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She started to ask him, but the plea in his eyes was even stronger than before, and she changed her question.
"Why are you telling me this, Commander?"
"Because—" Theisman started sharply, then stopped and looked away. "Because they deserve better than getting nuked by their own people, Captain."
"I see." Honor studied his profile and knew there was more—much more—to it than that. He'd started to reply too angrily, and his anger frightened her when she added it to the distaste with which he'd first referred to "local authorities."
"And if we simply leave the base for the moment, Commander, do you feel they would be endangered?" she asked softly.
"I—" Theisman bit his lip. "I must respectfully decline to answer that question, Captain Harrington," he said very formally, and she nodded.
"I see," she repeated. His face reddened as her tone accepted that he had answered it, but he met her gaze stubbornly. This man had integrity as well as ability, she thought, and hoped there weren't many more like him in Haven's service. Or did she?
"Very well, Commander Theisman, I understand." She touched a stud and looked past Theisman as the hatch behind him opened to readmit Ramirez.
"Major, please return Commander Theisman to his quarters." Honor held the major's gaze. "You are to hold yourself personally responsible for seeing to it that he and his perso
"Yes, Ma'am." Theisman came back to attention.
"When you've returned the Commander to his quarters, Major, return straight here. Bring your company commanders with you."
Captain Harrington and her officers started to rise as Admiral Matthews walked through the hatch, but he waved them back, embarrassed by their deference after all they'd done. He nodded to Commander Brentworth and noticed that Harrington's Marine officers were also present.
"Thank you for coming, Admiral," Harrington said. "I know how busy you must have been."
"Not with anything my chief of staff and flag captain can't handle," Matthews said, waving away her thanks. "How bad are your own damages, Captain?"
"They could have been worse, but they're bad enough, Sir." Her slurred soprano was grim. "Apollo's impellers are undamaged, but she has almost two hundred dead and wounded, her port broadside is down to a single laser, and her starboard sidewall is beyond repair out of local resources."
Matthews winced. He had far more casualties, and his entire navy had been reduced to two cruisers—one of which, Glory, was badly damaged—and eleven LACs, but it was the Manticoran vessels which truly mattered. Everyone in this room knew that.
"Fearless got off more lightly," Harrington went on after a moment. "We've lost our long-range gravitics, but our casualties were low, all things considered, and our main armament, radar, and fire control are essentially intact. Troubadour has another twenty dead, and she's down two tubes and her Number Five Laser. She's also lost most of her long-range communications, but her sensor suite is undamaged. I'm afraid Apollo is out of it, but between them, Fearless and Troubadour are still combat effective."
"Good. I'm very sorry about Commander Truman's ship—and her people—but I'm relieved to hear the rest of it, Captain. And grateful for all you and your people have done for us. Will you tell them that for me?"
"I will, Sir. Thank you, and I know your own losses were heavy. Please tell your people how much we admire the job they did on the Masadans."
"I will." Matthews allowed himself a weary chuckle. "And now that we've got that out of the way, why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"
The Manticoran officer gave him one of her strange, half-frozen smiles, and he tried to hide how shocking the expressiveness of the living side of her face made the other side's damage—just as he tried to hide his own instinctive thought that her injuries underscored exactly why women had no business in combat. He knew that perception was parochial of him, but it was a part of his cultural baggage, and two days was far too brief a period to divest himself of it.
"I've been discussing the problem of the base with my own officers," she replied. "May I assume the situation remains unchanged?"
"You may," Matthews said grimly. The two of them had agreed he was the only choice to demand Blackbird's surrender, lest seeing a woman on the other end of the com link push the fanatics below into suicidal defiance—not that they seemed inclined towards reason, anyway. "They continue to refuse to surrender. I think they hope they can stall us long enough for their other Havenite ship to return and rescue them."
"Or at least long enough to leave Grayson uncovered against her," Honor agreed. She looked at Venizelos, then back at Matthews. "None of our prisoners are able—or willing—to tell us exactly what their other ship is, Admiral. On the other hand, many of them seem to have a rather disturbing confidence that, whatever she is, she's a match for all of us."
"I know." Matthews' mouth pursed in distaste for his next suggestion, but it had to be made. "Under the circumstances, I'm afraid we have little choice. I know we need information, but we have neither the time nor, speaking for Grayson, the means for a ground attack. If they won't surrender, our only options are to let the base wither until we can come back with a proper ground force, or else take it out from orbit and hope some of the prisoners we've already got prove more communicative with time."
"I'm afraid we have a problem there," Honor said carefully. "In fact, that's why I asked you to come aboard, Sir. According to one of our prisoners, there are survivors from Madrigal down there."
"Are you serious?!" Matthews jerked upright in his chair, then waved a hand quickly. "No, of course you are." He bit his lip. "That does change things, Captain Harrington. Of course we can't just bombard the base now!"
"Thank you, Sir," Honor said quietly. "I appreciate that."
"Captain, Madrigal saved my ship at the cost of her own life, and only the damage she did the Masadans prevented them from conquering or bombarding my planet before your own return. If any of her people are still alive down there, Grayson will do everything in its power to get them out alive." He paused and frowned. "And given the Masadans' intransigence, we'd better get them out as quickly as we can, too."
Honor nodded. Commander Brentworth had told her the admiral would react in just that way, but it was a vast relief to hear it.
"The problem, Sir, is that they have a lot more men down there than we have up here."
"I'm sure of that," Matthews agreed, plucking at his lower lip. "Unlike yours, none of our ships carry Marine complements, but we do have some smallarms aboard."
"Yes, Sir. We, however, as you've just pointed out, do have Marines, and I've been discussing the best way to employ them with Major Ramirez. With your permission, I'll ask him to share our conclusions with you."
"Of course." Matthews turned to the Manticoran major, and Ramirez cleared his throat.
"Basically, Admiral, I have three companies aboard Fearless." Ramirez's accent differed from most of the Manticorans Matthews had heard, with liquid consonants that were oddly musical in such a massive man. "Apollo has another company embarked, although they suffered about twenty casualties in the engagement. That gives me the better part of a battalion, including just over a company's worth of battle armor. Our best current estimates suggest the Masadan base is much larger than we'd originally thought, with a complement of about seven thousand men. How many of those have the training and equipment to be considered combat effective is an unknown, but the total numbers give them a considerable edge over our own five hundred troopers.