“So what do we do?” she asked him softly.

“I don’t know, Honor,” he told her. “I just don’t know.”

Chapter Seven

“WHAT do you think they’re really up to, Guns?”

“Sir?” Lieutenant Commander Anna Zahn, Sidemore Navy, HMS LaFroye’s tactical officer, looked up from her plot in some surprise. Captain Ackenheil wasn’t much addicted to formalities, including the punctilious announcement of his presence whenever he arrived on the bridge, and she hadn’t realized he was there.

“I asked what you think they’re really up to,” the Manticoran said, and gestured at her display. It was set to astrography mode and interstellar scale at the moment, and over a dozen stars were tagged with red, flashing icons.

“I don’t really know, Sir,” Zahn replied after a moment. She was one of the relatively few Sidemore officers serving aboard Royal Navy ships in senior positions. It wasn’t because of any prejudice against Sidemorians, so much as it was the fact that there weren’t all that many senior Sidemore officers serving anywhere. The entire Sidemore Navy was barely eight T-years old, which meant that Zahn was incredibly junior for her rank by Manticoran standards. She also happened to be extremely good at her job, which was how she’d come to be assigned as the tactical officer aboard the senior ship of CruDiv 237. Intellectually, she knew she wouldn’t have been here if the Manties didn’t believe she would be able to pull her own weight. It had been Manticoran policy since the beginning of Sidemore’s alliance with the Star Kingdom to cross-assign officers whenever possible as one way to be sure both navies were familiar with RMN doctrine and procedures and also as a way to build the SN’s experience base as rapidly as possible. Which didn’t mean they were about to put anyone whose competence they doubted into a position as sensitive as that of a heavy cruiser’s tactical officer. But whatever her brain might know, her emotions remained stubbornly unconvinced.

Maybe it wasn’t just her. Maybe the entire Sidemore Navy—such as it was, and what there was of it—wasn’t quite able to believe that anyone else would take it seriously at its young and tender age. She couldn’t really speak for the rest of her home world’s officer corps, but there were enough times she still felt like the new kid in class herself when she measured her own meager seven T-years of naval experience against the professional resume of someone like Ackenheil, who was very nearly three times her own age and a highly decorated combat veteran, to boot. Which made her a bit hesitant about offering an opinion, even when it was asked for. Particularly since she was the current officer of the watch, and she really should have been keeping her eye on the entire command deck rather than puzzling over reports she wasn’t officially supposed to be worrying her head over, anyway. LaFroye was in a standard parking orbit, with her wedge down and little more than a skeleton watch, and she’d turned the con over to Lieutenant Turner, the astrogator (who was eleven T-years older than she was and had nine more T-years of experience), so it wasn’t exactly as if she were neglecting her duties, but still…