Guard uniforms for Manticoran ones, and she was pleased at how well ship's stores had managed to fit them. Candless wore the uniform of a commander, Mattingly that of a senior-grade lieutenant, and LaFollet that of a lowly Marine second lieutenant. That should tend to divert attention from the true commander of her bodyguard, but the main reason for the choices was that, of all her armsmen, LaFollet had the most pronounced Grayson accent. Candless had learned to mimic Honor’s crisp, Sphinx accent almost perfectly, and Mattingly could pass for a native of Gryphon at need, but LaFollet simply could not shake the soft, slow speech of his birth world. It was unlikely Warnecke would be sufficiently familiar with Manticoran dialects to spot an imposter, but there was no point taking any chances, and no one would expect so junior an officer to say much.
The green light blinked, the hatch slid open, and Honor drew a deep breath.
'All right, people,' she told her armsmen quietly. 'Let's be about it.'
LaFollet grunted like an irate bear, then stepped in front of her as she lifted Nimitz to her shoulder. She'd thought long and hard about leaving the 'cat behind, but he'd made his opinion of that option abundantly clear. That wouldn't have been enough to stop her from doing it anyway, but Nimitz had proved himself far too useful in the past. He was so small few strangers realized how lethal he could be, and his ability to read the emotions of Warnecke and his henchmen might literally be the difference between life or death this time. She felt his taut, coiled-spring readiness as she settled him in position and took the time to send him one last admonition to wait. She sensed his agreement, but she also knew it was conditional, and despite her own nervousness, she was content with that. In sudden threat situations, 'cats were prone to revert to instinct-level response, but she'd made certain Nimitz understood what she intended to happen, and she trusted his judgment. Besides, if things went utterly wrong, the empathic 'cat was far more likely than she or her armsmen to have sufficient warning to react in time.
Four skinsuited men were waiting in the shuttle when she followed LaFollet through the natch. Warnecke sat at the extreme front of the passenger compartment, a transmitter in his lap. It was bigger than the one he'd had on the planet, more than sufficiently powerful to set the charges off from orbit, but Honor expected that, for the change had been discussed. All the pirates wore pulsers, and the two who flanked Warnecke carried flechette guns, as well. The fourth, whose skinsuit bore the stylized silver wings of a command pilot, stood just inside the hatch to search each of them for weapons. LaFollet already stood to one side, his face flushed angry from the humiliation of submitting to a search, and the pilot smiled nastily as he reached for Honor. 'Keep your hands to yourself unless you want me to break them,' she said. She didn't raise her voice, but it struck like an icy lash and Nimitz bared his fangs. The man froze, and her lip curled as she turned her head to meet Warnecke's eyes. 'I agreed to be checked for weapons, not to be pawed by one of your animals.'
'You've got a big mouth, lady,' one of Warnecke's bodyguards snarled. 'How about I splatter your ass all over the bulkhead?'
'Go ahead,' she said coldly. 'Your 'Leader' knows what will happen if you do.'
'Calmly, Allen. Calmly,' Warnecke said. 'Captain Harrington is our guest.' He smiled and cocked his head. 'Nonetheless, Captain, you do need to convince me you're unarmed.'
'But I'm not.' Honor’s answering smile was thin, and Warnecke's eyes narrowed in sudden alarm as she raised the rectangular case hanging from her left wrist. It was twenty-two centimeters long, fifteen wide, and ten deep, and its upper surface bore three switches, a small number pad, and two unlit power lights.
'And just what might that be?' He tried to make his voice light, but an edge of tension crackled in it and his bodyguards' weapons came up instantly.
'Something far more potent than a flechette gun, Mr. Warnecke,' Honor said coolly. 'This is a remote detonator. When it's activated, the charge out there is armed. It will detonate if I fail to input the proper code on the number pad at least once every five minutes.'
'You never said anything about that!' This time his voice was almost a snarl, and Nimitz hissed as Honor laughed. It was a chill sound, like the snapping of a frozen sword blade, and her brown eyes were colder still.
