Honor Among Enemies

could pull Amaterasu for the duty, though.'

'Hmm.' Caparelli rubbed his jaw, then shook his head. 'No. We need this to look casual. If we make a big production out of it, people are going to ask why we can suddenly spare a special escort for this particular ship and not for all of them, and one thing I don't want to do is explain that some of Her Majesty's subjects are more important than others.'

'Understood, Sir. In that case, though, the best I can do is a tin can. Hawkwing is at Hephaestus right now, taking on stores. She's due to clear her mooring in thirteen hours for a departure to Basilisk. If I instruct Commander Usher to expedite, he can clear within the window for Artemis' scheduled departure.'

'Do it,' Caparelli decided. 'Then have one of your people, someone junior, contact Captain Fuchien. Inform her that Hawkwing's due for routine deployment to Silesia and that she just happens to be ready to depart now. Then ask her if Artemis would like a little company.'

'Yes, Sir. I'll get right on it.'

Commander Gene Usher, CO HMS Hawkwing, swore softly as he read the message. Hawkwing wasn't the RMN's newest destroyer, but she was a most satisfactory billet for a brand new commander, and Usher was proud of her. He hadn't been looking forward to a six-month deployment to Basilisk Station, even if Basilisk was no longer the punishment station it had been, but he'd adjusted to that... and he hated last-minute order changes.

He reread the dispatch again, and swore a bit louder. Artemis. At least playing nursemaid to a single ship was easier than sheepherding an entire convoy, and the Atlas- class liners were fast enough to make the passage mercifully short, but Usher had been around. He could read between the lines, and there was only one reason SysCom had appended a copy of her passenger manifest. Two names fairly leapt off the screen at him, and the thought that a vindictive old bastard like Klaus Hauptman had the juice to pull in a desperately needed destroyer just to watch his ass was enough to upset anyone.

He sighed, then handed the board back to the com officer and looked at his astrogator.

'Change of orders, Jimmy. We're going to Silesia.'

'Silesia, Sir?' Lieutenant James Sargent frowned in surprise. 'Skipper, I don't even have the latest shipping updates on Silesia, and my cartography's all loaded for Basilisk and the Republic.'

'Get hold of Hephaestus Central, then. Pull the downloads ASAP, then put in a call to RMMS Artemis, Com knows where she is. Talk to her astrogator and coordinate with her. We're going to be playing nurse-maid.'

'All the way to Silesia?'

'All the way to wherever the hell she's going, unless we can find someone in-sector to hand her off to,' Usher sighed, 'but don't tell her astrogator that. As far as Artemis is concerned, we just happen to be going her way.'

'Wonderful,' Sargent said dryly. 'Okay, Skipper. I'm on it.'

Usher nodded and crossed to his command chair. He sat down and gazed moodily at his blank plot for a moment while his brain ticked off the things he had to do. Rewriting a starships movement orders on less than twelve hours' notice was never easy, but he'd leave it to SysCom to notify the Basilisk Station commander of his impending nonarrival. He had problems of his own to worry about, like expediting the loading of his ship's stores. He nodded to himself and punched an intraship com stud.

'Get me the Bosun,' he said.

'...so if you'd like the company, Hawkwing will be happy to tag along as far as Sachsen.'

'Why, thank you, Lieutenant,' Captain Fuchien told the face on her com screen. She tried very hard to hide a grin which she knew would infuriate the lieutenant, but it wasn't easy. The notion of hauling both Hauptmans into Silesia still didn't appeal to her in the least, but having a destroyer for company couldn't hurt. And she knew how tight stretched the Navy was... which also meant she knew which of her passengers had prompted this 'coincidental' generosity.

'Of course,' the lieutenant added, 'you'll be guided by Commander Usher if anything should happen along the way.'

'Naturally,' Fuchien agreed. It was only fair, after all. The Navy might not want to call it a one-ship convoy, but that was what it would be. Artemis's speed meant Fuchien wasn't used to sailing under escort. In fact, she usually tended to take the suggestion that her ship required escorting as something of an insult, but she could stand it just this once.

'Very well, then, Captain. Commander Usher will be in touch with you shortly, I'm sure.'

'Thank you again, Lieutenant. We appreciate it,' Fuchien said with complete sincerity, then leaned back in her command chair and grinned widely as the screen blanked.

Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

The rippling sound of shuffled cards hovered in the berthing compartment as Randy Steilman’s thick fingers manipulated the deck. He'd shed his work uniform for shorts and a T-shirt, and the dense hair on his heavily muscled arms looked like dark fur under the lights. He offered the deck to Ed Illyushin to cut, but the environmental tech, a first-class, which made him the most senior person in the compartment, only rapped it with a knuckle, declining the cut, and coins thumped as the players anted up for the next hand.

'Seven card stud,' he announced, and the deck whispered as he dealt the hole cards, then the first face up. 'King of diamonds is high,' he observed. 'What'cha gonna do there, Jackson?'

'Um.' Jackson Coulter scratched his jaw, then tossed a five-dollar coin out onto the table.

'Christ, what a big spender!' Steilman’s laugh rumbled deep in his belly, and he glanced at Elizabeth Showforth. 'How's about you, Sweet Cakes?'

'How'd you like a kick in the ass?' Showforth had the jack of spades showing and tossed out a five-spot of her own. Illyushin, with the ten of diamonds, matched her, and Steilman shook his head.

'Shit, what a bunch of wimps.' He himself had an eight of clubs showing, and he tossed ten dollars out without even checking his hole card, then looked at Al Stennis, the fifth and final player. Stennis had a lowly two of hearts, and he scowled at Steilman.

'Why do you always hafta push so hard, Randy?' he demanded plaintively, but he matched the dealer's raise. Steilman eyed the other three challengingly, and, one by one, each of them tossed another five dollars into the pot.

'That's the spirit!' Steilman encouraged with another laugh. He dealt the next card and cocked an eyebrow as the queen of hearts landed in front of Coulter. 'Looking good, there, Jackson! Let's see, possible royal straight to Jackson, nothing much to Sweet Cakes, a possible straight to Ed, jack shit to Al, and...' He dropped the nine of clubs onto his own hand and beamed. 'Well, well!' he chortled. 'Possible straight flush to the dealer!'

He tossed another ten dollars out, and the others groaned. But they also followed suit, and he started around the table again.

The poker games in Berthing Compartment 256 were its inhabitants' second-most serious occupation, a point which many of their fellow crewmen, who speculated ribaldry on just who did what with whom, would have found difficult to believe.

Traditionally, berthing assignments aboard a Queens ship were subject to adjustment by mutual consent. Initial assignments were made as personnel reported aboard, but as long as divisional officers were kept informed, the Navy's people were free to swap around as long as the division between ratings, petty officers, and officers was maintained. The Navy had come to that arrangement long ago, though the Marines remained far more formal about