The Honor of the Qween

"You're our resident expert," she told the face on her small screen. "How likely are they to pick up the grav pulses?"

"Almost certain to, now that they're inside our drone shell," McKeon replied promptly, "but I doubt they'll figure them out. Until Admiral Hemphill got involved, no one on our side thought it was possible, after all."

Honor smiled sourly, and McKeon gri

"Besides," McKeon went on, "the pulses are directional, and the repetition rate is so slow it's unlikely they'll get more than a few pulses off any one RD before they're out of the transmission path. Without more than that, even the best analysis won't recognize what they're actually hearing."

"Um." Honor rubbed the tip of her nose. No doubt Alistair was right, but if she'd been picking up grav pulses that shouldn't be there, she'd be wracking her brain to figure out what they might be.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it." Except hope no one over there was feeling clever. McKeon nodded as if he'd heard her mental qualifier, and she checked the time.

They were two and a half hours out of Grayson orbit; they should enter Saladin's sensor range in another forty minutes.

"Sir! Sword Simonds!" Simonds whipped around at Lieutenant Ash's excited cry. "Two impeller sources, Sir! They just popped up out of nowhere!"

Simonds crossed the bridge in a few, quick strides and peered at Ash's display. The crimson dots of hostile gravity signatures burned steadily, just under twenty-four light-minutes off Thunder's port quarter.

"Enemy's base velocity five-six-six-seven-two KPS, Sir." Ash's voice was flatter as he took refuge in the mechanics of his report.

"Our velocity?"

"Six-four-five-two-eight KPS, Sir, but they're inside us. They're making up on us because their radius is so much smaller."

Simonds clenched his jaw and scrubbed at his bloodshot eyes. How? How had the bitch done this?! That course couldn't be a coincidence. Harrington had known exactly where he was, exactly what he was doing, and there was no way she could have!

He lowered his hand from his eyes and glared at the display while he tried to think. How she'd done it didn't matter. He told himself that firmly, even while a superstitious voice whispered that it did. What mattered was that she was inside him ... and her vector was curving out towards him. The closure rate was twelve thousand KPS and growing; that meant she'd be into missile range in three hours, long before he would be able to fire on Grayson.

He had plenty of acceleration still in reserve, but not enough. All she had to do was tighten her course back down and she could turn inside him forever. He couldn't get close enough to attack the planet without entering her range, and Thunder was the last hope of the Faithful.

"Come eighty degrees to starboard and increase acceleration to four hundred eighty gravities!"

"Aye, aye, Sir," the helmsman replied. "Coming eight-oh degrees to starboard. Increasing acceleration to four-eight-oh gravities."

Ash looked at his commander in surprise, and the Sword swallowed an urge to snarl at him. Instead, he turned his back and slid his aching body into the command chair. Its displays deployed smoothly, and he peered at the tactical repeater, waiting to see Harrington's response.

"I don't believe it! The sorry son-of-a—" Andreas Venizelos caught himself. "I mean, he's breaking off, Ma'am."

"No, he isn't. Not yet, anyway." Honor steepled her fingers under her triangular chin. "This is an instinct reaction, Andy. We surprised him, and he doesn't want to get any closer than he has to while he thinks it over."

"She's accelerating directly away at four-point-seven-zero KPS squared, Ma'am," Cardones reported, and Honor nodded. She didn't expect it to last, but for now Saladin was headed in the right direction.

"Punch us up a pursuit course, Steve. I want his relative accel held to two-fifty gees or so."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," DuMorne replied, and she leaned back and watched Saladin's light bead track down its new vector projection.

Simonds caught himself dry-washing his hands in his lap and made himself stop. Thunder had held his new heading and acceleration for over seventy minutes while the Harlot's handmaiden followed along in his wake, but Harrington was making no bid to overtake. She was letting Thunder make up velocity on her, despite the fact that her smaller ships had higher maximum acceleration rates, and that was more than merely ominous.

The range had opened to over twenty-four and a half light-minutes, yet Harrington knew exactly where they were. Thunder was able to see Fearless only through the drones Ash had deployed astern, but there was no sign of Manticoran drones. Unless Harrington's sensors were even better than Yu had believed, she shouldn't be able to see them at all, yet she'd adjusted to every course alteration he made! The implied technical superiority was as frightening as it was maddening, but the critical point was that he couldn't lose her and come in undetected on a new vector ... and she'd already pushed him clear beyond the asteroid belt, far outside Grayson's orbit.

No wonder she was content to let him run! He'd wasted precious time trying to evade someone who could see every move he made, and by the time he killed his present velocity and came back into missile range—assuming she let him—over six hours would have passed since he'd first detected her.

He growled under his breath and kneaded his cheeks. What Manticoran ships had already done to the Faithful made him nervous about crossing swords with her, especially since Yu and Ma

But that didn't change the fact that Thunder of God out-massed both his opponents more than twice over. If he had to fight his way through them, he could. Yet he also had to be able to carry through against Grayson... .

"Compute a new course," he said harshly. "I want to close to the very edge of the powered missile envelope and hold the range constant."

"Course change!" Cardones sang out. "She's coming back towards us at max acceleration, Ma'am."

Honor nodded. She'd known this would come—indeed, she'd expected it far sooner, and puzzlement stirred again, for cruisers and battlecruisers were built to close and destroy, not for this timid sort of long-range groping.

But he was coming in now with a vengeance.

"Take us to meet her, Astro," she said quietly, "but let's see if we can't tempt him into a missile duel. Hold our closing accel down to—" She thought for a moment. "Make it six KPS squared."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

Honor nodded, then pressed a stud on her arm rest.

"Captain's quarters, Steward MacGuiness."

"Mac, could you chase me up some sandwiches and a pot of cocoa?"

"Of course, Ma'am."

"Thank you." She closed the circuit and looked at Venizelos. The Manticoran Navy tradition was that crews went into battle well-fed and as rested as possible, and her people had been at general quarters for almost five hours. "Stand us down to Condition Two, Andy, and tell the cooks I want a hot meal for all hands." She gave him one of her lopsided grins. "The way this jackass is maneuvering, there should be plenty of time for it!"