Descroix shrugged.

“Georgia and Melina both have very, very good reasons to see to it that any nasty suspicion is directed away from themselves to someone else. In fact, if I thought Melina were up to it, I’d advise leaving the entire affair in her hands. Unfortunately, I don’t think she is… whereas Georgia has clearly demonstrated her own capability in such matters. So, given how very good she is at this sort of thing anyway, it strikes me that it wouldn’t make any sense to bring anyone else in. The more people we involve, the more likely something is to leak entirely by accident, much less what someone like Reynaud could do to us if our efforts came to his attention. So let’s put the project in the hands of a single individual with a powerful interest in seeing to it that her tracks are buried right along with ours.”

“I see,” he said for a third time. And then, slowly, he smiled.

Chapter Twenty-Six

THE G6 star at the heart of the Marsh System was a thoroughly average system primary. Nothing much to write home about, Honor thought, leaning against the bulkhead beside the armorplast viewport as she gazed out into the dark, diamond-dusted clarity. Just one more insignificant furnace in which the fires of creation blazed with inconceivable fury, shedding their stupendous glory down the halls of God’s endless night.

Certainly not anything important enough for the Star Kingdom of Manticore to risk a war over.

She snorted, and tasted Nimitz’s echo of her own dark moodiness from where he reclined on the perch beside his bulkhead-mounted life support module. Of course, she also knew that the somberness they shared sprang from more than her awareness of the all but impossible task she faced here. For the ’cat, it was the loneliness, the separation from his mate. But that was a separation Nimitz and Samantha had endured before, and would again, and at least he and Honor had one another, while Samantha had Hamish. Both ’cats knew this was one of the inevitable prices of their bonds with their humans, and in its own way, that knowledge was a form of armor. It didn’t lessen the pangs of their separation—a separation which was far worse for empaths than for the “mind-blind”—but at least both of them knew exactly how vital they were to one another… and that they would be together once again at deployment’s end.

Which was far more than Honor knew. She deeply regretted separating Nimitz and Samantha, and her regret carried a strong overtone of guilt, yet deep inside, she couldn’t quite stifle an ignoble envy, almost jealousy. However much the two ’cats might miss one another now, their separation would come to an end. Honor’s wouldn’t. She knew that, but at least this empty, lonely ache at the heart of her was better than the pain and hopeless longing she’d felt before she put distance between her and Hamish. She told herself that at least a dozen times a day, and for the most part, she believed herself.