“Oh, they’re fine. Sandra just made commander, and it looks like Bob’s got a shot at ATC early. Keith and Fred are still in school, of course, and neither of them seems interested in the Navy, but—”

They walked down the passageway, chatting cheerfully.

Chapter Twenty-Three

MEDUSA was still the most boring looking planet she’d ever seen, Honor reflected, brooding over the main visual display once more, but it was beginning to seem appearances could be deceiving. She remembered something she’d read once, some ancient curse from Old Earth about living in “interesting times.” It made much more sense now than it had when she first read it.

She hid a sigh, walked across to her chair, and eased herself into it without officially taking over the watch from McKeon. Her brain was busy.

Two days had passed since Hauptman’s visit. Two whole days without a single new disaster, which was almost enough to make her skin crawl with anticipation. Not that there hadn’t been “interesting” developments. Dame Estelle’s sulfurous description of her interview with Countess New Kiev’s courier had been one. Honor had never imagined the genteel, composed Resident Commissioner could be so elementally enraged. Dame Estelle had looked ready to bite pieces out of the furniture, but as Honor had listened to her account of the meeting, she’d understood perfectly.

It seemed New Kiev was feeling the heat from the financial community in general and, apparently, from the Hauptman Cartel in particular. From Dame Estelle’s remarks, Honor was beginning to suspect that the big Manticoran merchant cartels had contributed rather more heavily to the Liberal Party’s political coffers than she’d ever thought. The notion of an alliance between the parliamentary advocates of increased welfare spending and the captains of industry seemed a bit bizarre to Honor, but something was certainly giving them an awful lot of clout with the Opposition, for Countess New Kiev had decided to turn the screws on Dame Estelle to propitiate them.

Honor had been astounded to learn from the commissioner that New Kiev had been told in unambiguous terms to keep her hands off the Navy’s operations on Basilisk Station. That must have been a rude shock for her, Honor told herself with secret delight, and it reinforced her own suspicion that someone well up the chain of command approved of her actions. It was also, she reflected, the first time since the Basilisk Annexation that the Minister for Medusan Affairs had been told—rather bluntly, she gathered—that her authority ended at the outer edge of the planetary atmosphere. It was a long overdue assertion of the Fleet’s authority and responsibility, although, given the officers and ships normally assigned here, she had little faith it would last.

But it was holding for now, and New Kiev didn’t like it a bit. More, it sounded as if her authority even within her own planetary bailiwick had taken a beating.

Honor hadn’t quite understood the gleam in the commissioner’s eye once she stopped ranting and started speculating on the political situation back home. Of course, Honor didn’t understand most of the machinations that went on inside the Parliament of Manticore. She vastly preferred the Navy, where the chain of command was at least generally clear, whatever infighting went on between factions and power groups. But Dame Estelle did seem to grasp the byzantine rules of the game, and she appeared convinced that something deep, complex, and probably drastic was going on beneath the surface… and that whatever it was boded ill for Countess New Kiev.