“Out of the mouths of ensigns,” he said, and Tremaine blushed at the chuckle that ran around the table. Then he grinned back at the exec.

“I don’t know what it means, Ma’am,” McKeon went on in a more serious tone, “but he’s right. There’s no Havenite traffic to the surface at all. Hasn’t been in almost a week.”

“Now, that’s interesting,” Honor murmured, tapping another note into her memo board. “Have they pulled anyone out of their enclave? Any sign of a cautionary evacuation?”

“You’d have to ask Major Isvarian or the Commissioner about that, Ma’am, but I certainly haven’t noticed anything to suggest it.”

“They might not have to, Captain.” It was Tremaine again. “Their consulate’s more like a fort than most of the enclaves, and they’ve got an awful big security force.” The ensign paused with a frown and rubbed his chin. “Still, Ma’am, they do have a couple of other enclaves—trade stations with the natives right on the edge of the Delta. They’re pretty far to the north, too, now that I think of it. Wouldn’t that mean they’d get hit first if this shaman really does attack the Delta?”

“How big are they?” McKeon asked, and his gray eyes were intent.

“Well, I’ve only overflown them, Sir,” Tremaine said uncomfortably, “but they’re not very big. Maybe a dozen off-worlders and a native staff in each, I’d say, but it’s only a guess.”

“You think their size is significant?” Honor asked Mckeon, and the exec shrugged.

“I don’t know, Ma’am. But it occurs to me that if their objective is to chase us out and move in themselves, it might just suit their purposes to have a few casualties of their own. Another thing,” he added in an even more thoughtful voice. “If we end up with some sort of bloodbath down there and they don’t take any casualties, isn’t it possible some of the other off-worlders, not just us, might wonder exactly why they were so lucky?”

“You may have a point.” Honor made another note and tried to hide an inner shiver at the cold-blooded calculation McKeon’s hypothesis suggested. The exec nodded very slowly, then frowned and sat straighter in his chair.

“Wait a second, Skipper. I just thought of something.” He tapped on his terminal for a moment, then nodded to himself. “I thought I remembered that.” He turned back to his captain. “You remember when we were talking about the decline in Havenite traffic to Medusa?” Honor nodded. “Well, the fact is that their Junction traffic is still running at normal levels, but there are only two Peep ships in Medusa orbit right now. That courier boat of the consulate’s and the freighter Sirius.”

Honor frowned as something about the name Sirius jogged her memory. Then her eyes widened.

“Exactly,” McKeon said. “That ship’s been sitting in a parking orbit for over three months. I may be getting paranoid, but that strikes me as a mighty interesting coincidence in light of what the NPA’s reporting.”