In Enemy Hands

smile.

'Don't sweat it, kid,' Honor heard Venizelos say, though the commander had obviously pitched his voice only for Clinkscales' ears. 'You should've seen my first disaster on a starship bridge. At least you're only dropping folders; I dropped an entire cup of coffee, cream, with two sugars, right in the XO's lap!'

Clinkscales stared at him for a moment, then grinned shyly and bobbed his head in gratitude, and Honor looked away once more. Clinkscales had obviously expected someone to tear a strip off him, and no doubt some senior officers would have done just that. Not on this staff, though, and she drew a deep breath of satisfaction, for the seemingly tiniest things were often the best indicators of a team's cohesion and quality.

'Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir,' Clinkscales told Venizelos quietly. 'I just picked these up from CIC for Lieutenant Mayhew to distribute before the morning brief, and, well...' He broke off, looking down at the stack of binders. Some had popped open when he dropped them, spilling pages which had lost any sort of order in a confetti-like pile, and Venizelos squeezed the taller youngsters shoulder with his right hand. His left beckoned to Mayhew, and he smiled reassuringly.

'We've still got twenty minutes, Carson. You'll have time to get them sorted back out... but you should probably go ahead and get started on it.'

'Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir!'

The intelligence officer arrived, and he and the ensign carted the scrambled binders off towards his console. Venizelos watched them go and nodded to a trio of yeomen, who quickly converged to lend additional hands to the problem, then glanced at Honor and gave her a wink before he turned to walk calmly back to his own console.

Yes, the chemistry's good, Honor thought, listening to Mayhew rag Clinkscales gently. The intelligence officers own relatively junior rank made him a logical mentor for the ensign, senior enough to be an authority figure, yet junior enough not to be frightening, and Mayhew seemed to have slipped naturally into the role. Still, I hope Carson does get over this fit of the clumsies. Andy's on the right track for now, and the others are following his lead, but sooner or later the kid's simply going to have to get it together. He is an officer, or the larval stage of one, anyway, and...

Nimitz made a soft chiding sound from the back of her chair, and she chuckled as she reached up to caress his ears. He was right. Generations of young officers had survived maladroitness and embarrassment, and no doubt Carson would as well. And whether he did or not, it was her chief of staff's job to fret over it, not hers. Except, of course, that fretting was one of the privileges of command.

She chuckled again and lifted Nimitz down to her lap so she could rub his ears properly.

'...so that's about it, Milady,' Marcia McGinley finished up. 'Command Central says it will be at least a month before the rest of the squadron assembles here, but we're on notice that we may be tasked for miscellaneous duties between now and then. Once Admiral White Haven takes over, our posture and deployment will be up to him.'

'Understood, Marcia. Thank you.' Honor tipped her chair back, moving her eyes to scan the faces gathered around the conference table in her flag briefing room. 'Did you discuss this with Captain Greentree, Andy?'

'Yes, Milady,' the chief of staff replied with a slight grin. 'He hasn't heard anything more than we have, and nothing official's come in yet at all, but you know how the grapevine works.'

'Ah?' Honor cocked an eyebrow, and Venizelos shrugged.

'His astrogator's just received an updated download on the Clairmont-Mathias Sector, Milady. That inspired me to do a little checking, and it turns out that System Control's expecting a JNMT convoy to arrive shortly. It's scheduled to move on to Quest, Clairmont, Adler, and Treadway, and a little birdie down in Command Central tells me that the dreadnought division escorting it is due to peel off here to join Eighth Fleet. Sounds to me like they're going to have to find some replacement escorts, Milady.'

'I see.' Honor rocked her chair gently from side to side, then nodded to Jasper Mayhew when the lieutenant raised a hand. 'Yes, Jasper?'

'I think Commander Venizelos is on to something, My Lady,' Mayhew said. 'According to my latest update from High Admiral Matthews staff,' he tapped the binder in front of him, one of the ones Clinkscales had delivered to the flag bridge, 'most of the convoys cargo is actually intended for Treadway, the endpoint of the voyage. I don't have detailed specs on it, but reading between the lines suggests that it's probably more hardware, and possibly some more personnel, to help upgrade the yard facilities we captured from the Peeps. One part of the convoy manifest that I do have, though, is the portion for Adler.

Apparently the Protector has agreed to provide Marines to garrison Samovar, the systems inhabited planet, until the Royal Army can take over. A large part of this convoy constitutes ammunition, ground equipment, and general support for those Marines, and there's also a fairly hefty load of humanitarian relief supplies. From the look of things, the system was in pretty poor shape before the Alliance threw the Peeps out, and the locals seem to prefer us to the old management.'

'You say all this was included in your most recent download?'

'Yes, My Lady.'

'Then I suspect you and Commander Venizelos are right about where we're likely to be headed shortly. And to be honest, I'm just as happy to hear it. We've got sixty percent of the squadron assembled, and I'd sooner put it to good use, and get some operational experience under our belts, than just sit up here in orbit. Andy,' she turned back to Venizelos, 'talk to your little bird at Command Central. 'Suggest' to him that we think we'd be ideal for this particular mission. After all...' she smiled one of her crooked smiles '...we might as well let the brass know we're bright-eyed and eager, right?'

'Yes, Milady.' Venizelos' tone combined exactly the right degree of respect and resignation, and a quiet chuckle circled the table.

'And while the Commander is doing that, Carson,' Honor went on, turning to her flag lieutenant, 'I'd like you to contact Captain Greentree and Captain McKeon. Invite both of them to join me, and, I think, you, Andy, and you, too, Marcia, for supper tonight. If we're going to be volunteering for escort duty, I'd like to run a few squadron- level sims before we pull out, and we might as well get started planning them now.'

'Yes, My Lady!' Clinkscales remained in his chair, but somehow he gave the impression of having risen, saluted, clicked his heels together, and bowed in acknowledgment, and Honor hid a grin.

'All right, then. I think that just about covers everything. Unless anyone has something else we need to look at?' No one did, and she nodded in satisfaction. 'Good! In that case, I'll be in the gym for the next hour or so if anyone needs me. After that, Andy, I'd like to see some rough ideas from you and Marcia.'

'Yes, Milady.'

'Fine.' Honor stood and lifted Nimitz from the back of her chair, setting him in his proper position on her shoulder as her subordinates rose to their feet as well. 'A good brief, people. Thank you.'

A gratified murmur answered her, and she smiled, nodded once more, and headed for the hatch and an overdue appointment with her sparring partner.

'Earl White Haven has arrived, Sir,' the yeoman said. He stood aside to admit Hamish Alexander to the comfortably austere office, then withdrew and closed the old-fashioned door quietly behind him.

'Ah, Admiral White Haven!' High Admiral Wesley Matthews rose and walked quickly around his desk to extend his hand. 'I apologize for interrupting your schedule, but thank you for coming so promptly.'

'You didn't actually interrupt anything, High Admiral,' White Haven reassured him. 'My staff is running a battle simulation for Admiral Greenslade and Rear Admiral Ukovski, but we're only acting as umpires for this one. What can I do for you, Sir?'

'Please, sit down,' Matthews invited. He waved his guest into one of the comfortable chairs before his desk, then settled himself into another one while he considered exactly how to approach his current concern. Things weren't made any easier by the fact that Hamish Alexander, despite the fact that he was both twice Matthews' own age and one of the most highly respected strategists and fleet commanders in the explored galaxy, was technically junior to him. In fact, Sixth Fleet, White Haven's last command, had out massed the entire Grayson Space Navy by a factor of around eight, which always made Matthews feel a little awkward when dealing with the earl through the