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said.
    “Among other resources,” the admiral agreed.
    “Which we need.”
    “Definitely,” Mannie said.
    “Your Grace,” came from Lieutenant Blue, “the Golden Empress 1 has just ordered the Biter and the arriving convoy to match course and acceleration with them.”
    “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
    “I wondered why those ships were only accelerating at point seven five gees,” the admiral said. “They were waiting for the convoy to come through so they could shanghai it.”
    “Apparently. How bad are the odds against the Biter ?”
    “She has twelve 8-inch lasers. She faces thirty-six 9.2-inch ones. Not good.”
    “Admiral, if you will, please advise the convoy and its escort to comply with the threats being leveled at them.”
    The admiral raised a quizzical eyebrow.
    “One could say that they are being attacked by pirates, could one not?” Vicky said, oh so delicately.
    “Assuming the color of the demands is piratical and not official,” the admiral agreed.
    “Only time will tell, but we don’t want to fire the first shot, do we?”
    “No,” and the admiral tapped his commlink and sent the suggested order to Biter .
    It took a while for all the messages to pass through space this way and that. While Vicky went about her own work, messages came in from the Biter demanding to know who was ordering her and her convoy to deviate from their course. The three Navy cruisers stayed quiet through the exchange. A Lord High Commissioner for the Safety of St. Petersburg aboard the Golden Empress 1 informed them he held a warrant direct from the Empress’s hand and that all must comply with his commands. The skipper of the Biter delayed answering that one, but he did accelerate away from the jump at one gee and slowly overtook the early arrivals.
    Once they got close enough, the Lord High Commissioner for Safety announced that they should prepare to be boarded. The Biter ’s initial answer to that was a strong negative. Luckily, the admiral’s instructions arrived about that time, and Biter then matched its course and acceleration smoothly with the other convoy. Longboats quickly covered the distance between the freighters and cruiser from the armed merchant ships or maybe pirates.
    “I would call that an attack, wouldn’t you?” Vicky said.
    “I doubt if the Empress would,” the admiral pointed out.
    “Mannie, what do you call it?”
    “Interference with the free trade of ships registered to my planet,” the mayor snapped.
    “I think we might give his opinion on this matter some weight,” Vicky said.
    “Maybe we can,” the admiral agreed, rubbing his chin. “Maybe we can. Now what?”
    “We wait until they are close enough,” Vicky said slowly, “then we loop out to do our own matching of orbits with them. You and your task force of three cruisers and a battleship.”
    “Since all we can do is wait, I’m hungry,” Mannie said. “Don’t you sailormen eat?”
    “I’ll have the galley send a meal to my wardroom, or the admiral’s wardroom,” Vicky said. “If he’s coming aboard, I imagine I’ll have to find someplace else to hang my dainties out to dry.”
    “I suspect it will be a quick in and out, all in one day,” the admiral said. “No doubt you can leave your dainties drying where they are.”
    “You are most gracious,” Vicky allowed.
    “Is she always this nice?” Mannie asked the admiral.
    “I think she’s trying to pull the wool over someone’s eyes. It’s certainly not working on me,” the admiral answered.
    “Hmm,” was all the mayor said.
    The commander announced that supper was served in the admiral’s wardroom, and the seven of them adjourned next door to taste a decent goulash the cook was rumored to be famous for. If you didn’t believe it, you only had to ask the chief petty officer yourself.
    Kit hunted up a screen they could glance at during supper. It continued to show the progression of the ships closing in on High St. Petersburg.
    After his second