It had not been Draskovic’s best day, and her second appearance had been little better. She hadn’t been caught in any lies that time, but Honor’s devastating, relentless questions had driven her into near incoherence trying to defend basically indefensible Admiralty policy. She’d looked like a total incompetent—an amateur, competing out of her class—and she’d resented her humiliation even more because, unlike Honor, she’d always been one of the coterie of “political” admirals who’d made their careers out of negotiating the halls of political patronage. Which was undoubtedly the reason she held her present position.

Now it was Draskovic’s turn to pay Honor back. As Fifth Space Lord, decisions on personnel assignments were ultimately her responsibility, and those assignments included things like the staff officers and flag captains assigned to fleet and task force commanders. The Royal Navy tradition was that a flag officer being sent out to command one of the Service’s fleet stations had broad authority to select her own choices for those positions. The Bureau of Personnel had to sign off on her nominees, but that was only a formality. Traditionally, the only limiting factor was the availability of the officers in question, but Draskovic clearly wasn’t a great believer in tradition. Especially not when ignoring it let her get her own back on someone who’d helped her humiliate herself so thoroughly.

Personally, Honor found that the admiral’s sense of humiliation left her completely unmoved. Draskovic had made the decision to prostitute herself professionally by agreeing to serve under High Ridge and Janacek, and any embarrassment that brought her was entirely her own fault.

Obviously, Draskovic didn’t see it that way, but unfortunately for her, Honor wasn’t prepared to acquiesce in the other woman’s small-minded vengeance. A fury every bit the equal of Nimitz’s blazed behind her hard eyes. She was well aware that that fury owed as much of its strength to her own pain and anger over the wreckage the Government’s attacks on her and Hamish had made of her life as to any professional concerns she might have had, and she didn’t much care.

No, she thought, be honest Honor. You do care. Because the fact that Draskovic is enough of a political whore to make herself an accomplice of that sort of scum makes her an entirely appropriate target for how mad you are.

She allowed no trace of her own emotions’ blazing power to touch her expression, but her eyes hardened still further, and that thin smile was very, very cold.

“I suggested that you make it possible, Admiral,” Honor repeated coolly. “I’ve given you a list of officers whose services I’ll require to discharge my responsibilities as the commander of Sidemore Station. Given the decreased tempo of our operational status against Haven, coupled with the recent drastic downsizing of our wall of battle, I cannot believe that the officers whose services I’ve requested can’t be spared from other duties.”

“I realize you consider yourself something of an expert on personnel management, Your Grace,” Draskovic said tightly, her tone ugly. “Nonetheless, I suggest to you that I am in a somewhat better position to judge the availability of serving officers in Her Majesty’s Navy.”