She hadn’t thought clearly enough when she realized what was going on, she told herself. Not that there’d been time to change her plans once Sirius began to move even if she had thought it through. Depriving Dame Estelle and Barney Isvarian of a third of Papadapolous’s Marines with a full-fledged native war under way would have been criminal. But she should have considered the possibility in advance.

“Mr. Webster,” she said.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Record this. ‘Captain Coglin, if you refuse to heave to, I will have no option but to fire into your ship. I repeat. You are requested and required to cut your drive immediately.’ ”

“Recorded, Captain.” Webster’s voice was soft with suppressed tension.

“Transmit immediately.”

“Transmitting now, Captain.”

“Mr. Cardones.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Prepare to fire a warning shot. Set it for detonation at least five thousand kilometers clear of Sirius.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am. Setting for detonation five-zero-zero-zero kilometers clear of target.”

“Thank you.”

Honor leaned back in her chair and prayed Coglin would listen to sanity.

“… fire into your ship. I repeat. You are requested and required to cut your drive immediately.”

Coglin grunted as he listened to the message, and his first officer looked up from his own instruments.

“Any reply, Captain?”

“No.” Coglin frowned. “She’ll fire at least one warning shot first, and the further out we are when she decides to do something more drastic, the better.”

“Should we prepare to turn back towards her, Sir?”

“No.” Coglin considered for a moment, then nodded to himself. “We’ll keep running, but blow the after panels,” he ordered.

“Aye, Sir. Blowing after panels now.”

“No response, Captain,” Webster said very quietly.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Mr. Cardones, I—” Honor broke off, frowning at her own tactical display as something tumbled away from Sirius.

“Captain, I’m picking up—”

“I see it, Mr. Cardones.” Honor forced her frown away and looked at McKeon. “Comments, Exec?”

“I don’t know, Ma’am.” McKeon replayed the tactical readouts and shook his head. “Looks like some kind of debris. I can’t think of what it might be, though.”

Honor nodded. Whatever it was, it was unpowered and far too small to be any sort of weapon. Could Sirius be jettisoning some sort of incriminating cargo?

“Run a plot on it, Mr. Panowski,” she said. “We may need to run it down for examination afterwards.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Panowski tapped commands into his panel, feeding the debris’ trajectory into his computers.

“Mr. Cardones. Range and time to target?”

“Two-five-point-six-two light-seconds, Ma’am. Flight time one-niner-two-point-eight seconds.”

“Very well, Mr. Cardones. Fire warning shot.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am. Missile away.”

The missile belched from Fearless’s number two missile tube and sped ahead at an acceleration of 417 KPS², building on Fearless’s own velocity of just over eighteen thousand kilometers per second. It could have accelerated twice as fast, but reducing its acceleration to 42,500 g raised its small impeller’s burnout time from one minute to three, which not only gave it three times the maneuvering time but increased its terminal velocity from rest by almost fifty percent.