“There’s probably something to that,” Georgia agreed. “And I’m not sure what to propose as Plan B—not just yet, anyway. I’m confident something will suggest itself to me as the situation clarifies. But whatever it is, Stefan, it’s not going to be anything she can trace directly back to you or to me. You may not care if she decides to rip your lungs out, but I like mine just fine where they are, thank you.”

“I got the message, Georgia,” North Hollow half-snapped. His expression was surlier than ever, but there was fear behind the surliness, and Georgia was relieved to see it. On the other hand…

Fear might keep him from doing something outstandingly stupid, but she’d used enough stick for one night, she decided. It was time for the carrot, and she touched the neck of her robe.

It floated down to puddle about her ankles, and suddenly Honor Harrington was the last thing on Stefan’s mind.

· · • · ·

Honor stood beside the lectern, hands clasped behind her, and gazed up at the huge lecture hall’s tiers of seats as they filled.

The Tactical Department’s D’Orville Hall home boasted every modern electronic teaching aid known to man. Its simulators could re-create anything from the flight deck of a pinnace to the combat information center of a superdreadnought task force flagship, and reproduce all of the sights and sounds of the most horrific combat. The online teaching interfaces could put an instructor face to face with a single student, a group of two or three, or a class literally of hundreds. Those same interfaces made reference works, histories, lecture notes, syllabuses, official after action reports, analyses of past campaigns, and class schedules instantly available to students, as well as delivering student course work and exams equally instantly to instructors.

Saganami Island made full and efficient use of all those capabilities. Yet the Royal Manticoran Navy was a great believer in tradition, as well, and at least once per week, lecture courses met physically in their assigned lecture halls. Honor was perfectly willing to admit that the tradition was scarcely the most modern possible way to transmit knowledge, but that was fine with her. As she herself had discovered as a child, too great a reliance on the electronic classroom could deprive a student of the social interaction which was also a part of the educational process. The electronic format could serve as a shield, a barricade behind which a student could hide or even pretend to be someone else entirely… sometimes even to herself. That might not constitute a serious drawback in the education of civilians, but Navy and Marine officers couldn’t afford walls of self-deception about who and what they were any more than they could afford to leave their social skills underdeveloped. Their professional responsibilities required them not only to interact with others in a corporate, hierarchical service, but to exude confidence and competence when exercising command in situations in which their ability to lead quite literally might make the difference between life and death. Or, even more importantly sometimes, between success or failure. That was the major reason Saganami Island relentlessly stressed traditions and procedures which forced midshipmen and midshipwomen to deal with one another, and with their superiors and instructors, face to face, in the flesh.