“Oh, frabjous day!” Llewellyn murmured.

“I see you’re really looking forward to it,” Ferrero observed, and Llewellyn chuckled. Then the captain turned to Communications. “Are you ready to transmit, Mecia?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Then go ahead. And just to be certain they get the point, Shawn, lock them up with your fire control lidar and stand ready to fire that warning shot.”

“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”

Lieutenant McKee leaned closer to her microphone. “Sittich, this is the Royal Manticoran Navy cruiser Jessica Epps. You are instructed to reduce acceleration to zero, cut your wedge, and stand by to be boarded for routine search and examination.”

The crisp, uncompromising demand went out over a directional com laser. It was extremely unlikely that Governor Chalmers would fail to realize what was happening when Jessica Epps boarded the false Sittich, but it was remotely possible. Harris’ fire control systems were more likely to be detected by the system sensor arrays than McKee’s communications laser, and if Ferrero actually had to fire a warning shot, the detonation of its warhead would definitely give the game away. But if she could keep Chalmers from figuring out what was happening, he was much more likely to be sitting there, still all fat and happy, when the warrant for his arrest arrived from the Confed government.

And slaving is probably the one thing that will actually get a Silly governor arrested, she reflected. Not that what passes for a government out here really has any particular moral objection to it. It’s just that the Queen has made her own feelings on the trade abundantly, one might almost say painfully, clear. And no Silly in his right mind wants to cross her or her Navy on this one. Besides—

“Incoming message!” McKee announced suddenly, and something about her tone snapped Ferrero’s head up. She spun her command chair back towards the com officer.

“It’s—” McKee broke off and looked up at her captain, eyes huge in surprise. “Skipper, it’s Hellbarde!”

“Hellbarde?!” Ferrero stared at the lieutenant for perhaps three seconds, then darted an accusing look at her tactical plot. There was no sign of the Andermani cruiser on it.

“Shawn?” she snapped.

“I don’t know, Skipper!” the tac officer replied. “But I’m on it.”

His hands were already flying across his console as he, his ratings, and CIC went suddenly to a full-press sensor sweep. They were no longer trying to creep quietly up on an unsuspecting prey, and their active arrays lit up surrounding space like a beacon.

“Skipper, you’d better listen to this,” McKee said urgently, pulling Ferrero’s attention back from the tactical section.

“Put it on speaker,” Ferrero instructed.

“Aye, aye, Ma’am.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then a familiar, harsh-accented voice banished it.

“Jessica Epps, this is Hellbarde! You are instructed to shut down your targeting systems and break off your approach immediately!”

“Shut down—?” Ferrero looked up at Llewellyn.

“Another incoming message,” McKee broke in before the exec could reply. “This one’s from ‘Sittich.’ ”