War Of Honor

"Now that's not fair, Ma'am," he said severely. "It's not that I'm not very smart about keeping my head down—it's just that I'm not very smart. Period."

Honor chuckled, then lifted her stein in a brief salute. He responded in kind, and leaned back once more.

"Now that that's more or less settled, Ma'am, where do we go next?"

"I understand that Werewolf is just completing a refit cycle." Honor made the statement a question, and he nodded.

"Yes, Ma'am. The yard dogs are supposed to turn us loose in about two weeks. I think we're going to run a little longer than that, though. All of the yard work dropped back to a slower tempo once the peace talks began, and it's dropped even further now that we've formally begun to build down our force levels."

"I know. And to be honest, I'm not going to be upset if your refit does run a little over. My impression is that things are coming to a head in Silesia, but there's still some time in hand. I don't want to lose any time getting on station, but it's going to take the Admiralty the better part of a month to assemble the other reinforcements we're supposed to take out to Sidemore with us, anyway."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said frankly, "because I was sweating it just a little, actually."

"No flag captain wants her admiral to think she's slack, Rafe. But I've been a flag captain, too, you know. There's not a lot you can do to make the yard dogs turn your ship loose any sooner than they're good and ready to."

"Actually," he admitted, "that's not the only problem I have. Captain Thurmond, my COLAC, was just detached for compassionate leave. His wife was killed in a boating accident on Gryphon, and they have—had—three children. My understanding is that he won't be returning. Certainly not before we complete the refit and begin working up again."

"I know," Honor repeated. "I wouldn't worry about it, though. While Admiral Draskovic and I were discussing other perso

"Scotty? You got Scotty for me?" Cardones' white teeth flashed in an immense grin. "Dare I hope that you got me Harkness, as well?"

"Where one of them goes, the other is certain to turn up," Honor said dryly.

"Outstanding!" Cardones gri

"You might say that," Honor allowed.

"And who else did you get for us, if I may ask?"

"Well, let's see. I got a task group commander named Truman, and another one named McKeon." Honor looked up at the ceiling and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "And at my urgent request, High Admiral Matthews has agreed to release a Commodore Brigham to serve as my chief of staff. And for an ops officer, I got Captain Andrea Jaruwalski. I don't know if you know her, but she's good, Rafe. Very good. Oh, and I got Fritz Montoya as our senior medical officer, too." She shrugged. "There may be—oh, one or two other officers I specifically requested, but those are the high spots."

"It's going to be like old times, isn't it?" Cardones observed.

"Not too much like 'old times,' I hope." Honor frowned ever so slightly. "I think it's a good, solid team, but when I sat down to put it together, I couldn't help remembering the old Fearless."

"I'm not surprised, Ma'am. And we did lose some people in Basilisk. And at Yeltsin's Star, too, for that matter. But we also did what we set out to do both times, didn't we?" He held her eyes until she nodded, almost against her will. Then he shrugged. "Well, we'll just have to do it again, then. And at least we're all practiced up at it!"

"More practiced than I'd like," Honor agreed ruefully.

"That's the name of the game, Ma'am."

"I suppose it is."

Honor took a long pull at her beer, then made a face as her wrist chrono beeped.

"Rafe, I'm sorry, but I've got an appointment with Richard Maxwell and Merlin Odom. I've simply got to get some management details nailed down here in the Star Kingdom before I go haring off to Silesia!"

"Not a problem, Ma'am. I imagine you've got a whole bunch of 'details' to deal with, given the number of hats they've got you wearing these days."

"You're not wrong there," she agreed feelingly. "In fact, I'm going to have to make a quick run to Grayson to settle the same sorts of details there. I'm pla

"We'll survive until you do get back," he assured her.

"I know. I'll be bringing Mercedes back from Grayson with me when I come. According to the last update I got from BuPers, Alistair should be arriving at Hephaestus day after tomorrow, before I leave, though. And Captain Jaruwalski is already here in the Star Kingdom. You should meet her tomorrow. I'm hosting a small di

"I'm sure Admiral McKeon and Admiral Truman will be able to deal with any bureaucratic types in your absence, Ma'am," Cardones agreed.

"And if they can't, I know who can," Honor assured him with a chuckle. "Scotty and Sir Horace should be at di

Chapter Seventeen

"Tell him one more time, Mecia," Captain Erica Ferrero, commanding officer, HMS Jessica Epps, said. Her voice was cold and flat. "And tell him we won't ask again."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am!" Lieutenant Mecia McKee, Jessica Epps' communications officer replied crisply. She turned back to her panel, pushed an errant strand of long red hair behind her left ear and keyed her microphone.

"Unidentified starship, you are instructed to cut your wedge and stand by to be boarded. I repeat, you are instructed to cut your wedge and stand by to be boarded. If you do not comply, we will employ deadly force. This is your final warning. Jessica Epps, clear."

The crimson icon on Ferrero's plot made absolutely no response to her youthful com officer's warning. It simply continued to flee at its maximum acceleration, which was fairly stupid, the captain reflected. Admittedly, it represented a much smaller starship, which, with equally efficient inertial compensators, ought to have enjoyed an acceleration advantage of at least thirty or forty gravities over a ship of Jessica Epps' to

Not that it mattered either way, because Ferrero's cruiser had surprised the other ship skulking along at a low base velocity. That was what had attracted her tac officer's attention in the first place. Given its small size, its low velocity and position just inside the hyper limit of the Adelaide System, especially headed towards the primary, was a dead giveaway. The only logical reason for a vessel the size of a very small frigate to be moving in-system at such a low speed (especially in Silesia) was that it was a pirate or privateer trolling for prizes. The low velocity at which merchantmen normally made the final translation into normal-space from hyper made them extremely vulnerable to interception immediately upon arrival, particularly since it always took at least a short interval for their sensors to settle down enough for them to be able to detect anything in their vicinities. Until they could at least see what lay in proximity to them, they couldn't even know a threat was there to begin trying to evade it. Even when they realized they were in danger, merchantmen were slow and clumsy ships. When a potential enemy also had the advantage of surprise, the chance that a merchant skipper could evade him was remote, at best.