'No, I didn't. But you don't have any choice but to accept it, do you? You're up here now, Mr. Warnecke. You can kill me and all three of my officers. You can even blow up the planet. But that charge will still be out there where my ship can detonate it, and you'll be dead ten seconds after we are.' His mouth twisted, and she smiled mockingly. 'Come now, Mr. Warnecke! You have your flechette guns, and, as agreed, my people aren't even in skinsuits. You can shoot us or depressurize the shuttle any time you care to. All I can do is kill us myself... and, of course, take you with us. It seems like a reasonable balance of force to me.'
Warnecke's eyes glittered, but then he forced his expression to smooth out.
'You're cleverer than I thought, Captain,' he observed in something like his normal smooth tones.
'You didn't really think I'd forgotten the light-speed limit when I set this up, did you?' Honor countered. 'We agreed to separate the shuttle ten minutes' flight time from the hyper limit... which would just happen to place the demolition charge
'But how can I be certain there's not a weapon hidden inside it?' Warnecke inquired lightly. 'There's ample room in there for a small pulser, I believe.'
'I'm sure you have a power sensor around somewhere. Run a check.'
'An excellent suggestion. Harrison?'
The pilot glowered at Honor, then opened an equipment locker. He pulled out a hand scanner and ran it over the case when she held it out.
'Well?' Warnecke asked.
'Nothing,' the pilot grunted. 'I'm picking up a single ten-volt power source. That's plenty for a short-range transmitter, but it's too little juice for a pulser.'
'Please excuse my suspicious nature, Captain,' Warnecke murmured, nodding acceptance of the report. 'I trust, however, that it's the
'All I brought is what you see,' Honor said with total honesty. 'As for other weapons...' She handed her case to LaFollet, set Nimitz down in a seat, unsealed her tunic, shrugged it off, and turned in place in her white turtleneck blouse. 'You see? Nothing up my sleeves.'
'Would you mind removing your boots, as well?' Warnecke asked politely. 'I've seen quite a few nasty surprises hidden in boot tops over the years.'
'If you insist.' Honor toed her boots off and handed them to the pilot, who examined them with surly competence, then threw them back to her with a glare.
'Clean,' he grunted, and she returned his glare with a mocking smile as she sat beside Nimitz and pulled them back on. She slipped back into her tunic and sealed it, then gathered the 'cat back up, reclaimed the case from her armsman, and moved to the extreme rear of the passenger compartment. She settled into one of the comfortable seats and laid the case in her lap, then pressed the top button. One of the power lights blinked to life, glowing a steady amber, and the two bodyguards regarded her uneasily.
She waited while Candless and Mattingly followed her into the shuttle and submitted to the pilot's search, then cleared her throat.
'One more thing, Mr. Warnecke. Before my cutter undocks and my Marines leave your boat bay, Commander Candless will take a look at the flight deck. We wouldn't want anyone extra to be hiding up there, now would we?'
'Of course not,' Warnecke said. 'Allen, go with the Commander, and make sure he doesn't touch anything.'
The bodyguard jerked his head, and the two men disappeared into the nose of the shuttle while Honor and Warnecke regarded one another down the ten-meter length of the passenger compartment. They were back in seconds, and Candless nodded.
'Clear, Captain,' he said in his best Sphinx accent, and Honor nodded.
'And now, I think we should all have seats right here where I can keep an eye on you,' she said pleasantly. 'I realize your little transmitter has ample power to send the detonation command from here, but once we get beyond its range, I wouldn't want anyone having an accident with your com when I couldn't see it happen.'
'As you wish.' Warnecke nodded to his henchmen, and they took seats alongside him. All of them were between Honor and her armsmen and the flight deck, and they turned their chairs to face her just as her case beeped and the second light began to flash red. All four of the privateers tensed, and Honor smiled.
'Excuse me,' she murmured, and punched a nine-digit code into the number pad. The red light went out
