“Certainly, Ma’am,” Harmon replied, and the two of them stepped out into the passage beyond the briefing room. Holderman had already vanished, and Truman smiled again—more nearly naturally—at Minotaur’s COLAC.

“I suppose I might have handled that just a bit more tactfully,” she observed, “but the son of a bitch pissed me off.”

“Me, too,” Harmon agreed. “All the same—”

“All the same, nothing we could possibly do could make him any more determined to scrub the entire project,” Truman interrupted. “Although,” she added judiciously, “I did do my best to inspire him to greater efforts.”

“You—?” Harmon blinked, then shook her head. “Would you care to explain that?”

“It’s simple enough, Jackie,” Truman said with a chuckle. “He and Commodore Paget are the board’s senior officers, and they’ve been sitting on the sim results for months. You and your people have blown the other side out of space over and over again, but they’re damned if they’ll admit it. Surely you’ve noticed that?”

“Well, yes. Of course I have,” Harmon admitted.

“Then what makes you think they’ll stop sitting on the results?” Truman demanded. “Worse, the two of them will go right on tinkering with the sim parameters until they manage to come up with a way for the defenders to swat your people in droves. And they’re not idiots. In fact, both of them are superior conventional tacticians, however stupidly they may be acting in this instance. They will find a way, and you and I know it, because they’re right about how fragile your LACs are. Sooner or later, they’ll devise a setup which will require you to accept catastrophic losses to accomplish your mission. It won’t have to be a reasonable scenario, or a situation likely to recur in action. All it has to do is be theoretically plausible and inflict massive losses on the wing for minimal results. Because when they pull it off, that’s the exercise they’ll use as the baseline for their report to the Admiralty.”

Harmon stared at her, and Truman sighed. The LAC wing’s CO was a brilliant officer in her own iconoclastic way, but she came from a non-naval family. In many ways, she reminded Truman of Honor Harrington, for despite Alfred Harrington’s career as a Navy surgeon, Honor had also come from a family with few or no naval ancestors and accomplished all she had on the basis of raw ability. Alice Truman, on the other hand, was the daughter of a vice admiral, the granddaughter of a captain and a rear admiral, and the great-granddaughter of a commodore, two rear admirals, and a first space lord. She understood the Byzantine feuds and machinations of the Royal Navy’s great dynasties as Jacquelyn Harmon never would, and she knew exactly how Holderman and his fellows could—and would—go about killing or delaying Operation Anzio. She even understood that they’d do it because they honestly believed it to be their duty. The only problem was that she couldn’t let them, for the Navy desperately needed the potential the Shrikes represented.