Mission of Honor

Abigail stopped in midstride, raising one hand to stop the rest of her party, as Midshipman Corbett's voice came over the com. There was something about his tone . . . .

'Are you all right, Walt?' she asked quietly over her private link.

'Yes, Ma'am,' he replied over the same link. 'It's just—' He paused, and she heard a distinct swallowing sound. 'It's just . . . kind of bad in here.'

Abigail looked down at her memo board and checked the icons representing Corbett and his party. Her own party had already encountered over seventy dead and only six survivors—all of whom had been in skinsuits and trapped in compartments they could not escape. They'd also counted twenty-three lifepod hatches which showed vacuum on the other side, which presumably meant whoever had been close enough to them had already escaped the ship. Her six survivors had been sent back to the pinnace, escorted by a single one of her spacers, and all of them had seemed too dazed by the scope of the disaster—and too grateful to be alive—to offer anything resembling resistance. Yet so far, Corbett hadn't located a single survivor and only a scattering of bodies.

But that, she realized as she punched up the scale on the board, had obviously just changed. He and his party were one passageway further in than her own, and he'd just entered the core hull. In fact, if the schematic was accurate, he was in one of the nodal damage control compartments.

Which , she thought coldly, is supposed to have upwards of forty people in it when the ship's at Action Stations. So if he's only got two survivors  . . . .

'Do you need any more hands?' She kept her voice impersonal.

'No, Ma'am. Not yet, anyway.' Corbett might have swallowed again, but his voice was a little stronger when he resumed speaking. 'The Bosun and my sick berth attendant have them stabilized in life support stretchers. I'm detaching two of my people to take them back to the pinnace, then return here. Uh, if that's all right with you, I mean, Ma'am.'

'Walt, it's your call,' she told him. And, of course, you've got the Bosun there to make sure you don't step on your sword , she added silently.

'Thank you, Ma'am.'

His voice was definitely stronger this time, and she smiled crookedly.

'You're welcome,' she said. 'Now, let's be about it.'

Chapter Twenty-Five

'—afraid it's not quite so simple as all that, Admiral. The consensus of my House committee is quite firm on this point. Before the Administration could possibly get Congress to sign off on any formal treaty, especially one in which the Republic accepts some sort of 'war guilt' clause, the futures of these star systems have to be settled. That, after all, was the reason we voted to support the resumption of hostilities in the first place.'

Honor Alexander-Harrington bit her tongue rather firmly. It was an exercise with which she'd had an unfortunate amount of experience over the last five or six weeks. In fact, she'd gotten to practice at it almost every time Gerald Younger opened his mouth.

She drew a deep, unobtrusive breath and thought longingly of public dueling grounds and ten-millimeter pistols as the representative sat back in his chair, jaw clenched with manly fortitude and brown eyes hard with steely determination. It wasn't so much that she was unwilling to believe his committee members felt—or could be brought to feel—exactly as he'd just said they did, although she doubted they were nearly so adamant (or united) as he was suggesting. No, the problem was that she could taste the real emotions behind his argument, which meant she knew he personally didn't give a single solitary damn about the future of the disputed star systems and never had. He'd been harping on this point for a full half-day now, but what he really wanted was something else entirely. It was unfortunate that she couldn't pluck exactly what that 'something else' was out of his mind, but she'd come to the conclusion that he was probably after one of two things.

Either he intended to give in eventually on the unstated understanding that his concession on this point would earn a matching concession from her on another point—probably the amount of reparations the Republic was going to ante up eventually, given the way he kept harping on linking the issue to 'war guilt'—or else he didn't want anything out of her at all. In fact, the way he kept referring to the reasons the Havenite Congress had voted to support the Pritchart Administration's resumption of hostilities suggested to Honor that the latter possibility was more probably the correct one. He'd been just a little bit too careful, just a tad too obvious, about not saying explicitly that the real reason the Republic was in its current dire predicament was due to missteps by that same administration. Which strongly suggested that the real target of his extortion was Eloise Pritchart. Honor had no idea what sort of domestic concession he might want to squeeze out of the Pritchart Administration, but it was at least equally probable that there was one and that he knew Pritchart would eventually promise it to him if he'd only shut up.

The fact that he hadn't said one single word about the Green Pines allegations might be another indicator pointing in that direction. They would have made a much more suitable stick for beating the Star Empire directly, at any rate. Of course, from what Honor had come to know of Pritchart, it was entirely possible there were other reasons he'd chosen not to reach for that particular club.

However that might be, though, he was clearly after something , and from the taste of Pritchart's mind glow, she was clearly of the same opinion. . . and probably thinking about the Havenite equivalent of dueling grounds, too.

'Mr. Younger,' Honor said, once she was reasonably certain she had her temper under control, 'I don't really think it's very practical for us to sit here and dispose of the political futures of entire star systems without actually consulting the people who live in them. As I'm sure you're well aware, the majority of the star systems which were still in Manticoran possession at the time hostilities were resumed were militarily strategic ones which had been retained only for their military value. Pending the conclusion of a formal peace treaty, those star systems would have been granted their independence or returned to Havenite control, depending on local conditions and desires. Certain other systems, admittedly, were still in our possession mainly because they were so far in our rear and had been occupied for so long. Those systems which had indicated their desire to remain independent of the Republic would have been permitted to so do by the Star Empire pending the conclusion of that same treaty. Some of them, as you're well aware, had already expressed a desire to remain independent before the resumption of our current hostilities, and I strongly doubt that Her Majesty would be willing to force them back into the Republic's welcoming arms at bayonet point if that's not where they want to go.

'At the moment, however, if it's escaped your attention, none of those star systems are currently in Manticoran possession at all. Given that fact, and the past history I've just summarized, I fail to see precisely why you expect Her Majesty's Government to countersign some sort of blank check for the Republic to determine their futures at this conference table instead of consulting with them after the cessation of hostilities.'

'I'm not asking you to 'countersign' anything, Admiral,' Younger replied. 'I'm asking you, as Queen Elizabeth's representative, to acknowledge the validity of the results of the plebiscites conducted in those 'strategic' star systems following their liberation from Manticorian occupation by Republican armed forces. And to pledge to abide by plebiscites to be conducted on any other planet which was previously part of the Peoples Republic of Haven and which is currently occupied by Republican forces.'

'And I'm telling you, Sir,' Honor replied in a tone whose patience would have made anyone who knew her well extremely nervous, 'that Her Majesty is not prepared to acknowledge anything, anywhere, in any star system, without first having had the opportunity to examine the evidence and the results to be sure the processes were free, open, and legitimate.'

'Are you suggesting the results of the plebiscites the Republic has already conducted might not represent the true desires of the systems' inhabitants?'

Younger's eyes had narrowed, and there was an edge of ice in his voice. All in all, no one could possibly have misinterpreted the offense he'd taken at the mere suggestion of electoral chicanery. Honor, however, was fully aware of the actual emotions behind that bristling faзade, and she felt Nimitz stir on the perch beside her chair as he tasted her almost overwhelming desire to punch Younger squarely in the nose. From the feel of the treecat's