It was about the last subject Quinn would ever have guessed this summons was going to be about. "I don't know, sir," he said. "As far as I know, Lord Cavanagh's a completely private citizen now."

"I see." Montgomery gazed hard at him. "You're absolutely sure he has no links to the NorCoord government?"

"No, sir, I can't be absolutely sure about that," Quinn said, beginning to sweat a little. What was all this about? "Lord Cavanagh doesn't confide all of his activities to me."

"Yet he chose you to lead the rescue mission for his son," Montgomery persisted.

"Actually, sir, I volunteered," Quinn said. "May I ask what this has to do with me?"

"It has nothing specific to do with you, Lieutenant," Montgomery said. "It has to do with this unscheduled detour we're taking from our assigned mission, and how we're going to deal with the Yycromae when we mesh in at Phormbi. Whether we treat them as victims, potential enemies"—his lip twitched—"or allies."

Allies? The Yycromae? "I'm afraid you've lost me, sir," Quinn said.

Germaine stirred. "Perhaps, Commodore, we should go ahead and show him the communiqué."

"I suppose we'll have to," Montgomery said reluctantly, reaching over to his command chair and pulling a plate emblazoned with the Peacekeeper insignia from a slot in one of the armrests. "You understand, Lieutenant, that this is strictly confidential."

"Yes, sir."

"All right." Montgomery keyed up a page on the plate and handed it to him.

It was a Secret-One message, routed through Edo ten days previously, and addressed to all senior Peacekeeper officers and all command-rank officers with forces stationed within thirty light-years of Yycroman space.

Describing a rearmament agreement between Peacekeeper Command and the Yycromae.

"As you see," Montgomery said, "Lord Cavanagh's name is mentioned as being on both the guarantee of Yycroman intent and the statement of Peacekeeper understanding. The question boils down to whether these are properly authorized documents, or whether they're something else entirely."

"Such as part of some private business scheme of Lord Cavanagh's," Germaine put in. "Or even something the Yycromae might have obtained under duress."

Quinn looked back down at the plate. "According to this a senior NorCoord Military Intelligence officer also signed the documents," he pointed out.

"Unfortunately, the officer isn't identified," Montgomery growled. "I understand there are security considerations involved; but, unfortunately, it also leaves me accepting this sudden de facto alliance with the Yycromae on blind faith. I don't like that."

For a brief moment it occurred to Quinn to remind the commodore that that was exactly how he and the rest of the lower ranks usually had to accept their orders. But he resisted the temptation. "Were copies of the actual documents included with this?" he asked instead.

"Yes," Montgomery said. "With the Intelligence officer's name blanked out, of course."

"May I see them?"

Montgomery's forehead creased slightly. "Why?"

"I may at least be able to tell you whether Lord Cavanagh's signature was obtained under duress."

The commodore glanced at Germaine, and Quinn caught the fleet exec's microscopic shrug. "It's a rather severe violation of military protocol," Montgomery commented, taking the plate back from Quinn. "But having come this far already, I suppose that hardly matters." He keyed the plate to a new position and handed it back.

It took Quinn nearly five minutes to wade through the three pages of thick legal wordage. But when he was done, he was convinced. "Lord Cavanagh was not coerced into signing either document, Commodore," he told Montgomery, handing him back the plate. "Furthermore, if there was any fraud or deceit on the part of the Yycromae, he was unaware of it. To the best of his knowledge both documents were written and signed in good faith."

"Amazing," Germaine murmured. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Quinn assured him. "There are special ways Lord Cavanagh will write a contract or document to indicate whether or not he's in full voluntary agreement. Particular phrasings, key words—that sort of thing." He nodded toward the plate. "All the proper cues are there."

"I see," Montgomery said. He gazed at the plate another few seconds; then—reluctantly, Quinn thought—he closed it and returned it to its slot in the armrest. "Then I suppose that's settled. We go in as allies, until and unless matters indicate otherwise. Thank you, Lieutenant: dismissed." He turned to Germaine—

"One other matter, Commodore, if I may," Quinn spoke up. "The last I heard, my new tail man still hadn't arrived."

Montgomery looked at Schweighofer, lifted his eyebrows. "That's correct, sir," the fighter commander confirmed. "He was promised for two days ago, but he hasn't shown up yet. I don't know what's happened to him."

"Some snarled order somewhere," Montgomery nodded. "I suppose that means you'll be sitting this one out, Lieutenant."

Quinn grimaced. "With all due respect, Commodore, I'd rather not. Not to seem immodest, but against eleven Zhirrzh warships, you're going to need me."

"We're going to need the Eighth Fleet, too," Montgomery countered dryly. "We'll just have to make do without them."

"You know the regulations, Lieutenant," Schweighofer put in. "We haven't got any spare Copperheads, and you can't fly combat without a tail. No exceptions."

"I understand the regulations, sir," Quinn said. "But in this case—"

"You've been dismissed, Lieutenant," Germaine cut him off sharply. "Return to your quarters."

Quinn didn't move. "You're going to need every resource you've got, Commodore," he said firmly. "Furthermore, you do have a spare Copperhead aboard."

Germaine lifted a half-beckoning hand toward the Marine guards at the door. "If I have to have you physically removed—"

"At ease, Tom," Montgomery said mildly. "I presume, Lieutenant, that you're referring to Tac Coordinator Bokamba."

"Reserve Wing Commander Bokamba, sir, yes," Quinn said. "He could fly tail for me."

"Bokamba's been retired from active duty for five years," Schweighofer reminded him. "Retired for good and proper reasons, I might add. Furthermore, he was a pilot, not a tail man."

"He can handle the job," Quinn insisted. "And I think he'd like to get back in the cockpit."

"That's not the point," Montgomery said. "Using resources is one thing. Wasting those resources is quite another."

"You won't be wasting them, sir," Quinn assured him. He hesitated— "Please."

For a moment Montgomery just gazed at him. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head. "Commander Schweighofer, you'll inform Tac Coordinator Bokamba that he's been reassigned as Lieutenant Quinn's tail man."

Schweighofer cleared his throat. "Sir, if I may remind you of the reason why Bokamba was retired from active duty—"

"I'm aware of the reason, Commander," Montgomery said. "I'm also aware of Lieutenant Quinn's reputation as a pilot. And he's right: we can't afford to let him sit this one out. Tac Coordinator Bokamba is to be reassigned as ordered, effective immediately."

He looked at Quinn. "And you, Lieutenant Quinn, will get off my bridge. Now."

"Yes, sir," Quinn said, straightening to full attention. "Thank you, Commodore."