“All right, people,” she said as the other shuttle finally settled and its turbines died. “We’re going to have to work faster than we’d expected to get the nets up. Senior Chief O’Jorgenson?”

“Yes, Ma’am?” Senior Chief Tamara O’Jorgenson was a fellow Sphinxian who had been a senior environmental tech aboard Prince Adrian but also happened to be a fully qualified small craft gunner.

“You’ll man the dorsal turret while we get squared away, Senior Chief,” Honor said.

“Aye, Ma’am.”

“Very well, then.” Honor hit the release on her own straps and stood. “Let’s be about it, people.”

Chapter Eleven

IT was almost dawn before they had the nets in place once more, and Honor was more nervous about the quality of their camouflage than she cared to show. The climate was definitely drier here, and the soil seemed to be less rich. There was far less undergrowth than the ferociously fecund four-canopy jungle in which they had originally landed had offered, and the trees, for the most part, tended to be smaller. It was much harder to snuggle the shuttles in under them, and there were fewer natural vines and lianas to complement the cammo nets. She knew McKeon was as unhappy about the situation as she was, and they’d already made plans for most of their people to spend the coming night weaving more natural elements into the nets, but for now they’d just have to hope the concealment was good enough.

“If things work out, maybe we should consider sending at least one of the shuttles back to Site One after all,” she said quietly as the two of them sat under a wing and watched the sun come up. He glanced at her, and she shrugged, knowing that he would recognize her oblique apology for what it was.

“Maybe,” he agreed after a moment. “I suppose we could use tight beam off one of the Peeps’ comsats to stay in touch without their noticing if we were careful. Bit risky, though.”

She made a soft sound of agreement and leaned back against the seat cover Harkness and Andrew LaFollet had removed from the shuttle for her. Her energy levels still hadn’t come back up to her precapture standards, and she felt utterly wiped out.

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself so hard,” McKeon growled softly as Nimitz limped over to her and curled up on her chest. She tucked her arm around the ’cat and closed her eyes wearily.

“Had to do my part. A CO has an example to set. I read that somewhere when I was at Saganami Island,” she told McKeon, and he snorted with the fine fervor of an old friend.

“Sure you did. But while I realize you may not’ve noticed that you’re shy an arm, we have. So next time Fritz ‘suggests’ you take a break, you damned well take a break!”

“Is that an order?” she asked sleepily, feeling Nimitz’s purr blending into her bones even as his love echoed soothingly about the corners of her soul, and McKeon snorted again, albeit with slightly less panache.