War Of Honor

haven't seen them. By the same token, though, it occurred to me the other day that you can build battlecruisers a hell of a lot faster than you can build ships of the wall. It may be that they have SD(P)s in the final design stage or even under construction but not yet in commission.'

'Which could be why they're still ratcheting up the pressure but haven't actually made their move yet,' Rafe Cardones thought aloud.

'I wouldn't rely too heavily on that possibility, Rafe,' Honor cautioned. 'Even if that's what's happening, we don't know how far along they are in their preparations. And if it isn't what's happening, and we assume that it is . . .'

'Understood, Your Grace,' Cardones acknowledged. 'Still, I think it's an interesting possibility.'

'It is,' Bachfisch agreed. 'And to be honest, I wouldn't be too surprised if that consideration, or one very like it, didn't play a part in their calculations. But as Her Grace says, I wouldn't care to rely on it.'

'No, I can see that,' Truman agreed, and leaned back in her chair, her eyes intent as she considered what Bachfisch had told them. It was obvious from her expression, and even more from the taste of her emotions, that if she'd had reservations about their information source, those reservations were dissipating rapidly.

'Wraith and I are looking forward to examining those sensor recordings of yours, Captain,' she said. 'Especially the ones of the Andies' new LACs.'

'I'm not surprised,' Bachfisch told her with a small smile. 'And, to be honest, I was very interested in the readings I got on your own LACs here in Marsh, Admiral. I haven't had the leisure to compare them exhaustively, but my initial impression is that your design is still faster and more powerful than anything of theirs I've seen.'

'But you haven't seen any sign of Andy CLACs?' Truman asked.

'No, I haven't. But if I were the Andies, I'd probably be even more leery of showing off my CLACs than of letting out the fact that I had pod-battlecruisers. And it wouldn't be all that difficult to keep them a secret, either. You know how easy it would be to hide CLACs in some out-of-the-way star system while they worked up.'

'As a matter of fact, Captain, I know exactly how easy it would be,' Truman told him with a small chuckle. Then she sobered, and looked at Honor.

'I agree with Alistair, Honor. I don't much like the sound of any of this. Not when you combine it with things like Zahn's analysis and Ferrero's reports. Especially not combined with what Ferrero's had to say. If the Andies are deliberately showing us the sort of technology advances she's reported, but at the same time they're busy concealing the existence of these new pod-battlecruisers—or trying to conceal it, at any rate . . .'

She let her voice trail off, and Honor nodded. The same thought had already occurred to her. The actions of Hellbarde's captain looked more and more like deliberate provocations. If they were, then Gortz's revelation of the new weapons and sensor capabilities of the Andermani Navy took on the appearance of a deliberate attempt to intimidate, or at least to make Honor, as Sidemore Station's CO, worry about what else they might have in store for her. For that matter, they were busy doing exactly the same thing to the Sillies, according to all reports. Which suggested that they were busy attempting to intimidate the Confederacy's navy, as well. But the fact that they hadn't also flaunted their new warship types was an ominous suggestion that whatever new technology they were prepared to reveal, they were keeping some major surprises tucked away up their sleeves.

She drew a deep breath and looked around the table at the assembled officers . . . and at Thomas Bachfisch. His merchant service uniform looked totally out of place amid the black and gold of the RMN, and yet for all that, she felt a curious sense of completion at seeing him there. It was right that her first commanding officer should be here when she assumed her first station command, and as she looked at him, she felt the same awareness—or something very like it—radiating from him, as well.

'Very well, Ladies and Gentlemen,' she told them all. 'Thanks to Captain Bachfisch, we have significantly more information about possible threat levels than we had when we arrived. What I'd like to do now is to move down to the flag deck simulator and play with some of the new possibilities. And if you have the time, Captain,' she said, gazing directly into his eyes, 'I would be both pleased and honored if you'd join us there. I would value your input greatly.'

'The honor would be mine, Your Grace,' Bachfisch replied after a moment.

'Good!' Honor said with a huge smile, then stood and scooped Nimitz onto her shoulder.

'In that case, People,' she told her officers with another smile for Bachfisch, 'let's be about it.'

Chapter Twenty Nine

'Wayfarer, this is LaFroye. Our pinnace is closing from your six o'clock and low. ETA is now twelve minutes.'

'Understood, LaFroye. Ah, may I ask just what it is you're concerned about?'

Jason Ackenheil sat back in his command chair, watching Lieutenant Gower, his com officer talking to one Captain Gabrijela Kanjcevic, mistress after God of the Solarian-flag merchant ship Wayfarer, and smiled thinly. It was safe enough, since he was far outside the range of Gower's visual pickup. Wayfarer wasn't that huge for a merchie—a fast freight hauler configured for relatively small cargos (by the standards of the leviathans which roamed the interstellar deeps) and limited passenger service—although she still dwarfed LaFroye to minnow-status. But the minnow had teeth and the whale didn't, so the whale had better be extremely polite to the minnow. On the other hand, some merchies were more equal than others, and Wayfarer undoubtedly felt reasonably secure in her League registry. After all, no Manticoran captain in his right mind wanted to provoke a career-ending incident with the League. Which explained why, so far at least, Kanjcevic sounded wary but not truly concerned.

But that was about to change . . . assuming, of course, that his information was accurate.

Which, all things being equal, it had damned well better be.

'It's only routine, Captain,' Gower assured the face on his com screen. Then he glanced over his shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone were in proximity, and leaned turned back towards Kanjcevic's image.

'Just between you and me, Ma'am, it's pretty silly, actually. We've had reports of a rash of merchant losses in this sector over the last few months, and Intelligence has decided someone's using an armed merchant raider. So orders came down from Sidemore to make an eyeball check on every merchant ship we can.' He shrugged. 'So far, we've checked eleven without finding a thing.' He did not quite, Ackenheil noticed, add 'of course,' but his tone made it superfluous, anyway. 'Shouldn't take more than a few minutes for our pinnace to dock, come aboard, make sure you don't have any grasers hidden away, and let you go on about your business. But if we don't check it out, well . . .'

He shrugged again, and Kanjcevic smiled.

'Understood, Lieutenant,' she said. 'And I don't suppose I should complain about anything designed to make life harder on pirates. We'll give your people full cooperation.'

'Thank you, Captain. We appreciate it. LaFroye, clear.'

Gower cut the connection and turned to grin at his captain.

'How was that, Skip?'

'Perfect, Lou. Just perfect,' Ackenheil assured him. Now let's just hope Reynolds knew what he was talking about in that intelligence brief, he added very quietly to himself.

* * *

Captain Denise Hammond, RMMC, stood and moved to the center of the pinnace troop compartment. Quarters were more than a little cramped, given that she had two entire platoons of battle armored troopers.

'All right, People,' she told them. 'We're docking in five mikes. You know the drill. No nonsense off anyone, but no bloodshed if we can help it either. Copy?'

A chorus of assents came back over her helmet com, and she nodded in satisfaction. Then she turned back to the hatch and waited with a hungry grin of anticipation. If the Skipper was right about what they were about to