More heads nodded. Modern warships did not succumb to proximity soft kills—unless, like Farnese or Hachiman, the proximity was very close and the explosion very violent indeed and none of their passive defenses, like impeller wedges, sidewalls, and radiation shielding, were on-line. Orbital launchers and weapons platforms did. Which meant the exchange rate in destroyed weapons would be hugely in the attackers’ favor.

Usually, Honor thought with a shark-like grin, and felt Nimitz’s fierce approval in the back of her brain. Oh, yes. Usually. And maybe this time, too. But I will by God let them know they’ve been in a fight, first!

“Lieutenant Thurman, please return to the bridge,” she said calmly. “Inform Commander Caslet that the squadron will execute Operation Nelson. He will pass the word to the other ships by whisker, then lay in a course for Point Trafalgar and prepare ship for acceleration. Is that understood?”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am!” Thurman snapped back to attention, saluted, spun on her heel, and hurried away. Honor watched her leave, then turned back to her dinner guests.

“I’m afraid our meal has been interrupted,” she said calmly. “All of you will be needed at your posts shortly. First, however—” She reached out and lifted her wineglass, raising it before her.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the toast is ‘Victory!’ ”

Chapter Forty-Nine

“THAT,” Citizen General Chernock said flatly, “is not Dennis Tresca.” He jabbed a savage finger at the face of the man still speaking from the main com screen. His own bridge chair was well outside the field of Citizen Colonel Therret’s audio and visual pickups as “Tresca” spoke to the chief of staff, and Citizen Rear Admiral Yearman looked at the citizen general oddly.

“With all due respect, how can you be so certain, Citizen General?” he asked quietly. Chernock glanced at him, and the Navy officer shrugged. “Whoever he is, he’s fielded every question we’ve asked him so far, Sir,” he pointed out. “And I don’t see any signs of hesitation or that he’s being coerced.”

“I don’t think he is—assuming that it’s actually a ‘he’ at all!” Chernock growled, and one of Yearman’s eyebrows rose, almost as if against his will. Chernock saw it and barked a short, hard laugh that did absolutely nothing to still the fury pulsing in his heart. Dennis Tresca was—or had been—his friend. But if that wasn’t Tresca on the com, then he could only assume the warden was a prisoner or dead. And from what he knew of Tresca’s treatment of enemies of the People, it was highly unlikely any of the elitist scum on Hades had been interested in allowing him to surrender.

“My own guess is that we’re looking at an AI,” the citizen general went on after a moment. Yearman cocked his head, his expression painfully neutral, and Chernock laughed again, this time almost naturally. “I know it’s better than we could probably produce, although some of the work at Public Information’s special effects department might surprise you, Citizen Admiral!” Like the imagery of that pain in the ass Harrington’s execution, he didn’t add. “But there are quite a few recently captured Manty POWs down there, and their cyberneticists have always been better than ours. One of them, or several working together, could have put together something much more sophisticated than we could.”