“Trust me on this, Jackie,” she said as gently as she could. “I don’t say they can kill the concept outright, because I don’t think they can. It makes too much sense, we need it too badly, and it’s got too many supporters. But they can delay it by another year or even two, and we can’t afford that.”

“But how will pissing them off stop them?”

“Because unless I miss my guess, Holderman is so hot right this minute that he can hardly wait to get back to Hancock Base, call in the umpires, and start twisting tomorrow’s exercise like a pretzel,” Truman said cheerfully. “By the time he’s done, the sim’s outcome will be the worst disaster for your LAC wing since Amos Parnell left a month early for the Third Battle of Yeltsin.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Harmon demanded, her expression aghast, and Truman chuckled.

“It’s a wonderful thing, Jackie, because I’ve already drafted a dispatch to Admiral Adcock’s attention at BuWeaps—with information copies to Admiral Caparelli, Vice Admiral Givens at BuPlan, Vice Admiral Danvers at BuShips, and Vice Admiral Tanith Hill at BuTrain—expressing my concern that the sims are being written unrealistically.”

Harmon’s eyes widened, for that was five of the Space Lords of the Board of Admiralty. In fact, it was all of them except for Admiral Cortez and Vice Admiral Mannock, the heads of BuPers and the Surgeon General, respectively. Truman saw her expression and smiled.

“Naturally I would never attribute intentional bias to anyone,” she said piously, “but for whatever reason, I feel I’ve discerned a… failure to fully and fairly examine the capabilities of the LAC-carrier concept in the last few exercises. In fact, I’m afraid the problem is becoming more pronounced, and so I’ve brought it to the attention of all the relevant authorities, exactly as I’m supposed to. Unfortunately, Chief Mantooth somehow neglected to forward a copy to Admiral Holderman or any other member of the evaluation board here in Hancock. A terrible oversight, of course. Doubtless the board’s copies simply got lost in transit someplace.”

“You mean—?” Harmon stared at her in something very like awe.

“I mean the Powers That Be are going to have ample reason to look very, very carefully at the parameters of the sims and how they came to be written as they are. And what they’re going to find is a steady procession of successes by the LACs followed—hopefully—by a single, crushing, overwhelming failure. Which will cause them to look even more carefully at that particular exercise, talk to the umpires… and discover just how the parameters were changed, and by whom.” Truman smiled nastily. “I suspect Admiral Holderman and Commodore Paget will have just a little explaining to do after that.”

“Jesus, Alice,” Harmon said. She was silent for several seconds, then she shook her head. “I see what you’re up to, but what if he doesn’t bite? What if he just bides his time? And what if he decides to get even with you down the line? He is a rear admiral, after all.”