“Very impressive, Major,” she said then. “It looks to me like you’ve given careful consideration to maximizing your own capabilities while limiting those of your enemies. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

“Of course not, Captain.”

“Thank you. First, have you and Major Isvarian discussed this with anyone else ground-side yet?”

Papadapolous glanced at Isvarian, and the NPA major answered for him.

“We’ve talked to my two senior field men, Dame Estelle, and George Fremont, her deputy. That’s all so far, Captain.”

“I see. And could you tell me how much advance planning and warning your people would need to make this work, Major Isvarian?”

“At least a week to achieve this kind of integration. In fact, I’d like at least ten days.”

“I see,” Honor repeated, and hated herself for the question she had to ask next. “And have you determined yet how the operators of that drug lab realized your raid was coming, Major Isvarian?”

The NPA man’s face tightened, and she knew he’d suddenly seen where she was headed, but he made himself answer in a level voice.

“No, Ma’am.”

“Then I’m very much afraid, gentlemen, that we have a problem,” she said quietly.

“Problem, Captain?” Papadapolous looked puzzled, and Honor turned towards him, but Isvarian raised a hand.

“May I, Captain?” he asked heavily, and Papadapolous looked across the table at him as she nodded.

“We screwed up, Nikos,” Isvarian sighed. “To be more specific, I screwed up. We’ve got a security problem down there.”

“I don’t understand, Sir.” Papadapolous glanced at Honor. “Captain? How could anything the Medusans know about us materially affect our operations? Surely the technological gap is too extreme for them to realize the sort of threat our weapons represent.”

“As far as the natives are concerned, you’re probably right, Major,” Honor said. “But we have very good reason to believe the weapons we’re so worried about were supplied to them by off-worlders, and those same off-worlders would appear to have information sources within the NPA or—more probably, in my opinion—within the NPA’s civilian support structure. In either case, any pre-positioning of your people would tip them off as to what we’re up to.”

“I follow that, Ma’am,” Papadapolous said with a frown, “but I’m afraid I’m still not certain exactly what you’re getting at. Wouldn’t their knowledge serve as a deterrent against any open action?”

“Our problem is that we don’t know what they’re really after, Nikos,” Isvarian said. “I know Dame Estelle thinks it’s more than just money, and it looks like Captain Harrington agrees with her.” He shrugged. “If both of them think that, I’m certainly not prepared to argue with them. But that means that knowing what we intend to do won’t necessarily deter them at all—and it will give them the opportunity to adjust their own plans accordingly if they decide to go ahead.”

“But to what effect?” Papadapolous asked.

“We can’t know that,” Honor cut in before Isvarian could reply. She nibbled on her lip for a moment, wondering how much to worry the Marine with. Clearly Papadapolous was concentrating—as he ought to be—on the tactical problem he faced. Equally clearly, he wasn’t aware of the behind-the-scenes tension and maneuvering to pull Fearless’s (and Honor’s) teeth. Or, at least, not of how that might affect his own problems.