Flag In Exile

this...' she tapped the display again '...is the biggest single ship I've got good reads on, and that makes her an SD.' Caslet nodded again. That was an unprovable assumption, but it was also a virtual certainty, and his eyes narrowed as Foraker flicked a finger at the trio of lights she'd just painted with white borders. 'Well, these three here are in the same mass neighborhood, but they're pulling the same accel with only point-niner-five the impeller strength. Assuming that all of 'em have the new compensators, then that means they're smaller than our big boy, but not a lot. If the big guy is an SD, that means they're a hell of a lot bigger than any DN I've ever seen. Matter of fact, they match pretty damned well with the impeller strengths on the two we know have our radars aboard.'

'The Manties have some smaller superdreadnoughts,' Caslet pointed out, and Foraker nodded.

'Yep, but we know how many of 'em they've got, and that's the other thing my 'puters 've been up to. See, Intelligence says they've got thirty-two of those smaller SDs at Thetis and Lowell, and the spooks put another five of 'em down south at Grendelsbane. That only leaves sixteen more in the whole Manty navy, and ten of them're supposed to be in their Home Fleet. There's no way anything could've gotten here from Manticore this fast, so we can ignore those ten, assuming Intelligence isn't talking out its ass again, and that gets us down to six unaccounted for. So since all five of these are smaller than Mister Big Fella, they're either five of the DuQuesne—class SDs the Manties gave Grayson or else they just happen to've sent out eighty-odd percent of all the Manty-built ships they could be in one fell swoop.

'I don't know what the odds against that are, Skip, but they've gotta be pretty high.'

'Very good, Shannon,' Caslet said with a smile, and patted her on the shoulder. She was right, it was speculative. But it was good, intelligent speculation, and if their orders wouldn't let them go in for a decent look that was about the best he could hope for. 'Anything else?'

'You want pretzels with your beer, Skipper? There's no way I can say anything more certain from this far out.' Foraker frowned and tapped in yet another command, then grimaced. 'Nope. All those other drive sources are kicking up too much interference. I can tell you there are at least five more of the wall on the far side of their main body, but I can't tell you anything about them. And on this heading, they're not gonna give me a good look before they go completely out of range into the inner system.'

'All right, Shannon.' He gazed at her display for another moment, then shrugged. 'You did good to get this much.'

'Any chance anyone else's gonna get a look at the other side of their formation?' Foraker asked hopefully.

'I'm afraid not,' Caslet sighed. 'De Conde is over there, but we're spread too far, and...' he grinned suddenly '...Citizen Commander Hewlett's tac witch isn't as good as mine.' Foraker grinned back, and he patted her shoulder again before he turned and crossed the bridge to Jourdain.

'Well, Citizen Commander?' the commissioner asked.

'As I warned you, Citizen Commissioner,' Caslet said formally, 'we're too far out to be certain.' Jourdain nodded with a trace of impatience, and Caslet shrugged. 'With that proviso, I have to say it looks like the operation is succeeding. If you'd come with me?'

Jourdain followed him over to the astrogator's station, and he waved at the display. 'As you can see, they came in on the right heading for a least-time passage from Yeltsin's Star. Moreover, Citizen Lieutenant Foraker has positively confirmed emissions from our own radar systems aboard two ships of the wall, which would seem to prove that they're two of the prize ships the Manties handed over to the Graysons.

'We also have evidence that at least three more of their ships are smaller than most Manticoran SDs. Again, that probably indicates that they're ex-PN prizes, but that conclusion is based solely on inferential evidence. There's no way we can confirm it without closing with the enemy, and our orders preclude that.'

Jourdain nodded, and Caslet sighed.

'The main thing that worries me, Citizen Commissioner, is that there seem to be too many of them.'

'Too many?' Jourdain repeated.

'Yes, Sir. We count thirteen of the wall.'

'Ah.' Jourdain gazed down at the astro display and plucked at his lip, and Caslet was grateful for the obvious intensity of the other man's thoughts. Jourdain had an undeniable edge of priggish revolutionary ardor, but he was also an intelligent man who paid as much attention to mission briefs as to the political reliability of Vaubon's crew.

'Exactly,' the citizen commander said, after letting the commissioner ponder for a moment. 'If these are the Grayson SDs, then they've picked up a pair of hitchhikers somewhere.'

'There could be any number of explanations for that,' Jourdain countered. 'The Manties are probably pulling in everything they can to respond to our attacks on Minette and Candor. This could be no more than a pair of dreadnoughts detached from convoy escort.'

'No, Sir. At least one of them is an SD.'

'They could still be convoy escorts.'

'They could be, Citizen Commissioner, but it's not like the Manties to have single divisions of superdreadnoughts wandering around.'

'Agreed,' Jourdain sighed. He stood pondering the astro display a moment longer, then shrugged. 'Well, whatever they are, they came in on a heading from Yeltsin, as you say. For that matter, Intelligence only gives about a sixty percent chance that even the Manticorans could have gotten all eleven prizes back into service this quickly. The Graysons are probably a bit slower than that, so it's possible we're looking at two divisions of Manty SDs, not one, and they're more likely to have been moving a half-squadron independently than they are to move a single division.'

Caslet nodded thoughtfully. That was a possibility he hadn't considered, and it made sense.

'At any rate,' Jourdain went on, 'if at least five of them are Grayson ships, it seems likely they brought everything Yeltsin could spare.' The citizen commissioner sounded a bit as if he were trying to convince himself of that, Caslet noted, and said nothing. A brief silence stretched out between them once more, and then Jourdain nodded sharply to himself.

'All right,' said. 'If we've gotten all the information we can from this range, then I suppose that's the best we can do, Citizen Commander. Let's pull out for the rendezvous.'

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Armsman Yard clicked to attention outside Honors quarters at her approach, and she wondered if the procession looked as silly as it felt. Andrew LaFollet led the way, Jared Sutton and Abraham Jackson, the latter still in surplice and cassock, followed her, and Jamie Candless brought up the rear like an escorting destroyer. It still seemed awfully complicated to her, and she remembered the first time she'd dined with Benjamin Mayhew and his family. Her mouth quirked at the memory of how grateful she'd been that she didn't have to put up with twenty-four-hour security oversight. God, she'd decided long ago, had a strange sense of humor.

Candless and LaFollet peeled off as she and her two staff officers continued into the cabin. The dining cabin hatch was open, and MacGuiness had just finished setting the table.

'Ready for us, Mac?' she asked while Sutton and Jackson followed her across the carpet.

'Whenever you are, Milady,' MacGuiness assured her, and pulled Nimitz's highchair back from the table. The cat leapt from her shoulder to the chair, and Honor grinned at her steward.

'I'm sure Commander Jackson needs to, ah, slip into something a bit more comfortable, first,' she said. The chaplain chuckled, then peeled off his surplice, and MacGuiness shook his head reprovingly at Honor as he draped the spotless white garment carefully over his forearm.

'That's all, Mac,' Jackson said with a smile of his own, and ran a hand down his black cassock to smooth away a wrinkle. 'I'm quite comfortable now, My Lady,' he told Honor cheerfully. 'After all, I wore this uniform for over five T-years before I ever tried on the Navy's.'

'In that case, let's be seated, gentlemen,' she invited. She took her own place, with Nimitz to her right and Sutton to her left while Jackson faced her from the table's far end, and watched MacGuiness pour the wine. The