“Yes and no, Sir.” Canning moved up to stand at the admiral’s shoulder and gaze out into the grounds. “It’s too late for her to intercept any of the really critical shipments. Everything we need is already down and in place, except for the mekoha we’re still manufacturing, and I canceled the last two off-world shipments on my own initiative when I realized what was happening. I’d really prefer to have them down here, but we can live without them, and having them spotted in transit would be far too revealing. As for Coglin, he should be completely secure as long as he just sits tight aboard ship. If there’s no contact with the surface, Harrington will have neither cause nor justification for interfering with him at all.”

“Good.” The admiral sounded markedly less hostile, and Canning let himself relax a bit further. But then the admiral pursed his lips again. “Still, even if everything else goes perfectly, Fearless’s mere presence in Medusa orbit could derail the entire operation when it kicks off. I don’t like how tightly Harrington is integrating her own operations with the NPA. She’s got the better part of a company of Manticoran Marines up there, with enough combat equipment to make a real difference.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I think that’s unlikely. They’d have to know what was coming and lay contingency plans ahead of time to affect the actual operation in any material way. Oh, I don’t deny they can probably limit the damage, but I don’t see any possible way that they could limit it enough to make a real difference. As long as they can’t stop it entirely, we still have our opening, and not even a full company of Marines already in place in the enclaves can do that.”

“Perhaps.” The admiral rocked on his toes for a moment, rubbing the rim of his glass with a fingertip. “And perhaps not. What do your sources in Manticore have to say about Young?”

“He’s got his ship at Hephaestus, and our network’s a lot weaker on the military side, but all the indications are that he realizes he’s screwed up. I’d guess—but it’s only a guess, of course—that he’s making every effort to get back here before Harrington makes him look any worse.”

“It would be difficult,” the admiral observed with a cynical smile, “for anyone to make Pavel Young look worse than he is.”

He rocked in silent thought for a few more seconds, then nodded to himself.

“Find out how long he’s going to be there, Mr. Canning. I have no doubt his first action on returning here will be to send Harrington as far away from Medusa as the limits of Basilisk Station permit, and I’d far rather have him in Medusa orbit when the penny drops. If he’ll be back in less than—oh, another Manticoran month or so—I want the operation delayed until he returns.”

“That may be difficult,” Canning said cautiously. “We’ve got almost everything in place, and our shaman is primed. I’m not positive he can hold them in check that long. The actual H-hour has always been rather indeterminate, you know. Then, too, there’s probably a limit to how long Coglin can sit up there without someone like Harrington getting suspicious.”