War Of Honor

Chapter Forty One

The com attention signal chimed softly in the darkened cabin. It was a quiet sound, but decades of naval service had made Erica Ferrero a light sleeper. Her right hand shot out and hit the voice-only acceptance key before it could chime a second time, and her left hand raked sleep-tousled hair out of her eyes as she sat up in bed.

"Captain speaking." Her voice struck her as sounding much more awake than she actually felt.

"Captain, this is Lieutenant McKee. The Exec asked me to inform you that 'Sittich' is breaking orbit."

"Understood." Ferrero came suddenly and fully awake at the announcement. She glanced at her bedside date/time display and grimaced. It was the middle of Jessica Epps' shipboard night. McKee had the bridge watch, and by rights, Llewellyn should have been in bed and as sound asleep as Ferrero herself. But her exec had always had a tendency to prowl around the ship at odd times, and it had become even more pronounced since their arrival in the Zoraster System.

"What's her accel, Mecia?" Ferrero asked the com officer.

"Just under two-point-five KPS squared," McKee replied.

"And her heading?"

"Just about what you'd predicted, Skipper. She's on a least-time heading from the planet to the hyper limit."

"Good. In that case, I don't see any reason to wake everybody else up this soon. I'll be up in about fifteen minutes. You and the Exec hold the fort until I get there."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

The red icon representing the ship masquerading as the Andermani merchant ship Sittich crawled across Jessica Epps' tactical display. She'd been accelerating steadily for over two hours now, and her velocity was up to just over 18,500 KPS. She'd traveled a hundred and thirty-nine million kilometers, taking her almost forty percent of the way to the G4 primary's hyper limit. And while she was doing that, Jessica Epps had crept stealthily closer to her, bending their vectors steadily together.

The tension on the heavy cruiser's bridge had climbed steadily. It wasn't the same sort of tension her officers might have felt if they'd been tracking another warship. No, this was the tension of a hunter as a long, careful stalk crept towards its successful conclusion, mingled with the vengeful anticipation of closing in on the sort of vermin any self-respecting naval officer recognized as his natural enemy.

Erica Ferrero glanced at her repeater plot. The range to the target was down to barely three million kilometers, and it was painfully evident that the false Sittich didn't have a clue Jessica Epps was even in the same star system with her. Ferrero supposed she shouldn't feel too much contempt for the slaver's crew. After all, they were deep in one of the better patrolled Silesian star systems, and as far as they knew, any armed vessels in that system were under the orders of the man whose illicit cargo they were carrying. Besides, Shawn Harris' carefully deployed Ghost Rider recon drones had gotten an excellent read on "Sittich's" emissions, and the tramp's active sensors were exactly the sort of crap Ferrero would have anticipated from such a disreputable craft. They'd have been lucky to spot a medium-sized moon if they hadn't already known exactly where to look for it.

She smiled. Sneaking into someone else's star system, even when that someone else was limited to Silly sensor systems, was always a challenge. Of course, it was the sort of challenge Ferrero enjoyed, not to mention being an excellent training opportunity. That hadn't made it any easier, however, and she'd been just a bit surprised by how spoiled she'd become since FTL sensor arrays had become available. She missed the continually updated reports from the perimeter arrays she would normally have deployed. Their absence made her feel . . . exposed. As if someone who was supposed to be watching her back wasn't.

She wondered if she would have felt happier if the new patrol patterns Duchess Harrington was instituting had been fully in place and Jessica Epps had been paired off with another RMN vessel. She probably would have, she decided. And the availability of a consort would have given her much more flexibility in her stalk of the slaver. Of the probable slaver, she corrected herself conscientiously.

Of course, the presence of a second ship would have substantially increased the chances that at least one of them might have been spotted. Which made it one more example of the endless trade-offs imposed by an imperfect universe.

She snorted at the thought and looked up from the plot.

"I think we're just about ready, Bob," she said.

"Yes, Ma'am," Commander Llewellyn acknowledged. "Should we send the crew to quarters?"

