“We thought we could send a ship like Krashnark back to Alliance space if we could ever take her in the first place,” she said. “Then all we’d have to do would be sit tight while the Admiralty organized a convoy and escorts and came to get us out. But if the Peeps have hit us that hard back home, the Alliance couldn’t possibly justify sending a force big enough to lift us all out of here. Even if the Admiralty were willing to, the Government would never authorize it—not when every voter in the Star Kingdom and every member government of the Alliance has to be screaming for ships of the wall to reinforce their picket forces!”

McKeon’s gaze met hers. He started to open his mouth, but she’d read the thought behind his eyes and gave a sharp, tiny shake of her head. His mouth closed again, and she looked away, watching her non-Manticoran officers grapple with the news. It didn’t seem to have occurred to any of them that the Allies certainly would send a ship to pick up Steadholder Harrington if they knew she was alive, and Honor hoped it never did occur to them. Sending a single fast ship to collect one person—or even a few dozen people—was one thing. Sending enough personnel lifts to take everyone else off Hell as well was something else entirely.

“But if we can’t call for help,” Harriet Benson said at last, speaking very quietly, “then we’re screwed, aren’t we? We needed that support, Honor. What the hell do we do if we can’t get it?”

“Do, Harry?” Honor turned to look at her, and the living side of her mouth turned up in a grim, cold smile. “We do what we have to do,” she said in a voice that matched the smile perfectly. “And if we can’t do it the easy way, then we do it the hard way. But I’ll tell you this now—all of you. There aren’t enough Peeps in this galaxy to keep me from taking my people home, and I am not going to leave a single person I promised to get off this planet behind me when we go!”

Chapter Forty-Two

“SO that’s what I intend to do,” Honor told the officers around the conference table. “I know it’s risky, but given Commander Ainspan’s news—” she nodded her head courteously at the Commander, who sat at the foot of the table, where he’d just finished briefing her senior officers “—I don’t see that we have any choice.”

“Risky? That plan isn’t ‘risky’—it’s insane!” Rear Admiral Styles’ voice was flat and hard. No doubt he meant for it to sound firm, decisive and determined, but she heard the naked terror behind it only too clearly. And when she glanced around the conference table at the expressions of her other senior officers, she knew that impression was neither her imagination nor solely due to her link to Nimitz.

“Keeping Krashnark here in the Cerberus System is the worst thing we could possibly do,” he went on, turning slightly away from her to address her other officers as if lecturing a crowd of school children. “I’ve never heard a senior officer suggest anything so reckless and ill-considered! I remind you all that she is the only means of communication with the Alliance we have! If we don’t use her to send for help, no one can have the least possible idea that we’re even here awaiting rescue!”