“That’s why I need you to be aware that the moment at which we reveal the existence of Bolthole and the ships you’ve been building out here is going to be a matter of very careful political consideration. Both the President and I, on one side, and the confrontationalists, on the other, will want to announce the new fleet at the moment which would be most advantageous for us. The President and I need to find a time when we can be confident the Manties won’t be tempted into some sort of preemptive action, which means holding off for as long as we can to build up the most powerful deterrent possible. The confrontationalists will be looking for a time when the fact that we now have the capability to match the Manty advantages—or to offset them, at least—will generate the most push behind their own policies.

“The decision will be made at a higher level than yours, of course. But we need you to be ready, and you need to understand that the amount of notice you’re likely to get will be slight. And,” he smiled wryly, “we also need you to go right on working your miracles and exceeding our expectations, because whenever Bolthole gets announced to the rest of the galaxy, we’re going to need to have all of the available muscle we can.”

Chapter Eleven

HAMISH Alexander followed James MacGuiness through the door to the private gymnasium under Honor’s Jason Bay mansion and stopped.

Honor was on the mat at the center of the large, brightly lit and well appointed gym. She wore a traditional white gi, with the black belt which now bore eight braided rank knots. That didn’t surprise him, because he’d known she’d gained the eighth one just over a T-year ago. Coup de vitesse wasn’t his sport—he’d put his time into soccer and fencing—but he knew that there remained only a single formally recognized grade for her to attain. Given her tenacity where things which mattered to her were concerned, that ninth knot was as good as on her belt; it was only a question of when.

But somehow he didn’t think that was what she had on her mind this afternoon. She wasn’t running through her practice katas, nor was she working out against a human partner. No, she was going all out in a full-contact bout against the humanoid training remote she’d had specially built, and it was pushing her hard.

Just how hard became evident as the remote executed a devastating attack. White Haven knew too little about coup de vitesse to understand what he’d seen. It was like fencing, where the untrained eye could see the action but never hope to understand its nuances and complexity. All he knew was that he’d seen the remote’s hands move with blurring speed. One of those hands locked onto Honor’s right arm and carried it high, while the other shot out in a fist-thrust that slammed into her belly, and then it turned, twisting her captive arm, throwing hips and shoulders into her torso, and she went flying through the air to slam down on the mats with bone-bruising force.