War Of Honor

"Ma'am, 'Sittich' is transmitting to Hellbarde again. She says we've threatened to fire into her if she doesn't stop."

"Lying bastards, as well as nervy ones," Ferrero observed. In a way, she could almost admire the slaver's captain's nerve. Of course, given the penalties for slaving, he probably figured he didn't have a great deal to lose. But not even Gortz could be stupid enough to believe any Queen's ship would actually fire missiles into an unarmed merchant ship when that merchant ship couldn't possibly evade her, anyway.

" 'Sittich' isn't slowing down, Skipper," Harris said. "Should I go ahead and fire the warning shot?"

"That might not be a very good idea, under the circumstances, Ma'am," Llewellyn said quietly.

"I am sick and tired of pussyfooting around the goddamned Hellbarde," Ferrero said sharply. "We are a Queen's ship, acting well within the letter of interstellar law, and I am not going to let Gortz turn this into one more opportunity to harass us!

"Mecia."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Record!"

"Recording, Ma'am."

"Hellbarde, this is Jessica Epps. We are acting within the established parameters and requirements of interstellar law and all applicable treaties. You have no jurisdiction here, and I instruct you to stand clear. Ferrero, clear."

"On the chip, Ma'am," McKee confirmed.

"Then transmit," Ferrero commanded, and looked back up at Llewellyn. "She's still a good two million klicks out of her powered missile range of us, Bob. But go ahead and send our people to quarters." She smiled thinly. "You wanted the extra drill anyway."

"Yes, Ma'am. I did. But I'm not too sure this is the best way to get it!"

"It may not be," Ferrero conceded. "But Hellbarde has pissed me off one time too many." She looked at Lieutenant McClelland. "James, I want a least-time intercept course for 'Sittich' at her new accel."

"Already calculated, Ma'am," the astrogator replied.

"That's what I like to hear," Ferrero approved. "Put us on it."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am! Helm, come four degrees to port and go to eighty-five percent power!"

The helmsman acknowledged the order, and Jessica Epps surged suddenly forward after the fleeing the slaver while the general quarters alarm began to shrill.

"Ma'am, Hellbarde is—"

"I don't really care what Hellbarde wants, Mecia," Ferrero said almost calmly. "Ignore her."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

Ferrero watched the range fall, as her speeding ship began to increase her overtake velocity. The slaver was continuing to yammer away at Hellbarde as she ran, and Ferrero smiled thinly. Satisfying as it would be to liberate the slaves aboard that ship, it would be almost more satisfying to rub Kapitan zur Sternen Gortz's nose in just who had been attempting to dupe him into saving them from Jessica Epps.

"Closed up at battle stations, Ma'am," Lieutenant Harris a

"Very good, Shawn," she acknowledged. "Is that warning shot ready?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Very well. Mecia, tell them one more time to cut their acceleration. And tell them this is their final warning."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am." Lieutenant McKee cleared her throat. "Sittich, this is Jessica Epps. You well cut your acceleration immediately. Repeat, immediately. This is your final warning. Jessica Epps, clear."

There was no response, and Ferrero glanced at Harris.

"Maintaining her accel, Skipper," the tac officer told her.

"Maybe she needs a more pointed warning," the captain observed. "Fire your warning shot, Shawn."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am. Firing now."

Harris pressed the firing key, and a single missile spat from Jessica Epps' Number One chase tube and went screaming off towards Sittich.

Ferrero watched the missile's icon slash across her repeater plot towards the fleeing slaver. No doubt Gortz was on the verge of apoplexy by now, she reflected cheerfully. Well, it served the bastard right. After all the times he'd—"Missile launch!" Harris snapped suddenly. Ferrero jerked upright in her command chair in disbelief. Surely no one aboard Sittich was stupid enough to try to resist a heavy cruiser!

"Multiple missile launches from Hellbarde!" Harris barked. "Looks like a full broadside, Ma'am!"

For a fraction of a second, Ferrero stared at him. He couldn't be serious! Hellbarde was still well outside her effective missile envelope! There was no—The thought chopped off. No, Erica Ferrero thought, her mind suddenly almost impossibly calm. Hellbarde wasn't still well outside her effective envelope; she was just outside what everyone had thought her envelope was.

What Erica Ferrero had thought her envelope was.

"Helm, go to evasion plan Gamma!" she snapped. "Tactical! Forget Sittich." She smiled thinly, forcing herself to radiate confidence even as her conscience flailed at her for the overconfident assumptions which had brought her command to this pass. But it was too late to worry about that, just as it was too late to try to talk any sort of sense into Gortz.

"It looks like we're going to have an even more interesting afternoon than we thought, People," she told her bridge crew, then nodded to Harris.

"Engage the enemy, Lieutenant," she said.

Chapter Forty Two

"You know," Mercedes Brigham said quietly as she, Nimitz, and Andrew LaFollet walked down the passage towards Werewolf's flag briefing room with Honor yet again, "this couldn't have happened at a much worse time, Your Grace."

"You're right," Honor agreed, equally quietly. "Not that there could ever be a 'good' time for it."

"No, Ma'am."

The compartment hatch opened before them, and feet scuffed on the decksole as the waiting officers rose.

It was the first full dress meeting of every single one of Honor's task group and squadron commanders, and it included an imposing array of rank and experience. It also included a lot of faces she knew very well indeed, begi