"I don't see any reason to completely clear for action," Ferrero replied. "Not against a merchie who's still two and a half million klicks outside energy range! Go ahead and close up the missile crews and Missile Defense. We can always man the energy mounts if Mr. Slaver decides to be difficult and refuses to heave to before we close into graser range. Of course, he'd have to be particularly stupid for that to happen."

"Yes, Ma'am."

A true stickler might have detected a slight edge of disappointment in Llewellyn's reply. The exec, Ferrero knew, was a tactical officer's tactical officer. He hated to pass up any opportunity for comprehensive weapons drills, especially when Tactical had a live target—even one as unworthy as "Sittich"—to practice on.

"Patience, Bob," she said in a quieter voice, pitched for his ears alone, after he'd passed the necessary orders. "If you behave yourself, I'll let you take the first pinnace across."

"That obvious, was I, Skipper?" he asked wryly.

"Maybe not that obvious," she said with a grin. "But headed that way. Definitely headed that way."

"Missile batteries report manned and ready, Ma'am," Harris reported from Tactical.

"Very well, Shawn. I think we're just about ready. Remember, we can't afford to just blow this one out of space, whatever it does."

"Understood, Ma'am." Lieutenant Harris nodded soberly. Pirates were one thing; slavers, with potentially hundreds of innocent victims aboard, were something else entirely.

"If she refuses to stop when Mecia hails her," Ferrero went on, "we'll put a shot or two across her bows. But if she still refuses to stop, we'll have to get close enough to take out her nodes with energy fire. Or," she grinned at Llewellyn again, "let the exec take his pinnaces out and play Preston of the Spaceways shooting up her impeller rings with their lasers."

"Oh, frabjous day!" Llewellyn murmured.

"I see you're really looking forward to it," Ferrero observed, and Llewellyn chuckled. Then the captain turned to Communications. "Are you ready to transmit, Mecia?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then go ahead. And just to be certain they get the point, Shawn, lock them up with your fire control lidar and stand ready to fire that warning shot."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

Lieutenant McKee leaned closer to her microphone. "Sittich, this is the Royal Manticoran Navy cruiser Jessica Epps. You are instructed to reduce acceleration to zero, cut your wedge, and stand by to be boarded for routine search and examination."

The crisp, uncompromising demand went out over a directional com laser. It was extremely unlikely that Governor Chalmers would fail to realize what was happening when Jessica Epps boarded the false Sittich, but it was remotely possible. Harris' fire control systems were more likely to be detected by the system sensor arrays than McKee's communications laser, and if Ferrero actually had to fire a warning shot, the detonation of its warhead would definitely give the game away. But if she could keep Chalmers from figuring out what was happening, he was much more likely to be sitting there, still all fat and happy, when the warrant for his arrest arrived from the Confed government.

And slaving is probably the one thing that will actually get a Silly governor arrested, she reflected. Not that what passes for a government out here really has any particular moral objection to it. It's just that the Queen has made her own feelings on the trade abundantly, one might almost say painfully, clear. And no Silly in his right mind wants to cross her or her Navy on this one. Besides—

"Incoming message!" McKee announced suddenly, and something about her tone snapped Ferrero's head up. She spun her command chair back towards the com officer.

"It's—" McKee broke off and looked up at her captain, eyes huge in surprise. "Skipper, it's Hellbarde!"

"Hellbarde?!" Ferrero stared at the lieutenant for perhaps three seconds, then darted an accusing look at her tactical plot. There was no sign of the Andermani cruiser on it.

"Shawn?" she snapped.

"I don't know, Skipper!" the tac officer replied. "But I'm on it."

His hands were already flying across his console as he, his ratings, and CIC went suddenly to a full-press sensor sweep. They were no longer trying to creep quietly up on an unsuspecting prey, and their active arrays lit up surrounding space like a beacon.

"Skipper, you'd better listen to this," McKee said urgently, pulling Ferrero's attention back from the tactical section.

"Put it on speaker," Ferrero instructed.

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then a familiar, harsh-accented voice banished it.

"Jessica Epps, this is Hellbarde! You are instructed to shut down your targeting systems and break off your approach immediately!"

"Shut down—?" Ferrero looked up at Llewellyn.

"Another incoming message," McKee broke in before the exec could reply. "This one's from 'Sittich.' "

"Speaker," Ferrero snapped.

