as

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relative to Eroica Station at a range of eight million kilometers.
Admiral Hegedusic had forty-three minutes to begin -evacuating.
"Do you think he's going to give in, Skipper?" Ansten FitzGerald asked quietly from the small com screen beside Terekhov's knee.
"I don't know. I hope so."
"He didn't sound very happy about the notion, Sir," FitzGerald observed, and Terekhov surprised himself with a short, sharp laugh.
"You've been practicing understatement with Ms. Zilwicki again, haven't you, Ansten?" he said, then shrugged. "I expected a lot of what he said. Usually, you don't get to be an admiral if you make a habit of caving in easily. And those ships have to represent a dream come true for any admiral in any Verge navy. Not to mention the fact that the Monican government probably has a nasty habit of shooting people it considers guilty of cowardice. He's almost got to stall as long as he can."
"What if he comes back at the last minute with an offer to comply, Captain?" Van Dort asked, careful to observe the military proprieties under the current circumstances.
"If it's accompanied by an immediate start to the evacuation, I'll grant him an extension. If it isn't, I'll open fire."
Van Dort nodded slowly, and there was a different look in his eyes as he gazed at Terekhov and saw a side of him he hadn't previously met. He'd never made the mistake of imagining -Terekhov would flinch from any duty, however grim. But until this moment, he'd never truly realized just how dangerous a killer lurked inside his friend.
But Ansten FitzGerald wasn't surprised. He remembered the Nuncio System.
* * *
"Sir! Sir, the

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