. Travis Mueller, Lord Mueller, was the son of the late and (by most Graysons) very unlamented Samuel Mueller, who'd been executed for treason following his involvement in a Masadan plot to assassinate Benjamin and Queen Elizabeth. Jasper Taylor, was Steadholder Canseco, whose father had been a close associate of Samuel Mueller and who'd chosen to continue the traditional alliance between Canseco and Mueller. But Thomas Guilford, Lord Forchein, was a newcomer to that particular mix. He was also quite a few years older than either Mueller or Canseco, and while he'd never been one of the greater admirers of the social and legal changes of the Mayhew Restoration, he'd never associated himself with the protector's more strident critics. There hadn't been much question about his sentiments, but he'd avoided open confrontations with Benjamin and the solid block of steadholders who supported the Sword and he'd always struck Matthews as less inclined than Mueller to cheerfully sacrifice principle in the name of "political pragmatism."
    "When did Forchein decide to sign on with Mueller and Friends, Your Grace?"
    "That's hard to say, really." Benjamin tipped his swiveled armchair back and swung it gently from side to side. "To be fair to him—not that I particularly want to be, you understand—I doubt he was really much inclined in that direction until High Ridge tried to screw over every other member of the Alliance."
    Matthews snorted again, this time out