Mission of Honor

Haven, since one of Janacek's very first moves on re-assuming the post of First Lord of Admiralty had been to purge the Navy of every single White Haven protйgй and ally. He hadn't even pretended the purge had been largely inspired by his personal hatred for the earl, either. Frankly, Higgins had expected White Haven—with whom he himself had never gotten along very well, having once fallen afoul of the infamous Alexander temper—to wield an equally thorough retaliatory broom. And if he were going to be honest about it, he also had to admit that, based on the Navy's performance in the face of the Havenites' Operation Thunderbolt, White Haven would have been completely justified.

Yet the White Haven Admiralty had shown a surprising degree of tolerance. Possibly because it didn't have much choice. It could hardly have fired every serving (and surviving) flag officer, after all, given the frantic need to expand the Navy once more and the demand for experienced admirals that entailed. Higgins didn't think that was the real explanation, though. Instead, to his considerable surprise, the new Admiralty had contented itself with removing the more outrageously political Janacek appointees and those whose demonstrated performance had proven conclusively that they weren't suitable material for combat commands.

Given the minor fact that Allen Higgins had been the commanding officer on Grendelsbane Station when the Peep offensive rolled over it, he'd expected to find himself on that list of 'less than suitable material' officers. After all, he was the one who'd lost several hundred LACs and seven SD(P)s discovering the Peeps did, indeed, have LACs and MDMs of their own. And the one who'd abandoned the system in the face of the overwhelming attack— and, just incidentally, destroyed the nineteen CLACs and no less than seventy-three modern ships-of-the-wall lying helpless in the station's building slips to keep them from falling into Peep hands. And, of course, there was the minor matter of the forty thousand yard workers he'd been unable to take with him, as well. It was the memory of that cataclysmic day which accounted for the strand of regret which wove itself through his emotions at moments like this.

And yet, he hadn't been beached by White Haven after all, despite Grendelsbane. He wondered, sometimes, how much of that was due to the fact that even though he'd been a Janacek appointee, he'd never pretended to be an admirer of Edward Janacek. Or to the fact that he'd been summarily placed on half-pay by Janacek 'pending the determination of a full and impartial board of inquiry' as soon as he got back to Manticore. The truth was that the main reason he'd been retained on active duty under Janacek in the first place was that he happened to be married to one of Janacek's cousins. Janacek hadn't kept him on because he valued his services or trusted his cronyism; he'd kept him on as a combined sop to his critics and a way to keep peace in the family.

Higgins had actually felt uncomfortable about serving under Janacek, especially since he knew the reasons the opportunity had been offered to him. He'd silenced his own conscience by arguing that at least some competent flag officers had to remain on duty, but he felt confident Janacek had never really trusted him. Which was probably why he'd found himself assigned to Grendelsbane, when he thought about it, since it had been far enough away to keep him safely out of sight, out of mind.

And which was also why Janacek had decided his cousin-in-law had made an admirable choice when he needed someone to throw under the ground car after Thunderbolt blew Grendelsbane (among other things) into dust bunnies on Janacek's watch. .

In his more cynical moments, Higgins was confident Janacek's obvious decision to scapegoat him was a major factor in White Haven's decision to rehabilitate him. A sort of tit-for-tat way to plant one right in Janacek's eye. On the other hand, White Haven had left him dirtside until the board of inquiry reported on Grendelsbane, and the board's conclusions had been that no one could have done better than Higgins given the numerical odds and the knowledge he'd possessed about Havenite weapons capabilities. So it was certainly arguable that White Haven, Sir Thomas Caparelli, and Sir Lucien Cortez had decided to offer him a command solely on the basis of that report.

In his less cynical moments, Higgins didn't find that difficult to accept. Yet he was still more than a bit bemused by the quirk of fate which had put him in command of Home Fleet and, in the process, converted him into the only 'Admiral of the Fleet' currently in Manticoran service.

