“Of course not, Major. This is a Queen’s ship. What would we be doing with smugglers on board? On the other hand, I’m certain that, over the years, certain of my personnel have observed other personnel who have attempted to conceal proscribed materials aboard ship. Sad to say, some may even have known individuals who engaged in black market activities aboard naval vessels. I simply asked the Bosun to find me some of those observers.”

“I see,” Isvarian murmured. He took a large sip of coffee and put his cup back down. “I see, indeed.”

“Captain?”

Honor looked up as Surgeon Commander Suchon stuck her head through the open briefing room hatch. Fearless’s doctor looked even more sour than usual, and she carried a data chip in her right hand. She held the chip as if it were a small, dead animal, and Honor felt a stronger surge of distaste for her as she recognized it.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“May I speak with you a minute?” Suchon asked. Whined, really, Honor thought.

“Come in, Doctor.” Honor tried not to sigh and pressed the button by her terminal, closing the hatch behind Suchon as the commander crossed to the table and sat—without an invitation. That last action irritated Honor out of all proportion to the provocation, and she sat on her temper rather firmly.

Suchon sat silently, face screwed up in obvious indecision over how to proceed. Honor waited for a moment, then arched her eyebrows.

“What is it, Doctor?” she inquired.

“It’s—Well, it’s about these orders, Captain.” Suchon raised her hand to display the data chip, and Honor nodded.

“What about them?”

“Captain, I don’t think it’s a good idea to—I mean, you’ve detached Lieutenant Montoya and all four of my best sick berth attendants to the customs parties, and I need them here in Fearless. I can’t guarantee my ability to meet my medical responsibilities to the ship without them.”

Suchon leaned back in her chair as she completed her sentence. There was a certain smugness in her expression, the look of someone who has just delivered an ultimatum to a superior officer, and Honor regarded her levelly for several seconds.

“I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get along without them, Doctor,” she said at last, and Suchon sat back upright with a jerk.

“But I can’t! If I have to detach them, the sickbay workload will be impossible, and Montoya is my sole physician assistant!”

“I’m aware of that.” Honor made herself maintain a level tone, but there was very little liking in her brown eyes. “I’m also aware that it’s the Navy’s responsibility to provide medical personnel to check the health and immunization records of any individuals visiting Medusa’s surface. Every other department aboard this ship is contributing to those customs parties, Doctor. I’m afraid Medical will just have to carry its share of the burden, as well.”

“But I can’t do it, I tell you!” Suchon more than half-snapped. “Perhaps you don’t quite understand the responsibilities Medical faces, Ma’am. We’re not like oth—”