Honor nodded thoughtfully. The main gravity coils in a starship’s alpha nodes were always replaced whenever the tuners were. In a sense, the coils were part of the tuner, sharing in its wear, and each of them carried a date stamp when it was installed. More to the point, the grav coil was open to space. There was an excellent chance the date stamp would be visible to a close external examination.

“If we get close enough for that, Ma’am,” Webster offered, “I should be able to get a good read on her com activity, too. Maybe even tap into it.” He blushed as Honor looked at him, for what he suggested was illegal under half a dozen solemn interstellar conventions. He could be severely disciplined just for making the offer.

“I like it,” McKeon said suddenly. “If we turn up a discrepancy like Dominica’s talking about, it might just constitute the sort of evidence you need, Skipper.”

“It’s not impossible for a tuner to go bad early,” Santos agreed, “but it’s certainly unusual. If we’ve got a discrepancy between observable wear on the alpha nodes and normal tuner wear, I can give you a written declaration of my own suspicions, Skipper. That’s expert testimony, and expert testimony constitutes probable cause for any admiralty court.”

“Any Manticoran admiralty court,” Honor corrected gently, trying to hide the lump in her throat. The officers who had once been so hostile were now sticking their professional necks far out for her, and she looked down at her hands for a moment.

“Very well, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll screen Dame Estelle with your comments and suggestions. In the meantime, I want our orbit shifted.” She looked at Panowski. “I want us placed within two hundred kilometers of Sirius. Once we get there—” she turned her eyes to Tremaine “—I want you to take a cutter to the closest Manticoran ship. I’ll give you a hardcopy dispatch for her master.”

“A dispatch, Ma’am? What sort of dispatch?”

“I won’t know that until we know which ship it is,” she said dryly. “But I’ll come up with something once we do. The point is, your trip will be our pretext for changing orbit—that’s why I want you in a cutter instead of a pinnace—and also why I want you to be obvious about your trip.”

“Oh.” Tremaine sat back for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. I see.”

“I’m sure you do.” She turned back to McKeon. “While Lieutenant Panowski and Lieutenant Brigham plot our move, Mr. McKeon, I want you to sit down with Lieutenant Cardones. I want this all done with passive sensors. I know we won’t get as much, but an active probe would be as big a tip-off as actually boarding her. We’re going to need the most intensive passive scan we can come up with, though, and I want you to help Rafe set it up in advance.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” McKeon met her eye confidently. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Very good.” Honor drew a breath and rose, sweeping her officers with her eyes once more. “Then we know what we’re going to do, people, so let’s be about it.” They rose in turn, only to stop as she raised a hand.