On Basilisk Station

'Coming up on fifty-six minutes, Captain. Velocities will match at one-seven-one-zero-six KPS in thirty-two seconds.'

'Thank you, Mr. McKeon.' Honor rubbed her fingers over her thigh, wishing her suit gloves let her actually feel the contact. She glanced over at Webster.

'Lieutenant, prepare to record a transmission to Sirius.'

'Recording, Ma'am,' Webster replied.

'Captain Coglin,' Honor said slowly and clearly, 'this is Commander Honor Harrington of Her Manticoran Majesty's Starship Fearless. I request and command you to heave to for examination. Please cut your drive and stand by to receive my boarding party. Harrington out.'

'On the chip, Ma'am,' Webster said. 'Prepared to transmit on your command.'

'Thank you.' She leaned back in her chair and glanced at the maneuvering display, waiting until the velocity of her ship exactly matched that of Sirius, then nodded. 'Send it now.'

'Transmitting, aye, Ma'am.'

Almost seven-point-seven million kilometers separated the two ships as Honor's message raced after Sirius. It took the transmission over twenty-five seconds to cross that gulf of space— twenty-five seconds in which Sirius moved another four hundred and forty-one thousand kilometers. The total transmission time was over twenty-seven seconds, and Johan Coglin's face went hard as stone as his com officer played it for him. His eyes dropped to the light dot astern of him—the light dot which had stopped losing ground and started, oh so slowly, to overhaul—and he said nothing.

'No response, Ma'am,' Webster reported.

Honor bit her lip but made herself nod calmly, as if she'd expected it. And perhaps she had. Perhaps she simply hadn't wanted to admit to herself that she'd known all along Sirius would refuse to stop. She was virtually certain Johan Coglin was no merchant service officer. Or, if he was, he held a reserve naval commission, as well. Haven wouldn't have trusted this operation to a merchant skipper, and a Navy officer would have his orders. He would no more stop than Honor herself would have. Not unless he was made to.

Her mind shied away from the thought of firing into an unarmed freighter, but if Coglin refused to heave to, she would have no choice, and she castigated herself for using all three pinnaces for the Marines' combat drop. She could have held one of the boarding shuttles for that, fleshed it out with her cutters, if she'd had to, and retained at least one pinnace aboard Fearless. She had the acceleration and the time to overhaul Sirius, and pinnaces were expressly designed, among other things, to put boarding parties aboard ships under way. Her velocity when she overtook the freighter would be barely four thousand KPS greater than her quarry's. Pinnace impeller drives were far weaker than a regular starship's, but if she'd dropped a boatload of Marines or even armed Navy ratings as she overran Sirius, its drive would have sufficed to decelerate for a boarding rendezvous.

She hadn't thought clearly enough when she realized what was going on, she told herself. Not that there'd been time to change her plans once Sirius began to move even if she had thought it through. Depriving Dame Estelle and Barney Isvarian of a third of Papadapolous's Marines with a full-fledged native war under way would have been criminal. But she should have considered the possibility in advance.

'Mr. Webster,' she said.

'Yes, Captain?'

'Record this. `Captain Coglin, if you refuse to heave to, I will have no option but to fire into your ship. I repeat. You are requested and required to cut your drive immediately.''

'Recorded, Captain.' Webster's voice was soft with suppressed tension.

'Transmit immediately.'

'Transmitting now, Captain.'

'Mr. Cardones.'

'Yes, Ma'am?'

'Prepare to fire a warning shot. Set it for detonation at least five thousand kilometers clear of Sirius.'

'Aye, aye, Ma'am. Setting for detonation five-zero-zero-zero kilometers clear of target.'

'Thank you.'

Honor leaned back in her chair and prayed Coglin would listen to sanity.

'... fire into your ship. I repeat. You are requested and required to cut your drive immediately.'

Coglin grunted as he listened to the message, and his first officer looked up from his own instruments.

'Any reply, Captain?'

'No.' Coglin frowned. 'She'll fire at least one warning shot first, and the further out we are when she decides to do something more drastic, the better.'

'Should we prepare to turn back towards her, Sir?'

'No.' Coglin considered for a moment, then nodded to himself. 'We'll keep running, but blow the after panels,' he ordered.

'Aye, Sir. Blowing after panels now.'

'No response, Captain,' Webster said very quietly.

'Thank you, Lieutenant. Mr. Cardones, I—' Honor broke off, frowning at her own tactical display as something tumbled away from Sirius.

'Captain, I'm picking up—'

'I see it, Mr. Cardones.' Honor forced her frown away and looked at McKeon. 'Comments, Exec?'

'I don't know, Ma'am.' McKeon replayed the tactical readouts and shook his head. 'Looks like some kind of debris. I can't think of what it might be, though.'

Honor nodded. Whatever it was, it was unpowered and far too small to be any sort of weapon. Could Sirius be jettisoning some sort of incriminating cargo?

'Run a plot on it, Mr. Panowski,' she said. 'We may need to run it down for examination afterwards.'

'Aye, aye, Captain.' Panowski tapped commands into his panel, feeding the debris' trajectory into his computers.

'Mr. Cardones. Range and time to target?'

'Two-five-point-six-two light-seconds, Ma'am. Flight time one-niner-two-point-eight seconds.'

'Very well, Mr. Cardones. Fire warning shot.'

'Aye, aye, Ma'am. Missile away.'

The missile belched from Fearless's number two missile tube and sped ahead at an acceleration of 417 KPS, building on Fearless's own velocity of just over eighteen thousand kilometers per second. It could have accelerated twice as fast, but reducing its acceleration to 42,500 g raised its small impeller's burnout time from one minute to three, which not only gave it three times the maneuvering time but increased its terminal velocity from rest by almost fifty percent.

It raced after Sirius, seeming to crawl, even at its speed, as the freighter continued to accelerate. At three minutes, more than ten million kilometers from launch and with a terminal velocity of just over ninety-three thousand KPS, its impeller drive burned out and it went ballistic, overhauling its target on momentum alone.

Captain Coglin watched it come. He'd been certain it would be no more than a warning shot, and its vector quickly proved it was. Even if it hadn't been, he would have had almost thirteen seconds after burnout to take evasive action, during which his ship would move almost two hundred and forty thousand kilometers. His maximum possible vector change was barely over four KPS?, but the missile was no longer able to follow his maneuvers, and the cumulative effect would have made Sirius an impossible target at such a range.

Yet there was no need. He watched the missile race up alongside, five thousand kilometers clear of his ship. It detonated in a savage pinprick of thermonuclear fire, and he grunted.

'Jamming ready, Jamal?'

'Aye, Sir,' his tactical officer replied.

'Stand by. I doubt she'll waste another warning shot, but we've got twenty minutes yet before she can