"Jessica Epps, this is the Andermani merchant ship Sittich! What seems to be the problem? Sittich, clear."

"Another from Hellbarde, Skipper," McKee said, and Ferrero gestured for her to put it on speaker, as well.

"Jessica Epps, this is Hellbarde. Shut down your targeting systems now!"

"Got her, Skipper!" Harris announced, and Ferrero looked back down at her plot as a bright red icon abruptly appeared. It was no more than ten million kilometers behind Jessica Epps, only a little over half a light-minute, and Ferrero swore mentally. No matter how good the Andies' new stealth systems might be, there was no way Hellbarde should have been able to get in that close without being detected on passives even with Jessica Epps under complete em-con!

"Skipper, Sittich is transmitting again," McKee reported.

"Her acceleration is climbing, too, Ma'am," Harris added. "She's up to three-point-two KPS squared."

"Instruct her to heave to immediately, Mecia!" Ferrero snapped.

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

Ferrero rubbed her forehead, her brain racing. Obviously, Hellbarde had followed them to Zoraster—probably to continue her provocative harassment. And because Jessica Epps had been concentrating so hard on being unobtrusive while she lay in wait for the slaver, she hadn't realized Hellbarde was even there. But why was she interfering like this? Unless—"Tell Hellbarde to stand clear!" she said sharply. "Inform her that we're stopping and investigating a suspected slaver!"

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

McKee started speaking rapidly into her microphone once again, and Ferrero grimaced at Llewellyn.

"Gortz is looking for another opportunity to harass us, and I'm not in the mood for it this time," she half-snarled.

"Skipper," the exec said, "it's possible he thinks we're the ones doing the harassing."

"Give me a break, Bob! We're conducting a completely legitimate search of a suspected slaver using a false transponder code, and Gortz damned well knows it! Unless you want me to think we have better sensor data on Andie merchant ships than an Andie warship does!"

She snorted contemptuously at the notion.

"Jessica Epps, shut down your fire control! We will not warn you again!" the voice from Hellbarde snapped.

"Skipper," McKee said urgently, "we've just picked up another transmission from 'Sittich'! Hellbarde's transmitting omnidirectional, and they must have picked it up. They're hailing her and asking for protection."

"Well," Ferrero said, "they're nervy bastards, I'll give them that!"

"What if Gortz believes them?" Llewellyn asked.

"Ha!" Ferrero replied. Then she shook her head. "On the other hand, it would suit the Andies just fine to pretend they believed it. Long enough to twist our tails, anyway! Record for transmission to Hellbarde, Mecia."

"Recording, Ma'am."

"Captain Gortz, this is Captain Ferrero. I don't have time for your stupid games today. I've got a slaver to board; if you want to talk about it later, I'll consider it then. Now break off and get the hell out of my way!"

"Recorded, Ma'am," McKee said, and Ferrero hesitated for just an instant as she realized she was even angrier than she'd thought. It showed in both her choice of words and her tone, and a small voice in the back of her brain told her she should reconsider before she sent it. But it was a very small voice, and she decided to ignore it. It was about time Kapitän zur Sterne Gortz and the other arrogant pricks aboard IANS Hellbarde got a dose of their own enlightened communications technique! What were they going to do about it at this range, anyway? With Jessica Epps' overtake advantage, she'd have reached and boarded 'Sittich' by the time Hellbarde could get into her missile range of Ferrero's ship.

"Ma'am, 'Sittich' is transmitting to Hellbarde again. She says we've threatened to fire into her if she doesn't stop."

"Lying bastards, as well as nervy ones," Ferrero observed. In a way, she could almost admire the slaver's captain's nerve. Of course, given the penalties for slaving, he probably figured he didn't have a great deal to lose. But not even Gortz could be stupid enough to believe any Queen's ship would actually fire missiles into an unarmed merchant ship when that merchant ship couldn't possibly evade her, anyway.

" 'Sittich' isn't slowing down, Skipper," Harris said. "Should I go ahead and fire the warning shot?"

"That might not be a very good idea, under the circumstances, Ma'am," Llewellyn said quietly.

