“You were with Her Grace when her Q-ships deployed out here several years back, weren’t you, Admiral Truman?” he asked, turning to Honor’s second-in-command, and shrugged when Truman nodded in agreement. “Well, then you know what happens to a merchant hull that takes a hit from any heavy shipboard weapon. So under the circumstances, neither my crews nor I are particularly interested in ‘fair fights’ with pirates. Which is why we practically never sail under our own transponder codes until we’re actually ready to make port.”

“And the Confed Navy doesn’t have a problem with that, Sir?” Rafe Cardones asked. It was a reasonable question, given that falsifying transponder codes was a moderately severe offense under the law of most star nations… including the Silesian Confederacy.

“Officially, they don’t know anything about it,” Bachfisch replied with a slight shrug, “and what they don’t know about, they don’t object to. In fact, most of their skippers know we’re doing it, but they’re not going to object to almost anything we do as long as we keep nailing the occasional pirate for them.”

“Makes sense to me,” Truman agreed, and reached for her wineglass. James MacGuiness materialized magically to refill the glass before she quite touched it, and she smiled her thanks at him, sipped the ruby wine, and turned her attention back to Bachfisch.

“I have to say that we’re probably luckier than we deserve to have you run into us, Admiral Bachfisch,” she said in a more formal tone.

“I didn’t exactly ‘run into’ you, Admiral,” Bachfisch replied with a crooked smile. “I came looking for you.”

“I know.” Truman considered him thoughtfully. “I’m grateful that you did. But at the same time, I’m sure you understand why we might be a little hesitant to accept one person’s testimony, however credible that person might seem, when it flatly contradicts certain aspects of our ONI briefings.”

“Well,” Bachfisch said, letting his smile grow a bit broader, “I know why I might be a little hesitant, but then, when I was on active duty, the people running ONI could usually find their own asses… if they used both hands, at least.”

Despite herself, Truman’s lips twitched, and Cardones grinned openly.

“What I meant to say, Sir,” the golden-haired admiral said after a moment, when she was confident she had her voice fully under control once more, “was that I’d feel more comfortable about relying on your information if you could describe firsthand how you came into possession of it.”

“I understand what you’re getting at, Dame Alice,” Bachfisch said more seriously. “And I certainly don’t blame you for wanting to be a bit cautious about relying on fortuitous windfalls of information. I’ve already promised Admiral Harrington to make my sensor log recordings available to support some of my observations—like the acceleration rates I’ve seen the new cruisers pulling, and the stealth capabilities that Andy heavy cruiser demonstrated in the Melbourne System. You can make your own analysis of those events from them, and, frankly, you have better facilities for doing that than I do.