Well, there was another ship for the skinnies to commandeer. If the Toreador had known which way the wind was blowing, they’d have hightailed it back to whatever hardscrabble planet they’d come from and tried to make do without whatever they had lost anyway. As it was, the Free Navy would just keep gobbling up the ships that came through, starving out the colonies. Weakening them. By the time the Belters figured out they were fighting a rearguard action against history, Duarte would be in position.

War, Sauveterre thought as he pulled himself to the command deck, had long since ceased to be about controlling territory. The job of a military was to disrupt its enemies. Generations of low-scale war in the Belt hadn’t been an attempt to hold Vesta Station or Ceres or any of the dozens of little floating supply hubs in the vast emptiness. It had always and only been about keeping the OPA or any other Belt force from coalescing into an organized force. Until the rules changed, and that organized force became useful. The Free Navy would have made itself decades before if men like Duarte had let it. Now that the Belt finally had it, they would find just how useless it was.

As long as it kept Earth and what was left of Mars busy for a few years. After that… The reward of audacity was the chance to steer history.

The command deck was in trim. Everyone in their couches, the displays freshly cleaned, the controls polished. The Barkeith would arrive at Laconia Station as smart and sharp as she had left Mars. And they wouldn’t be wearing bracelets. He drew himself down to his command station and strapped himself in.

“Mister Taylor, sound the acceleration alert. Mister Kogoma, inform the fleet and Medina Station that we are proceeding.”

“Sir,” the tactical officer said, “permission to open weapon ports.”

“Are we expecting action, Mister Kuhn?”

“Not expecting, sir. An abundance of caution.”

Kuhn didn’t trust the skinnies either. That was fair. They were a bunch of thugs and cowboys who thought that because they had guns, they had power. Sauveterre thought it was early for the Free Navy to start double-crossing Duarte, but they were stupid and impulsive. It didn’t do to assume an amateur force would make the same decisions as a professional. “Permission granted. And warm up the PDCs while you’re at it. Mister Kogoma, please advise the fleet to do likewise.”

“Yes, sir,” Kogoma said.