It raced after Sirius, seeming to crawl, even at its speed, as the freighter continued to accelerate. At three minutes, more than ten million kilometers from launch and with a terminal velocity of just over ninety-three thousand KPS, its impeller drive burned out and it went ballistic, overhauling its target on momentum alone.

Captain Coglin watched it come. He’d been certain it would be no more than a warning shot, and its vector quickly proved it was. Even if it hadn’t been, he would have had almost thirteen seconds after burnout to take evasive action, during which his ship would move almost two hundred and forty thousand kilometers. His maximum possible vector change was barely over four KPS², but the missile was no longer able to follow his maneuvers, and the cumulative effect would have made Sirius an impossible target at such a range.

Yet there was no need. He watched the missile race up alongside, five thousand kilometers clear of his ship. It detonated in a savage pinprick of thermonuclear fire, and he grunted.

“Jamming ready, Jamal?”

“Aye, Sir,” his tactical officer replied.

“Stand by. I doubt she’ll waste another warning shot, but we’ve got twenty minutes yet before she can reach effective firing range.”

“Aye, Sir. Standing by.”

Coglin nodded and turned his eyes to the chronometer.

“Nothing, Captain,” McKeon said quietly, and Honor nodded. She hadn’t really expected there to be any change in Sirius’s course. She checked her maneuvering display. Another nineteen minutes before even the longest range shot could reasonably hope to hit the freighter. Tension wrapped itself around her nerves as she realized she was committed, but something else poked at the back of her brain. Something about that debris Sirius had jettisoned. If her captain had no intention of halting anyway, why jettison cargo so soon? He had almost a full hour before Fearless could physically overhaul him and board. It just didn’t make—

She stiffened in her chair, eyes wide. Dear God, perhaps it did make sense!

“Mr. McKeon.” The exec looked up, and Honor beckoned him over to her chair.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“That debris from Sirius. Could it have been hull plating?”

“Hull plating?” McKeon blinked in surprise. “Well, yes, I suppose it could have been, Skipper. But why?”

“We know that ship has a military grade drive and compensator,” Honor said very softly. “Suppose it has something else military grade aboard? Something that was hidden behind false plating?”

McKeon stared at her, and then his face slowly paled.

“A Q-ship?” he half-whispered.

“ONI says they’ve got some heavily armed fleet colliers,” Honor said in that same, soft voice. “She might be one of them, but we know they used disguised merchant raiders when they went after Trevor’s Star and Sheldon.” Her eyes held his levelly. “And if that is a Q-ship, she could be armed more heavily than we were before they modified our armament.”

“And she’s a lot bigger than we are,” McKeon agreed grimly. “That could mean she’s got one hell of a lot more magazine space than we do.”