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reacting as one would expect them to."
Alex nodded. "That sounds likely. The enemy can't have agents everywhere. That'd
be too conspicuous, and give too many chances for something to go wrong. A few
operatives, in key areas, are better."
He stopped in midstride, tugged his chin, rumpled his hair, and decided: "Britain is
the place to start, then. I'm off to see what I can do. After all, I am their plenipotentiary,
whom they've known for years, and if I appear in person, they'll at least listen to me."
"Shall I accompany you?" offered Brob. "On Toka I am, if not glamorous, surely
exotic. Thus my presence may lend weight."
"It will that!" Alex agreed. He supposed his aircar could lift the other being.
* * *
Numerous Georgian houses graced the city renamed London. Though the Hokas
could not afford to replace every older building at once, they had decorated many a wall
with fake pilasters, put dummy dormers onto round roofs, and cut fanlights into doors.
Tophatted, tailcoated Regency bucks swaggered through the streets, escorting ladies in
muslin; seeing Alex and Brob, such males would raise their quizzing glasses for a closer
look. Inspired by Hogarth, the commoners who swarmed about were more vocal at sight
of the newcomers. Luckily, the dinosaurian animals hitched to wagons and carriages were
not as excitable as Terrestrial horses. In general, this place was more safe and sanitary
than its model had been; Alex had managed to bring that about in every society that his
wards adopted.
Thus far. Today he saw a high proportion of redcoated soldiers who shouldered
muskets with bayonets attached. He overheard a plaintive voice through a tavern
window: "Please, matey, do resist us like a good lad. 'Ow can we be a proper press gang
h'if h'everybody volunteers?"
Proceeding afoot, since Brob would have broken the axles of any local vehicle, Alex
and his companion reached Whitehall. There a guard of Royal Marines saluted and led
them to the First Lord of the Admiralty. The man had called ahead for this appointment;
even the most archaic-minded Hokas maintained essential modern equipment in their
more important offices, although in the present case the visiphone was disguised as a
Chippendale cabinet. The native behind the desk rose. He had attired his portly form in
brown smallclothes and set a wig on his head. It didn't fit well, and rather distracted from
the fine old-world courtesy of his bow, by slipping down over his muzzle.
"A pleasure to meet you again, my dear fellow, 'pon my word it is," he said in calm,
clipped accents while he readjusted the wig. "And to make your acquaintance, sir," he
added to Brob, "as I trust I shall have the honor of doing. Be seated and take
refreshment." He tinkled a bell. The staff were prepared, for a liveried servant entered
immediately, bearing a tray with three glasses and a dusty bottle. "Fine port, this, if I do
say so myself." Indignantly: "To think that Boney would cut us off from the source of
supply! Infernal bounder, eh, what? Well, damme, he'll whistle a different tune, and out
of a dry throat, when we've put him on St. Helena."
Alex settled down and took a cautious sip from his goblet. The drink was the same
fiery distillation that was known as claret, sherry, brandy, rum, whisky, or whatever else
a role might call for. "I am afraid, Lord Oakheart, that Bonaparte has no intention of
going to St. Helena," he replied. "Instead " He broke off, because the Hoka's jaw had
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dropped. Turning about to see what was wrong, he spied Brob. The giant spacefarer,
careful to remain standing, had politely swallowed the drink given him. Blue flames
gushed out of his mouth.
"Er, this is my associate, from Brobdingnag," Alex explained.
"From where?" asked Oakheart. "I mean to say, that Swift chap does have several
interesting ideas, but I wasn't aware anybody had put 'em into effect . . . yet." Recovering
his British aplomb, he took a pinch of snuff.
Alex braced himself. "Milord," he said, "you know why we've come. Armed conflict
cannot be allowed. The differences between the governments of His Majesty and the
Emperor shall have to be negotiated peacefully. To that end, my good offices are
available, and I must insist they be accepted. The first step is for you people to take,
namely, cancelling your expedition to Spain."
"Impossible, sir, impossible," huffed the Hoka. "Lord Nelson sails from Plymouth
tomorrow. True, at present he has only the Home Fleet under his command, but
dispatches are on their way to the colonies, summoning all our strength afloat to join him
at Trafalgar How can we stop 'em, eh? No, the British Lion is off to crush the knavish
Frogs."
Alex thought fast. A leaderless armada, milling about, would have still more
potential for causing disaster than one which was assembled under its respected admiral.
"Wait a minute," he said. "It'll take two or three weeks for those windjammers to reach
the rendezvous, whereas Spain's only two or three days' sail from here. Why is Nelson
leaving this early?"
Oakheart confirmed his guess: "A reconnaissance, sir, a reconnaissance in force, to
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