The Service of the Sword

'We have three other ships on loan from the Logan Freedom Fighters,' he said. 'We're running this in shifts.'

'Who's your contact with Logan?'

The question seemed to take Iliescu off guard. 'What?'

'I want the name of your contact,' Honor repeated. 'The one who negotiated the alliance with your Zoraster Freemen.'

Iliescu's eyes were bulging again. 'You're very well informed, Captain,' he said. 'I don't know if I should . . .'

'There's no deal possible unless you convince me, Mr. Iliescu,' Honor warned quietly. 'As far as I can tell from here, you could still just be another pirate with a gift for glib.'

Iliescu swallowed hard. 'His name is Bokusu. Simon Bokusu.'

Honor glanced at Wallace, caught the other's fractional nod. 'All right,' she said, looking back at Iliescu. 'Under the circumstances, I'm going to give you this one free pass. But from now on you leave Manticoran ships alone, or there will be trouble. Is that understood?'

'Understood,' the other said. 'What about the shredders?'

'None of the ships in my convoy are carrying them,' Honor told him. 'You have my word on that.'

Iliescu hesitated, then nodded. 'All right. Iccgood-bye, Captain.'

His image vanished as he broke contact. 'Secure from battle stations,' Honor ordered. 'Signal the convoy to return to formation.'

'Well, that was interesting,' Venizelos commented. 'Also pretty disgusting. What kind of a sick animal uses shredders anymore?'

'You heard the man,' DuMorne said. 'Petty tyrants desperate to hold onto power and privilege.'

'And we have to look the other way,' Metzinger murmured.

'Just one of the many fun things about duty in Silesia,' Venizelos said. 'Skipper, do you want to leave the wedge at full power?'

'We might as well, since the masquerade's blown anyway,' Honor said. 'And as long as the active sensors are on line again, let's give the area between us and the planet a good, hard look.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' Venizelos said. Honor turned back to her tactical plot, watching the ships of her convoy shuffling back toward their original flight formation. The maneuvers were nowhere near military-precise, but not bad for merchantmen. Maybe there ought to be a course on this sort of thing at the Merchant Fleet Academy.

There was a beep from Venizelos's board. 'Skipper, we've got another wedge coming up,' he announced, frowning at his displays. 'Off to port, about three million klicks out.'

'Course is running skew across the ecliptic,' DuMorne added. 'Looks like she was just coasting through the outer system.'

'We have an ID?' Honor asked.

'She's reading as an Andermani warship,' Wallace said, his voice suddenly taut.

'Transponder identifies her as the IANS Neue Bayern,' Metzinger confirmed.

'Neue Bayern,' Venizelos repeated, punching keys on his console. 'Battlecruiser, Mendelssohn class, massing just under nine hundred thousand tons. No sign of anyone else in her vicinity.'

'Any idea what she's doing out here?' Honor asked, swiveling to look at Wallace. The other was working his board, his eyes intense but uncertain.

With good reason, she realized as she ran down the same logic track he was probably following. A lone Andermani ship, and one that had apparently been lying doggo as a pirate might, could very possibly be their raider.

Except that it wasn't fitting the rest of the ONI profile. A battlecruiser was too big, for one thing, and it wasn't running either the Silesian ID or the camouflaging surface emission spectrum.

On the other hand, considering the poor quality of the data on which it was based, the profile itself might not be all that accurate. Besides which, who was to say that the leopard might not occasionally trade in his spots for stripes?

'Well, if she's on escort duty, she seems to have misplaced her convoy, Ma'am,' Venizelos observed. 'And as for her vector . . . Stephen, what do you make of it?'

'We don't know what she was doing before we came in, of course,' DuMorne pointed out. 'But her current vector matches nicely with a straight-line course from Tyler's Star to Schiller. It almost looks like she's spent the past few days drifting her way across the system.

'Like someone hunting pirates?' Venizelos suggested.

Or perhaps something a little more personal? Honor caught Wallace's eye as he glanced up and lifted her eyebrows in silent question. He cocked an eyebrow of his own and gave a small shrug.

So at least they were agreed about their basic uncertainty. The Neue Bayern might well be out hunting a rogue Andy raider. On the other hand, she might be here to give that same raider tactical or logistical support.

'I hope she wasn't trying to sneak up on Iliescu's roadblock,' Venizelos mused. 'We pretty well ruined that one if she was.'

'She'll get over it,' Honor said, coming to a decision. Whatever this particular Andy was doing out here, she probably knew about the raider. Given that, it wouldn't hurt to let her know the Royal Navy was also in on the game. 'Joyce, open a channel,' she instructed. 'Put it up when you get it.'

'Yes, Ma'am.' Metzinger keyed her board, and Honor silently began counting out the seconds. At the Neue Bayern's distance there was a twenty-second delay just for the signal's round trip, plus whatever time her captain took to decide whether or not he felt like talking to any Manticorans today.

The count was up to ninety-four seconds when the com screen came up, revealing a heavy-jowled man with close-cropped hair and full lips that seemed to be settled in a perpetual frown. 'This is Captain Lanfeng Grubner of the IANS Neue Bayern,' he said, his voice gruff and sounding like he wasn't at all happy about being disturbed. But maybe that was just his heavy German accent. 'What do you want, Fearless?'

'This is Captain Harrington of the Fearless,' Honor said, determined not to be intimidated by either Grubner's attitude or the fact that his ship outmassed and outgunned hers by a factor of three. 'I wonder if I might impose on you for a brief conversation on a topic of mutual interest.'

She waited as the twenty seconds ticked past. 'And what topic might that be?' Grubner asked.

'I'd rather not discuss it on an open signal,' Honor said. 'If you could back off on some of your acceleration, I could bring a pinnace to within whisker laser range.'

'Impossible,' Grubner said flatly. 'I'm on an important assignment for my Emperor. I have no time to exchange pleasantries with foreign naval officers.'

'Not even if the conversation was related to your assignment?' Honor suggested.

Grubner smiled thinly, a neat trick with lips as thick as his were. 'But we shall never know whether it was or not, shall we? Good day to you, Captain—'

Abruptly he broke off, his eyebrows drawing suddenly together. 'Harrington,' he said, his voice suddenly thoughtful. 'Captain Honor Harrington?'

'Yes, Sir,' Honor said.

The twenty-second delay seemed a lot longer this time. 'Well, well,' Grubner said. 'So you are the heroine of Basilisk Station.'

'I wouldn't put it quite that way, Sir,' Honor said, feeling her cheeks warming. She'd more or less resigned herself to the borderline awe she still got occasionally from her own people. But the same thing coming from a foreigner was a new and freshly embarrassing situation. 'But yes, it was my ship and my people who pulled that off.'

'Indeed,' Grubner said, nodding slowly. 'Well. This puts a different light on things. I would be pleased if you would join me aboard the Neue Bayern for the conversation you requested.'