The Service of the Sword

Captain Grubner and another officer were waiting with the side party and a small Marine honor guard as Honor caught the bar and swung across from the free-fall of the tube into Neue Bayern's gravity. She landed gracefully and felt Nimitz adjust his own balance on her shoulder with the ease of decades of practice.

'Welcome to Neue Bayern, Captain Harrington,' Grubner said gravely.

'Thank you, Captain,' Honor said, throwing him her best parade-ground salute. 'Permission to come aboard, Sir?'

'Permission granted,' Grubner said, answering her salute with one of equal snap.

'Thank you, Sir.' Honor stepped across the line and walked to the group. 'It's a great honor to be here, Captain Grubner. Once again, I thank you for your willingness to see me.'

'It is my pleasure,' Grubner said, gesturing to the man at his side. 'My executive officer, Commander Huang Trondheim.'

'Captain Harrington,' Trondheim said, offering Honor his hand. He was a youngish man, younger than she would have expected to be XO of a battlecruiser. Either he was highly competent at his job, or—the cynical whisper brushed across her mind—he had good family or political connections.

'Commander Trondheim,' she said, taking his hand and shaking it. 'Pleased to meet you.'

'The honor is mine, Captain Harrington.'

Honor felt her forehead trying to frown. There was something in Trondheim's voice, she sensed, some underlying interest that wasn't making it to his face.

'Dinner will be ready shortly,' Grubner said, gesturing to the exit. 'In the meantime, perhaps we can retire to my day cabin to discuss this matter of mutual interest you mentioned.'

They made small talk along the way, discussing the ins and outs of starship command in general and starship command in the Silesian Confederacy in particular. Occasionally, Grubner or Trondheim would point out some aspect of the ship as they passed, always something unclassified that Honor already knew from her classes on Andermani shipbuilding technology.

The third time it happened, she was tempted to add in a tidbit of knowledge that she knew but which the others hadn't mentioned. But she suppressed the urge. She wasn't here to show off, either her own knowledge or ONI's.

Grubner's day cabin was smaller than the captain's quarters would have been aboard a comparable Manticoran ship, but its efficient layout made it actually feel slightly larger. 'Please; be seated,' Grubner invited, gesturing to a semicircle of comfortable-looking chairs grouped around a low table on which a carafe and three glasses were waiting. 'May I offer you some wine, Captain?'

'Thank you,' Honor said, choosing one of the chairs and sitting down. The upholstery looked less sturdy than that in her own quarters aboard Fearless, so she settled Nimitz—and his claws—in her lap.

'I would like to first apologize for my earlier brusqueness,' Grubner said as he and Trondheim settled themselves into chairs facing her, the executive officer taking charge of the carafe. 'As I said, we're on an important mission for the Emperor, a mission which I confess is not going well, and I wasn't much in the mood for chatting with a Manticoran convoy escort.'

'I understand, Sir,' Honor said as Trondheim handed her a glass of the rich red wine.

'What changed my mind was your name,' Grubner went on. 'We in the Empire have examined the events of Basilisk Station with great interest.'

He gestured to Trondheim as he accepted his own glass. 'Commander Trondheim, in fact, has made quite a study of the strategy and tactics involved, both yours and those of the People's Republic. He has, I believe, published two papers on the subject?'

'Yes, Sir,' Trondheim said, smiling almost shyly at Honor. 'I'm currently working on a third.'

'I'm impressed,' Honor said, understanding now the reason for Trondheim's interest in her. 'And also honored that you found our actions worth so much of your time and effort. I would very much like to read them, if they're not classified.'

'I'm honored in turn, Captain,' Trondheim said. 'I'll give you copies before you leave.' He glanced at his captain. 'And I should perhaps advise you that I'd like to get at least one more paper out of the subject.'

'So be forewarned that any questions from the commander during dinner will carry ulterior motives,' Grubner said with a smile.

The smile faded. 'But now to business. The floor, Captain Harrington, is yours.'

Honor took a sip from her glass, studying Grubner's face as she did so. It was an excellent wine, one of her favorite Gryphon vintages, and its presence here in Grubner's day cabin was a clear and unapologetic statement that the two Andermani clearly knew more about her than she knew about them.

Such straightforwardness, she decided, deserved an equally straightforward response. 'We have reason to believe, Sir,' she said, 'that an Andermani warship has been attacking Manticoran merchantmen in Silesia.'

Accusing the IAN of complicity in piracy should have sparked outrage or icy denial. The complete lack of either reaction, from either man, spoke volumes. 'Indeed,' Grubner said calmly. 'And what has brought you to this conclusion?'

'We have records of emission readings from two separate incidents that clearly indicate Andermani ship design,' Honor said. 'From the acceleration the ship pulled as it ran in on its victims, we deduce it must have been a warship.'

Grubner pursed his lips. 'But you have no actual visual confirmation of the attacker's identity?'

'No,' Honor conceded. 'But our people believe there can be no mistake.'

'I see,' Grubner said. 'And what reason do you think the Empire might have to attack Manticoran shipping?'

'There are two theories,' Honor told him. 'One is that this is a rogue ship, running on some unauthorized and probably personal vendetta against us.'

'And do these same theorists presume an entire ship's company can go insane together?' Trondheim asked pointedly.

'It wouldn't take more than a few of the top officers to create such a situation,' Honor pointed out in turn. 'Like those of Her Majesty's Navy, I expect the Empire's crews would obey orders, even if those orders didn't seem to make sense.'

'You mentioned two theories,' Grubner said. 'What is the other one?'

Honor braced herself. 'That this is in fact an official Andermani military operation,' she said. 'Top secret, but officially sanctioned.'

'Certainly a much simpler theory,' Trondheim said evenly. 'All we need now is for a single man—the Emperor—to have lost his mind.'

'It doesn't have to have anything to do with the Emperor,' Honor hastened to point out, feeling a sheen of sweat beginning to collect beneath her collar. Being straightforward was one thing, but a dash or two of diplomacy might have been in order. 'It could be a newly appointed Prime Minister or sector admiral who's decided to see how the Star Kingdom would react to such a threat.'

'No such changes have occurred at the highest levels of our government,' Trondheim countered. 'And no sector admiral would dare presume such a unilateral change in policy on his or her own.'

'Of course not,' Honor said. 'I merely mentioned it—'

'You mentioned it in order to gauge our reaction,' Grubner said calmly. 'But tell me, Captain. So far you've spoken of the theories of others. What do you think?'

'I think someone has found a way to fake Andermani ship emissions,' she told him. 'I think that same someone is trying very hard to play us off against each other.'

Grubner's face seemed to harden, just slightly. 'Really,' he said, his voice carefully neutral.

'Yes,' Honor said. Straightforward, she reminded herself. 'Furthermore, I think that the fact that neither of you has reacted with surprise or outrage to my accusation means you already know all about this mystery ship.'

Grubner lifted his eyebrows at Trondheim. 'I told you she was quick,' the executive officer said.

'Indeed,' Grubner agreed, looking back at Honor. 'Very well, Captain. You've been gracious enough to put your cards on the table. Let me do the same with ours. One of our light cruisers, the IANS