“But if we knocked them out, then we’d hold the Junction,” Dumarest murmured. “Think what that would do for our economy.”

Frankel looked up, eyes glowing with sudden avarice, for the junction gave the Kingdom of Manticore a gross system product seventy-eight percent that of the Sol System itself. Harris noted his expression and gave a small, ugly smile.

“All right, let’s look at it. We’re in trouble and we know it. We have to keep expanding. Manticore is in the way, and taking it would give our economy a hefty shot in the arm. The problem is what we do about it.”

“Manticore or not,” Parnell said thoughtfully, “we have to pinch out these problem spots to the southwest.” He gestured at the systems Frankel had dyed gray-green. “It’d be a worthwhile preliminary to position us against Manticore, anyway. But if we can do it, the smart move would be to take out Manticore first and then deal with the small fry.”

“Agreed,” Harris nodded. “Any ideas on how we might do that?”

“Let me get with my staff, Mr. President. I’m not sure yet, but the Junction could be a two-edged sword if we handle it right…” The admiral’s voice trailed off, then he shook himself. “Let me get with my staff,” he repeated. “Especially with Naval Intelligence. I’ve got an idea, but I need to work on it.” He cocked his head. “I can probably have a report, one way or the other, for you in about a month. Will that be acceptable?”

“Entirely, Admiral,” Harris said, and adjourned the meeting.

Chapter One

THE fluffy ball of fur in Honor Harrington’s lap stirred and put forth a round, prick-eared head as the steady pulse of the shuttle’s thrusters died. A delicate mouth of needle-sharp fangs yawned, and then the treecat turned its head to regard her with wide, grass-green eyes.

“Bleek?” it asked, and Honor chuckled softly.

“ ‘Bleek’ yourself,” she said, rubbing the ridge of its muzzle. The green eyes blinked, and four of the treecat’s six limbs reached out to grip her wrist in feather-gentle hand-paws. She chuckled again, pulling back to initiate a playful tussle, and the treecat uncoiled to its full sixty-five centimeters (discounting its tail) and buried its true-feet in her midriff with the deep, buzzing hum of its purr. The hand-paws tightened their grip, but the murderous claws—a full centimeter of curved, knife-sharp ivory—were sheathed. Honor had once seen similar claws used to rip apart the face of a human foolish enough to threaten a treecat’s companion, but she felt no concern. Except in self-defense (or Honor’s defense) Nimitz would no more hurt a human being than turn vegetarian, and treecats never made mistakes in that respect.

She extricated herself from Nimitz’s grasp and lifted the long, sinuous creature to her shoulder, a move he greeted with even more enthusiastic purrs. Nimitz was an old hand at space travel and understood shoulders were out of bounds aboard small craft under power, but he also knew treecats belonged on their companions’ shoulders. That was where they’d ridden since the first ’cat adopted its first human five Terran centuries before, and Nimitz was a traditionalist.