Honor Among Enemies

his instructors had made very clear to him, stood directly at the right hand of God.

'Yes, Bosun,' he managed, and she nodded, then looked back at Steilman.

'According to this,' her head jerked at the chart, 'that's his bunk. And in case you hadn't noticed, Wanderman's a first-class. Unless my memory betrays me, that makes him senior to a career fuck-up like you, doesn't it, Steilman?'

The power tech's lips tightened and his eyes flickered, but he didn't speak, and she smiled.

'I asked you a question, Steilman,' she said, and he clenched his teeth.

'Yeah, I guess it does,' he said in an ugly tone. She cocked her head, and he added a surly 'Bosun' to his reply.

'Yes, it does,' she confirmed. She looked back at the chart again, then tapped one of the unclaimed upper bunks, the one furthest from both the hatch and the head. 'I think this would be an ideal place for you, Steilman. Log in.'

The power tech's shoulders were tight, but his eyes fell from her cold, level gaze and he stamped across to the chart. He fed in his chip and painted the indicated bunk, and she nodded.

'There, you see? A little guidance, and even you can find your bunk.' Aubrey watched the entire proceeding with an icy worm gnawing at his belly. He was delighted to see Steilman get his comeuppance, yet he dreaded what the power tech would do to him once the Bosun left.

'All right, all of you fall in,' she said, pointing to the green stripe across the decksole, and Aubrey stood. The others shuffled resentfully into a line as he crossed to join them, and the Bosun folded her hands behind her and surveyed them expressionlessly.

'My name is MacBride,' she said flatly. 'Some of you, like Steilman, already know me, and I know all about you. You, for example, Coulter.' She pointed at another power tech, a tall, narrow-built man with pitted cheeks and eyes that refused to meet hers. 'I'm sure your captain was delighted to see your thieving backside. And you, Tatsumi.' She gave the fidgety sick berth attendant a stern glare. 'If I catch you sniffing any Sphinx green in my ship, you're going to wish I'd only stuffed you out an airlock.'

She paused, as if inviting comment. No one spoke, but Aubrey felt resentment and hatred welling up about him like poison, and his nerves crawled. He'd never imagined anything like this in a modern navy, yet he knew he should have. Any force the size of the RMN had to have its share of thieves and bullies and God alone knew what else, and his heart sank as he realized the other men in this berthing bay were among the worst the Navy had to offer. What in the name of God was he doing here?

'There's not one of you, except Wanderman, who isn't here because your last skipper could hardly wait to get rid of you,' MacBride went on. 'I'm happy to say that most of the rest of your crewmates are like him, not you, but I thought we'd just have a little welcoming chat. You see, if any of you gentlemen step out of line in my ship, you're going to think a planet fell on you. And you'd better pray to God I deal with you myself, because if you ever wind up in front of Lady Harrington, you'll find yourself in hack so fast your worthless ass won't catch up with you till you land in the stockade. And you'll stay in hack so long you'll be old and gray even with prolong before you see daylight again. Trust me. I've served with her before, and the Old Lady will eat the whole candy-ass lot of you so-called hard cases for breakfast, without salt.' She spoke calmly, without passion, and somehow that gave her words even greater weight. She wasn't making threats; she was stating facts, and Aubrey felt a sort of animal fear superimposing itself on the others' resentment and hostility.

'You remember what happened the last time you and I locked up, Steilman?' MacBride asked softly, and the power tech's nostrils flared. He said nothing, and she smiled thinly. 'Well, don't worry. You go right ahead and try me again if you want. Wayfarer has a fine doctor.' Muscles lumped along Steilman's jaw, and MacBride's thin smile grew. Although she was a sturdily built woman, Aubrey couldn't quite believe what she seemed to be saying, until he glanced sideways at Steilman and saw the fear in the burly power techs eyes.

'Now this is the way its going' MacBride said, sweeping them all with her eyes once more. 'You worthless screw-ups are not going to screw up in my ship. You are going to do your jobs, and you're going to keep your noses clean, and the first one of you who doesn't will regret it, deeply. Is that clear?' No one answered and she raised her voice. 'I said is that clear?' A ragged chorus of assents answered, and she nodded. 'Good.' She turned as if to leave, then paused. 'There's just one more thing,' she said calmly. 'Wanderman's assigned to this bay because I didn't have anyplace else to put him. You'll find a half-dozen Marines joining you shortly, and I'd advise you to behave yourselves. I'd especially advise you to be very sure that nothing, ah, unfortunate happens to Wanderman. If he should as much as stub his toe, I personally promise you that every single one of you will wish you'd never been born. I don't care what you got away with in your last ship. I don't care what you'd like to get away with in mine. Because, people, what you will get away with is nothing.'

Her voice was like ice, and she smiled again, then turned and strode from the compartment. Aubrey Wanderman wanted, more than he'd ever wanted anything else in his life, to run after her, but he knew he couldn't, and he swallowed hard as he turned to face the others.

Steilman glared at him with naked, undisguised hatred, lips working. It took every ounce of Aubrey's courage not to back away from the power tech, but he stood his ground, trying to look unintimidated, and Steilman spat on the deck.

'It ain't over, Snotnose,' he promised softly. 'We're gonna be in the same ship a long time, and snotnoses have accidents.' He bared his teeth. 'Even bosuns can have accidents.'

He turned away, towing his battered locker towards the bunk MacBride had assigned him, and Aubrey sank back onto his own bunk and tried to hide the muscle tremors of reaction racing through him. He'd never heard such ugly, venomous hatred in a voice before, certainly never directed at him. It wasn't fair! He hadn't done anything to Steilman, but the power tech had smeared his own dream of what Navy service was supposed to be like with something sticky and evil. It was as if Steilman soiled the very air he breathed, and the dark, ugly streak inside him reached out to Aubrey like a sick hunger.

Aubrey Wanderman shivered on his bunk, trying to pretend he wasn't afraid, and hoped desperately that some of those Marines MacBride had mentioned turned up soon.

Chapter NINE

Honor Harrington sat in her command chair, one hand caressing the treecat in her lap, as HMS Wayfarer decelerated towards the central terminus of the Manticore Wormhole Junction at the eighty-percent power setting the Navy allowed as its normal maximum. Vulcan had completely stripped the freighter's original bridge and refitted it with what could have passed for a regular warships command stations, but one look at Lieutenant Kanehama’s power settings gave the lie to that illusion, Honor thought dryly, for Wayfarer's 'maximum power' was only 153.6 g.

An impeller drive vessels nodes generated a pair of inclined, plate-like gravity waves which trapped a pocket of normal space in their wedge-shaped grasp. The ship floated in that pocket, like a surfer poised in the curl of a comber which, in theory, could have been accelerated instantaneously to light-speed, taking the vessel with them. But minor practical considerations, like the fact that it would have turned the ship's crew into paste, mitigated against it, and the fact that the physics of the drive required the bow and stern aspects of the wedge to be open limited the maximum speed of any starship, as well. Whatever its possible acceleration, the open throat of a ship's wedge meant it had to worry about particle densities and the rare but not unknown micro-meteorite. A warships particle and antiradiation fields let her pull a maximum normal-space velocity of .8 light-speed in the conditions which obtained within the average star system (max speeds were twenty-five percent lower in h-space, where particle densities were higher, and somewhat higher in areas of particularly low densities), but merchant