Of course, he wouldn't have been where he was if not for the massive losses the Royal Manticoran Navy had suffered in the Battle of Manticore. To his considerable astonishment, Allen Higgins had become one of the dozen or so most senior flag officers in the entire Navy in the wake of that brutal winnowing. When Duchess Harrington had relinquished command of Home Fleet to resume command of Eighth Fleet—or, rather, when there'd been enough Manticoran and Alliance ships-of-the-wall to rebuild a Home Fleet in addition to Eighth Fleet—Allen Higgins had found himself replacing her. Well, stepping into her position, since it was unlikely anyone could actually replace her.

Although Higgins respected Alexander-Harrington's accomplishments, he was also one of those officers who was well aware of the role the media had played in creating the legend of 'the Salamander.' To her credit, she seemed to genuinely attempt to avoid that sort of media adulation, but coupled with her stature on Grayson and her political status as one of the main leaders of the Opposition to the High Ridge Government, it had turned her into the next best thing to a physical avatar of the goddess of war as far as the Manticoran public was concerned. And, for that matter, as far as most of the Navy was concerned. Which had made stepping into her shoes an interesting experience.

It also accounted for some of his current apprehension. After all, no matter how well he did, he was going to find himself being compared to the memory of Sebastian D'Orville, who'd died leading the previous Home Fleet into headlong battle, or of Duchess Harrington, whom Higgins had relieved as Home Fleet's CO, and whose Eighth Fleet had saved the home system from Operation Beatrice. And, if he were going to continue to be honest, part of that apprehension also stemmed from what had happened in Grendelsbane. There was no point trying to pretend the experience hadn't scarred him. He didn't think it had left him doubting his judgment, but it had left him dreading a repeat performance. He would have felt much more comfortable if he'd been able to convince himself lightning didn't really strike twice in the same place. Unfortunately, it did. So instead, he spent his time telling himself disasters like Grendelsbane weren't really lightning bolts, so he didn't have to worry about stupid proverbs.

Which, he reflected, makes me feel ever so much better when I think about it.

His lips twitched as that brought him almost full circle through the cycle of thoughts which always ran through his mind at moments like this. It was fortunate his sense of humor, at least, had survived Grendelsbane and the Battle of Manticore, he supposed. It was a dryer and sometimes more biting sense of humor than it once had been, but it was still there, and he suspected he was going to need it, now that Lacoцn One was in effect. The League wasn't going to be happy when it discovered Manticore had closed the Junction to all Solly traffic. Or that nondiscretionary recall orders had been issued to every Manticoran merchantman in Solarian space. Or, now that he thought about it, that orders had been dispatched to every station commander to take whatever steps seemed necessary to protect Manticoran ships, property, and lives from Solarian action.

No, they weren't going to be very happy about that at all, he thought. In fact, he reflected, as he looked at his flagship's crest, mounted on the flag bridge bulkhead beside the lift doors, a lot of them were going to be taking his flagship's name in vain when they heard about it.

HMS Inconceivable . He wasn't sure what he thought of 'inconceivable' as the name for one of Her Majesty's starships, but it was certainly a fitting appellation for his flagship, under the circumstances.

* * *

'I don't suppose you've got that flight schedule for me yet,' a patient, long-suffering voice said as Colonel Andrew LaFollet of the Harrington Steadholders Guard stepped through the office door, and he looked at the speaker with an artfully innocent expression.

'Flight schedule?' he inquired blankly. 'Which flight schedule would that be?'

His sister glared at him, and the treecat on the end of Miranda LaFollet's desk bleeked a laugh.

'The one,' she said with a ferocious glower, 'for the trip to Sphinx. You do remember the trip to Sphinx? The one for Claire's birthday?'

'Oh, that schedule!' He smiled at her. 'What makes you think I might have it? You're the one in charge of things around here when the Steadholder and Mac are away, not me!'

Miranda glowered some more, but the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth gave her away. After a moment, she gave up. There was no point trying to change her big brother at this point. Besides, she'd be