Honorverse favorite passages

The fact that Tepes was a State Security ship worked in their favor at the moment. Each of the assault shuttles in the boat bay was configured to drop one of StateSec's outsized infantry companies, approximately seventy-five percent bigger than a Royal Manticoran Marine company, at minimum notice. That meant their onboard guns and external ordnance racks were left permanently armed . . . and that the weapons in their small arms racks were kept charged, with ammunition ready to hand.

"Down!"

Andrew LaFollet tackled Honor as gunfire suddenly broke out ahead of them. The fall drove the breath from her, and she coughed, fighting for air as the whine of pulsers and the heavier coughing of flechette guns filled the shaft. There were shouts and screams, and LaFollet released her and went crawling up the shaft. She started to follow, but a hand closed on her ankle and she jerked her head around.

"You stay here," Andreas Venizelos told her flatly. She opened her mouth, and he shook his head. "You're a commodore. More to the point, you're that man's Steadholder, and he didn't come all this way to get you just to have you killed now."

roseandheather wrote:

hanuman wrote:I'm going to be very sexist now and say that only a woman would turn packing (for what, btw?) into a military operation, complete with strategy, tactical boards, reconnaissance, logistics chain and boot camp. :sigh:

Well, relocating to a different country - which happens to be on the other side of a very big ocean - tends to demand a little extra forethought.

hanuman wrote:And before anyone bites my head of, THAT is the complete and utter truth. I've never known a woman who doesn't behave like that, or for that matter, a man who does, wrt packing. Every man I have ever known figures that a couple of pairs of underwear, a few pairs of not-too-threadbare socks and a few changes of clothing are sufficient.

Tenshinai wrote:Try packing like that when you´re going for a longdistance skiing trip, or mountain/forest hike and you´re lucky if you get halfway(or survive at all).

And my friend who is currently doing a walkabout on Greenland, heh, he´s the kind who saws a toothbrush in half just to shave a few grams off the total weight.

KNick wrote:

dreamrider wrote:Its a practical thing, inherited from our forebears.

"Too many tears for papa make spearstroke miss sabertooth cornering Wagh." <grin>

"Also make pummeling Wagh for falling asleep on watch lose gravitas."

dreamrider

hanuman wrote:Hot coffee burns, dammit. Especially when you snort it through your nose

You're a funny one, that's for sure.

If you haven't learned to leave the hot stuff on the table while reading any post in this forum, you deserve your burnt nose. Of course, somebody (probably Hutch) did the same thing to me when I first joined in.

roseandheather wrote:

Aikawa [Kagiyama]... cocked his head as he saw a small, slender woman moving across the floor towards them. She wore the elegantly tailored trousers and jacket of formal Manticoran court dress, and the crowd of Spindalians and off-planet diplomats stepped aside to let her pass. It didn't look as if they even realized they were doing it; it was simply an inevitable law of nature.

"Is that who I think it is?" he asked quietly.

"Of course not. It's the Pope," [Helen] replied sarcastically from the corner of her mouth.

The Shadow of Saganami

Were you wondering why I love Dame Estelle Matsuko? This is why I love Dame Estelle Matsuko. That kind of sheer presence is incredibly rare and demands suitable awe.

hanuman wrote:Okay, I get it. She does have a certain majestic manner to her, doesn't she? Elegant as they come, tolerates no bull AND takes no prisoners. Mmmm, I do so love a strong woman...

hanuman wrote:Hey, where are you moving to, if I may ask? And why?

hanuman wrote:Ouch, those claws are sharp, dammit!!! But it hurts even more 'cause it's true...

"Now wait a minute!" McGinley began. "We can't just—"

"Yes, we can," LaFollet said softly. "Here." He thrust the memo board at her, then jabbed a thumb back down the shaft. "Go," he said, and his flat voice held an implacable note of command. McGinley stared at him for a moment, then inhaled sharply, turned, and slithered into the dimness, and LaFollet looked at Candless.

"Are you sure, Jamie?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sure." Candless' reply was almost serene, and he turned his head to smile at LaFollet. "We've had some good times, Major. Now go get the Steadholder out of this."

"I will," LaFollet told him. It wasn't just a promise; it was an oath, and Candless nodded in satisfaction.

"You'd better be going then, Andrew," he said much more gently. "And later, when you've got her out of here, tell her—" He paused, unable to find the words he wanted, and LaFollet nodded.

"I will," he said again, and put one arm around his fellow armsman, hugging him tight. Then he turned and followed McGinley back down the shaft.

It took him only a few minutes to reach Honor and Venizelos. They stood where McGinley had already passed them, gazing up the shaft as a flechette gun coughed again in rapid fire, and he stepped brusquely past them.

"This way, My Lady," he said, gesturing for them to follow him, but Honor didn't move.

"Where's Jamie?" she asked, and he stopped. He stood for a moment, staring after McGinley, then sighed.

"He's not coming, My Lady," he said as gently as he could.

"No! I can't—"

"Yes, you can!" He rounded on her fiercely, and she flinched before the mingled pride and anguish in his face. "We're armsmen, My Lady, and you're our Steadholder, and you can do whatever the hell it takes!"

She stared at him for a breathless moment, unable to speak, and then her shoulders sagged and her personal armsman took her by the hand, almost as if she were a child.

"Come on, My Lady," he said softly, and she followed him down the shaft while Jamie Candless' flechete gun coughed behind them.

Scotty Tremaine crawled out of the pinnace's electronics bay and scrubbed sweat out of his eyes. He'd never even imagined doing what he'd just done, and the ease with which he'd accomplished it was more than a little chilling. There were many better small craft flight engineers than he—Horace Harkness, for one—but it hadn't taken a genius to carry out the modifications, and that was scary. Of course, there hadn't been any security features to stop him, since no one in his right mind would have considered that someone might do such an insane thing on purpose.

But it was done, now, and he hoped to hell that Harkness was as right about this as he'd been about everything else. His track record had been perfect so far—or as far as they knew, at any rate—but it seemed unfair to dump so much responsibility on one man.

But we didn't "dump" it on him, did we? He volunteered himself for it from the get-go. All we did was sit around and think he'd really deserted.

Tremaine felt a fresh, dull burn of shame at the thought, even though there was no logical reason he should. Harkness had played his role well enough to fool the Peeps, and no doubt the reactions of the rest of the POWs had contributed to his success. Yet despite all that, Tremaine couldn't quite forgive himself for having believed even for a moment that Harkness could truly turn traitor.