“Agreed, Milady,” Phillips said, and then grinned tautly. “Not that I wouldn’t be happier if they’d gone ahead and shut them all down!”

“You and me both, Commander,” Honor admitted, then drew a deep breath and stepped over to the communications station. She reached down and took the microphone the com officer handed her. The AI-driven “Warden Tresca” Scotty Tremaine and Horace Harkness had built out of the dead Black Leg’s file imagery had performed beautifully during the Peeps’ approach, but it was time for a more hands-on approach, she thought grimly, then nodded to Phillips.

“All right, Commander. Pass the word to Krashnark and Bacchante to stand by, then prepare to execute Flypaper.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”

“That’s odd,” Citizen Commodore Yang murmured.

Citizen Major General Thornegrave glanced up from his conversation with Voyager’s skipper at the sound of her voice. The big transport’s CO went right on talking in response to Thornegrave’s last question, but the Citizen Major General wasn’t listening. He was watching Yang as she leaned over a waterfall display at the tactical station and frowned.

“What is it, Citizen Commodore?” he asked.

“Probably nothing, Sir,” Yang replied, eyes still on the display, “but Camp Charon is still hitting us with an awful lot of active sensors, radar and lidar alike.”

“Why should they be doing that?” He heard a small, sharp edge in his own voice, yet there was no real concern in it. Just puzzlement that grew as Yang shrugged.

“They were tracking us all the way in, Sir—as a routine security precaution, I assumed. Why they should continue doing it now that we’re in orbit is beyond me, however. Oh,” she waved one hand in a dismissive gesture, “I suppose they could be running some sort of training exercise down there. They can probably use all the live tracking experience they can get. It’s just that there are a lot more sensors involved than I would have expected, and lidar is normally used primarily as fire control.”

“Fire control?” Thornegrave half-rose, but Yang turned and shook her head quickly at him.

“Fire control teams need practice, too, Sir,” she reassured him, “and the fact that their sensors are active doesn’t mean their weapons have been released. In fact, it’s SOP for the weapons not to be enabled in an exercise, so I’m not afraid of anyone shooting us by accident. It’s just that the exercise, or whatever it is, is on a much greater scale than I would have antici—”

She broke off as her com officer jerked suddenly upright in her chair. The woman spun towards her CO, then remembered Thornegrave’s presence and started towards him, only to freeze half way. She hovered indecisively, training and desire drawing her one way, the formal chain of command and fear of the SS drawing her the other, then shook herself out of her paralysis. She didn’t face either of them directly. Instead, she aimed her eyes at an invisible point midway between them.

“Citizen General, I—” She sounded shaken, almost stunned, and broke off, then cleared her throat. “I believe you’d better listen to this message from Groundside, Sir,” she said in a flatter, mechanical tone.