“You’re undermining your own argument,” McKeon objected. “If we’re supposed to be the overconfident Peeps and the Andies are supposed to be the underestimated but plucky underdogs, then pointing out how competent people like Parnell and Yu were sort of defeats your purpose, doesn’t it?”

“Not really. Even Parnell clearly underestimated what we could do to him, and the fact that he was so good in so many ways only underscores how easy it is for it even a competent officer to get overconfident on the basis of his people’s superior levels of experience. Which is what the lot of us are ever so gently suggesting to you that you might be doing, Alistair.”

She smiled seraphically, and Truman snorted at his expression.

“Gotcha!” she announced.

“All right. All right!” McKeon surrendered. “I admit we can use the additional training time. But all joking aside, I really am more than a little… irked to see a Manticoran task force sneaking around through the backdoor route this way.”

“I know,” Honor acknowledged. “And I know you’re not alone in feeling that way, either. But remember that our most recent reports on what’s going on in Marsh were three weeks old before we even left Manticore. I don’t want to appear any more provocative than we can help. If Emperor Gustav really is planning an aggressive move in Silesia, we don’t need to go around providing any military pretexts he can capitalize on. And, by the same token, if there’s a genuine probability of hostilities with the Empire, I don’t want our task force to be caught deep in Imperial territory when the shuttle goes up.”

“I understand entirely,” McKeon said, and this time there was no humor at all in his expression or tone. “And I don’t really disagree with you. That’s the main reason I’m so irritated. We shouldn’t have to be so worried about provocations that we go thirty-five light-years out of our way just to avoid the possibility. Much as I may complain about it, I understand exactly why no responsible station commander would be in a position to make any other routing decision. But understanding it doesn’t mean I have to like the circumstances which make it the responsible thing to do.”

“No,” Honor agreed. “And on that level, I have to agree with you. But Alice and Wraith are right about how much we can use the additional time for training.”

McKeon nodded, and she tasted the agreement behind the gesture. It was a bit grudging, but that wasn’t because Alistair rejected her position. It was because he didn’t like the reasons her ships’ companies needed the additional drill time any more than he liked the reasons she felt no choice but to avoid actions which might be—or might be construed as—provocative.

And he’s right, she reflected. It’s absolutely ridiculous for the Queen’s Navy to have gotten so… out of shape in barely four T-years. I suppose this is what Hamish meant when he started talking about “victory disease.” But I know darned well that it never would have happened if Baroness Mourncreek were still First Lord and Sir Thomas were still First Space Lord.