Uncompromising Honor (Honor Harrington Book 19) by David Weber

Author:David Weber [Weber, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781481483506
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2018-10-02T03:00:00+00:00

City of Landing

Manticore Binary System

Star Empire of Manticore

“So what can you tell us about this—” the orange-haired man consulted his notes “—Collin Detweiler?” He looked up, his peculiar purple eyes with their vertical pupils showing only mild curiosity. “We’re trying to fill in the gaps about the ‘Alignment’ and all we have about him is a single headshot and a name from…Well, from another source, let’s say.””

Fill in the gaps? Damien Harahap thought sardonically. What you mean is you people don’t have a clue who he is and little red ants are eating you alive while you try to figure out what the hell the “Alignment” is really up to.

He leaned back in his own chair, pursing his lips with a thoughtful air. He was still far from certain why he hadn’t conveniently dropped dead—conveniently for his most recent employers, that was—although the most likely answer remained the Gamma Center’s destruction. It seemed, assuming there was any truth to the Mesan claims, that he owed Anton Zilwicki and Victor Cachat a vote of thanks.

Actually, he’d like to discuss quite a few things with Zilwicki and Cachat. He admired professionalism, whoever happened to have it, and the two of them had ripped a lot of scabs off of things Isabel Bardasano—among others—had very much wanted to stay hidden. Besides, he’d like to compare notes with them about Green Pines, given his post-“terrorist attack” visit to Mendel. Unfortunately, they weren’t available. For that matter, he hadn’t been able to figure out what their true relationship with their respective star nations’ official intelligence services was. It sounded like Zilwicki was essentially a free agent whose primary loyalty was split between the Kingdom of Torch and the Star Kingdom—now Star Empire—in which he’d been born. And it sounded like Cachat was essentially a loose warhead officially in the employ of the Republic of Haven’s Foreign Intelligence Service…whose directives he followed on the infrequent occasions when they made sense to him.

“I’m afraid I actually only met the gentleman twice, Mr. Jubair,” he said after a moment to his current interrogator.

“So you said earlier.” Antoine Jubair tapped the memo pad on the table between them and smiled. When he did, he showed very pointy teeth, the product of the same genetic manipulation which had given his genetic slave grandfather his dark complexion, bright orange—orange, not red or auburn—hair, and catlike pupils. “It would seem both those meetings were rather significant in terms of your…employment, though.”

“That’s a fair assessment.” Harahap nodded and glanced at the treecat stretched comfortably across one end of the table. Aside from the angle of their pupils and the fact that they were green, not purple, its eyes reminded him a great deal of Jubair’s. Not least because of how unwaveringly they were focused upon one Damien Harahap. Unless he was mistaken, there was more—a lot more—intelligence behind them than he’d previously assumed, too.

“There’s not a lot I can tell you about him that’s what I’d call concrete,” he said. “I never saw any organization charts, much less one with his name on it.

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