Which, no doubt, was only going to make him more poisonous than ever to deal with.

He finished pretending to read his hardcopy and replaced it fastidiously on the tabletop, then raised his eyes.

“Commander.” The tenor voice was smooth, draping his enmity like velvet wrapped about a dagger’s blade.

“Captain,” she returned in the same emotionless tone, and his mouth twitched a brief almost-smile. He did not invite her to sit.

“I’m relieved to see your ship. We’ve been even more shorthanded than usual since Implacable left.”

Honor contented herself with a silent nod, and he tipped his chair back.

“As you know, Basilisk Station is chronically understrength,” he went on, “and I’m afraid Warlock is sadly overdue for refit. In fact, this—” he tapped the hardcopy “—is a list of our most urgently required repairs.” He smiled. “That’s why I’m so pleased to see you, Commander. Your presence will permit me to return Warlock to Manticore for the yard attention she needs so badly.”

He watched her face, and Honor bit the inside of her lip and fought to keep her dismay from showing. If Young was dispatching his own ship to Manticore, he undoubtedly intended to shift to Fearless. The mere thought of sharing her bridge with him was enough to turn her stomach, but she managed, somehow, to stand in attentive silence with no sign of her thoughts.

“Under the circumstances,” he continued after a moment, “and in view of the extensive nature of our needs, I feel it would be inadvisable to ask Commander Tankersley to assume responsibility for Warlock’s refit.” He extended a data chip and smiled as she took it without touching his hand.

“Therefore, Commander Harrington, I will be accompanying Warlock back to Manticore to supervise her refit in person.” This time her surprise was too great to hide completely. He was the station’s senior officer! Did he mean he intended to abandon his responsibility for the system?! “I will, of course, return as quickly as possible. I realize my absence will be… inconvenient for you, and I will make every effort to keep it as brief as possible, but I estimate that the necessary maintenance and repairs will consume at least two months. More probably—” he smiled again “—three. During that time, you will be senior officer here in Basilisk. Your orders are on the chip.”

He let his chair slip back upright and picked up his hard copy once more.

“That will be all, Commander. Dismissed.”

Honor found herself back in the passage outside the briefing room without any clear memory of how she’d gotten there. The data chip cut into her palm with the pressure of her grip, and she made herself relax her hand one muscle at a time.

“Commander?”

She looked up, and Commander Tankersley recoiled. Her dark eyes smoked like heated steel, a slight tic quivered at the corner of her tight mouth, and for just an instant her expression touched him with fear. But she asserted control quickly and forced a smile as she saw the concern on his face. He started to say something else, but her half-raised hand stopped him, and he retreated once more into his safe neutrality.