have enough of was information, and McKeon had none at all. Without a position fix on at least one of Yeargin’s ships, Russ Sanko couldn't even align his com lasers on it, so there was little point trying to contact anyone closer than Samovar itself. In the absence of an FTL challenge, McKeon had, in fact, transmitted a light-speed message to the planet ten minutes after arriving in-system. Unfortunately, Samovars current orbital position put it over a half light-hour from
A sharp tone sounded, and Honor looked up quickly. She turned towards the tactical station, forcing herself to move with much greater calm than she actually felt, and watched Lieutenant Commander Metcalf bend over the shoulder of one of her techs. The slightly built tac officer twirled a lock of sandy-blond hair around one finger and pursed her lips, dark eyes thoughtful as she studied the plot, then looked at Alistair McKeon.
'We've got a contact, Skipper. It looks...'
Another tone sounded, and she broke off to recheck the plot. Her pursed lips turned into a puzzled frown, and she tapped in a command of her own. Her eyebrows rose, then flattened as the computers obediently brought their enhancement capacity to bear, and her voice was more than professionally flat when she looked back up.
'Correction, Skipper. We've got at least
'Two?' McKeon cocked his head, and Metcalf nodded.
'Yes, Sir. The closer is pursuing us from astern, coming in from about one-seven-eight by zero-zero-four. CIC is calling this one Alpha One, and range is approximately five-point-nine light-minutes. It's on a direct pursuit course with an acceleration of five hundred and ten gravities, but present velocity is barely twelve hundred KPS. The other one, designated Alpha Two, is almost dead ahead, bearing zero-zero-three, zero-one-four, range about fifteen-point-eight light-minutes. Alpha Two is on an intercept heading at seven-six-five-zero KPS, accelerating at five hundred and twenty gravities.'
'How in hell did Alpha One get that close before we spotted him?' McKeon demanded.
'At her current velocity and acceleration, she can't have been under power for more than six minutes, Sir, so there was nothing
'What can you tell me about Alpha One now that we
'All we've got so far is a fairly fuzzy impeller signature. I've never seen anything quite like this bird's EW, and we're still trying to get a good enough fix on his systems to get through them. My best guess would be that he's either a battlecruiser or a really big heavy cruiser, Skipper, but it's only a guess.'
'Understood,' McKeon said, and glanced at Honor. 'Ahead and astern? Under stealth?' he half murmured, then shook his head and turned to his com section. 'Still nothing from Commodore Yeargin?'
'Nothing, Sir,' Lieutenant Sanko replied, and McKeon's frown deepened. He rubbed an eyebrow, then climbed out of his command chair and crossed to Honors side.
'Something's out of whack here, Ma'am. Badly,' he said softly.
'Agreed.' Honor's voice was equally low, and she reached up to rub Nimitz's ears as the 'cat shifted uneasily on her shoulder. She let her eyes sweep the bridge, watching the officers who were very carefully
'They're maneuvering to intercept,' she said, and her mind ticked quickly and urgently as McKeon nodded.
There was no reason for Commodore Yeargin’s units to intercept
'Additional unidentified contacts!' Metcalf’s senior petty officer sang out.
'Designate as Alpha Three and Four and give me a position!' Metcalf snapped.
'We've got them on the Alpha Drone, Ma'am. Bearing zero-one-one by zero-zero-four, range approximately eighteen light-minutes. Present velocity is two-five-zero-zero KPS, accelerating at five KPS squared. Whatever they are, they're running under stealth, too, Commander, and I don't think they're using Allied systems. We've got better reads on their impeller signatures than our EW would give up to a drones sensors.' The petty officer turned her head to meet her officer's eyes. 'CIC's calling Alpha Three a definite heavy cruiser and Alpha Four a possible battlecruiser, Ma'am, but Four's EW looks a lot like Alpha Ones and the ID is tentative. Whoever they are, they're on intercept courses.'
'Captain, I...' Metcalf began, then broke off, one hand pressing her earbug more firmly into her ear while she listened intently. Her face paled, and she cleared her throat. 'Captain, CIC has just reclassified our contacts as definite hostiles. I am redesignating them Bandits One through Four. Bandits One and Four are still indeterminate, but the other two are definitely using Peep EW.'
McKeon whirled to her, but Honor didn't even feel surprise. Not really. In fact, she was astonished by how calm she felt, as if her instincts had realized that something like this had to be happening from the moment Commodore Yeargin had failed to challenge their arrival. She folded her hands behind her and gazed at Metcalf's plot for perhaps four more seconds, then turned her gaze to the tac officer.
'Thank you, Commander Metcalf,' she said, and the calmness of her voice would have fooled anyone who didn't know her. She stood for another moment, rocking gently on the balls of her feet, then turned back to McKeon. 'Captain McKeon,' she said formally, 'we must assume the enemy has taken the Adler System.'
A ripple of shock flowed outward from her. Alistair McKeon’s bridge officers were veterans. Even before CIC reclassified the unknowns as hostile, the same explanation for the lack of a challenge had to have been nibbling at the backs of their brains, however unlikely and however much they would have preferred to deny the possibility, yet hearing their squadron commander actually say it was still a shock.
'But why come after us
'I don't know, Andy,' McKeon said, never taking his eyes from Honor's. 'Somebody must have picked up our footprint and warned the bastards in front of us,
'Probably,' Honor agreed. 'Not that an explanation really helps at this point.' She crossed to Sarah DuChene's console and touched the astrogator on the shoulder. 'Excuse me, Commander. I need to borrow your panel,' she said almost absently. DuChene gave her a startled look, then moved out of her way, and Honor slid into the emptied chair.
Her eyes were as intent as her whirring thoughts, and her long fingers flicked over the number pad with crisp assurance. Usually she worked slowly and carefully, double-and even triple-checking her calculations, but now concentration overcame her normal lack of confidence in her mathematical ability and her fingers flew. A series of complex vectors, some red, some green, flashed across DuChene’s display in rapid succession, but no one spoke as she worked, despite the ticking seconds.