“Then what in God’s name do they think they’re doing?”

“I think they’re running a bluff,” Honor said quietly. “They hope we won’t push it and risk engaging them if they’re in a position to hurt us badly enough—that we’ll stop to negotiate and discover public opinion back home won’t stand for heavy casualties to take back a system the anti-annexationists don’t want anyway. But if it is a bluff, that’s another reason to use a relatively small force. They can always disavow the actions of their commander on the spot, claim he was carried away by understandable concern for off-worlders in the wake of the Medusa Massacre but that he exceeded his authority. That leaves them a way to back out and save face, especially if no one knows they caused the massacres. But think about it, Alistair. Events on Medusa are really just a side show. A pretext. They’re not after the planet; they’re after control of a second Junction terminus. Even if there’s only one chance in fifty that they could pull it off, wouldn’t the potential prize be worth the risk from their viewpoint?”

“Yes.” There was no more doubt in McKeon’s voice, and his nod was grim.

“But I may be wrong about the size of their force or how willing they’ll be to fight,” Honor said. “After all, their fleet’s bigger than ours. They can stand the loss of a couple of battle squadrons as the opening round in a war, especially if they can inflict a favorable rate of exchange in return. And it’s going to be a horse race to get anything here from Manticore in time to stop them, even with our Code Zulu. Our message will take thirteen and a half hours to reach Fleet HQ, but Sirius can be into hyper in two hours and fifty minutes—call it three. Let’s say they reach their rendezvous three hours after that. Assuming a Fleet acceleration of four-twenty gees, that means their units could be back here in as little as twelve hours and on the warp point in forty-one, which leaves HQ just twenty-seven and a half hours from receipt of our Code Zulu to cover the terminus. Assuming Admiral Webster reacts instantly and dispatches Home Fleet from Manticore orbit with no delay at all, that’ll take them—” She punched more numbers into her maneuvering plot, but McKeon was already ahead of her.

“Call it thirty-four hours for superdreadnoughts, or thirty-point-five if they don’t send anything heavier than a battlecruiser,” he muttered, jaws clenched, and Honor nodded.

“So if they are prepared to fight, they’d have over three hours to deploy energy mines on the terminus and take up the most advantageous positions before Home Fleet can possibly arrive. Which means the only way to be sure we don’t wind up with a major fleet engagement is to stop Sirius from reaching her rendezvous.”

“How do you plan to stop her, Ma’am?”

“We’re still in Manticoran space, and what’s happening on Medusa certainly constitutes an ‘emergency situation.’ Under the circumstances, I have the authority to order any ship to heave to for examination.”