"That will be more than satisfactory, Sir Thomas," Cromarty told him.
"In the meantime," White Haven said in his quiet voice, "I think it would be a good idea to send a formal war warningand the reasoning behind itto all our station commanders."
The tension in the room clicked back up at the suggestion, but Caparelli nodded with another sigh.
"I don't see any option," he agreed. "I don't like the potential to increase anxieties. A nervous CO is a lot more likely to make a mistake we'll all regret, but they deserve our confidence... and the warning. The communication lag's always meant we had to trust them to act on their own initiative, and they can't do that intelligently without information that's as complete as we can give them. I'll instruct them to be on the alert for provocations, as well, and to do their best to hold any confrontation to a minimum, but we've got to warn them."
"Agreedand may God be with us all," the Prime Minister said softly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Thank you, Mac. That was deliciousas always," Honor said as the steward poured the wine. Commander Henke made a replete sound of agreement from the other side of the table, and MacGuiness shrugged with a smile.
"Will you be needing anything else, Ma'am?"
"No, we're fine." He started to gather up the dessert dishes, but she waved a hand. "Leave them for now, Mac. I'll buzz you."
"Of course, Ma'am." MacGuiness gave a small half-bow and vanished, and Honor leaned back with a sigh.
"If he stuffs you like this every night, you're going to start looking like one of those old pre-space blimps," Henke warned her, and she chuckled.
"Nimitz, maybe." Honor smiled fondly at the treecat. He lay belly-down, stretched full length along the perch above her desk with all six limbs dangling, and his soft, buzzing snores were those of a well-stuffed 'cat at peace with the universe.
"But me get fat?" she went on with a headshake. "Not with Paul throwing me around the salle! Or with the Admiral running me ragged, for that matter."
"Amen to that," Henke agreed fervently. Water flowed downhill, and with Honor so immersed in squadron activities, an ever mounting flood of paperwork had inundated the exec. She started to say something else, then paused with a frown and leaned back in her own chair while she toyed with the stem of her wineglass.
"Still, we're making progress," Honor pointed out, "and the yard will have Nike back up in another week or so. I think things are actually going to get a bit easier once we can form the entire squadron in space with proper division organizations and buckle down to blow the last of the rust off."
"Um." Henke nodded absently, still looking down into her wine, then raised her head and cocked an eyebrow. "And Admiral Parks?'
"What about him?" Honor's tone was guarded, and Henke snorted.
"I happen to know you're the only flag captain in this task force who's never been invited to a conference aboard Gryphon. Why don't I think that's a simple oversight?"
"There hasn't been any real reason for him to call me on board," Honor said uncomfortably, and Henke's snort was even louder.
"It's odd enough when an admiral doesn't even invite a newly arrived battlecruiser captain aboard for a courtesy call, Honor. When that captain is also the flag captain of his primary screening formation and she isn't invited to a single flagship conference, it goes beyond odd."
"Perhaps." Honor sipped her wine, then sighed and set the glass aside. "No, not 'perhaps,'" she admitted. "I thought at first I was in the doghouse over Fusion Three, but that stopped making sense weeks ago."
"Exactly. I don't know what his problem is, but it's obvious there is one. And our people are beginning to notice. They're not happy that their captain seems to be being snubbed by their admiral."
"It doesn't reflect on them!" Honor said sharply.
"It's not the reflection on them they're worried about," Henke replied quietly, and Honor shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, there's not much I can do about it. He outranks me by a few light-months, if you recall."
"Have you spoken to Admiral Sarnow about it?"
"Noand I'm not going to, either! If Admiral Parks has some sort of problem with me, it's my problem, not the Admiral's."
Henke nodded. Not in agreement, but because she'd already known what Honor would say.
"In that case, what's on the schedule for tomorrow?" she asked.
"More sims," Honor replied, accepting the change of subject with a small, grateful smile. "A convoy exercise. First we get to defend it against 'raiders operating in unknown strength,' then we get to turn around and attack itagainst a dreadnought division escort."
"Ouch! I hope this 'convoy's' going to be carrying something to make our lumps worthwhile."
"Ours not to reason why," Honor said solemnly, and Henke chuckled.
"Well, if we're going to be invited to make the supreme sacrifice for Queen and Kingdom tomorrow, I'd better emulate Nimitz and get some sleep." She started to rise, but Honor's raised hand stopped her. "Something else?" she asked in surprise.
"As a matter of fact..." Honor began, but then her voice trailed off. She lowered her eyes to the linen tablecloth and fidgeted with a fork, and Henke leaned back in her chair in sudden speculation as her commanding officer's face turned bright, hot pink.
"You remember when I needed advice back at Saganami Island?" Honor said after a moment.
"What sort of advice? Multi-dee math?"
"No." Honor's blush darkened. "Personal advice."
Henke managed to keep her eyes from widening and nodded with only a brief hesitation, and Honor shrugged.
"Well, I need some more of it. There are some... things I never learned, and now I wish I had."
"What sorts of things?" Henke asked cautiously.
"All sorts!" Honor surprised her yet again with a breathless little laugh and dropped the fork to fling up her hands. Her face was still flushed, but it was as if the laugh had demolished some internal barrier, and she smiled. "As a matter of fact, I need some help with makeup, Mike."
"Makeup?" The word started to come out sharp with astonishment, but Henke choked the incredulity out of her voice just in time. And she was thankful she had when she saw the sparkle in Honors dark eyes.
"I could have asked my mom about it anytime, and she would've been delighted to teach me. Maybe that was part of the problem. She would have decided the 'ice maiden' had finally melted, and God only knows where that would've ended!" Honor laughed again. "Did I ever tell you what she wanted to give me as a graduation present?"
"No, I don't think you did," Henke said, and deep inside she felt a sense of wonder. For all their closeness, there'd always been a guarded core to Honor Harringtonone Henke suspected only Nimitz had ever managed to breachand this bright-eyed, almost breathless Honor was a stranger to her.
"She wanted to buy me an evening with one of the best male 'escorts' in Landing." Honor shook her head and chuckled at Henke's expression. "Can't you just see it? A great big, towering gawk of an ensign with fuzz for hair out on the town with some glamorous hunk! Lord, I would have died! And just imagine what the neighbors would've thought if they'd ever found out!"
Henke began to chuckle herself as she pictured it, for Sphinx was far and away the most straight-laced of the Kingdom's planets. Professional, licensed courtesans were a fact of life on Manticore. It might not be considered quite the thing to seek their services, but everyone knew "someone else" who had. They weren't particularly unusual on Gryphon, either, but they were very rare birds indeed on Sphinx. Yet she could easily believe Allison Harrington would have done just that. Honors mother was an immigrant from the Sigma Draconis System's Beowulf, and the sexual mores which prevailed there would have curled a native born Manticoran's hair, much less a Sphinxian's!