"I am sick and tired of pussyfooting around the goddamned Hellbarde," Ferrero said sharply. "We are a Queen's ship, acting well within the letter of interstellar law, and I am not going to let Gortz turn this into one more opportunity to harass us!

"Mecia."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Record!"

"Recording, Ma'am."

"Hellbarde, this is Jessica Epps. We are acting within the established parameters and requirements of interstellar law and all applicable treaties. You have no jurisdiction here, and I instruct you to stand clear. Ferrero, clear."

"On the chip, Ma'am," McKee confirmed.

"Then transmit," Ferrero commanded, and looked back up at Llewellyn. "She's still a good two million klicks out of her powered missile range of us, Bob. But go ahead and send our people to quarters." She smiled thinly. "You wanted the extra drill anyway."

"Yes, Ma'am. I did. But I'm not too sure this is the best way to get it!"

"It may not be," Ferrero conceded. "But Hellbarde has pissed me off one time too many." She looked at Lieutenant McClelland. "James, I want a least-time intercept course for 'Sittich' at her new accel."

"Already calculated, Ma'am," the astrogator replied.

"That's what I like to hear," Ferrero approved. "Put us on it."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am! Helm, come four degrees to port and go to eighty-five percent power!"

The helmsman acknowledged the order, and Jessica Epps surged suddenly forward after the fleeing the slaver while the general quarters alarm began to shrill.

"Ma'am, Hellbarde is—"

"I don't really care what Hellbarde wants, Mecia," Ferrero said almost calmly. "Ignore her."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

Ferrero watched the range fall, as her speeding ship began to increase her overtake velocity. The slaver was continuing to yammer away at Hellbarde as she ran, and Ferrero smiled thinly. Satisfying as it would be to liberate the slaves aboard that ship, it would be almost more satisfying to rub Kapitän zur Sternen Gortz's nose in just who had been attempting to dupe him into saving them from Jessica Epps.

"Closed up at battle stations, Ma'am," Lieutenant Harris announced, and Ferrero blinked, astonished to discover that she'd been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't even noticed Llewellyn leaving the bridge to go to his own battle station in Auxiliary Control.

"Very good, Shawn," she acknowledged. "Is that warning shot ready?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Very well. Mecia, tell them one more time to cut their acceleration. And tell them this is their final warning."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am." Lieutenant McKee cleared her throat. "Sittich, this is Jessica Epps. You well cut your acceleration immediately. Repeat, immediately. This is your final warning. Jessica Epps, clear."

There was no response, and Ferrero glanced at Harris.

"Maintaining her accel, Skipper," the tac officer told her.

"Maybe she needs a more pointed warning," the captain observed. "Fire your warning shot, Shawn."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am. Firing now."

Harris pressed the firing key, and a single missile spat from Jessica Epps' Number One chase tube and went screaming off towards Sittich.

Ferrero watched the missile's icon slash across her repeater plot towards the fleeing slaver. No doubt Gortz was on the verge of apoplexy by now, she reflected cheerfully. Well, it served the bastard right. After all the times he'd—"Missile launch!" Harris snapped suddenly. Ferrero jerked upright in her command chair in disbelief. Surely no one aboard Sittich was stupid enough to try to resist a heavy cruiser!

"Multiple missile launches from Hellbarde!" Harris barked. "Looks like a full broadside, Ma'am!"

For a fraction of a second, Ferrero stared at him. He couldn't be serious! Hellbarde was still well outside her effective missile envelope! There was no—The thought chopped off. No, Erica Ferrero thought, her mind suddenly almost impossibly calm. Hellbarde wasn't still well outside her effective envelope; she was just outside what everyone had thought her envelope was.

What Erica Ferrero had thought her envelope was.

"Helm, go to evasion plan Gamma!" she snapped. "Tactical! Forget Sittich." She smiled thinly, forcing herself to radiate confidence even as her conscience flailed at her for the overconfident assumptions which had brought her command to this pass. But it was too late to worry about that, just as it was too late to try to talk any sort of sense into Gortz.

"It looks like we're going to have an even more interesting afternoon than we thought, People," she told her bridge crew, then nodded to Harris.

"Engage the enemy, Lieutenant," she said.